Chapter 10
Come-Hither
The door, adorned with two intricate carved 'M's, opens slowly.
Draco slinks into the room, completely rid of all that was unnatural, naked. Harry's glittering red eyes decadently soak up the beauty standing haughtily and unrepentant in its glory.
Draco closes the door and slowly pads over to the bed.
Already Harry feels the last vestiges of his resolve floundering… It is beyond ecstasy…
Draco's smooth skin gleams in the light of the orange fire as he comes closer and closer, his bare feet silent on the wood-panelled floor. He reaches the bed and climbs onto it slowly, sits on his haunches in the middle and bows his head.
"My Lord."
Harry smiles at the beautiful boy. "Draco... You were quite entertaining last night, so I was compelled to make another appointment."
Draco does not know whether the words were derisive or solemn, and he does not react. What had been entertaining? His screaming and crying as the man raped him?
Silence ensues in which Harry takes a moment to marvelling at the boy again, still in awe of the effortless provocativeness of Draco's body… Long, sharp, upturned nose; silver eyes; his small, slender hips; his thighs, his legs; his delicate, petite feet; the upturned instep of it.
Draco keeps quiet, keeps still, knowing that the red eyes are greedily taking in all of his naked form and he dares not hinder them.
In the vast quiet, Harry speaks: "Dance for me, Draco."
Draco's head jerks up without his permission. "My Lord?"
Harry holds those uncertain grey eyes with his own. "I said dance, boy." A soft hiss, just teetering on a deep growl.
Draco stares into those scarlet slits for a moment, taken aback by the alien order, and as he gazes bemusedly into them, he realizes he knows who lies behind those terrifying, red slits. He knows that behind them lay a startling, natural, pure green – Harry Potter. His Gryffindor rival is in the same room he sits in – the boy had told him so… Perhaps it is better to serve Potter, a human, than to serve a maniacal man reborn into serpentine form. Draco slowly rises off the bed, his eyes fastened upon Harry's slit eyes.
The boy looks uncertain as he stands there. Yes, perhaps a little motivation. Harry reaches for his wand: a shudder breaks the boy's body, the eyes grow wide in fear. Amused, Harry points it at an armoire in the far depths of the room, and a rectangular contraption floats into the light of the fire. Harry levitates the object onto the adjacent dressing table. An indulgent grin spreads across his face.
"There, Draco, now you can dance." He taps his wand, and slow, graceful, soothing music whispers through the air.
Draco turns back floored grey eyes to Harry.
Harry smiles – it was a lipless, thin, depthless line across his flat face.
Draco closes his eyes and swallows.
It starts at his hips. The music kisses over his thighs and snakes up his body, and he obeys and sways into its caress. Listen to the music, follow the music… And his body moves in the beginning of a sinuous dance, as elegant as a lynx.
Harry cannot help a lustful growl from issuing from his mouth at what he sees. This is life! He exalts. He keeps silent, his shaking hands tightly clenched on the sheets in a futile attempt at self-restraint.
The boy's arms rise and roam all over his alabaster-pale skin. The head is thrown back and long, silver-blond hair hangs freely in the air. The hips sway and twist gracefully as long fingers slide over chest, stomach, hips and thighs. His head then comes up and fixes into his own. The boy slowly moves forward, as silent and purposeful as a predator, and slowly descends to the bed, and crawls over to him.
Harry is beside himself.
Impossibly soft pads touch his naked thighs and ascend slowly up his body. The boy slithers between his legs, still keeping him captive in his deep silver eye. There is a look in them suffused with something he cannot quite place. He holds those eyes, those come-hither eyes, as the boy's hands snake over his abdomen and his thighs settle softly on top of his middle. He can feel the victory of life, the powerful, purposeful rush of blood coursing through the small thighs. Harry is amazed at the boldness of the boy, at his ability to look at him fearlessly in the eye, when only yesterday he could not even stand to do so. Harry finds it seductively compelling and all the more detrimental to his rapidly breaking self-control. The boy's hands rise up and sweetly caress his neck as a lover would, then his face to explore his features.
