A/N: I am blown away by how much love I'm getting for this story. Particularly Fire Ruby thank you for your long and detailed reviews. I loved reading your interpretations and comments. I loved writing the scene at the Black tapestry, and I felt it was truly a monumental moment for Draco to see what he already knew sown into that tapestry. Also, I'm loving motherly Tonks too!
As always; Reviews, all reviews = love.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Quotes by Huxley from Brave New World
He slept through the whole day. He really hadn't meant too. He rubbed his face and turned to the side to see the time from the clock he kept by his bedside.
5:30 am
Merlin. He hadn't slept that long straight since he was a child.
He snorted, an action he immediately regretted as it threw him into a light coughing fit. When it ended, he groaned and reached toward out for the little muggle device Remus had taken him to get. He stretched and came up slightly short.
A wandless Accio fixed that.
He held it to his mouth and puffed in the medicine and then sent the thing back.
He sat up, rubbing his temples. His head felt stuffed, and that was a prelude to something he didn't want to deal with, especially now of all times.
Regretfully, he forced himself from the bed and opened his potions drawer and fumbled around for an allergy potion, downing it almost immediately.
He couldn't get sick. Not now.
He glanced about the room, realizing more sleep now was pointless and began rummaging through his drawers for clothes before he slipped into the loo for a much needed shower.
It was a rather relaxing ritual, simply standing under the shower head and letting the scalding hot water beat against his skin, relaxing his tense muscles. It cleared the last remnants of drowsiness from his eyes and allowed his mind to finally jolt awake.
He finished rather quickly and dressed even faster. He hated looking down and seeing the litter of scars that now decorated his skin. He didn't think he'd care so much if he wasn't reminded about each event attached to the marks. They weren't exactly pleasant.
He glanced down at his forearm, having took off the bandages to get his first good look at it in days.
It looked worse.
The cut in the skin had started out small, a faint impression of where Voldemort had dug his wand into his arm. The pain, the feeling of being torn, that had been under the skin. He couldn't say when he'd first noticed the scarring beginning to open, but it must have been around the time his veins begin to darken around it. It started slow, the first month he'd only felt tired and barely noticed the additional decoration he now sported. Near the end of it though, that was when the pain began.
He'd experimented with everything. Every potion, every cream, every healing remedy he'd ever read and a few more he'd looked up. Nothing worked. It's what led him to begin trying his own hand at creating something that helped, if only by numbing the area.
He shook the water clinging to his hair as he reached over for the salve jar and clumped some into his hand before applying it to the wound and redressing it.
He sighed in satisfaction at his work and slipped into a shirt before finally venturing out into the rest of the house.
Grimmauld Place was an interesting home. He'd realized that pretty quickly the minute he'd been acquainted with the house. Twists, turns, secret rooms, and an eclectic collection of resources. His first stop was the library, where he turned amongst the shelves until he found the volume he'd been meaning to look into and then headed down to the kitchens.
Being hungry was a nice change, he hadn't had much of an appetite in weeks what with the thought or taste of food leaving him nauseous. Though, he suspected skipping lunch and dinner would do that to anyone.
He had a feeling it was another attachment of this curse on him.
Starve him to death.
Not exactly efficient.
Yet that wasn't exactly the full point of it. More of a side effect really. It was to force a deterioration; body, soul, and...mind.
The last, he feared more than the first.
He'd always had his mind to fall back on, when he was still relatively defenseless with magic, when he was younger, always a tad smaller than he should be for his age until he'd shot up in 5th year... He'd had his brain to plan, to work, to learn. He couldn't lose that.
Even now, he was contemplated a hundred different things at once.
Bellatrix had the cup.
He was more sure of it now that he'd had time to dwell on the idea.
Getting in was going to prove nearly impossible. Even if one could get passed the first few goblins and gain entrance into the vault, getting there would force them through enchantments that stripped them of any disguises they may have.
He balled his fists, dropping them hard on the counter.
If he'd only known beforehand, he could have charmed his way down and used his excuse as the woman's nephew to see her vault. In fact, he doubted he would have even needed a goblin to open it. His 'aunt' favored blood wards, and his blood would have been more than enough.
"Ugh." he groaned dropping his head on the counter.
"Does Master Draco be needing anythings?"
He startled before relaxing at the sight of Kreacher.
"Merlin Kreacher, you've got to stop sneaking up on me."
