Disclaimer : Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I just enjoy messing with her characters.
Warnings : strong language, lemon, rape (non descriptive and not H/D), dub-con, violence, drug use, hints of prostitution, multiple pairings, OCs.
Beta: The ever fantastic Avenalanon and MsLefay.
CHAPTER 9 : GHOSTS OF THE PAST
Harry had been authorized to enter the property half an hour after Draco's departure. He entered into a spacious hall, a small round table in front of him and a large living room on his right. The place was luxurious, like everything that surrounded Draco. But Harry assumed a blasé attitude, hands in his pockets, his face sullen. Draco ended his discussion with a man in a black uniform. The blonde looked a bit uneasy, more nervous than usual.
"Matthew, would you show our guest round the house?"
Harry made a full turn, looking right and left, without showing much curiosity about his surroundings, and said in a nasty voice, "No, thanks. I'm not interested"
Draco stared at him, not fooled.
"What's your problem?"
"No, what's your problem?" Harry retorted straight away. "You want to show off? I've seen enough okay. I know your type.."
Draco played along. "I've got nothing to prove, and least of all to you. Do as you wish."
He began climbing the stair when Harry added, "You may delude yourself into thinking you own everything, but you can't have it all."
Draco caught the banister with his hand and bent forward on the step. His posture gave him a superior air as he threw out viciously, "I got you, didn't I?"
If he was looking for a reaction, he'd won: the way Harry took his hands out of his pockets at once, and pinned him with furious eyes should have satisfied him fully.
"No, you didn't get me, believe me. Not for one moment."
"Tsk tsk. Right Potter, whatever you say."
Harry turned away, teeth clenched. Impossible to have the last word with this pretentious prick.
Harry looked through the window. The weather seemed to have calmed a bit, a thin curtain of rain subsided. Harry left the house, scarcely bothered by the drizzle, and went to sit on the steps fuming. He stayed sitting there, observing the lake from afar. He couldn't get Draco out of his head. Pensively he got up and walked along the gravel, eyes downcast, hitting the stones with his toes and pushing them with annoyance.
He turned around and around, examined the security booth, then the camera above him. It made a high pitched buzzing sound. Harry stared straight into the eye of the camera. He thought for a moment. Why was this place, practically deserted, so far away from the city, under such high security? The property looked more like a family home than their cottage, and yet the latter wasn't nearly as secured as this house.
Still lost in thoughts, his gaze slid from the camera to one of the windows upstairs. His eyes fell on a silhouette, shiny eyes seeming to pierce through the glass: Draco. Harry frowned for a second but kept his eyes glued to the figure. They surveyed each other as they would contemplate a painting, each detailing the other, trying to reach inside. Harry looked away first, he couldn't help himself. When he lifted his head shortly after, Draco had disappeared, as if he had never been there.
Harry sighed and walked across the courtyard. He headed to the wooden hut, not out of curiosity but out of pure boredom. He pushed the half open double door and came face to face with a young Hispanic man. The man was putting away several tools in his box. Harry apologized briefly and the man looked at him again. No cordial words, nor curt words. Just a piercing and dark stare. Harry hated him at first sight. Something just didn't feel right about him, it was visceral. The man had a rough physique, but also an animal magnetism, virtually suffocating in strength. Harry closed the door behind him as quickly as he could and started when he crossed the face of a severe man in a black uniform. With his prominent cheekbones and piercing eyes, the man was almost scary.
Harry felt caught in a hostile and cold environment.
"Sir, did you finally change your mind about the tour?" asked the man dressed like a penguin.
Getting over his initial shock, Harry recognized the man he had seen earlier with Draco. From the way he had popped up from nowhere, seemingly jumping in front of him, Harry was beginning to wonder if he had been commissioned to keep him in line.
Harry answered "I may have a few questions, but I don't want to bother you."
The man -Matthew? - looked at him mysteriously, as though he were considering his options. Or his instructions.
Since Matthew didn't oppose it, he asked.
"Does Draco own this house?"
"No."
Harry had hoped for more details but looking at the man's face, he knew he would have to settle for this terse answer. His hand behind his back, Matthew was facing the house making him look like an estate agent.