"My Lord." Such a sweetly innocent tenor.
This proves to be the last he can handle. One hand slowly and strongly grips a delicate wrist, and he gives a low hiss so saturated with lust it comes out as a dismal stutter.
"Draco…"
The boy looks a little surprised at his hold, but Harry maintains it, having lost all his reserve at the boy's show of moves. He lets his own hands explore the boy's body in reciprocation, enthralled by its perfection. Draco's arms circle his neck and his head lodges in the cleft. Harry's spidery hand travels down the pale back, down to those beautiful orbs of flesh. He crushes one cheek possessively in his hand, and the boy releases a sigh against his neck, whether from fear or yearning, Harry cannot tell and, requisitely, he does not care.
Draco surprises him still further by following the length of his arm down to where he held that one cheek. His head comes up, and he looks straight into his eyes. Then Harry feels the boy's hand tentatively take a hold of his manhood and aligns it to his entrance. This proactive acting is endearing, of course, but it is disturbing something within Harry.
The boy is so close to him Harry hears him swallow bracingly before he slowly pushes down, and slowly starts rocking up and down his shaft. Harry, captured by the boy's forwardness, which is quickly turning to be unusually temerarious for him, remains motionless and lets him continue. Perhaps not all is as it seems. Nonetheless, he is too inundated with dazing pleasure to question anything anymore, and so he just succumbs to the enthralling allure of the heir.
Draco continues the smooth movements of his hips as he rides Harry. His pale, slender hips rock sinuously into his middle and back out as he impales himself diligently. It remains so for a few more seconds before-
Draco suddenly halts, gasps, his eyes lose focus and his thin, shell-pink lips part in silent testimony. The boy starts moving again but with more vigour, and upon every down stroke, a... moan... issues from his lips… He gasps again, and unknowingly, his motions begin to speed up, his breath to catch. His arms hold on tighter onto Harry's neck as he bounces on top of him, exploring this new and wonderful sensation. But he suddenly burst into tears.
Draco cries. He does not understand why he was feeling good, why he was enjoying this. He was supposed to be repulsed, not feel so amazing and wanting more.
The boy moans louder and gasps heavier, in either misery or pleasure, again and again, and his humping becomes more passionate. He throws his head back as another, more breathy, whiny moan escapes his lips. His face scrunches up and shines with tears. Harry does not understand. His red slits bore into the intense expression on the nymphomaniac's face.
But Draco speeds on, rides Harry's penis up and down and continues to hit that... place inside him that keeps sending jolts of electrical pleasure twirling up his spine. He is disgusted with himself but it just feels so good he cannot do anything but want more, eyes rolling into his head… More, he needed more, just more. Feels... so... gooah... Harry...
Then, in the middle of his ragged panting and mewls and the slapping noise of his buttocks coming down on Harry's thighs, he feels the air still and quieten very peculiarly. It is a silence unlike one he had ever heard before… The music had stopped. Even the cackling of the burning fire in the hearth seemed to have been smothered by an unknown force.
Feeling a horrid trepidation rising in him, and euphoric, bittersweet fog of sensation withering fast, Draco brings his head back up and looks straight into the silent, still slits of Voldemort. He stops moving.
By the sheer fury behind Voldemort's shriek Draco was catapulted off the bed, into the air in an arc of flailing naked limbs and hair, and crashed into the wardrobe before landing painfully on the floor in a heap.
Voldemort rose from the bed. "What is this?" he yelled at the prostrate body on the floor. "Do you wish to defy me, Young Malfoy? You feel brave enough to entertain your own indulgence! Do you think this was for your own pleasure? Answer me!"
Draco sat up from the floor, rubbing at his sore spots, and clasped his hands together in deference. "No, my Lord! I never meant to defy you!"
"Lies!" Voldemort shrieked. "All lies! Enjoying yourself, weren't you, Draco? The pretty whore you truly are!"
Draco cried, "No, my Lord, I—I-"
"SILENCE!"
The fire went out and cast the room in darkness.
