Chapter Six
Draco Flooed home first and then stuck his head back into the flames to contact Hermione.
"Draco?" she asked in surprise when she saw him.
"Can I come through? It's about Harry."
"Of course," she said immediately and he withdrew his head before using the powder to send him into her living room. She beckoned to him as she hurried into another room. "I'm in the middle of a potion. You'll have to talk while I'm working."
Draco trailed her, suddenly unsure where to begin.
"What about Harry?" she asked as she leaned over a cauldron, waited a moment, and then tossed in three reddish oak leaves.
"I know what's causing his unusual behavior," Draco admitted.
She grinned. "You too? I'm surprised he didn't ask you to help me with the research, actually. What's your theory? I'm curious to see if it's similar to mine."
"The Dark Lord stripped the magic from Avery, trapped it in an Occamy egg and then killed Avery to create a Horcrux. When Harry destroyed the Horcrux, Avery's magic was absorbed by Harry, whose own power was trying to restore itself, but now encounters resistance from the addition of Avery's, which is why Harry is going mad and it also explains his sudden extraordinary power." Draco got it all out in a rush and Hermione blinked at him for a moment.
"Well, that's certainly more detailed than my theory."
"It's the truth. I received it from a reliable source."
Her eyes narrowed at him as she stirred the potion and then tossed in a handful of white powder with a muttered spell.
"What reliable source? And where is Harry?"
"He sent me here to discuss your idea for removing Avery's magic. I was thinking of stripping it from Harry by the same method used to remove it from Avery."
Hermione gasped. "But couldn't that kill Harry?"
Draco nodded. "It's possible, which is why I'm here to discuss alternatives." He tried to keep the tension from his voice and pretend he had all the time in the world. The ticking of the clock on the wall sounded abominably loud. Draco could sense Snape's impatience all the way from Spain. The bastard had better not do anything rash to Harry.
Hermione set down the iron rod she had been using to stir the potion and took up a branch of what looked like nettles. She mixed the concoction with the branch three times and then let it sink to the bottom before tossing a round, grayish stone into the cauldron. A puff of white smoke emerged and the potion changed from a mud-colored sludge to a cherry-colored glossy liquid. She snatched up a glass rod and began to stir frantically, counting each stroke. The color lightened with each circular pass until it was only faintly pink. She stopped stirring and set the rod aside with a quick swipe of her hand over her temple to dab at the sweat gathered there.
She extinguished the flame beneath the cauldron, grabbed her wand, and cast a Cooling Charm over the whole of it. The pink potion took on a vaguely purplish cast as it cooled. Draco raised a brow, impressed in spite of his urgency.
"What is it?" he asked curiously.
She grinned. "Lip plumping salve. Now poor witches with lips like stretched rubber bands can feel like they were born with the pucker of a Hollywood starlet."
Draco smiled back, although he hadn't the faintest idea what constituted a "rubber band" or a "Hollywood starlet". He caught the gist, though. She set her wand down and pressed her fingers into her hipbones as she bent backwards, working the kinks out of her spine.
"My idea for Harry's problem was more along the lines of filtering rather than removing the magic entirely," she said. Draco followed her to the kitchen where she made tea and explained her theory. He was fascinated by the potential of her idea and knew Snape had to hear it. Between the three of them, they might be able to come up with something entirely new. And non-fatal to Harry, which was the most important thing.
Draco made her write down the spell and then made several notes regarding her source materials.
"What did you mean by a 'reliable source'?" she asked. "Is someone helping you?"
Draco nodded. "I'm not at liberty to say at the moment, but after he gets this information, I'm hoping he will agree to meet with you. This might actually work!" He got to his feet and then awkwardly moved forward to pull her into a hug. She giggled unbecomingly and squeezed him back before stepping away.
"Go and ask him, then," she said and a faint blush tinted her cheeks. "And give Harry a kiss from me."