"It looks pretty old," Harry noted.
Matthew was obviously awaiting this remark, and informed him in a proud and pompous tone
"It is full of history. The house was built in 1903. It even harboured the resistance during the Second World War. The house has suffered damage since this period, but a few renovations have made it as good as new."
Harry nodded, falsely appearing impressed. Matthew took a few steps and lifted his heard to look at the property.
"It has seen many things over the years," he mused. "Yes… It conceals many secrets," Matthew said with dark eyes.
Harry scowled. Was he purposely being obtuse or was he trying to scare him again?
They went inside, and naturally, Harry's questions earned him a little ramble around the house.
As Matthew enumerated to him the various treasures of the property, giving many dates and historical details, Harry observed the comings and goings of the house's employees. He noticed the modern electrical system next to the door. Probably the alarm. The device clashed with the ancient decor.
He directed his attention back to Matthew as he recounted the different rooms of the house.
Harry passed the door to a little sitting room on the left, a little study next to it. There were wide glass doors opening into another garden and on the right, the kitchen and staff room.
"This is 'the backstage'. Master Malfoy never wanders here."
The utility room under the stairs. On the first floor, a long corridor opened onto the guest rooms, on the right, Draco's study, Harry's bedroom, a large library and between the latter two, a sitting room. On the second floor what looked like an ancient ballroom stood unused, with its high ceiling and great mirrors covering the walls on either side. In the far corner was a door leading to a spacious study, visibly unoccupied.
The guided tour was over and Matthew left Harry to his own devices and got back to his tasks. Harry, who started to find that time passed slowly, was hanging around in the hall, at a loss for what to do. It didn't seem to him that he was being watched inside, but he knew this was only an illusion. The few staff turned out to be particularly curious. Harry had spotted a young girl and two young men in uniform coming and going as though they were checking on him. Harry felt he was being spied on, not like a potential threat but more like an object of curiosity. He could hear their whispers and see their stolen glances.
Looking up close, the house didn't seem very lively. The rooms were well kept, no trace of dust, but it was all so impersonal. The house seemed frozen in time. Besides, the place looked nothing like Draco, the decor too classical and austere. Harry had the impression he would get punished if he dared move even a chair. Everything was so neat and symmetrical, the chairs aligned behind the tables, the desks positioned with precision. Nothing stuck out.
Then, Harry heard female voices coming from the kitchen door. What a better opportunity to learn more about the life of the house? He opened the door and peeped inside. Two women were busy preparing dinner, chatting with little white aprons over their black uniforms, very old fashioned. The first one was corpulent, preparing a broth, bent over a large gas stove. The other one, smaller, was seated at a wooden table, peeling carrots next to a ceramic bowl. Harry discreetly stepped in, and the two women, who were still conversing, turned their eyes to him.
The more corpulent one reacted first
"Oooh, but what are you doing here? You've lost your way I bet. Tut tut , you had better go find our young master, it wouldn't do if you got him cross. He can be so difficult sometimes..."
"Emma, you see you made him lose his tongue," the other woman scolded. "Young man, can we help you?"
"Uh, I was just looking for a quiet place," he said with his most charming expression.
"Are you hiding?" Emma questioned with mischievous eyes while turning her spatula in a huge casserole.
"You could say that," he answered shyly.
"Well, you found the right place. Young master never sets foot in here. It is from him you're hiding, isn't it?"
Harry nodded, coming near the table, grabbing the back of one of the chairs in his hand.
"You're Harry, right?" Emma whispered with a pert face. "I've been told you're curious, and we received very strict orders concerning you, oh yes."
"Emma!" the other woman chided.
"Why Millie, you can see this young man is absolutely lovely! I'm a good judge of character and I say Master Draco is overly suspicious." She turned to Harry and said, out of the blue "I know I can be a bit eccentric…"
Harry smiled.
"No, no. Actually, I find it quite refreshing. I can give you a hand if you want."
"You can't be serious! This isn't your place," Millie answered, shocked.
Harry insisted. "I don't mind."
And he left her no choice, settling next to her without waiting for permission. She stared at him more than a little embarrassed, but smiled anyway.