Kreacher bowed, his head nearly touching the ground. "I's apologize Master Draco" He lifted his head, "But be you needing anything?"
He looked thoughtful, "Yes. I'm actually quite famished. You wouldn't mind helping me sort…"
"Oh yes Master. Kreacher will make breakfast." the elf babbled clearly excited for the task.
It forced a thin smile on his face. "Really Kreacher just point me in the direction of…."
"No." Kreacher gasped at the idea that he may want to serve himself. "Kreacher serves the house of Black, and he is honored to serve the true master of the ancient home."
He bit his tongue to hold back his laughter.
"Has Sirius been giving you trouble again Kreacher?"
The elf grumbled something that sounded like, 'Kreacher should not talk of such things.'
He waved it off. "Don't hold back on my account. If you'd like to complain, be my guest."
Kreacher looked up to him with a look of near awe.
Draco laughed at the look. "Oh gods." he managed between bouts of laughter and wheezing, "I'm sure between the two of us, we could manage a list of complaints for everyone in the whole house."
Hermione's eyes fluttered open as she took in the near darkness of her room. Groaning she rolled to her side and clasped her wand, a quick spell to check the time on the tip of her tongue.
6:30am.
Christ.
She fell back down on the bed. She'd wanted to sleep longer than 5 hours. She rubbed her eyes.
After Draco had disappeared to go sleep, she'd plunged head first into her research. First, she'd wanted to confirm the theory that she and Draco had seemed to come up with on how to destroy a horcrux. With the information sparse at best, and what little was available seemed to confirm it, she'd gravitated toward other subject materials.
She hadn't even realized she'd begun researching dark curses until the second book. By then, it was easy to guess what for.
Draco.
She hadn't woken him as Tonks had suggested. Sirius had gone to check on him before dinner and found his fever spiked. He'd let him sleep, worried about the slight blemishes the were decorating the skin beneath his eyes and the fever that just didn't seem to break.
She slipped out of the bed, finally accepting that she would not be drifting back into dreams anytime soon.
With a quick spell for her hair, she tugged on her jeans and a loose jumper before making her way down the steps toward the kitchen.
Some tea and toast and then she'd return to her books before the Order arrived later today.
"Now I'm only making an observation, not suggesting anything, but cleaning out the Quidditch supplies and rearranging the brooms in the opposite order of how they are now would surely drive my father mental."
She paused a few feet from the door, recognizing Draco's voice.
"Food for thought." he continued.
She cocked her head with interest
There was a long pause before the reply.
"Kreacher was planning to cleans the Quidditch supplies soon."
"That's the spirit." Draco laughed lightly.
"And does Master be having any other suggestions for the guests."
Was Draco conversing and joking with Kreacher? She'd hardly believe it if she weren't hearing it right then and there.
Draco seemed to consider Kreacher's request before she heard him answer.
"I suppose you could pretend we're out of food. It would probably give Weasley heart failure."
She clasped a hand over her mouth to keep in her snort of amusement at Draco's dry wit. He had a surprising sense of humor, even if it was at the expense of her friend.
"And Miss Granger's Master? She not be a natural witch. Such things are not right for the noble house of Black."
She winced at Kreacher's vehement insistence. She'd truly thought she'd broken him of it. She'd been kind, and it had been ages since he'd called her a mudblood to her face. Yet, it seemed despite it all, he still believed her to be a lesser being.
"Ah." Draco mused, "Well, she can't very well help that. She hasn't been unkind has she?"
Kreacher grumbled before replying, "No Master."
"Then I must say Kreacher, I draw the line at Miss Granger. Her only true faults, besides her two bodyguards, are her incredibly nosy nature and utter lack of stealth."
The door to the kitchen opened, and Draco lent on the frame with his arms crossed as he stared down at her.
"Morning Granger."
She blushed sheepishly, but fought to keep her expression blank anyway.
"Draco." she greeted.
He blinked in surprise, faltering slightly on his feet. Seizing the opportunity, she slipped passed him and entered the kitchen.
She was immediately met with a large display of food spread across the kitchen table that from the looks of it Draco had barely made a dent into.
"Here." Draco came up beside her with an empty plate in hand, "I can't possibly eat all of this on my own."
She was about to refuse, when Draco turned away from her and broke down in a harsh coughing fit.
