Title: System Discordia
Author: Eris Mackenzie
Rating: M
Warnings: Rape, torture, future slash (H/D), minor het, minor character death, adult language and situations.
Spoilers: SS, CS, PoA, GoF, Ootp, HBP.
Main Pairing: Harry/Draco
Secondary Pairings: Tonks/Remus, Hermione/Ron, more to come.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Any other none Harry Potter characters and/or affiliations are owned solely by their respective owners and the author makes no claim to anything except the plot concept of this particular work. Une Saison En Enfer was created by Arthur Rimbaud and has no financial connection with the author of this work.
Summary: After a failed Death Eater rebellion headed by his father, Draco Malfoy is taken hostage and eventually found by Aurors. How will the rest of the wizarding world react to the fact that the Prince of Slytherin has a wish for the light? Post-HBP
A/N: Wow, it's been a long time, non? I'm very sorry but I never had the time. I recently went through a rather difficult time with my family. I won't get into details, but let's just say that I nearly was sent to the hospital - to see both a medical doctor and a shrink. So, oui, very sorry if this chapter doesn't meet the expectations, but I'd appreciate some kind words either way.
Also, a little note about the magical cleaning - yes, Draco can do wandless magic, but because in my version of the wizarding world this is extremely difficult and can only be done by a few people, Draco doesn't exactly want everyone knowing these things about him just in case he'll need a few tricks up his sleeve for later. He's crafty like that.
Ooh, and a little challenge for my readers: can you pin point what I'm talking about when I describe a "spicy, woody scent"? It has come up before. I'll give you a hint - it has a connection with possible flowers that may or may not have been grown at the Burrow.
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Chapter Ten: Paparazzi Pose
I used to be a little boy
So old in my shoes
And what I choose is my choice
What's a boy supposed to do
The killer in me is the killer in you
-"Disarm" Smashing Pumpkins
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Harry learned a great many things over the next few days.
Despite Harry's previous beliefs, Malfoy did not actually mean to smirk all that time; it was just that one side of his mouth tended to come up farther than the other. He had a strong affinity for sweets, particularly chocolate covered strawberries. Later, Harry found out that Malfoy had also taken violin, piano, and sparring classes since he was eight and could brew potions well above N.E.W.T. level.
Harry learned small things, like Malfoy never took his tea during the day but always late in the evening with a wedge of lemon, two cubes of sugar, no milk. He had a set morning ritual, preferring to shower as soon as he awok to take care of any grooming and then grabbing one of the many books in the room and reading over a light breakfast. Curiously, when the moist air from the shower would start to dissipate throughout the room, that same spicy, woody scent Harry remembered smelling before but could never place would curl into his nostrils, igniting a feeling that was familiar and strangely comforting.
Harry looked up from the letter he was penning to Gringotts and glanced towards Malfoy, who was lying prostrate just feet away on his pristinely made bed. As he watched, the blond flicked another page over with the tip of his index finger, his tongue lashing out to wet his bottom lip for mere seconds as he read. Harry caught the title of the leather-bound book engraved on the spine but could not comprehend it. It was most likely in French, for Harry had also found out on another such occasion that Malfoy had grown up perfectly bilingual, having lived for a time in Nantes.
It felt strange to Harry how well he and Malfoy actually got along now that they had called a truce. True, it had only began four days before, but the time seemed to stretch indefinitely, and it did not feel so short. He sometimes caught himself smiling for no reason at all, either after Malfoy and he had just finished talking or while he was on the verge of sleep.
This was not to say that everything between Malfoy and himself was perfect; there were still as many barriers and walls to climb and bulldoze over as there were leagues in the sea. Though most of the time they got along, there were moments when Malfoy would pull away and refuse to talk or would start an argument on an all-too-familiar playing field.
Harry might not have understood much about his own reactions to this newfound peace, but he knew that something about it was good if it made him forget about his world of problems, even if only for a moment. He supposed maybe Malfoy felt the same because as he shot a small, almost shy smile at the blond, Malfoy nodded. Harry thought he saw the edges of his lips curl, nearly hidden, when he looked back down.
Harry realised some time later that he was staring at Malfoy but could not help it. A small, ornate bowl sat by Malfoy's hip filled to the brim with fruit. Malfoy's adept fingers sought out a large, vivid red strawberry and popped it into his mouth without looking.
For some reason, as Malfoy's lips closed around the seeded fruit and lapped up a trickle of juice, Harry began to feel uncharacteristically warm. Suddenly disoriented and slightly confused at his reaction, Harry looked back to his letter.
"What are you writing?" Harry heard Malfoy casually ask. Surprised that Malfoy had initiated conversation, Harry saw that he had not moved the book away.
Harry shrugged a little and tilted his head back down. "A letter to Gringotts. I need to switch around my funds, take some out, that sort of thing."
"Oh?"
Harry glanced up. Malfoy's voice had feigned polite, cool curiosity, but Harry heard the unknowingly different, stressed undertones.
"Yeah," he said carefully, watching Malfoy's impassive face. He opened his mouth to further the conversation when a faint crackling noise interrupted his thoughts.
Harry regrettably let the subject drop for now but promised himself he would take it up later.
"Hello, Professor McGonagall," Harry greeted warmly as he picked up the speaking stone from the dresser. "You're on your way, then?"
"Greetings, Mister Potter," McGonagall's voice crackled through faintly. "And yes, Edora and I are nearly ready to leave. I assume all is well on your end?"
"Of course."
"Good," she replied briskly. "I was informed earlier today that the Order has finally finished relocating, and I have made arrangements for both you and Mister Malfoy to be transported there at nine o'clock. First we will be flooing to Hogsmeade, and from there we will Apparate."
"Surely we're not moving in today?" Harry's right eyebrow rose, though he knew McGonagall could not see it. At Harry question, Malfoy looked up from what he was reading with an inquisitive expression. "We would have to get ready and…"
"Oh, no, Mister Potter, but we should still get started as early as possible on making the house suitable for domestic living. There were several rooms that were neglected for use by the Order that need airing out and cleaning, and I figured today was as good as any to begin," McGonagall explained. "Is this alright with you, Mister Potter?"
Harry looked enquiringly over at Malfoy, but he had once again become preoccupied with his book.
"Yes," Harry decided. "When are we going to leave?"
"We should be arriving within ten minutes. There's just a few more short arrangements that must be taken care of first. Be ready by then."
Harry found himself nodding and replied, "Alright. We'll be waiting."