"Don't worry, Draco couldn't care less about what I do."
" Oh, I'm sure he does!" Emma interposed. "He can't stop talking about you since you arrived."
"Hm, to set a code of conduct... "
"Oh not only! It's the first time he's talked about someone with such interest since Astoria…"
Millie cut her short, "I think you should watch your words, Emma."
Emma closed her mouth like a clap, realizing her indiscretion, and walled herself to silence.
A sly look flitted across Harry's face. He knew he could get more out of them. He had done well to invite himself here.
In the kitchen, time flew by quietly. Harry had taken a potato peeler and was peeling the carrots with Millie. Emma joined them at the table. She was finishing the chicken preparation, plunging her hands into the carcass to remove the giblets. The sight of the flesh and the blood on her fingers made Harry turn a bit white. Millie laughed under her collar, watching him shrink in his chair. Harry put his hand over his mouth, looked at her and shrugged.
Emma put an end to the silence treatment.
"So, now that we are more acquainted…" Harry smiled at this, they had barely talked! "…well, I've been dying to ask, are you Draco's new crush?"
The word "crush" was so inappropriate, and the mere mention of his relationship with Draco clouded his face.
"I don't know, you'll have to ask him," he answered darkly.
"We know he's a handful, and he's awfully mistrustful, but it's just the way he is. And just the fact that he brought you here with him…"
Emma interrupted herself with a pondering look and resumed with a decided tone
"I guess, we can tell you a thing or two about our dear master."
Millie threw her a dark look.
"Emma no."
"What? Matthew never told us anything about that, I don't see why we shouldn't discuss his character."
She looked at Harry and smiled.
"Harry must know what he's getting himself into."
She'd managed to rouse his interest. Harry bent toward her and said in a gossiping tone
"It's true, I have to confess I'm a bit at loss with Draco. You have all my attention."
Emma pursed her lips, delighted. Millie gazed at him, a bit alarmed, but finally let go.
"Well, your dear Draco has an erratic temper as you certainly know," Emma said. "I remember when he first arrived here, he had this way of looking at us, very haughtily. He hadn't got a grasp of kindness, angry at everyone… And then he met this beautiful girl, very classy. Astoria Greengrass."
She searched through her memories, still manipulating the chicken in her hands.
"He wasn't immediately seduced, no. She was so subdued. But little-by-little, things changed. They started a relationship. I think they fell in love on New Year's Eve, you remember Millie?"
The other woman didn't utter a word and started shelling peas.
"All of a sudden, Miss Greengrass began to act very distant with him. I think he didn't appreciate her…. He was so sure of his charm. In this regard, I don't think he has changed much. And he saw her as a challenge. But she wasn't easy… She was a very clever this girl."
"She kept her cards close to her chest, the little bitch," Millie let out.
She suddenly brought her hands to her mouth, as if she'd suddenly noticed she'd spoke out loud. She blushed, then Emma continued, looking amused.
"Indeed, I couldn't have said it better myself. She played him…She made him lose his head, the poor boy. He was going crazy trying to seduce her. And then, she gave in. He was so thrilled, but she kept at her little game. She was so demanding, you remember? And he yielded to all her whims. He took her to travel everywhere…"
Her eyes saddened.
"And then, one day, she left. No one saw it coming. From what I've heard, she was the one who denounced him, telling who knows what lies to the police. They turned up one day without notice, what a fuss! Fortunately, Master Malfoy had nothing to feel guilty about, but from there on, they wouldn't leave it alone."
Harry remembered McCarthy's rage, his obsessive desire to bring Draco down.
"A true witch hunt…." She opened her eyes wide, realizing what she had said. "If you'll allow me the expression," she offered with an apologetic air.
She resumed her story, "But try as they might, they found no evidence. We had to undergo their questioning, their inquisitions… It even went to court! Master Malfoy always went through it head held high."
She arose to put the chicken in the oven.
"But this blow shook him. He has changed a lot. After that, he brought here all those detestable young people."
"Rude people," Millie added.
Emma slammed the oven door.
"It went on for months. Oh yes, really, what a waste." She sat down. "Like Felipe." She specified, "He's the man who takes care of the maintenance and garden."