"You mock my punishment – mock I, Lord Voldemort!"
The terrifying name echoed in blackness as Draco sobbed, looking up into the blazing, crimson slits of the Dark Lord, hovering in nothingness. "No, my Lord, I didn't-"
"Crucio!"
"Harry!"
Harry screamed and thrashing in his bed. "Draco! No, no, Draco!"
"Harry! Wake up, it's only a dream!"
Harry's eyes flew open, and tortured, emerald marbles turned to worried chestnuts.
"Ron! He—I—He... Draco – Malfoy..."
Ron put a comforting hand on Harry's shoulders. "Harry, it's okay. It's okay, mate."
Harry closed his eyes in horror. No, this can't be happening again. He panted wildly and wiped his sweaty face with the back of his hand, shaking his head despairingly. Releasing a pained sigh, he stared into the nothingness in front of him, his pure, green eyes sombre and reeling.
"I came to tell you Sirius' downstairs in the fireplace," Ron said, grimacing sympathetically down at his friend. "Twelve o'clock, remember?"
Harry looked up, slightly surprised. Yes, he remembered Sirius' owl in the morning. He scrunched his eyes shut again, feeling himself quiver, his breath still catching.
"Do you want to go to Dumbledore to tell him about your dream?" Ron asked uncertainly.
Harry buried his face in his hands and shook his head. "I don't know…" came his muffled voice, as he made vague, defeated gestures with his hands. He remained motionless for a moment, quietly overwhelmed with dread and horror. Then he slowly looked up to Ron through his fringe. "Tell Sirius I'll be down in a few."
He heard footsteps moving away from him before the the door clicked shut.
He wanted to cry, to scream for all he was worth. To stay in the dormitory for the rest of year. But he threw off his sheets. His worst fear was realized: his sheets were wet, and he knew the exact moment when he had climaxed: when Draco slowly threw his head back in that breathy moan, his long, divine neck extended. That image – so profoundly enthralling, so inherently destructive to anyone's rightful senses – had undone him. It was too beautiful a moment, too beautiful a sight. Apparently, Draco had also discovered that special place in his butt about which Seamus had told him.
Harry buried his head in his hands again dismally.
The words of the very person in his dream came back to him…
Maybe I'm no bloody different from Voldemort… Maybe I'm just as twisted…
Maybe he was just as desperately captivated by the merciless allure of Draco Malfoy.
Maybe he was no bloody different from Voldemort.
It just could not be happening…. Oh, Merlin, when Draco came into the room naked... Seeing him so... not completely naked in the superficial sense, but seeing him so utterly basic, seeing him in the inherent purity in being naked, in the simple majesty of raw nature, and actually recognizing the male form as beautiful – something that never crossed Harry's mind before. Form was designed to be functional, so how could its maker make it so pleasant to behold…?
Pardonably, perhaps he found Draco's body beautiful because it represented exquisite, unfathomable life. Perhaps, less excusably, simply because it was Draco. Fuck… the mere bracket shape of his bow legs, forming an oval space between them, was dizzying to him... Draco could move. Draco was seductive. Draco was provocative and he knew it... That come-hither look in his eyes had spelt disaster for him from the beginning. His every moan had shaken Harry's body, every touching inch of skin had electrified him, every brush of that white-blond hair had sent him soaring to the heavens, his every pant on his skin had made it simmer beneath… And the warm lick of his insides as Draco rode him… unimaginable…
Of what was Draco not capable? What was Draco not capable of making him feel? The Slytherin had taken him from fear for him in front of Voldemort, sympathy at his hurt, and in his dreams... ecstasy. In his dreams, it was physical, superficial. But now this insinuating, captivating possession for Draco was transcending out of those dreams and into reality – into him – into Harry, and it scared him almost as much as every visit of Draco's to Voldemort.
He lay in his four-poster bed holding his head in his hands. If he had never been before, then he was now most certainly and royally screwed.
…But apart from his self-ignominy, his utter humiliation in discovering just how much Draco affected him, and just reeling from it all, he also felt a lingering, silently simmering anger, perhaps remnants of Voldemort's own fury at Draco in his dream...