He could picture McGonagall's greyed head bobbing as she said, "Until then, Mister Potter."
The crackling noise stopped.
When Harry set the stone down and turned back around, Malfoy was staring at him almost uncomfortably.
"What?" Harry questioned automatically.
"Oh, uh…" Malfoy looked surprised to find himself looking at Harry and shook his head. "Nothing."
Though he thought it slightly strange, Harry nevertheless shrugged and flopped down in the armchair closest to Malfoy. Searching for a safe subject to speak about, he looked around futilely before settling on the book in Malfoy's hands.
"Er…what is it that you're reading?"
"Une Saison en Enfer by Arthur Rimbaud," Malfoy replied, his voice breezing easily between languages. At Harry's oblivious look, he explained, "It means A Season in Hell in English."
"Ah," came Harry's still befuddled voice.
Malfoy fluttered his blond eyelashes and looked up. "Have you never heard of it?"
Harry shook his head. "I only understand English, remember?"
Malfoy smiled enigmatically and lowered his eyelids back to the page. "Well, when you learn French, read it."
Harry's face grew confused, and he shook his head. Before he could say anything else, however, Malfoy again spoke.
"What was it that the headmistress spoke to you about?"
"Um, she wanted to talk to us about the moving arrangements," Harry said.
Malfoy nodded absentmindedly. "When is she coming up then?"
"In about, oh, five minutes now. She said she's bringing Ed with her."
In an instant, Malfoy's relaxed demeanour changed. A wary look flickered over his features. "Did she mention why?" he questioned neutrally.
Harry shook his head and picked up his quill. Dipping the tip into the ink bottle, he replied, "She just said that it didn't have anything to do with...well, this. I guess it's more of a safety precaution."
"Against what?"
Harry was about to answer when there was suddenly a knock on the door. Setting his quill back down, Harry sighed.
"I gotta go get that."
He stood and crossed the room swiftly, throwing open the door to reveal the headmistress and Ed. The law wizard smiled warmly as if an old friend and stepped into the room.
"Hello again, Mister Potter," Ed greeted, reaching out a manila-coloured glove toward Harry. He took it, gingerly wincing at her strong grip. Today, the law wizard was wearing casual clothes, probably for the manual labour, and her sleek black hair was pulled up in a bun startlingly reminiscent of McGonagall. Ed nodded at Malfoy, who now sat upright on the bed.
Malfoy merely nodded, casting his eyes down. Harry noticed that as soon as they had entered that Malfoy's whole body had tensed up, and he frowned. The re-emergence of the blond's apathetic and detached mask bothered Harry. 'Submissive,' was the description that suddenly entered his mind.
More and more Harry had been noticing the distinct but subtle differences between Malfoy when he was just with Harry and Malfoy when he was with others. It felt strange, but over the last four days Harry felt like he was finding someone who had been shut away for far too long.
"Okay, so now that we're all here, let us get started. Shall we?" McGonagall gestured to Malfoy, who was still a distance away.
Malfoy cautiously slipped off of his bed and made his way over to the trio. With Harry's lidded gaze guardedly studying his every movement, he walked up to Harry and stood so close beside him that it was almost comical in the way it appeared he was hiding behind the brunet boy. It was odd, Harry realised, that he could practically feel the nervousness radiating off of the blond and yet an askew glance at his face revealed nothing.
It was the headmistress who finally broke the awkward silence.
"Well, boys, as you know, it was one of the requirements of the contract that you find a separate residence outside of Hogwarts for the safety of both yourselves and the students. Mister Malfoy, I am sure Mister Potter has at least mentioned the switch, and you will be informed of the whereabouts of the new dwelling in due time. You will soon see the reason for my censorship in the matter."
"I will, of course, be going along," Ed interjected. "Mind you, it's just to make sure that the media does not pose any problems that cannot be cleared up with a little legal persuasion."
She smiled in such a way that Harry instantly knew what she really meant by 'legal persuasion'.
"Now, I have allowed a temporary Flooport to be connected from your fireplace to my office." The headmistress brought the conversation back to her. "There's something Mister Malfoy needs to see."
Thus was McGonagall's speech. The grey-haired professor turned and gestured for them to follow. Harry was slightly puzzled at her meaning but obediently followed with Malfoy at his side. He, too, seemed perplexed. It was still several moments until Harry realised what she meant. During their last discussion whilst Malfoy had been preoccupied at the other end of the room, McGonagall and Harry had tried to find a roundabout way of solving the problem of transporting Malfoy to number 12 Grimmauld Place. With that came a rather obvious complication that both of them had overlooked; how Malfoy would even be able to find the place.
As sole Secret Keeper of the Order's headquarters a.k.a. number 12 Grimmauld Place, Dumbledore alone had been the only one with the rights and power to speak of the location. Due to the fact that his mentor had passed away, no one else who had not or was not told the location directly from Dumbledore would ever find out where it was. Although rendered ineffective because of the recent move by the Order, the spell would still continue to overlook and protect the mansion - at least until a new one cancelled it out. Needless to say, this had put quite a damper in Harry's plans - after all, how on Earth would Malfoy gain access if Dumbledore was dead? - that is, until a small reminder from his fourth year reared its head.
McGonagall took a pinch of floo powder between her thumb and forefinger and trickled it like sand into the fire. In an instant, it blazed a familiar emerald green.
"Remember, don't take too much," McGonagall warned when Harry reached his hand into the pot hung by the fireplace. "This is the new formula. Throwing in too much will make the strength of the magic exceed the needed amount; a handful would hurtle you out of the fireplace hard enough to break your ankle."
"Oh…" Harry let some powder slide between his fingers and grinned sheepishly. "I forgot. The new formula, huh?"
McGonagall nodded sagely. "Yes, you would think that the Ministry would have better things to do than concoct a new Floo Powder for quicker travelling."
Harry smiled. "You would think."
Soon McGonagall was gone, and after throwing in his fraction Harry moved to step past the grate when Ed's hand caught his sleeve.
"What?" he asked quickly as he jerked out of the fire's tendrils.
Ed looked pointedly over at Malfoy, who was standing to the right of the fireplace. Harry shook his head, still confused, and Ed said, "You have to go together. You can't separate, remember? This would count as a place requiring an escort."
"Oh," Harry said, realisation dawning in his eyes. "Right. Sorry, I forgot."
Ed smiled. "Just don't forget again," she said half-jokingly.