Harry remembered the man in the hut and made a slight grimace.
"A gorgeous young man, but cunning. I saw it right away. He has the devil in him, tried to seduce me too." She added, "Yes, it's the truth," as if the mere idea was ludicrous. Which in fact, with her loose tongue, she could be suspected of making anything up.
"Master Malfoy is probably with him as we're speaking… Hm, what a waste, really."
The idea that Draco could compromise himself with the man he hated put Harry off. He swept aside the jealousy that was threatening him and chose to play another card.
"With so many bad memories, it was really brave of Draco to stay here," he innocently asked.
"Oh no, Master Malfoy didn't stay long. He left with a real kafuffle actually, right after the scene with his father."
The word had been pronounced without a warning, thrown in the conversation, and yet, the earth stopped turning for just a moment. The words buzzed in Harry' head before he fully understood it. "His father."
His head snapped up suddenly.
"Lucius?" he said in a breath.
Millie looked at Emma as if she'd betrayed a huge secret and Harry knew, of course, that was the case. Draco never talked about his father. No one did. Harry just assumed he was dead.
Emma changed the subject to dismiss the issue, stammering, "And you… do you know Master Malfoy…I mean, do you… How did you meet?"
Harry strove to appear contrite and told her
"I see I've put you in a quandary. I fail to see the reason behind it, but if it really upsets you, we don't have to talk about it. It will be our little secret. But your stories are so captivating…"
Unfortunately, Millie, more perspicacious than her colleague, knew a smooth talker when she heard one and decided to cut his visit short. She got up, took the big bowl in her hands and told Harry, "Well, I think we're done. We won't keep you any longer."
Harry didn't insist. He thanked the ladies for their little chat and left the kitchen. Once in the hall, one thought plagued him: fingers crossed they wouldn't report their faux pas.
Harry entered at the living room looking about him. It all made sense now. The property probably belonged to Lucius. But where was he? And why all this secrecy? Apparently, Lucius hadn't set foot here for a while. Was his absence temporary? And what about his relationship with Draco? They didn't seem to be in touch, albeit Harry couldn't be certain of it. Neither Severus nor McCarthy had mentioned him. How come?
So many questions with no answers. Nonetheless, Harry felt like he had made a huge step. He knew Lucius was a key element in this story, if only in the enigma that represented Draco. He had to find out more, but he had no way of obtaining the answers at the moment.
Harry mulled all this over in his head, wondering what the others could be doing now. Oh yeah, Draco was probably doing that moron!
- - - Draco and Felipe going at it on the cold ground of the hut.- - -
No, no, think about something else.
- - - The dark hair splaying over Draco's soft skin. - - -
Stop.
Harry closed his eyes and decided to take another walk outside. The weather was still dull, but it at least it wasn't raining anymore. The humid herbs and the droplets falling from the trees were the only signs of the previous shower.
Harry headed to the lake with short strides. He caught sight of a long pontoon on the right and felt immediately attracted. His tread tapped against the wooden planks. He kept walking, eyes riveted on the horizon. Once at the pontoon's end, he hunkered down and sat, letting his legs swing over the edge, his feet a few centimetres above the water. He shivered under the cold wind then gazed at the water below his feet.
What should be the next move? How could he plan anything with this moody blonde? He had so much trouble understanding Draco sometimes. When he thought he made one step forward, he stepped back two. But this new conversation had cast a new light on Draco's past and given him more clues to investigate.
Harry was instigating a plan in his head when he heard footsteps behind him, the noise amplified by the wood. Harry braced himself for the encounter, and as expected, Draco opened the hostilities.
"So, tempted to end it all and jump in the water?"
Harry answered with a sneer and shot back, "What am I doing here exactly?"
Draco, still standing behind him, answered, "You complained about being put aside, and now you're not happy." He sighed. "We may have to spend time here very soon…" His voice weakened at these last words. "I'm just trying to integrate you into our little community. Isn't that what you wanted?"
Harry frowned.
"Funny way to do it. Tell me, you're sleeping with all your friends?"
Harry succeeded in unsettling the blonde who took a few seconds before answering, "I don't remember hearing you complain. After all, there's nothing wrong with having a good time."