"I will," Draco said quietly and hurried to the Floo. From there he went back to Grimmauld Place and thence to Spain.
xxXxx
Harry clamped down hard on an instinctive rush of panic, knowing it would only hinder him. The almost gleeful glint in Snape's black eyes was frightening. Harry did not bother to speak. Pleading with Snape would be a waste of energy better used elsewhere.
He sent out a tendril of magic and clenched his teeth against the backlash. There had to be a way to penetrate Snape's circle. Perhaps straight down, through the stone. The etched runes glowed, but Harry's Seeking Magic was not the cause. The pain sharpened as the force surrounding Harry became almost tangible. The air seemed to thicken and he suddenly felt an increase in pressure, as if he had been plunged into deep water and was sinking fast. Harry struggled to breathe and a prickling sensation assaulted his lungs. He fought harder, sending his considerable magic straight down, cracking the stone beneath his feet. He felt an instant of exultation, until his magic went out of control.
Harry fought back instinctively, lashing out wildly without thinking. It was probably the worst thing he could do. He screamed as the pain became instant agony. He felt his magic pulling—tearing—away from him and the sound of his own scream seemed magnified. It hammered at his ears in a high-pitched howl that he barely noticed. Excruciating anguish enfolded him; he thought every cell in his body had been torn open. His vision went from red to white to black and even the painful squeal became inaudible.
He was certain he stopped breathing. The pain was too much—it overloaded every function until all he wanted was to make it stop. Mercifully, he blacked out.
Awareness was agony, so he fought it. Once it worked, pushing away from the misery back into the soothing darkness. The next time he was not so lucky. The pain seemed to grab him with eager, voracious claws and drag him over knife-edged rocks to lie exposed and bleeding, begging for relief. There was no single source; it was everywhere. He felt savaged and raw with no hope of it abating. Every agonizing moment brought it more sharply into focus. He would have pleaded for it to stop, but even formulating a though took effort. Speaking was impossible. The darkness eluded him.
Synapses connected again with a fresh flare of agony, but it allowed him to remember who he was. Harry, he thought. I'm Harry. It bolstered him slightly and he held onto the knowledge tightly as he tried to craft something around it, something besides awareness of pain hot as flame, sharp as glass. Why was he in such agony?
Slowly he discerned sensations other than the constant pain—the air hissing raggedly in and out of his body was cold, another source of torment, but welcome nonetheless. Something soft rested beneath his hands and something frigid as ice clasped one ankle. Sparks of blue flared through the white of his vision and a keening sound came to his ears. After a long moment, he realized it issued from his own throat. With some difficulty, he stopped it.
The pain slowly ebbed to near-bearable levels.
"Still alive, Potter?" The harsh voice cut like a knife and triggered a new set of memories, this time unwanted. He remembered where he was and why he was in such pain. Snape had taken his magic. He wanted to sit up and test it, to see if he was still whole, still a wizard, but moving was beyond him at the moment. Breathing and thinking were difficult enough. Even hissing a retort would hurt.
The blackness reared up again, brought on by a rush of despair, offering to take him away once more. He refused to give in to it as another thought came to him with a plethora of conflicting emotions. Draco. Draco had done this to him.
Draco.
xxXxx
He stepped out of the fireplace and hurried for the stairs, tightly clutching the parchment Granger had given him. Draco hoped Snape had not done anything stupid in his absence, but his worst fears were realized the instant his foot touched the bottom step. Snape leaned against a table casually, watching the still figure that lay in the circle. Harry's twisted body was evidence enough.
"What have you done?" Draco whispered as his eyes went from Harry to Snape, who shrugged.
"It was for the best. You would have dragged the process out indefinitely. This way, it is done."
"Damn you, Severus!" Draco yelled. He threw the papers and hurried into the circle. The glow had gone—it seemed inert now that its purpose had been served. Draco's heart clenched as he knelt at Harry's side. He looked pale as death and his chest barely moved with each tortured breath.
"Oh, Harry," he murmured and tentatively touched his lover's side.
"Don't," Harry said. The word was barely audible. Harry's throat worked and it seemed to take immense effort for him to even speak. "Don't touch me."