"Well, er, come on then, Malfoy." Harry stepped up to the hearth, the fire inside still twinkling a vibrant verdant. It was awkward for two children let alone two adult wizards to fit comfortably; Harry was forced to press up close to Malfoy and circle his arms around him. Malfoy's chest heaved against his own and Harry could feel the moist cloud of the blond's breath against his cheek, so close were they.
"Okay, then…" he murmured into Malfoy's fluttering hair. "Headmistress' office!"
In an instant, they were off, hurtling through a network of tunnels and secret fireplaces. At one point in the few seconds they were zipping through, Harry could have sworn they almost hit a startled house elf hanging up some spare shirts to dry. Then, just as soon as they had started, the roller-coaster ride was over.
Harry stumbled as they landed and would have fallen had Malfoy not quickly wrapped his arms around Harry to keep him grounded.
"Merlin, Potter," Malfoy said with a tilt of amusement to his voice. "You still can't stick a landing, can you?"
Harry snorted and tucked his head down to ask just when Malfoy had seen him flooing before when he suddenly found his tongue stuck in his throat. With his gaze firmly fixed on Malfoy's eyes, the smiles died off of both of their lips. They were so close that Harry could see practically count out Malfoy's pale eyelashes one-by-one. He had never realised how big his eyes were before then, Harry thought absentmindedly.
"I-I…um -"
"Alright, boys?"
Suddenly remembering their proximity to each other, they simultaneously jumped back. Harry turned his head to look at McGonagall as he forced down a blush. Malfoy stood a few feet abreast of him, a faint pink tingeing his cheeks.
Harry cleared his throat a couple of times before answering. "Er, yeah, we're-we're okay."
Ed walked up behind him, ushering the two young wizards along. "Right then, lads. Follow your headmistress."
Harry did as he was told and looked about the room, noting the subtle changes with a twinge of sadness when he spotted a missing doodad or silver thingamabob, a book or wizard globe shoved in to fill its place. They stopped in front of a cabinet to the right of McGonagall's desk, and Harry could see the curious look hidden under Malfoy's guarded gaze as McGonagall retrieved from her robes an ornate silver key.
She slid it into the lock on the front of the oak cabinet. A pressurised fizzing sound emitted with a hiss of steam from the lock hole after she had turned it. The doors creaked open on squeaky hinges; Harry shook his head bemusedly as a sudden image of a haunted house popped into his mind.
The three watched as the headmistress stepped into the rather small cabinet and bustled around. A dull grinding noise and a splashing sound later, McGonagall could be seen.
"Mister Malfoy," she gestured behind her without turning around, "come here and bring Mister Potter with you, also."
With decidedly skittish eyes but swift and calm movements, Malfoy ascended up the two steps to the desk with Harry in tow.
As Malfoy brushed past him, and out of earshot of the others, Harry leaned in and whispered, "It's alright. Don't be scared."
He squeezed the top of Malfoy's arm and continued on without breaking stride.
Malfoy shot him a first startled, suspicious, then vaguely puzzled look all in one, but he, too, did not halt in walking. As Harry rounded past the cabinet door, the rim of Dumbledore's Pensieve came into view.
"A Pensieve?" Malfoy could not help but question. Even his staunch mask could not hide the curiosity leaking in his voice.
"Yes," McGonagall nodded, seemingly pleased that he had asked. "Albus Dumbledore's Pensieve, in fact. It was willed to Hogwarts. Strange but permitted and rock-solid in its credibility. Highly prized and highly dangerous when in the wrong hands, as I'm sure you can imagine. This contains all of the important events he presided over or was involved in, as well as a few personal memories."
"A wizard memoir," Malfoy said, a look of realisation dawning in his eyes.
"A what?" Though Harry knew what Malfoy meant, he had never heard that expression before.
"Like an autobiography," Malfoy replied almost absentmindedly. "But why would I need to be shown this?"
Now Ed stepped up. She crossed her arms and leaned against the door. "See, there was a problem with allowing you to live in the place designated by Harry. Have you noticed none of us have said the place specifically? I'm sure you had guessed by now that it is protected by the Fidelius charm."
Malfoy nodded as if this were obvious; Harry was not surprised that he had already figured it out.
"This place was protected by Headmaster Dumbledore. However, when he died the secret to the location was lost to anyone who had not already been told. The problem -"
" - was figuring out how I would be able to find it," Malfoy finished with a touch of wonder in his voice. He stepped closer to the Pensieve and ran his finger along the stone engravings. "Genius. He saved his memory of the location, did he not?"
Ed smiled proudly at Malfoy's quick deduction. "Yes. I'm sure Mister Potter will remember."
Harry looked over at her in surprise.
"After all, it was Dumbledore's memory of writing out the location to Mister Potter that you are about to see. Now, don't bother trying to poke around anymore than that. Severe restrictions have been placed on the Pensieve strictly preventing such happenings." She smiled dryly. "I'm sure you don't want to come out of there with half a mind, now do you?"
At Malfoy's subdued shake of his head, McGonagall broke in.
"Harry, naturally, will be accompanying you. Just remember - time is of the essence, gentlemen. Every time a memory is viewed, the persons involved in the viewing and the amount of time wherein to do so are limited. Just be sure to get the message across before you are pulled out."
"Right," Ed sighed with finality. "Step up to the plate, if you'd excuse my Muggle referencing."
Harry gave her a small half-smile, and she spread her arms and moved to the side. Malfoy was already in front of the Pensieve, so the only person who needed to move was Harry. He quickly trudged into place beside Malfoy.
Unsurprisingly, Harry again had to invade Malfoy's personal space; Harry could feel the nub of Malfoy's shoulder and much of their sides touched to fit into the space designated by the cabinet.
"Lean in," a voice instructed; Harry did not have time to figure out who had spoken before he was suddenly plummeting headfirst into the silver lake of memories.
Beside him, he saw streaks of white blond hair and black flickering robes as Malfoy fell. His breath hitched when he lost sight of Malfoy for a second. When Malfoy reappeared, Harry instinctively grabbed hold of the blond's thin wrist. Malfoy turned his head towards him, but his face was just a blur.
Suddenly they hit rock-bottom. Harry was jostled back, and he fell on his derriere rather hard. He hissed when he stood and began rubbing the offended area.
"Ouch!"
"Are you alright?" Harry turned in the direction of Malfoy's exclamation and ignored his newfound surroundings for a moment as he made sure Malfoy was uninjured. "Did you get hurt when we stopped?"