"And you're not tired of all these faceless men?"
"Why, you're going to show off your second-rate psychology?" He took on a mocking tone. " I'm emotionally handicapped…" He put his hand over his heart and mimicked a sad pose. "I'm trying to run away whereas I should find someone to share my deepest thoughts, my laughter and tears, because it's by opening up my heart that I will find true happiness."
He adopted his usual cold expression and told him, squatting down next to him, "You want to save my soul?"
Harry turned his head away and snarled, sweeping this idea away, although, in truth, it found an echo within him. Draco talked into his ear.
"I may be a whore, but you're one as much as I, Harry. We take our pleasure where we can get it."
"You and me, we are nothing alike."
Draco snorted.
"We at least agree on one thing, there is nothing between us. We had fun, that's it…"
"Yes, that's it," repeated Harry dully.
There was just something about hearing Draco say this that crushed him inside. He knew it was just a game, but it hit a raw nerve.
A minute passed and Harry was expecting Draco to tire and leave but that wasn't the case. He heard his voice then, ethereal, almost unreal
"I used to love this lake… so peaceful, so vast… I could stay here for hours just contemplating it. I remember swimming to the other end of the shore one day. I wanted to know if I was capable of doing it. Since the day I made it, I never felt the same harmony again, never."
This tirade seemed straight out of a dream. The words had revealed something so intimate. Harry didn't understand what pushed Draco to confide in him like that.
The momentum was broken however a few seconds later when Draco said in a sharper tone than necessary
"Time to go inside. Dinner must be ready."
He motioned for Harry to follow him, but seeing Harry make no move, he insisted, "Come on, it's getting colder."
That didn't soften Harry either.
"Glad to see you're concerned about my health," he snapped.
Draco didn't enter the conflict. He threw something in the water before going back to the house, his footsteps slowly fading away. Harry's eyes drifted on the lake to watch the little daisy floating dolefully. In a different context, a different world, this might have been a sweet, romantic gesture, a flower Draco had left for him. But here, now, it reminded him of a funeral -some ominous, fateful sign.
An hour later, eventually driven away by the cold, Harry came back to the property to discover a nervous Draco speaking on the phone. Harry instantly felt something was off. The blonde hung up as soon as he saw Harry and threw an odd look at him. He moved toward the brunet a little too hastily, grabbed his nape and slurred
"Harry, Harry… Hmm, I want to fuck you. Now."
What had gotten into him? Harry never knew where he stood with Draco.
The blonde began to chew on his ear lobe. The delicious sensation, the blond strands caressing his face, Draco still made him weak in the knees. Damn him. But Harry wouldn't surrender so easily this time, he would make it hard for Draco. Harry wiggled out and yelled "Stop!" Undeterred, Draco kept grabbing him. It became oppressing, it was so unlike Draco. Then, the blonde took Harry's chin firmly in his hand.
"Come on, I know you want it."
Harry pushed him hard.
"Stop it! I'm not at your disposal, so cut it out! I don't spread my legs in a snap!"
"Could have fooled me," Draco retorted nastily.
"Go fuck yourself Draco!" Harry bit out. "I don't even want you!"
But Draco seized his arm, pulling the brunet right against him. This infernal circle had to stop.
"You're hurting me! Let me go," said Harry in a dangerous tone.
It seemed to wake Draco from his strange state. He loosened his hold and let out a dark laugh. Harry headed to the stairway, leaving Draco alone to pace around the living-room. Draco couldn't stand still, agitated and apparently upset. Observing Draco closely, Harry knew there was definitely something wrong with him. He was on edge.
Draco went round the room, sweating, looking feverish. If Harry didn't know better, he would have said Draco was under the influence. The blonde was mumbling now. Harry caught a few words
"… can't fucking stand this place…"
Harry heard a car driving up the alley. A few seconds later, Nott and Zabini crossed the threshold, grinning. Harry hadn't even noticed their departure. Draco threw himself in front of them.
"Where are you coming from now, huh?" he asked, a bit forcefully.
Zabini cast him a surprised look and it was Nott who answered. "A nice little bar. Very, very friendly." He laughed.