Draco pulled his hand away.
"Harry, please," he said.
"Hurts," Harry whispered. "Clothes hurt. Everything hurts." His lashes stayed firmly shut over the green eyes, keeping Draco out.
"Want me to take them off?" Draco was willing to do anything at all to help. He wanted to gather the Gryffindor into his arms and hold him, but he wasn't certain Harry would allow that ever again.
"Don't care," Harry said.
Draco couldn't breathe for a moment, but a faint clink caught his attention. The damned shackle was still clamped around Harry's ankle. He could do something about that, at any rate. Draco shifted until he could reach the iron and threw a venomous glare at Snape, who shrugged. Draco pulled out his wand to cast a spell, but a key suddenly rang against the stone and slid to the edge of the fur.
"It's spell-resistant, of course. Might use that instead," Snape said dryly. Draco set his wand down and took the key. He quickly unlocked the metal and released Harry, trying not to touch him in the process. A soft sigh exposed Harry's relief when the shackle was removed.
Draco moved his attention to Harry's shirt and quickly started on the buttons. He threw a hiss over his shoulder. "Get me a blanket. Something soft. I won't have him freeze."
Snape muttered something guaranteed to be uncomplimentary, but he pushed away from the table and walked to the stairs. His footsteps retreated. Draco managed to get Harry's shirt off with only a few grimaces of pain from the Gryffindor. Harry made no sound at all. The jeans were more difficult. The fabric was rougher and it scraped over Harry's skin, causing him to arch his back in agony. The tendons on his neck stood out sharply and his fingers dug into the soft fur.
Snape returned just as Draco flung the jeans aside, shaking with remorse. Harry was nude but for his boxers, but Draco refused to remove those and expose him further. It was bad enough for Harry to be in the state he was before Snape. Draco snatched the blanket with a livid glance at the winemaker. The cream-colored throw was very soft and Draco draped it carefully over Harry, who sighed. His features relaxed slightly.
"Damn you, Severus," Draco said angrily. "Why could you not have waited? I was barely gone thirty minutes!"
Snape gathered the fallen papers from the floor and returned to his perch by the table to peruse them. Draco sat as close to Harry as he dared, pulling his legs up to wrap his arms around them while he watched the Gryffindor. Harry had not once opened his eyes.
"Interesting," Snape said, ignoring Draco's question completely. "Granger came up with this on her own, you say?"
Draco nodded curtly.
"It might have actually worked, with a bit of modification," Snape added. Draco gifted him with another look of loathing. He itched to hex the former potions master, but the damage had already been done. Draco wondered what the effect of the spell had been on Harry, other than obvious extreme pain.
"Are you hungry?" the winemaker asked after a long silence. Draco supposed it was a pathetic attempt at an apology.
"No. I would not say no to a drink, however. Something stronger than Beaujolais, if you don't mind." Snape tossed the sheaf of paper casually on the table behind him and sauntered again to the steps and disappeared. Draco looked at Harry, whose eyes had finally opened. They watched Draco with his normal clarity. Draco looked at him miserably.
"Sorry won't even begin to make amends, will it?" he asked. Harry's eyes closed once more and Draco felt his throat tighten painfully as the silence drew out uncomfortably. If Harry never spoke to him again, it would be no less than he deserved.
"Do you have my wand?" Harry asked finally.
Draco froze. "No. You left it at home, did you not?"
Harry shook his head and then made a sound of protest; the movement must have hurt. "It was in my pocket earlier."
Draco shot a glare toward the stairs. Snape. He must have taken it under the guise of examining Harry when Draco had first brought him in, when Draco was too distraught to notice. Surprisingly, Harry did not pursue the question and instead asked another.
"Can I use yours?"
Draco wordlessly handed it to him while absently wondering if his lover planned to cast a Killing Curse on him, or at least a Cruciatus.
Snape chose that moment to enter the room again and Harry buried the wand in the thick fur. Draco shifted slightly to shield the wand and much of Harry from Snape's sight. The winemaker Levitated a tray toward Draco. It held a bottle and two glasses. Brandy, Draco noted with a snort. Distilled wine. It figured.