"No, I'm fine," Malfoy shook his head. He grimaced and tugged his arm. "My…my wrist, Potter."
Having forgotten he was still holding on, Harry quickly dropped Malfoy's wrist. As Malfoy rubbed his wrist and fixed his sleeve, Harry saw five red finger marks along Malfoy's pale skin. Harry had not realised he had squeezed so hard.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to," Harry instantly apologised. "Are you-it's not going to bruise or anything, is it?"
Malfoy shook his head slowly. "No...I'm okay…" Malfoy murmured almost as an afterthought. His attention had already been wrenched to the room around them. Harry noted how his silver eyes seemed to skimp over the every bump, scurried and worried at the corners and doorways.
As he watched Malfoy surveying their surroundings, Harry also took up the idea and looked around. The drafty, old
room was an apparent study filled to the brim with a clustered array of leather-bound books, sealed manuscripts, and ancient parchments yellowed with age. Several lumpy, red velvet chairs stood at random intervals throughout the room, either half submerged in papers and other assorted trinkets or shrouded with a strange, shimmering black cloth. Though there were canvases hung upon the walls, they were curiously blank. Only one held any image, and that was a landscape of rolling, green hills. Peering closer, Harry saw a lone sheep languidly strolling along the border. Light slanted through the arched windows high above the floor and hit Harry straight in the eyes, forcing him to squint as he blocked it with his hand.
Malfoy turned full-circle before he stopped and faced Harry. "Where are we?" he said.
"I'm not sure," Harry said slowly. "Where we're supposed to be, I guess. Just wait."
Instead of remaining still, Malfoy tumbled across stacks of books and trailed his fingertips gently over the musky, red-petalled wallpaper as Harry was left standing in the middle of the room. Towering, ornately carved bookshelves seemed crammed into any place with enough space. Malfoy found a small strip of wall decorated with a window and looked out. Directly behind them across the room was a single door whose brown paint had long since faded to dusty beige.
"It's strange," Malfoy murmured aloud, "but it seems like I've been here before…"
Harry was intrigued by the dreamlike tilt to Malfoy's voice but did not get a chance to comment on it when he suddenly felt a presence about to join them.
"Malfoy," Harry hissed as he heard the doorknob start to turn. "Come here."
Malfoy hesitated but then swiftly crossed back to Harry's side. The door opened to reveal Dumbledore, his purple-hatted head bent over a tightly tied bundle of parchment. A clustered horde of bitten quills, half-empty ink bottles, a chipped tea cup and curiously a piping pot of tea followed behind him. He was mumbling to himself, though only an odd word or two was able to be discerned.
Harry could not help stiffening as his departed headmaster glided past. Here, the old wizard was perpetually frozen in time but still there seemed to be more wrinkles around his eyes than Harry remembered. Or, maybe it was just the light. He swept past unseeingly. The edges of his robe trickled like water past Harry's fingers. Harry felt that all too familiar sting behind his eyes, a small pounding disgrace start in the back of his brain. Your fault. Your fault. His vision had just started to sting with tears when he felt Malfoy's gaze roam inquisitively over him. He shook his head briefly. 'Stop it.'
In an instant of deprived force, his feeling promptly dried up.
Dumbledore sat at the desk amid all the disorder and rummaged around in one of his desk drawers. Harry nudged his head in the direction of the headmaster and started making his way toward him. He caught sight of a small piece of parchment in front of the old wizard and knew that he was about to write out the location.
"Malfoy…" Harry's voice sounded too loud in the silence.
Malfoy looked over at him, and Harry pointed.
"That's the paper. Make sure you read it."
Malfoy nodded once and peered over Dumbledore's shoulder as he moved behind him to get a better view.
Dumbledore held out his hand, and one of the quills that had arrived with him zipped into his grasp.
'The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at…number twelve…Grimmauld Place…London.'
"Number twelve…" Draco murmured, and in that second Harry felt the pull signalling their time was nearly up.
"Memorise it," Harry said hurriedly before, abruptly, they were ripped from the memory in a flash.
With a small gasp, Harry and Malfoy were both thrown back onto the stone flooring. McGonagall and Ed's faces swam into view above him. McGonagall lent aid to Harry, reaching down to help him stand. Gratefully, Harry grabbed her hand and hauled himself up just as Malfoy was doing the same.
"You've seen it, then?" McGonagall commented. Her voice indicated that she expected to be agreed with.
"Yes," Malfoy nodded.
"Good," McGonagall said, "then we need to be leaving. We've already taken up more time than I expected."
"Flooing, right?" Harry inquired.
"Yes, to Hogsmeade. From there we shall Apparate," McGonagall verified one final time.
She stepped up to the hearth, dipped her hand in.
"Everyone ready?"
Harry nodded, and soon they were all off.
This time, when they landed in Hogsmeade, Malfoy did not have to hold him up, but all the same Harry noted with a small mental smile that he still instinctively closed his arms about Harry's waist.
The place they had come to was a small, one-room hut. There were dirt floors, cruddy wooden walls, and the only furniture there was that of one pathetically leaning chair. Malfoy made an expression of slight distaste when McGonagall stepped out of the grate and Harry swung him around to make room.
As they walked through the beaten door, Harry recognised, with a sinking feeling, the host of shouting and scrambling steps bombarding his ears. He turned to see a large crowd of reporters bee-lining their way through the many people packed already in the small alley outside of the tiny hut they had just exited.
As the swarming throng spotted them, there was a lone call of, "There they are!"
"Oh, no," Harry said under his breath. Beside him, Malfoy tensed. Ignoring the startled, near glare Malfoy gave him, Harry slung an arm around blond's waist; he would need the physical contact to stay together when slugging through the crowd.
" - Mister Potter," they immediately started, "can you tell us why you chose to take in Mister Malfoy -"
" - There have been rumours that Mister Malfoy was a spy for the Light side -"
"Go away!" he hissed when one of the photographers got a little too close for Harry's liking. Harry glared at the offending reporter until he backed off. Beside him, Malfoy was clinging to his side hard enough to bruise.
Taking one look at Malfoy's face, Harry knew they needed to get out of there, and soon.
"Ed! Professor McGonagall!" Harry called blindly. "I need some help!"
The two witches, who had been separated at one point by the crowd, turned in Harry's direction and quickly circled in on the two young wizards. McGonagall grasped Malfoy's elbow and herded him and Harry through the crowd.