"You should have come…" said Zabini, "Alcohol was flowing like water." He eyed Draco again. "Hey, it would do you good to relax and chill out." He patted him on the shoulder. "We're not at the cottage, you don't have your little wife worrying at home. Pansy won't expect you till tomorrow, right?"
The two men were begging Draco with their eyes. Nott went as far as childishly pursing his lips.
Draco thought for a few seconds, messaging his nape, then he stopped, looked at the boys and rolled his eyes.
"Fuck it, let's go party."
HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP
The club was noisy, the sound system at full blast. Impossible to talk to each other, even less to think. A few years ago, in this kind of situation, Harry would have been tempted to just let himself go and turn to his bad habits, but now, his position as an observer allowed him to keep his distance from this chaos.
From his seat, he was watching Draco and his friends dance without really moving, too busy spotting their next victims. Real predators under the violent strobes of the dance floor. Harry tried to keep his head clear, to see himself as a righter of wrongs, a defender. He liked this new role. He had missed the feeling of being useful, having a purpose. Being someone.
"Harry? Eh, long time no see!"
Harry whirled around and broke down instantly. Bloodshot eyes, an idiotic smile on his face, the man towered over him and took him in his arms. Harry didn't even remember his name. He had met him at one of Seth's parties.
No, maybe one of his clubs.
It was so distant now. On top of it all, the guy remembered him and Harry felt suddenly very uncomfortable, as if a part of him he had buried deep down inside him had been thrown in his face.
"So, man, where you've been all this time?"
Harry avoided his stare, the ghost from the past in front of him.
"Here and there. You know how it's like," he answered vaguely, having no desire to engage in conversation with him.
Harry nervously searched for Draco with his eyes. The blonde was flirting with a shirtless man, and Harry had at least the guarantee that he wouldn't catch him with his old acquaintance.
"Yeah, yeah, right," said Mr Anonymous in a monotone.
Harry turned his head completely away, giving the impression of observing the couples aside.
"Eh, you're a little tense man. You look like someone who needs a little downer. "
Harry turned back to him. In front of his eyes, an open palm: in it, a small pill with a black heart atop it. He had never seen this symbol before. A new drug.
He allowed himself to wonder what the effects would be. Would he feel this incredible lightness, this feeling of floating, this sweet euphoria? Would it be this tremendous need to get close, to touch the bodies around him, to melt with them, their skin so soft, warm and vibrant? Or would the heat invade him first, making him boil, breathing such power in him, he would feel almighty?
Suddenly, the chaotic atmosphere and the dancer's energy which he felt so far from became smothering, and his position of defender wasn't looking so pleasant any more. He felt the need to join all of them, to lose himself too. Their position out there felt more attractive.
Someone else eventually decided for him.
"Hmm… Nothing very appetizing tonight. You're lucky," said a very bored Draco.
Harry took no offence, crestfallen by the situation looming before him. Draco took his place beside Harry, paying no attention to the man in front of them.
The other man spoke first. "Hell of a party, yeah?"
Draco answered nothing and instead looked at Harry. His smile grew wide and he raised his brows, as if saying "That's what you chose?" This expression defused the tension and gladdened the brunet who smiled back at him. The other man might not be such a threat after all. Draco showed no interest in him and there was no reason for it to change.
Harry relaxed a bit and asked Draco in a lighter tone, "You're having fun?"
The blonde picked an olive from the cup in front of him.
"You're still hiding in your corner," he said. "It's really a bad habit."
The man next to them:
"The music's great, eh?"
Another olive, then Draco asked Harry, "You want to join us?"
Harry looked at him and nodded. They got up and began to move towards the crowd, but as soon as they took a step, the man called out, "Ok, well, see you soon then. Don't wait for years this time, yeah?"
Draco abruptly stopped and Harry couldn't hide his panic, his eyes wide open, frozen. Draco turned his focus to him and a Machiavellian smile crossed his face. He turned around and held his hand out to the man.
"Draco Malfoy."
The man shook his hand and gazed, enraptured by him. Catching Draco's attention was like having a spotlight in your face, it was dazzling. In his state, the guy didn't even think about presenting himself.
Shit.