…Floating forth the image of a crying and naked Draco on the floor, cast in darkness, his eyes holding so much fear in them as he looked up at him, and being tortured at Voldemort's wand… Harry leapt out of his four-poster and had just enough reason in the flight of his rage to grab a school robe to conceal his wet spot and protect him from the coming chill. Emeralds alight, jaw jutting against the skin of his face, Harry mechanically glided down the stairs, eyes only for the portrait hole.
"Oh there you are, Harry. Sirius has some interesting news for..."
The fire and the face in it died out as Harry's rage swept past.
Ron and Hermione gaped in Harry's wake after watching him climb out of the portrait hole. They noted the flickering candles of the common room and the desolate fireplace which had been alight only a moment ago with Sirius' smiling face. They exchanged bewildered looks before leaping up and following Harry in haste.
Why isn't Dumbledore protecting Draco? Didn't Draco ask him for his protection? And he still let that monster torture him besides raping him again!
Insolent fool! You dare mock me, dare pleasure yourself? You despicable excuse of a being! You'll live to regret the moment the first moan left your lips! Crucio!
Harry's quick strides echoed in the hallway. The light of each torch he passed flickered weakly and wavered, and the tall windows rattled on their frames in his wake.
So incensed was he that he did not hear a second and third pair of footsteps following him.
Draco's being tortured with the Cruciatus right now! He went back to Voldemort tonight after Dumbledore promised to protect him! Dumbledore is a hypocrite – a useless, dying hypocrite!
Do you truly think I did this for your own benefit? That I punished you with servicing me so that you could ride on the throes of ecstasy? You betray your father's loving efforts and I regret showing you mercy on his behalf! This was your final blunder, young Draco – you will shortly learn what true excruciation is! Tortus!
"Lemon Drop!"
The gargoyle jumped aside and Harry climbed onto the ascending stairs.
In the depths of the partially darkened hallway, Ron and Hermione held back at bit and let Harry ascend the stairs alone rather than approach him when it was clear he was looking to kill.
Hermione hoped that would remain figurative.
The stairs stopped at the top of its ascendance and Harry stomped ahead to the large doors of Dumbledore's office.
Then the doors flew open with a flurry of dark robes.
"Potter! What the hell are you doing here?" Snape hissed, as he secretively closed the doors behind him. "You seem to have an awfu-"
"Step aside, Severus," ordered Harry dismissively, as he made to pass Snape.
If Snape was surprised by his given name passing Harry's lips, and by his temerarious and disrespectful urgency, he did not show it. For his hand did not hesitate to attempt to manhandle Harry before he let him past. "Dare speak to me like that ag-"
"I said step aside!"
Untouched, Snape flew off his feet into the wall opposite and landed on the stone floor, unconscious.
Harry proceeded forward and flung the doors open.
A derisive laugh. "Don't flatter yourself, Headmaster, I was merely requesting that we..."
Harry stopped in his tracks just inside the doorway, mystified for one, stunning second.
"Lucius."
The tall, elegantly donned figure of Lucius Malfoy stood in front of Dumbledore's table, his body slightly twisted backwards to face him, and a cool, patronizing eyebrow raised in question.
"Mr Potter, what a pleasant surprise," came the refined drawl from the patriarch, who turned around fully and his steely grey eyes gave him a dismissive once-over. The trademark white-blond hair rested gracefully on his broad shoulders, and a patented smirk curled the one side of his lips. "Still quite alive, I see."
Harry stood there, his green eyes focussed upon grey ones, so much like Draco's…
"Lucius," Harry hissed as he slowly crept into the room, "I didn't think it of you to turn traitor."
Lucius' eyebrow rose higher and his forehead furrowed with a slight frown.
"Not so soon at least… This is below you, Lucius."
Harry suddenly turned to his side, leaving a steeled, calculating, wary gaze from Lucius, and took in the petite, graceful person of Narcissa Malfoy. Her golden-blonde hair was styled in a tight bun, her blue eyes were gazing sharply at him and her hands and legs were crossed regally. He slowly prowled towards her.