" - some speculation on your relationship with Mister Malfoy -"
" -the people want to know, is it true that Mister Malfoy was a traitor Death Eater -"
Harry heard a small whimper escape the petrified Malfoy when a myriad of flashes suddenly exploded in his face. Malfoy's whole body started to shake with the rapidity of his inhalations as he started to hyperventilate.
"Too many people, too many people…" Harry knew that Malfoy was not ready for such a large impediment of people, especially those whose accusations and interfering questions slit through the air like singeing curses.
As another round of cameras showed their lenses, Harry rounded around Malfoy and shielded him with his own body. He thanked the stars when McGonagall and Ed abruptly shoved them into a literal hole in the wall.
"Apparate! Now!" McGonagall hissed.
Harry nodded, intending to follow his former headmistress' instructions. "Hold on to me," he instructed firmly to Malfoy.
He closed his eyes and tried to picture the small grove of trees across from Grimmauld Place, but it was too hazy for him to execute it safely. He rapidly surged through the other available spots he remembered close enough to their destination.
"Hurry, please…" Harry heard Malfoy say softly past the ongoing commotion in the background. The pleading, desperate undertone of Malfoy's voice spurned Harry on.
In that instant, his mind locked on the sidewalk in front of the mansion. The only left of them next was the sharp crack of their departure.
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"The walkway, Mister Potter?"
Harry's eyes opened to McGonagall's shrill voice.
"The walkway? Are you aware of how dangerous that would have been had a non-magical person or persons seen you?"
"I know," Harry argued even as he took in the familiar sights around him. Alongside him, Malfoy's eyes were narrowed as he did the same. "But there wasn't anywhere else I could Apparate to without splinching one of us."
"All the same, Mister Potter -"
"…Perhaps we should move along." Malfoy's soft, grave voice broke through any strings of dispute. Having forgotten Malfoy had a voice to speak of, three heads swivelled toward him.
"What?" Harry said.
Malfoy's eyes flickered about; something about his stonewall expression killed any argument. "We should get inside. Now."
Harry peered at him confusedly, not understanding the reason for his sudden reaction. "Wha -?"
"He's right, Mister Potter," McGonagall said. Harry noticed she, too, was looking around them suspiciously. Ed gently ushered them toward the mansion.
Harry did not say anything else as he quickly made his way over to the door of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. The black paint was peeling just as he remembered it. As he pushed open the door and felt the boundary spells wash over both him and Malfoy, some flecks of ambiguous colour shifted under his fingertips.
Inside, it was dim and hard to see. Harry squinted as he stepped into the large, vaulted foyer. Behind them, as the door closed on the shaft of light, Harry heard Ed give a sneeze.
"Ah, it's dusty in here," she mumbled. Harry saw her reach to her right and pick one of the dead flowers resting delicately in a vase by the door. Not a moment later, it was a pink polka-dotted handkerchief.
As Harry walked, he was caught by the reflection of the four of them in one of the many mirrors in the entrance hall. As he impulsively sought out Malfoy's reflection, his arm tightened around said young wizard.
"Alright, Headmistress, where did you want to start?" Harry asked as McGonagall stepped up beside them.
She paused in her steps and appeared to be thinking.
"Hhm…" she said after a second. "Most of the entrance hall and several of the rooms near the front exit will, as expected, be quite dirty. The Order thought that it would be a good safety precaution to use the inner and back rooms rather than those on the frontal parts of the house, just in case there were ever to be a raid, so the rooms on the upper floors except for the last should be usable. So…I suppose that we should begin with where we are right now."
Harry nodded. "All right, Malfoy?"
"Okay."
"So we're set."
As Harry pulled his wand from his back pocket, he realised that Malfoy could not assist them magically.
"Well, Malfoy, because you don't have a wand, I guess you can…er…"
"Here."
Ed came up from behind them and placed something in Malfoy's hand. As Malfoy looked down at it in a bit of confusion, Harry realised it was a dusting rag and cleaning solution.
"Let's do this the Muggle way, eh?" she suggested with a wink. "I've been meaning to try it for a while."
It was clear that Malfoy was still perplexed at to how to use the bottle, but he nodded anyway.
"Thank you," Harry heard him say so softly that it might as well have been a whisper. Again, Harry was shown this facet of Malfoy that was so unfamiliar.
Harry hid a small smile as he turned back toward McGonagall and sighed.
"So…let's get this hall back from the Middle Ages, shall we?"
--------
"Ah, by all that yields magic!" Harry panted as he wiped his brow. "This table weighs a bloody ton!"
"Well, you can't expect a fragile witch like myself to be able to move it, now can you?" Ed said with a stereotypical feminine wisp to her voice.
Harry rolled his eyes. "I still don't - argh! -" The table leg nearly fell on his foot, but he quickly side-stepped. "- see why we can't just levitate this thing."
"We don't want to disturb Mrs. Black's portrait, remember?" Ed smirked.
Harry huffed, but he did not have a rebuttal to that. The last time Harry had tried to interact with that damned painting, he had been called a number of names that he did not care to repeat.
The table moved another few inches.
Harry stopped for a rest and leaned against the solid oak table to catch his breath. A few metres down the corridor, Malfoy was busily dusting off a pair of antique plates while McGonagall was aiming cleansing foam at the walls. As Harry watched, the purple foam fizzed and disappeared in seconds, leaving the grimy wallpaper as spotless as the day it had been put up. Harry had to admit: McGonagall knew some heavy duty spells. He wondered where she had learned them, but quickly dismissed the thought. There was a whole arsenal of spells that he did not and probably would not ever know.
"Anyway, Harry, we're nearly done here, so I figure after you finish moving the table back we can start upstairs, or maybe in the pantry. I heard there were a few pixies hiding under the last shelf…"
" …Well, Mister Malfoy..."
At the sound of McGonagall's voice down the way, Harry tuned into the conversation between his charge and the headmistress. He turned his head to the side as he pretended to be listening to Ed but was actually eavesdropping on Malfoy.
"…and there seems to be an odd knocking noises every once in a while, but this is an old house…other than that the plumbing appears to be fine…you think so?"
"Mmm," Harry mumbled. Ed rolled her eyes.
"…Mister Potter, are you even listening?"
"Mmm, not really," Harry hummed truthfully as he stood up. His eyes never left Malfoy. "I'll be right back."
Ed opened her mouth to protest, but at the last minute simply smiled knowingly to herself as she watched Harry march down the corridor.
"But I don't understand, why shouldn't I spray it with this? Isn't it for wiping surfaces?" Malfoy was holding the glass cleaner in his hand.