He waved her off from getting closer to help, and stumbled back to lean on a counter, pulling his inhaler with mild frustration.
He hated it. She could tell. Not being able to control his body and it's reactions.
When it ended, he let out a low sigh, sniffling softly.
He avoided her gaze, and she was so incredibly unsure what to do. If it were Harry or Ron, she would comfort them or ask if they needed anything. Draco...Draco was still an unknown. Not an enemy, but an ally. Not a friend...and yet she didn't think him a stranger.
Kreacher broke the awkward silence.
"Master Draco shoulds be resting and taking cares of himself. He must finish eating." Kreacher said sternly.
Draco flashed the old elf a tight smile.
"Kreacher." He began, his voice low and hoarse, "Snape brought over some potions yesterday. Could you tell me where -"
"I will gets the potion Master." Kreacher said disapparating with a pop.
Draco blinked before he shook his head. "Stubborn elf." he muttered lowly.
Hermione let out a breath, deciding on her course of action.
"You alright?"
He startled, seemingly having forgotten she was in the room.
"Fine." he said softly, running his index finger under his nose, "S'just my allergies acting up."
She felt her brow raise of its own accord.
"Maybe, but I don't think so. It sounds more like -"
"Don't." he interrupted quickly, "Don't. If my dad hears, he'll force me on bed rest for another bloody week."
She couldn't help the slight quirk of her lips at Draco acknowledging Sirius as his father. She could tell his attitude toward the other had vastly softened since their rather explosive argument. She knew Sirius craved it, something open and warm between them. Yet, she could also understand Draco and his need for distance.
She shrugged signaling her assent, and Draco relaxed before once more motioning for her to eat.
She reluctantly took a seat at the table, no longer able to ignore the pangs in her stomach signaling a need for food. However, she kept glancing up to look at Draco. She noticed that he was again wearing muggle clothes, dark jeans and a loose black jumper. Her eyes drifted to his feet, and she realized, with a start, he was only wearing socks.
She had never in her entire life seen him so casual. He'd always been a smart dresser when she'd seen him at school, and really, even now, in jeans that looked like they cost more than half her wardrobe and a loose jumper, he still looked like he'd stepped out of a magazine.
Life was truly unfair that way. He made her feel vastly under dressed, even if she was essentially wearing the same thing.
"I don't get you." She said without even pausing to think about the words before she spoke.
His brow rose.
"You're still as much of the sarcastic git you always were, only now you read muggle literature and get involved in fights. Fights that are about more than yourself." She looked away from his gaze, unsure if she would be able to continue if she allowed those penetrating eyes of his to meet hers. "And I always knew you were smart, but you're bloody brilliant." Here she stole a glance at him and found that both his brows had shot up to his hairline. "Were you always like this, complex and…"
Broken. Angry. Calming. Thoughtful.
A masterpiece.
"Ah." He finally said as she trailed off, "That's why you've been acting different towards me."
His face seemed to grow cold as he withdrew into himself, and she thought she must have truly upset him with her words. It hadn't been her intention. Not at all.
"So I've become a puzzle. Something you can't solve. Does it bother you that I don't fit into the perfectly labeled box you've had for me for as long as we've known each other? Does it bother you that I'm not as one dimensional as I led you believe?" he looked like he was caught between wanting to sneer at her or simply regard her with his patented blank expression. "I bet what really bothers you is that I've been putting on a show, and you fell for it just like everyone else."
"That's not what I meant." she said weakly, unsure why she was nearly trembling at his words. They weren't loud, spoken in hot anger. No. They were cold, dipped in cruelty.
"It's all me Granger. Maybe parts were exaggerated, but it is all me." he gave her a knowing look, "and 'I'd rather be me. Myself and nasty. Not somebody else.'"
She took a deep breath. His quotation shaking her more than she thought right for such a simple phrase from a book.
"Maybe so." she conceded, "And maybe I do want to try to understand you, but it's not because it bothers me. What I want to understand is why everything I see doesn't match with the self-deprecated impression you seem to have of who you are."
The coldness seemed to fade into something much more pained; much more lost. It reminded her that Draco was only 17… A man, but not really a man.
"What do you want Granger?" he let out a breath, and she met his gaze unflinching.
"I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin." she whispered, a perfect echo from the quote he'd answered her with.
He recognized it. Of course he would, it was from the same book after all. Though it was more than that, his whole body shifted at her words.