"Your own label, I presume?" he asked and the black eyes met his in amusement.
"Of course."
Draco gratefully set the tray down and poured a stiff glassful. He glanced at Harry, who feigned sleep once more, probably to avoid conversing with the man he would cheerfully kill if given the chance. Snape carried an armful of bedding and he tossed it into the circle.
"I assume you'll choose to spend the night here," he said dryly.
"I would prefer to take him home, but apparently he's in so much bloody pain he can't bear to move or even be touched at the moment." Merely uttering the words brought Draco's anger back to the forefront and he gulped his drink to keep from doing something rash.
"Whatever. I'll be down in the morning. This will keep you from waking me before an appropriate hour." Snape raised his wand and cast a quick spell, causing the circle to flare once more.
"What did you just do?" Draco demanded, suspicion coloring his words as his instincts suddenly began to scream.
"Never mind, brat. Just get some rest." With that, the black-haired man glided back to the steps and out of the room once more.
Draco turned back to Harry, not daring to mention his misgivings.
"He's locked you in here with me, hasn't he?" Harry asked, giving voice to Draco's unspoken fear.
"I believe so, yes," Draco admitted.
"He probably hopes you'll kill me."
"Slim chance of that."
"What if I asked you to?"
Draco's jaw clenched. "Not amusing, Potter."
Harry lifted the wand from the fur and held it aloft. The tip shook slightly. Draco held his breath as the Gryffindor spoke a single word. "Lumos."
Nothing happened.
"Maybe the bastard activated the Nullifying Wards," Draco suggested. He reluctantly took his wand from Harry and tried the same spell. Light flared from the tip, dimmer than usual, but there. Draco felt sick for a moment as he wordlessly put the wand back into Harry's outstretched palm.
Three more spells had the same effect—none at all. A sharp, humorless laugh spilled from Harry's lips.
"Not exactly unexpected. He took it all, not just Avery's magic, but mine, too. To be safe? Or just to be an arse?"
Draco wasn't certain. Perhaps the spell was simply not refined enough to distinguish one magical signature from another. Or perhaps Snape had not even bothered to modify it from its original form. Regardless, Draco had allowed it to happen.
"Is this what you wanted, Draco?" Harry asked. His voice was edged with torment.
"No. No, of course it wasn't what I wanted. How can you suggest that?"
Harry sighed deeply. "It doesn't matter anymore. I doubt the process is reversible. I'm really tired. I think I'll sleep now."
He turned his face away from Draco and after awhile his breathing became slow and steady. Draco could not tell if Harry was faking or not. It made no difference; either way, Harry would not speak to him again. Draco stared into the darkness and drank Snape's brandy. After awhile, curiosity prompted him to try and leave the circle. An unmovable pressure kept him from passing over the etched lines. When he pressed harder, blue sparks sizzled in the air and stung him sharply. Snape really had locked them in. A cursory spell shot against the field caused the beam to rebound and sink into the fur near Harry's foot. Draco swore roundly and vowed to get even with Severus Snape if it was the last thing he did.
He lay down close to Harry without touching him and stared at the dark ceiling for a long time.
xxXxx
Harry listened to Draco's breathing until it evened into a slow rhythm. He rolled over carefully and looked at his sleeping lover, moving by minute degrees to keep from hissing aloud or groaning at the pain. While it had lessened slightly—probably due in part to the softer fabric touching his skin—it had not abated completely. Draco's wand was clasped loosely in his hand. Harry longed to snatch it and attempt to cast spell after spell until he found one that worked, even though he knew it was useless. Something inside of him had fundamentally altered. He could feel it even through the nearly overwhelming torment endured by his body. Something was missing. He felt hollow inside. Empty.