"Ah, Narcissa my dear. You dare turn on me as well?" he lilted sweetly with a smile. A pale, teenage finger slipped under her chin and tilted it up to the green eyes to capture her pale-blue ones. "As much as your... polite detachment from my service has saved you from my hands thus far, be certain it will be no mercy you'll enjoy from this moment forth."
Realization blazed in Lucius Malfoy's face and a horrible fear seemed to freeze him rigid where he stood. The grey eyes stared at Harry not blatantly, incredulously fearfully, but with stunned acuity.
"Mr Potter," he managed to say in a steady voice, "Would you care to explain why you're harassing my wife?"
Outside Dumbledore's office Hermione gasped at the unmoving figure of Professor Snape on the floor after she and Ron ascended the spiralling stairs. They rushed to him in the vestibule and knelt down to try to rouse him awake.
"Professor Snape!" Hermione whispered as she shook the man's shoulders, while Ron hauled the professor in a sitting position and propped up him against the wall. Snape grimaced as his eyes slowly opened and his hand rose and rubbed the back of his head.
Ron headed for the door but a firm grip halted him. He turned back to the Snape, who shook his head, piercing Ron with his black, depthless eyes. "If you go in there, you'll likely live to regret it. If you live, that is..."
Ron and Hermione eyed Snape back with floored expressions before turning towards the doors, behind which something apparently they did not want to see was happening.
Snape surreptitiously drew his wand and gave it a twitch.
Harry whipped his head back to Lucius, green eyes sharp and cunning, and a sadistic grin curving his lips. His finger slipped off Narcissa's chin. "Your son shows me unthinkable impertinence, Lucius. I told you he would reveal himself for he truly is," he hissed. "He was enjoying my body and seeking out his own pleasure from it. I think we can say with conviction that he is truly a pretty whore and was meant to be one."
The portraits were in pure heaven. Some had actually capitulated to their curiosity and approached the fore of their portraits the better to see and hear what was going on. Phineas Nigellus Black was looking absolutely mesmerized by this darker version of Harry. Armando Dippet could not keep his eyes off him as well, though the ex-headmaster looked more horrified than pleasantly mesmerized.
The grin fell as a sharp glint flashed in his emerald eyes. "He is yet to attain the document I charged him with doing. He's useless and will thus fittingly serve a far lesser duty," Harry charged, with a leering grin. He prowled slowly to Lucius, as fluid as a snake. "I will feed your son to that distasteful species Fenrir. Lord Voldemort does little mercy, Lucius – you should know this. Perhaps a little loving from him will straighten young Draco out – if he survives of course. Tell me, Lucius, how would you find your one and only heir contaminated with werewolf blood?"
Malfoy remained silent, and no emotion played on his bloodless face.
Dumbledore slipped his wand furtively into his robes from view and stood up from his seat, coming around the table just as Harry's laughter fell when his gaze fell on him. Dumbledore clasped his hands in front of him and as his blue eyes watched him with wary warmth.
"Harry," said Dumbledore.
Harry's lips stretched into a malevolent grin. "Dumbledore," he spat.
Dumbledore remained silent for a moment, holding Harry's gaze. "Harry, you can fight this. Do not allow Voldemort to control you like this. Remember the ones you love, the things you care about," he beseeched sternly.
Harry blinked.
He then threw his head back and released a bark of laughter. "Yes, a refreshing reminder of your foolishness, old man!"
"Think about how angry he makes you because of what he is and what he does," Dumbledore ploughed on shamelessly, "what he's doing to Draco. Think about Draco."
At least the name struck a chord. Harry's silent mocking giggles fell, astounding Snape, Ron and Hermione, all of whom were watching through the narrow fissure of the door.
"Despite your longstanding differences, you still care about him, don't you, Harry?" Dumbledore smiled warmly at Harry as he enquiringly raised an eyebrow.
Harry started.
Conflicted, swirling emerald orbs gazed back at Dumbledore.
Draco – the slimy git.