"What do you want Granger?" he asked again, this time without malice or mirth.
It felt so much more loaded now. She wanted to fight and win the war and leave Voldemort as nothing more than a pile of ash and a bad dream. She wanted to keep her friends safe, and that her parents would remain so wherever they were. Her eyes landed on his again.
She wanted to help him.
Yet, it was not at all what he was asking, while simultaneously being exactly what he was asking.
"I want to know you." she repeated, "I...I think we could be friends."
He gave her a sad sort of smile.
"I don't think you really want to be friends with me. You're too intrigued now. It's clouding your judgement." he stood and turned, moving passed her to leave the kitchen.
"No."
She blinked and she'd grabbed Draco by the arm to stop him from moving.
"No." She repeated, "I make my own choices."
He met her gaze, and they stood like that for quite some time. In fact, he was still studying her carefully when the pop sounded signaling Kreacher's return with his potion.
She kept her hand firmly grasping his arm, unwilling to let go until he'd at least spoken his intent.
"Alright Hermione." he said lowly, "Alright for now."
Only then, did she drop her hand.
"Good." she murmured, letting her eyes drift around the room before they settled on a solitary book on the table.
"Let's see what you got, shall we?"
It was something else to watch Draco up close. They'd eaten breakfast, a few short bites before Kreacher had returned with Draco's potion. He'd downed it quickly before pushing back his seat and declaring that he was going to the library.
It seemed he'd anticipated her want to follow him in efforts to strengthen their so called friendship she'd insisted on.
He seemed deliberate in his casual mention of it.
She had a feeling he'd anticipated her want to follow him or find him later. Perhaps he'd chalked it up to her desire to continue to cultivate this friendship, and part of that was the case. However, she was worried about him. He hid everything. His ideas and revelations that could undoubtedly aid in the hunt as well as relatively basic emotions; happiness, discomfort, unhappiness….pain.
She seen him tremble periodically over breakfast. It made her wonder if it was due to the wound itself or the memories attached to it. Even more was the possibility that the lingering tremors were simply the culmination of all the beatings he'd taken while undercover.
He was keeping quite tight lipped about the entire thing,and it didn't sit right with her. She had a feeling he knew something about the curse on his arm.
Like it might be the final thing that kills him.
She let out a breath, trying to erase such thoughts from her mind but they'd sent sharp stabs of pain from her gut all the way to her chest. There was no forgetting it now.
She peeked into the library, and as it tended to do, the sight of the shelves and shelves of books calmed her.
She spotted him in a corner nose firmly in a book. He didn't look up to greet her or acknowledge her presence at all.
She bit her lip to keep from grinning in amusement before she selected a separate corner that was still full of the books she'd been looking through previously.
She traced the covers before sitting down slowly into her seat. Her eyes fell to the book she'd been willed by her headmaster.
The Tales of Beedle the Bard.
She sighed, flicking through the pages. Why this book? What meaning had he wanted her to gain from it. Nothing about the horcruxes that she knew for sure. It was something else.
"Fairytales Granger?" Draco said lowly coming to sit beside her.
She grinned down at the book in her lap before wiping her face blank and looking up. Draco was looking at her intently a lone eyebrow raised before he dropped his gaze to the book. Wordlessly, she handed it off to him, watching as he flipped through the pages.
He paused at one though, tracing the triangle symbol with his brows furrowed.
"Dumbledore gave it to me." She said when it was clear he wasn't going to speak.
Draco snorted before closing the book. "Well, he always was a crock."
She gasped, and Draco shot her an amused smirk.
"I mean he could have told you what he meant while he was alive, but instead, he leaves you with riddles that don't make any sense to anyone except him." He said with a hint of bitterness.
He placed it on the table beside them before letting his eyes drift to the remaining titles she had pulled.
He seemed calm, more approachable than ever, and really she should take advantage of it. She wanted to pick his mind, figure out how he worked, but she knew there were limits. It would be better to probe safe topics than those he obviously wanted to avoid.
Fleetingly, her eyes went to his left arm with just a hint of white bandage peeking out from beneath his sleeve.
He probably needed to have them changed.
She cleared her throat.
"Do you have any ideas about what…" she took a breath, "What the others could be?"
He looked at her before idly tracing his fingers on the spine of the book in his hand.