As McGonagall shook her head, Harry leaned over Malfoy's shoulder and said, "That's for windows and mirrors, stuff like that. For wood, you need…" he flicked his wand and a bottle of polish appeared in his hand. "…this." He handed the bottle to Malfoy, who took it without word.
"I…oh…" Malfoy's cheeks burned a bright crimson in embarrassment.
"Yeah," Harry airily interrupted Malfoy's thoughts before they could become detrimental, "growing up basically taking care of your extended family has some knowledge benefits."
Malfoy glanced at him in question but did not comment. "Thank you," he said for the second time that day.
Harry smiled warmly. "You know, you're pretty good at that."
"At what?"
"Being polite. It's too bad you weren't like that in school. I might have been able to carry a conversation instead of throwing curses at you at every opportune moment."
Malfoy looked down, a small smile touching his lips, as he said, "Yes. I suppose."
McGonagall cleared her throat. "Well, then, I suppose I'll go join Edora with that table."
Harry turned his head to see Ed struggling to push the table toward the wall.
"Whoops," he laughed, still looking at Ed as McGonagall met her. He grinned sheepishly at Ed when she stopped to catch her breath. The law wizard sent him a glare before she lost the seriousness and grinned back.
Instead of helping physically, McGonagall shook her head and simply transported the table to its designated place. The look on Ed's face at her lapse into stupidity was more than worth the exertion that Harry had been forced to put up with earlier.
Harry turned his head back to see Malfoy curiously lifting a moth-eaten, yellowed cloth hanging over one of the portraits.
"Malfoy, no, that's -"
"Why, hello, Mrs. Black," Malfoy greeted.
Harry stopped in his tracks as he heard the portrait answer back - without screaming.
"Who are you?" a cranky, suspicious voice grumbled.
"I'm Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black," Malfoy said politely, inclining his head in a slight bow. "I'm pleased to make your acquaintance."
"A Malfoy, is it? Well, then…at least someone knows how to speak to an elder, not like those good-for-nothing Mudblood lovers."
Harry saw one of the portrait's eyes squinting in the unaccustomed light. He thought that he saw it widened in recognition of him, so he quickly backtracked behind the safety of the curtain.
"Whatever reason is a gorgeous woman like yourself doing hidden behind a cloth?" Malfoy purred as Harry rolled his eyes. If his voice was anymore saccharine sweet, he might as well dip himself in liquid sugar and call himself a lollipop.
He did not hear the portrait's reply, but Malfoy said, "Well, I'll be sure to remove this filthy rag as soon as I stop by the tailor's shop. Good bye, Mrs. Black."
He replaced the curtain with care and turned to Harry's disbelieving gaze.
"What is it?" Malfoy asked defensively.
"How-how did you get her to speak to you?" Harry asked in astonishment. "Usually she just yells and yells until the whole hall is screaming like banshees."
Malfoy shrugged. "I don't know…I just spoke to her as anyone would speak to a family member."
"A family member?"
"All pureblood families are related," Malfoy reminded Harry.
Harry simply shook his head in wonder. He vaguely remembered seeing Malfoy's name on a tapestry of the Black family lineage, along with several burnt holes of the disowned.
"Well, are you finished over here, boys?" Harry was ripped from his thoughts by McGonagall's voice as she walked up to the two young wizards, sweeping dust from her robes.
"Yes, just about." Harry answered.
"It looks decent enough for now," she stated as she surveyed the area around them. "Perhaps we should start on the upper floors."
"Uh, yeah." Even Harry had to admit it looked much better. He glanced at the clock; 1:30 p.m. already. "I guess we should."
"Then, shall we?" McGonagall gestured to the staircase directly down the hall and began making her way to it, Harry and Malfoy in tow.
As they began climbing the long, winding flight of stairs, McGonagall began speaking.
"Most of the upper floors have been kept up with since that is where nearly all of the Order's business was conducted," she explained. "None of the homey touches, naturally, but I'm sure we can do something soon to remedy that. The only floor that needs some exceptional improvements is the attic. With the exception of the front hall and a couple of the studies, the house has been managed, so it should not be that difficult to recover."
Harry nodded as he walked along. The ancient staircase railing underneath his hand was smooth and surprisingly free of dust. The steps beneath his feet were worn from hundreds of people bearing down on the wood over the years. When they got to the top of the stairs, the headmistress turned to the left and continued on down the corridor before stopping some feet away at one of the closed doors.
"This will be your temporary bedroom, should you later choose to move elsewhere. Now, this was one of the rooms neglected by the Order, so it is a bit messy. However, I'm confident that you'll have it cleaned in a few hours," McGonagall said promptly.
Harry nodded absentmindedly. Beside him, Malfoy watched as McGonagall reached into her robes and rummaged about for a bit until her hand retracted holding a slim silver key.
"This is a master key for all the doors that have been magically protected," she said as she held up said object. "There are several rooms like this in the house, including this room. Mister Malfoy and yourself, Mister Potter, will be able to enter these rooms without the master key; however, all those such as visitors will need a key or your permission."
She made sure that they understood. Wasting no time, she deftly slid the key into the lock, and the door opened easily on its hinges.
Immediately, Harry was impressed by the size of the room, even if the contents in it were less than desirable. There was dust on every inch of surface, the blue wallpaper had faded and torn, and there was an assortment of broken boxes and other bulky piles scattered around the room.
However, the room was quite wide and rather long and rectangular in shape, with windows facing the street. The ceiling soared overhead, and Harry could see swirling cherubs and a depiction of a Romanesque balustrade, giving the viewer the impression of staring up into a blue, tranquil sky, even past the grime that had built up. It must have been a beautiful room in its heyday.
Overall, it gave Harry a very positive feeling, almost comforting, as if it were trying to protect him. He supposed this might be true.
"It's lovely."
Harry turned toward Malfoy, who had just spoken, surprised that the blond shared his sentiments.
"Hah, I would've thought that you'd say something about how dirty it was," Harry said.
Malfoy shrugged. "I can appreciate beauty, no matter how hidden it is."
Harry stood, stunned at the openness of Malfoy's words, before he smiled.
"Well, then," he grinned, "let's get to work unveiling it, then."
Immediately, they both set to work moving the ancient, useless furniture while McGonagall conjured a broom and dustpan and swept where the young wizards had moved. Occasionally, as the young wizards gathered more and more of the derelict items at one end of the room, she flicked her wand in the direction of the growing pile and disposed of it.