At this second, the need to remember where he met the man, what he knew about him, became vital. But at the rate things were going, he would find out his name only when it was too late.
"We are always too hurried to jump on the dance floor. Let us take the time to properly become acquainted." Draco eyed Harry again and continued "After all, Harry's friends are my friends."
Draco motioned for them to sit. The man-with-no-name followed, but Harry stayed rooted to the spot, his body refusing to cooperate. He felt physically ill: his stomach was making knots and he was close to throwing up on the floor.
Draco, however, didn't allow him to linger. He stopped after a few steps and called out
"Harry, you're playing hard to get. Come on."
Draco held his hand out to him. Harry looked at it and took it reluctantly. The gesture that would be so pleasant in other circumstances appeared now like a death sentence.
Draco sat and motioned for the two men to settle on either side of him. He smiled, so self-satisfied, like a pasha on his throne. Harry sighed. It was going to be a long night. He placed himself to Draco's left, looking mortified, while the other man sat with a wide smile on his face, unconscious of the tidal wave he had provoked. Harry was sitting, his hands between his knees, face screwed shut, while the other man was bouncing on the sofa. Draco placed his arms around the new comer's shoulders and said to him, "So, you and Harry, you're old pals…"
"Mhmm…" he answered, his look oscillating from the left to the right, watching the dance floor, wiggling.
Draco pressed his shoulder to call him to order.
"So, you're old friends. It interests me." He bent over the man's ear and continued in a confidential tone, "You see, Harry is very secretive."
He tapped Harry's shoulder to tick him. The brunet swayed like a rag doll, livid.
"You know how he is always so discreet, always afraid to be a bother. You see, for example, he never mentioned you…" Draco feigned surprise and made a funny face. Everyone would have read through his game, but Draco knew this guy would just swallow everything he had just said.
"What's your name firstly?"
The 100 points question.
Time slowed down. The moment was so crucial, and no one even noticed.
"Brett, but they call me Spill."
Harry's eyes widened under the realization.
Brett Spillane. Spill.
It was bad. Very bad.
"Spill. So, tell me about Harry and you?"
"Oh, we had a blast, we tripped all the time! Harry was our little treasure."
Not this.
Spill looked at Harry who was trying to hold his words back with a sharp look, his knee trembling.
Harry didn't want Draco to hear anything about this period of his life. Draco probably knew certain facts, but the details, it was the details that made his story so sordid.
"Harry burnt the candles at both ends," the other continued. "you should have seen him, he tried every drug, every bed, always ready to party. And always with this innocent air. Fuck, that's the craziest part! After all we did, man, he was always the little angel."
- - - The yellow elastic snapping on his arm. The flame of a lighter under a spoon. The syrupy liquid boiling. The little pain of the needle. Warmth. Appeasement. Ecstasy.- - -
Draco smiled and turned quiet, letting the flow of words reveal the secret life of Harry.
"He was so eager to please. I don't know… it was like he was trying to forgive himself for something, you know…"
How this loser of a junky ended up fathoming out so much?
Draco stared at Harry intrigued and playful. "And what were you trying to expiate exactly?"
Harry shook his head. In spite of himself, his mind plunged back to this life he'd left behind.
- - - A hand on his shoulder that tightened hard. "I love your mouth. I want to feel it down there. - - -
Spill's voice again, "Everybody loved him. Well, could also be the fact that he was always the one to find the dope, bring back clients, like a magnet man. He looked so pure."
Shut up, shut up.
- - - The smell of tobacco and aftershave. "Come here, I want to test the merchandise."- - -
"He was so sensitive… Lenny took him under his wing. You know he's in Liverpool now?" he added to Harry."
- - - The sample soaps. The white towels, freshly laundered. "A double room, just one night." - - -
"Harry was his favourite."
Harry tried to get out of his trance to deny everything, eyes dulled by the physical pain he felt with the simple evocation of that period.
"Cut the crap…" he said weakly.
Spill's voice, again and again: "He had a thing for the leaders, I guess he felt safer with them."
Harry systematically shook no with his head.
Draco had grown reticent, hesitant to intervene. He had withdrawn. Somewhere in the conversation his interest had turned into something else.