"Well, he seems abnormally obsessed with valuable artifacts; especially those that belonged to the Founders."
"I noticed." She nodded, "I figure there's probably something representing each founder."
Draco shook his head. "Not Gryffindor. All those artifacts are well documented and none have ever gone missing."
Interesting so that left Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw.
"Hufflepuff's only had one real famous artifact, her cup, and it went missing some odd years ago." Draco said.
He sighed then, rubbing his temples with a slightly pained expression. "Which leaves us with Ravenclaw and whatever the last one is."
She smiled slightly at his inclusive vocabulary before she spoke next.
"The snake."
Draco looked up at her.
At his questioning look, she explained how it seemed to have a connection with Voldemort, and by extension Harry. At that, Draco had looked slightly uncomfortable before growing thoughtful as she continued.
"I suppose that makes sense." He mused, "That thing has always had some sort of otherworldly cruelty in it." He grew silent then, seemingly lost in whatever string of memories he had of the creature. She noticed a slight tremor in his hands that he stilled by laying one on his lap and the other to curl around his forearm.
"They'll probably be harder to find," he said absently massaging his arm, "The locket was in plain sight, but the others could be locked up; buried in vaults underground."
She shrugged.
"They could be, but then, we could also speculate that they're at the bottom of the ocean." She bit her lip, "We need to be completely sure before we go; otherwise, we're simply going on a wild goose chase."
He glanced at her puzzled at her turn of phrase before shaking his head.
"Confirmation." he murmured again seemingly lost in his thoughts.
She watched him closely, slightly surprised at how introspective he was. Much more than she'd ever taken him for. But then, all her assumptions had been based on a flamboyant facade, not the truth.
He winced, stilling his hand above his arm as his breath caught in his throat. She could tell he was struggling with truly reacting to whatever flare of pain had come over him. It made her wish he wouldn't do it, hide his reactions and happenings.
He seemed to notice her staring, because he straightened and smoothed his features into a practiced blank expression.
She was just about to throw all her caution out the window and simply ask about the curse, when he spoke again.
"I am sorry you know."
She blinked, unsure if she had heard him correctly.
He clenched his teeth. "For...for dragging you into all the bad blood between Potter and I."
All thoughts of his curse left her mind as she sat stunned at his apology. She'd never imagined that they'd ever talk of this.
She swallowed, finding her throat too tight to accommodate the action.
"Did you...Did you ever believe it? The blood purity stuff."
He cast his eyes downward at his hand that he was clenching and unclenching over and over. He nodded after a moment.
"In a way I did." he said softly, "My father, Lucius I mean, raised me with those beliefs. I was skeptical of most of it mind. But...but some of it seemed undeniable the more I learned about...about where I came from." He looked at her then, "After all, a muggle did help make Voldemort."
She stiffened at that. It was an indisputable truth. She bit her tongue at the immediate rebuttals that came to mind, instead, hoping Draco would continue. It was obvious from how they interacted now that his beliefs had changed, and she was curious of why.
"I think most of it just came from anger, and I had that in bucket loads." He dropped his eyes back to his palms, "It was needing and finding something to blame."
She let out a breath.
"What changed?"
"One of my best mates." Draco smiled slightly, "is unbelievably smitten with a half blood. I met her father more times than I can count, but I think it was her grandfather that really got me."
She couldn't help it, but she felt herself softening and smiling along with Draco.
"He gave me books. Tons and tons of muggle books that I devoured almost as soon as he'd handed them over."
Draco shook his head.
"Then there was the fact that my other best mate is completely taken with the idea of bar hopping, muggle or otherwise."
She snorted, and his smile widened momentarily.
"Yeah." he let out a puff of air, "After all of that it was hard to deny what was so obviously in front of my face."
He sniffed and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand.
"Then of course there was you, but then you never fit into the stereotypes people want to assign you."
He gave her no room to reply before he'd stood and made his way to leave.
"Wait Draco."
He half turned, the door handle in his hand.
"Thank you."
He gave her a puzzled look.
"Thank you for talking to me."
He shook his head. "You're odd Granger." He said with just a hint of a smile on his lips.
She smiled in return and watched as he opened and slipped easily back out into the hall.
"I'm not the only one." She murmured to herself
Hermione had given him a lot to think about. Most importantly, he had to confirm the cup was in the vault before he began making plans on extracting it.