In the next hour or so, Harry stubbed a toe, smashed a finger, and generally became filthy, but it was worth it to look back and see what they had cleared out. A small cuckoo sound erupted from an old grandfather clock in the corner at the start of the hour, and McGonagall left to help Ed with the kitchen.
Later, Harry was busy scouring the walls with the cleansing spell that McGonagall had been using earlier in the front hall. Malfoy was at the other end of the room moving some of the smaller items that were still left to be thrown out. The garbage pile had grown mountainous; the room was nearly empty now. Only a small wardrobe at the far end of the room and a vanity stood near the door.
Malfoy bent over to pick up a rag that had fallen. Unbeknownst to Harry's conscious mind, his eyes followed the blond. When he realised just what body part he was staring at and on whom, Harry felt the blood rush to his face, and he quickly looked back to the task at hand. What was getting into him lately?
As he shoved away unexpected and strikingly disturbing thoughts, he reflected mundanely on how it had turned out that the wallpaper was actually a cornflower blue. However, when Malfoy strode up next to it, Harry was forced to acknowledge with vague fascination that the natural, faceted grey of Malfoy's eyes morphed into a rippled version of the blue.
"What?" Malfoy asked defensively when he realised that Harry was staring at him.
"Huh?" Harry snapped out of his trance, mentally scolding himself, and shook his head. "Oh…uh, nothing. I was just noticing something."
"What?" Malfoy asked, genuinely curious.
Harry blushed, suddenly afraid and somewhat shamed to say what he had been thinking. "I just…I noticed that your eyes really reflect colours a lot."
"Hmm," Malfoy mused, a small near smile twisting his lips. "Yes, I've been told that since I was a child. A natural chameleon, my mother used to call me."
Harry became aware that Malfoy had just mentioned his mother without shying away from it once he had said it. He wondered if it would be all right to say something about it.
"So…your mother…" Harry began carefully, "she sounds like a nice lady."
"Oh, she was," Malfoy said lightly. Immediately, Harry noted a distinct change in Malfoy's demeanour; he became more relaxed, and his eyes got brighter.
"Was?" Harry asked.
"Well…" the light died down a little, "she…neither of my parents are alive anymore. I'm sure you must know."
Harry hated himself as that brief, positive spell disappeared. He thought he saw a flicker of something akin to pain flutter delicately through that blessed grey. Although Harry had not heard of Narcissa's death, it did not surprise him. From the first reaction of Malfoy's the last time his mother was mentioned, Harry had guessed that was what had happened to the missing Malfoy.
"I'm sorry," Harry murmured automatically.
Malfoy shook his head. "Don't be. I hate it when people say things that they don't feel."
"But I do!" Harry protested sincerely. "Trust me, Malfoy. You're not the only one without parents, remember?"
Malfoy opened his mouth to reply but faltered at the last second. "I, I guess you're right," he said finally.
The clock sounded again.
"Wow, it's already 4:00," Harry exclaimed with relief at the welcome distraction. He had not wanted to keep on the vein of conversation. "We'd better finish before McGonagall comes back up. We'll probably be leaving soon."
Malfoy agreed as he began making his way back to the other side of the room. "I'll take care of the cabinet. It must have drawers in it - it's so heavy. After that, once you finish the walls, we should be done."
He stopped walking for a second to trail his fingers along the clean portion.
"It's not as bad as I thought. I was right. Something about it is beautiful."
Harry smiled to himself, both at the surprisingly sensitive side of Malfoy that was becoming more and more visible, and at the still cocky tone of his voice, and turned back to his job.
Across the room, he heard Malfoy jiggling the brass handle of the wardrobe. There was a faint squeak as the door swung open, and then -
Everything went black.
Instantly, earth-shattering screams, sheer banshee wails, assaulted Harry's ears. It felt like cotton was stuffing itself down his throat, through his nostrils, strung against his eyes. He struggled to breathe, heard himself gasping for air. Flashing images tore his retinas with pain.
He could feel an unexplainable anger crawling over his skin like a hundred tiny, roaming eyes. Rage became a dark, salty red splattering in a morbid shower across summer rain pavement.
"Kill everyone!" someone ordered with a harsh bark. It sounded strikingly familiar, but Harry could not place it. "Leave none alive!"
"Mummy, mummy, wait!" Harry heard a little girl's voice, but there was no one in sight, just blackness and chaos. "Where are you?"
"Stop it! Stop!"
Harry watched in horror, confusion, and growing panic as his senses were battered and slashed with bloody, obscene pictures of cruel things, dirty things. A little girl on a street corner. A woman crying over her dead baby.
The vicious grin on a man's face as he forced himself on a girl no older than twelve, his friends watching by waiting their turn, sickened Harry. When they spread her legs and the man pushed himself in, Harry could feel the searing pain deep in his own gut.
It felt like days were passing by, each burning their mark into his mind. Muted, someone was crying.
Vaguely, Harry thought he heard something, a door slamming, a name, but he could not comprehend it. Still the screams razed his eardrums. A flash of white light sizzled. It was comforting for a second, a break in the monotonous. His mind followed it, revelling in the sheer energy it seemed to radiate.
Then, everything was gone.
Harry blinked rapidly as the room came back into focus. His vision swam, and for a moment he thought he was going to vomit. He collapsed against the wall, chemical moisture soaking up from the cleansed paper. He was dimly aware of McGonagall and Ed's presence in the room. His head hurt.
"Harry! Are you alright?"
Ed flew across the room, her warm hands suddenly upon his shoulders, straightening him to look her in the eye. Harry, though, flinched away from her touch.
"Where's Malfoy?" Harry asked before his mind could catch up. He feebly tried to push Ed away.
The world felt like it had been fuzzed over with felt. Harry screwed his eyes shut then opened them. Still blurry.
"Where's Malfoy?" he repeated as he gained more control over his voice.
Slowly, his vision was coming back to him, the cornflower blue running back to the wall where it belonged, the floor regaining its wooden texture. He was aware of Ed answering him, but he abruptly ignored her when he heard a small, somehow familiar whimper. His body was throbbing like a heated coil, and it was leading him in the direction of the source of that small, pitiful sob.
"Malfoy," Harry said in a dazed voice as he recognised the head of blond hair.
As Harry crossed the room as quickly as he could manage, his own discomfort forgotten, he slowly saw that Malfoy's shoulders were trembling, realised that the plaintive, muffled sniffling was coming from him. He did not know what was going on, but he knew that Malfoy was hurting. Harry could feel it.