Draco – useless invalid!
Draco – scared for him.
Draco – serve my punishment!
Draco – care about him.
Draco – my pretty catamite!
Draco – love him.
Draco... What is this…?
Harry collapsed to the floor.
Lucius grabbed his wife to flee for Malfoy Manor.
"Mr Malfoy!" Dumbledore said as he stooped down to pick Harry up from the floor.
White-blond hair whipped around as flaring silver glared back.
Dumbledore, looking nothing his age as he effortlessly held Harry in his arms, gazed back at Lucius with equal intensity. "I do realize the severity and urgency of your circumstances, but as you're now regarded as perfidious in the Dark Lord's eyes, it is perhaps prudent we discuss this matter properly before taking any further action."
Lucius turned around to face Dumbledore fully, letting go of his wife's arm. He gave the boy in Dumbledore's a grief, fearful look, and a muscle in his jaw jumped.
"I'm going to get my son, Headmaster. Assuming you don't suffer from selective hearing, you heard what the Dark Lord's going to – or is – doing to him. You have said you appreciate the urgency."
"I certainly do, Mr Malfoy," answered Dumbledore calmly. "However, as superb as I believe your duelling skills to be, hoping you can handle all of Lord Voldemort's-" The two Malfoys flinched. "-Death Eaters at once is perhaps a tad ambitious?"
"Foolishly ambitious," interjected Black. He seemed less enthralled with the Malfoys.
Lucius pretended he did not hear the portrait and gave Dumbledore a sharp look. "I wouldn't need to do so if I pleaded my case, if I crawled back to him right now with convincing contrition," he pointed out silkily.
Dumbledore gazed back at Lucius steadily for a moment. "Mr Malfoy, you needn't act so rashly-" Lucius' head tilted sideways in incredulous condescension. "-I believe it would be far better in the end if you have us by your side. Voldemort-" Another muscle in Lucius' jaw jumped. "-forgive me – the Dark Lord, as he has said himself, is not lenient towards failure and betrayal. I don't believe you want to find the limit of his tolerance if you quiver at the mere mention of his name." Lucius' chin tilted even higher proudly. "I beseech you to remain our ally. I can assemble the entire Order and have them rescue your son safely without the both of having to leave this office."
Lucius did not answer for several moments. Then he had a calculating gaze in his eyes as he combed over the proposal. "Distantly presuming you rescue Draco successively, I still have the manor to lose as I couldn't risk returning there…"
"Believe me when I say we are preparing diligently against the Dark Lord. I give you my and Potter's word your son will not be harmed."
Lucius gave a single, refined bark of laughter, and then he took a deep breath that was tell in of his exasperation. "Dumbledore, my son is possibly, as we speak, being either tortured by the Dark Lord himself or... harmed by that despicable Greyback. We will take our leave now. Thank you." He cast a disdainful look at a rousing Harry before whirling around and pulling open the doors. "Cissa," he said to his wife and followed her out.
"Wait." A somnolent slur.
Harry's vision was stubbornly blurred but he defiantly fixed his eyes at the white smudge in front of him, which was Lucius' hair. He gave Dumbledore a thankful, if embarrassed glance and made to stand on his own two feet, wondering how an old man could carry a teenager like that. Then again he must not weight much. Dumbledore readily obliged and put him down on the floor. Harry only vaguely remembered feeling angry towards Dumbledore when he had woken from the nightmare, but for the life of him, he could not exactly recall anything that happened after that. He looked ahead through the aperture of the door at the now rapidly sharpening figure of Lucius Malfoy.
He watched the man step inside once again and glare at him mildly. He had an air of urgency about him.
"What is it, Potter?" Malfoy hissed through seemingly unmoving lips.
Harry scrunched his eyes shut for a second and opened them again to combat the blur. "Draco. How can you allow Voldemort to do... what he does to him? Don't you care at least about your own son?"
Snape, Ron and Hermione slipped into the office just as Lucius stepped forward and made to slip his wand out of his snake cane, a snarl on his lips.