He had to meet with Blaise. Their next one was scheduled for a few days from now, but he would have to move it earlier. He couldn't take the risk that Bellatrix would move the Sword into the vault and then adding to what were no doubt numerous protective enchantments already.
He rubbed again at his pain from the constant pounding beneath his skull coupled with the pressure of his sinuses was becoming nearly too much. There was no denying it now. He was surely coming down with something.
He blamed his addled senses and distraction for his apology to Hermione.
Though, if he allowed himself to admit it, he'd been planning to offer an apology to her. Yet, in his mind, he'd thought it would be much more succinct.
"You're fucking up Draco." he muttered to himself.
He dropped his hands from his temples and rubbed at his sore throat before lacing them to rest on the back of his neck.
"Oh I know that look."
He shook his head and turned toward the source, raising his brow in question.
Sirius shot him a wide grin.
"It's the look that says I may have screwed up, but I'm not sure, and if I did then it's going to be a real disaster."
Draco cracked a thin smile.
"So the story of my life."
Sirius snorted, running a hand through his hair.
"That dry wit, Merlin." He shook his head, "Cissa must have taught you that."
His smile widened at mention of his mother before it fell off abruptly from his face. He worried for her. Despite the reassurances he'd had, he knew first hand how quickly the dynamic could change. It was only too easy to issue and follow through with a threat.
Sirius came forward and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
"She's strong, my cousin. A lot stronger than I ever was." Sirius said softly, "She'll be alright Draco. At the first sign of that changing, I will do everything I can to get her out."
Draco cast his eyes forward to hide the unshed tears that were no doubt shining within them.
He nodded, not trusting his voice to speak.
Sirius squeezed his shoulder.
"But I didn't come to talk about that." Sirius said, brushing his hair from his eyes and then palming his forehead.
He heard him mutter about his fluctuating fever with irritation clear in his tone.
"How do you feel?" Sirius asked.
Draco blinked and then shrugged. "Ok."
This time, Sirius's brow rose in an all too familiar manner that it brought a small smile to his lips.
"A little tired." he amended before he added what he thought Sirius truly wanted to know, "I should be fine for tonight though."
Sirius studied him before letting out a heavy sigh.
"I wanted to ask you about that." He began, "Make sure you were comfortable with it."
Draco resisted the urge to frown. Admittedly, he was thrown. His own level of comfort and opinion on such decisions had rarely been taken into account in the past. Not for decisions such as these.
Sirius seemed to catch his confusion because he shot him a reassuring smile.
"I…" Draco cleared his throat, "It's really your decision."
Sirius made a sound of disagreement.
"But," he continued, "I think I'd rather it only be to those you know are truly trustworthy."
Sirius looked thoughtfully at him, his eyes narrowed slightly. Draco resisted the urge to fidget under the scrutiny.
He was reminded, not for the first time, that while his father may have been a Gryffindor, he could have just as easily been sorted into Slytherin had he not been hell bent on being a rebel.
"I think that's reasonable." Sirius finally said.
Draco nodded as he cast his eyes around the hall. He'd been overcome with the sensation that he and his father were no longer alone.
"I think you should probably go rest before then." Sirius continued. For a moment, Draco swore he saw real fear and worry lodged in Sirius's gray blue eyes.
"The eldest Weasley is a curse breaker." Sirius said quietly, "He'll be coming tonight. I'd like for him to look at your arm if you're up to it."
Draco swallowed roughly, biting the inside of his cheek.
When he didn't answer, Sirius seemed to take it as his refusal and quickly began to reassure him.
"I know. I know. Even I'm a bit weary to trust them, especially with something like this." Sirius said, "But his credentials are sound and I do trust in that."
He resisted the urge to retort with something scathing and ridiculing, but he couldn't muster a single sound. Physically, he didn't think he could speak against the swelling of his throat. Even more than that he couldn't bring himself to destroy the glimmer of hope that was in Sirius that had even lit a tiny spark in himself.
"Ok." he whispered.
Sirius sighed in relief. "Good. Good." he said mostly to himself, "Now go rest."
Draco nodded while plastering a weak smile on his face.
Sirius smiled warmly in response before he turned and continued toward the staircase. When his father's dark head could no longer be seen, he let out a shaky breath before leaning against the wall.
He closed his eyes, and focused on the simple action of forcing air into his damaged lungs. After a moment, with his eyes still closed, he spoke.