No. Not pity, anything but pity.
"You remember our parties in Brixton. Fuck, good times. Coke and sex. It was wild."
- - -"Fuck yeah. You're a great piece of arse. Right Jerry, I told you he was great." Numb. Black hole.- - -
Harry got up, barely standing on his feet. He had to get out of here.
He thought he saw Draco's hand rise, then headed to the dance floor staggering, bumping everybody on his way, rushing blindly, looking for an exit, any way out.
He found a door and crashed through it with his shoulder, landing in the back alley, a dark path next to big dumpsters. His stomach turned and he threw up everything he could, the gag reflex bending him in half until he was dry heaving. A girl pressed against a wall by some guy, her clothes in disarray, detached herself from the wall and threw him a disgusted look. Harry wiped his mouth on his sleeve and made out Crabbe just in front of him.
Fuck, not a moment alone.
He crouched down against the wall, head between his knees, acrid breath and his head ready to explode.
Calm down, breathe. What are you doing, huh? It's all behind you. It's not you anymore.
HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP
The return passed in a big blur. The city lights. Draco's soft voice.
Once in the villa, Harry stayed standing in the living room, muddled. When had this day turned into a nightmare?
When Draco came close, he realized the others were already there, lying on the couch, their snores filling the room.
Draco stared at Harry, looking worried.
"Harry?"
He motioned toward a door next to the library with his head. Harry followed him.
Draco took a key out if his inside pocket and opened the door. Harry found himself in his study for the first time. The bright light assaulted him on his entrance. Draco turned it off and lit the reading lamp on his mahogany desk. A few papers were scattered across the desk but the room was tidy, the cupboards closed. Everything seemed well protected. Draco sat on his leather armchair and signalled Harry to take the seat in front of him, but the formality of the situation didn't suit Harry. It felt more like he was back in McCarthy's office for an interrogation.
Harry's eyes were lifeless and his face pale. He hadn't got over the party yet. He didn't feel well at all and there was no way he was staying here long in such a state. He stayed in front of the closed door. Draco's look was patronizing and behind those grey eyes, Harry could discern… what? Pity again.
Draco began to speak with an affected voice that was supposed to be reassuring
"Harry, you know, you can… "
Harry cut him dryly, looking him straight in the eye.
"You don't know me. Don't presume that you do! All you know is the ravings of a shit-faced guy I knew years ago. Don't think you saw a piece of my soul or another shit like that."
Draco lowered his eyes, and even then, he still had this condescending attitude, this look that screamed "Poor Harry, you can deny it all you want, we both know I saw through you".
You can all go to hell.
Harry ran a hand through his dark locks, as he usually did whenever he was nervous, and added to avoid a further conversation
"Believe what you want."
Draco arose then and calmly told him, "Harry, this is not an ambush, I just want to help you."
Harry stared at him. Draco's face was so open at this moment, his concern obvious. Suddenly disconcerted, Harry softly said
"I know."
Draco continued, "It was a..." He frowned, titling his head and, for lack of better words ended: "busy day."
He took off his jacket and, without thinking, put his hand in his inside pocket and took a black notebook out. Harry didn't miss the gesture as Draco was looking at the shelves in front of him, eyes clouded.
"It didn't go as I had planned. I shouldn't have insisted with my questions back there."
He put the notebook in his desk's right drawer.
"It was uncalled-for of me. I don't know what I was trying to accomplish like that."
Harry followed the notebook to its destination with his eyes and, whereas somewhere in his mind he was touched by Draco's words, his attention was still focused on the information he could get out of this little object. Defence mechanism, instinct, whatever.
He looked at Draco who was waiting for an opening, a sign that Harry had forgiven him. After all, it was Draco, and if he were not mistaken, the blonde just apologized to him, and in the most sincere way.
"I'm tired. I'd better go to bed."
Harry knew that it was not what Draco had expected, and that he was putting an end to what could have signified a new beginning for them. But at this moment, he just didn't have the strength to handle that. He just wanted to seek refuge in his room, let himself fall asleep and forget it all.
Draco tried to hold him back with his eyes, but Harry closed the door, leaving him alone to brood over the events of the day.