"That isn't necessary, Mr Malfoy," Dumbledore warned calmly, just as Ron and Hermione whipped out their own wands and trained them on Lucius. "That includes you two as well, Mr Weasley, Miss Granger."
The two wands lingered at Lucius for a few seconds before Ron and Hermione warily lowered them but did not stow them away. In all of this, Lucius' stony glare had not wavered from Harry and his expression had not changed. He slowly lowered and unhanded his cane, and tossed a few strands of hair off his shoulders.
"Watch your tongue, boy. You needn't enlighten us with your..." Lucius' eyes shot to Snape and back. "...valued opinions." Both men's lips twitched for a moment. "You don't know what you're talking about. No doubt you're exerc-" And just then Lucius seemed to realize something. Harry was inclined Lucius just realized that if he had been possessed by Voldemort that night as well, then Harry probably did know what he was talking about. Lucius fell silent, his eyes once more still and stunned in quiet incredulity.
"I DO know what I'm talking about! I bloody see what he does to him every nigh-" Harry stopped sharply, and his uncertain eyes shot to Ron and Hermione before quickly returning to Lucius, assuming their previous heat. In that moment, all, less Ron and Hermione, shared the same fear: Harry exposing Draco's predicament. Lucius' gaze narrowed on Harry.
"Harry," Dumbledore inserted in the hiatus, "do you perhaps wish to lie down for a while? You took a serious fall. I'm sure you feel fine but I don't think Poppy could forgive me for not following proper protocol." He chuckled a little at his words.
Lucius' upper lip curled backed.
Snape smirked at Lucius' reaction in turn; obviously, Lucius wasn't vastly acquainted with Dumbledore's humour, or lack thereof, perhaps. He waved his wand furtively, and at the same time, Ron and Hermione stopped frowning.
"Yes, Harry, you took a bad fall and hit your head. Sit down," Hermione commanded firmly, after shaking her head as though to snap herself out a trance and in a tone that told Harry he was better off obeying. Ron nodded for him to listen to her as he prodded the insides of his ears with his fingers, looking similarly disoriented.
"I'm fine," Harry ground out curtly, standing his ground. He had only eyes for the man supposed to be Draco's father, the principal man who was supposed to protect him.
Lucius effortlessly matched Harry's glare. "This little reunion of sorts is all well and good, but I do need to get going." His eyes swivelled up to Dumbledore. "Unless you can guarantee my family's safety and continued possession of the manor, Dumbledore, I cannot waste my time here any longer. Severus," he said in farewell before sweeping out the office again with his wife.
Harry was hot on their heels.
"Malfoy!"
Harry did not completely understand why the man was here in the first place, but he did know that he was doing nothing to help Draco, his own son. Perhaps Malfoy had been here to ask for that help from Dumbledore tonight. But Dumbledore was useless! He made promises but he did not live up to them! Before disappearing into the vestibule, he turned an angry glare at said person, shocking his friends.
"Malfoy!"
He followed the man down the descending spiralling stairs and into the hallway, where he saw Narcissa Malfoy standing majestically. Her long, sweeping purple robes fell down her graceful figure. The chin was level with the ground and the hands clasped. Her face was now pensive, thoughtful, but if Harry's eyes were not deceiving him, he spied a slight, upward curl to her lips that made her look wistful and blissful at once… Her petiteness and extremely refinement almost justified her air of superiority…
She held onto her husband's arm as he approached. Lucius was ignoring him and proceeding with his wife down the hallway.
"Why aren't you doing anything to protect Draco from that sadistic snake?" Harry demanded.
Lucius Malfoy did not deign to look his way. "I told you to mind your incorrigible tongue, Mr Potter. Otherwise I can easily relieve you of it." He held up his snake cane indicatively. Daring not to take this as an idle threat from a Death Eater, Harry hesitated but nevertheless kept up with them. "I needn't tell you this, but I am doing everything I can at this moment, so kindly depart from my vicinity, Mr Potter."
Harry faltered and lingered back, watching the blond heads fading into the darkness.
I can't just watch Draco suffer anymore.
"I'm coming with!"