"Come on out Potter."
He heard the rustling of fabric, and when he opened his eyes, he met the green eyes of the so called Chosen One.
"I thought you were done spying on me." Draco said, not even bothering to lace the words with any of his usual venom.
Potter shrugged.
"I had an opportunity."
He shrugged in response. He waited, knowing that the other was surely bursting with his own questions along with a prepared speech. With Potter, he'd learned, he would tell you everything you wanted to know if you simply gave him time and payed attention to all he said and everything he didn't.
"I believe you're on the right side." Potter began, "But I don't care much for all the secrets you still keep."
Again, he didn't bother with a reply.
Potter clenched his fists in annoyance at his silence, but didn't rise to voice it.
"What's the deal with that curse of yours?"
Sensing he wouldn't figure out Potter's endgame unless he spoke, he finally offered a reply.
"What do you mean?"
Potter shook his head.
"Why don't you talk about it, or let anyone else talk about it for that matter. I'd have thought you'd be desperate to find a way to save your own skin."
Like you've always done.
It goes unsaid, but it's quite obviously there. Perhaps, at one point, he had been that person, but not now. No, he was tired, and the anger that had filled and fueled him for years had nearly run out. What hadn't had been redirected and focused. Besides, many of those actions had been just that. A script that needed to be followed.
"Why do you think that is?" he said lowly, "As I'm sure you're just dying to tell me."
Potter growled and after a moment obliged him with his answer.
"I know him." Potter stressed, "or rather I know him well enough to guess how he'd punish someone who displeased him."
Draco cast his eyes downward, turning his head to Potter to continue.
"He'll pick you apart, destroy you in pieces before he let's death clean up the mess. He'd make it slow. Gradual."
Draco let out a strangled breath, not entirely surprised that Potter had been the one to pick up on it. The bastard was perceptive when he wanted to be.
"And I know you know that too. It's why you don't talk about it. You don't think it'll make a difference."
"Then you know what the end result of that means." Draco said before sighing and leaning heavily against the wall. He closed his eyes before tiredly opening them and looking up to the ceiling of the hall.
"My father, Sirius, I don't think he'll survive it if I...if I go." he managed to say, "You're all he's going to have Potter."
Take care of him.
"You're going to have to actually think through your plans and plots. You have to stay alive."
He kept his eyes trained at the ceiling, focusing again on that simple but laborious inhale and exhale of his chest.
For a while, with only silence between them, he was nearly positive Potter had left.
"There's just one problem about all that." Potter spoke, "I need you alive just like you need me alive."
Draco swallowed roughly bringing his eyes to meet his one time rival's.
"You've got a lot of valuable knowledge. For fuck's sake you've been a spy for nearly 5 years," Potter exclaimed, "and I want to learn from you."
Draco shook his head in disbelief.
"And you're right. I don't think Sirius would…" Potter's voice dropped, "You're his son, and he loves you more than life itself."
He blinked furiously, struggling, nearly in vain, to pull his practiced mask back on.
"And there are good people who are behind you. They are going to try every possible thing that may help you."
He bit his lip and found himself nodding as Potter spoke. He could have nearly laughed or cried at the ridiculousness of the situation. Here he was getting a comforting pep talk from fucking Potter.
"Plus there's Hermione."
At that, Draco's eyes shot to meet the other's. Potter gave him a knowing smirk.
"I've seen her work miracles in tougher spots." he looked thoughtful for a moment, "Then of course there's you, and I hate to admit it, but you're fucking brilliant."
Potter shot him a tight smile at the shock that had easily gripped him at that final confession.
"And well, you both rose hell against each other. Imagine what you could do together." Potter finished before turning on his heel and leaving Draco alone within the hall.
He rubbed tired at his eyelids.
"You're fucked mate. Absolutely fucked." he muttered to himself.
He shook his head, pulling out a galleon from his pocket and tapping a message to Blaise for the change in time and to bring a bag to carry supplies in. He climbed up the steps, debating which potions he could have ready for Blaise to take to Hogwarts within two days.
Truly, between the horcruxes, the Golden Trio, the Order, the fucking Carrows at Hogwarts, and the ever present curse blackening his forearm, he had no time for rest.
"Fucked. Absolutely fucked." he repeated to himself as he heavily dragged himself up the steps to his room.