It was far worse than it had been after the defeat of Voldemort. Then, he had still been able to cast simple spells. His magic had been weakened, but it had still existed. Now it was gone completely. Harry was officially a Squib. He choked back a bitter laugh as a rush of loss filled him. He could not help but catalogue the things he could no longer do. No Apparition. No Summoning. No Reparo when he dropped something. No Wingardium Leviosa to send something sailing across the room. Hell, he would not even be able to get into the locked doors and drawers in his own house. No more Alohomora. How the hell did Filch stand it? No wonder he was a bitter wanker stalking the halls of Hogwarts hating everyone who possessed magic he did not.
Harry took a steadying breath and fought down despair. He looked at Draco instead. The Slytherin's hair spread out over the dark fur and Harry allowed himself to reach out and touch a soft strand. Damn it, he should be furious with the blond. Part of him was. Part of him was fucking livid. Draco had drugged him and handed him over to Snape after lying to him for days—possibly weeks—while making plans behind his back. Harry's hand clenched instinctively around Draco's hair and he fought the urge to tear at it savagely. He wanted to wake the Slytherin and yell at him, but he knew he would most likely break down and sob in Malfoy's arms instead. Harry scarcely wanted to admit it to himself, but he was terrified to be completely without magic. Would Draco want to stay with a Squib? How could he love someone who was no better than a Muggle?
Harry realized suddenly that Draco's eyes were open, watching him steadily. Harry strove to pull back, to turn away and shut his lover out, but he could not find the strength. God help him, but he could not hate Draco regardless of what he had done. He tugged gently on the length of hair still gripped in his fingers. Draco followed the motion; he levered himself up and leaned close to Harry.
Harry drew him nearer until their lips nearly touched. Draco's breath wafted over his face, smelling of alcohol and something unique to his lover. The grey eyes pierced him, although they looked nearly black in the darkness.
"I love you," Draco whispered and Harry shut his eyes against something too large for his bruised flesh to contain. He fought through the emotion.
"How can you love me now that my magic is gone?"
Draco inhaled sharply. "I don't care about that! I'll take you bruised, broken, maimed, mad, with magic or without. All that matters is you. Do you really think I care so little for you that I won't have you despite this?"
"This is no minor thing," Harry said rationally. "It's who I am."
"Even if it's who you were, I won't leave you, Harry. Do you understand?" Draco's words were low and intense. Harry's hand tightened on the length of blond hair in his fingers. He wanted desperately to believe the words. Draco continued softly, "If this is some ploy of yours to drop me for the Weasley twins, you had best rethink your little plot."
The incongruity of the statement shocked a laugh from Harry and he caught the brief twist of Draco's lips before they brushed his gently, lighter than a breeze, soft as the touch of a butterfly's wing.
"I love you, Harry," Draco repeated and Harry leaned forward into the kiss. Pain be damned, he would suffer the torments of hell for Draco's kisses. He released the bit of hair and wrapped his arm around Draco's neck to pull him closer. Pain exploded from his lips, burning like flame, but the touch of Draco's tongue soothed the embers and quelled the fire somewhat. Harry drew him in, whimpering at the rush of agony flaring in every bit of skin that touched Draco's, but he didn't care.
Draco pulled away. "I'm hurting you, aren't I?"
"I don't care," Harry gasped.
"You're shaking," Draco said. "I can't hurt you any more. This is my bloody fault!" He tried to detach himself from Harry's grip, but Harry only held more tightly.
"I don't care how much it hurts. I need you. God, I'll need you for the rest of forever now that I can't even cast a damned—"
Draco's soft kiss silenced him. "Don't. Don't talk like that. I'll get Snape to fix you if it takes me hounding his every step. He'll get your magic back if only to rid him of my nagging presence. I'll make Peeves look like an unruly toddler."
Harry tried to laugh, but yawned instead. Draco frowned at him. "Turn over," he ordered. "You need to rest. Hopefully you'll be a bit healed by morning."
Harry obediently rolled away and felt Draco tuck himself closer, although he was not quite touching Harry, except where his arm slung over his ribs. Harry ignored the prickles of pain and curled his fingers around the Slytherin's. Draco's face nestled gently in his hair.
"Go to sleep, love. I'll be right here."