He reached out a hand to curl over Malfoy's shoulder and was not prepared when Malfoy suddenly turned around. He sought sanctuary in Harry, and without thinking Harry quickly wrapped his arms around Malfoy's slender form. Malfoy's cheeks were hot and wet where they pressed into Harry's neck. Something deep in Harry's chest bound across his insides.
"We are so sorry, boys," McGonagall deplored. Despite the fact that she was normally very reserved, Harry could see a liquid look of concern in her eyes. "Had we known that there was a boggart present -"
"A boggart?" Harry interjected, confused, tearing his gaze from the blond head huddled against his chest.
McGonagall had the grace to look contrite. "Yes, it must have been in the wardrobe when Mister Malfoy opened it. The boggart caught you by surprise."
"We heard all of the commotion and screaming and ran up here," Ed said. She was watching Malfoy, biting her lip. "You two were engulfed in this big black cloud. Luckily, Minerva figured out what it was almost immediately and dispelled it."
Harry shook his head; a boggart had never materialised in such an extreme and abstract form before. It had felt more like getting his life-force sucked out. And if it was a boggart…what in Hades had it been then that he had been seeing?
"We're going to need to talk about this," Harry said resolutely into Malfoy's slightly sweaty hair bundled on his shoulder. Malfoy, his breath still hitched, merely nodded his response.
Harry looked back up at the still shell-shocked McGonagall and Ed.
"I'm sorry, but I don't think it's a good idea to stay here right now. Get us back to Hogwarts."
His voice left no place for protest. McGonagall simply nodded and waved her wand to allow the wards to let them pass through. In seconds, Harry closed his eyes to the flying feeling of Apparating with Malfoy in his arms still crying gently.
------------
The return trip was a lot quicker than Harry expected. There were no reporters this time around, making it much easier and quicker to navigate through Hogsmeade unseen. Soon, they arrived back in the now familiar surroundings of the Room of Requirement.
"We will be taking care of the remaining rooms. You should be able to move in permanently tomorrow," McGonagall said. Her voice was soft and firm, her eyes lit on Malfoy full of pity. Now she knew, too.
Harry nodded gratefully before looking toward Malfoy's bowed head still huddled against his body.
"We'll be ready," he promised. With a sad nod and a quite goodbye from Ed, McGonagall led the way out, shutting the door with a subdued click.
They stood standing in the middle of the room with nothing but the sound of the gently crackling fire in their ears until Malfoy spoke up some time later.
"I'm sorry..." Malfoy pushed himself out of Harry's arms. Harry frowned at the chill that rushed to the now empty place in his arms.
"For what?" Harry questioned curiously.
Malfoy looked disgusted, more with himself than anybody, as he said, "For making such a spectacle out of myself. It won't happen again."
"Now, Malfoy, that's a bit harsh," Harry demurred. "You couldn't help what happened."
Malfoy's face twisted. "I should have known better than to open something that I didn't know contained a spell or enchantment. It could have been something much more dangerous than a boggart."
"Come now," Harry insisted gently, "it wasn't your fault."
"Yes, it was," Malfoy hissed vehemently.
A little taken back at Malfoy's harsh tone but still unwilling to back down, Harry replied, "We still should talk about what happened."
"No, I don't think so. Nothing happened," Malfoy denied.
"Oh, come off it, Malfoy. Both you and I know it's not healthy to keep things like that bottled up."
"Things like what exactly?" Malfoy's eyes flashed.
Harry sighed. "You know very well what."
"No, I don't."
"Malfoy..."
"No! I don't want to talk about this."
This time it was Harry's turn to get angry. He knew what Malfoy was doing, and while he understood the boy's reason for the defensive tactics, that did not mean that Harry was going to tolerate them right now. He pursed his lips and shook his head.
"Well, I do. So drag yourself out of the denial because that's not going to work."
Malfoy sneered and narrowed his eyes as he said, "What - you think you can just command me to do something and I'll do it?"
"No," Harry interjected, "but I do expect you to use your brain and think about it."
"Well, I have and I still don't want to talk about it," Malfoy countered stubbornly.
"Stop being so ridiculous, Malfoy," Harry said with a hard edge to his voice. "You can't just hide from it."
"I'm not hiding from anything."
"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" Harry exploded. "Just listen to yourself! 'I'm not hiding from anything,' my arse, Malfoy. Stop skirting around the issue and talk to me already."
Malfoy's eyes narrowed dangerously, and he took the few steps between them until he was so close that Harry could see the dried tear tracks on his cheeks.
"You want to hear me talk, Potter?" he said darkly. "Well, guess what -"
Harry could not help but stare at Malfoy's sneering lips as the blond pushed his face so close that their noses nearly touched.
" - no."
Harry's mouth dropped open as Malfoy stepped back with his arms crossed and a grimly satisfied look on his face.
"What?" Harry exclaimed disbelievingly. "You-you can't just say that!"
"I do believe I just did, Potter."
"Malfoy, I know you, and -"
"No," Malfoy hissed with such venom that it instantly cut Harry short. "You know nothing about me."
Harry soon recovered from his shock and shook his head. "I know enough to know that the Malfoy I knew would not let somebody trample all over him and tell him what to do, nor cry over something like a boggart."
Malfoy looked like he had just been slapped.
"You pompous bastard," he growled. "You think you know everything, and it just kills you when you don't. You don't know one fucking thing about me, Potter, and you never will."
"Oh, but I beg to differ," Harry said, shaking his head again. He waved his hands earnestly as he went on. "The Malfoy I knew was proud and snarky and held his head high even when he was wrong. He was intelligent and, even though barely anyone knew it, ranked second only to Hermione. He could brew potions in under a fraction of the time it took even Snape, and he fired off insults faster than he could duel."
" - Stop. Just stop." Malfoy looked like he could barely stand what he was hearing, but Harry ignored his protests and plunged on.
"The Malfoy I knew was often scared but never showed it until I found him one day crying in front of a broken sink with no one but a ghost at his side, and I made a mistake then. Instead of helping him, I did the exact opposite and made things worse. After that, I promised myself that never again would I allow such a thing to happen. I swore, and I intend to keep that promise."
"I don't need your help," Malfoy said hoarsely.
"I know you need someone to lean on right now."
"You know nothing." The words changed but the protest stayed the same. Malfoy's eyes flashed as he turned away; Harry thought he saw something like hurt showing through the cellophane surface.
"You don't know what went on and what goes on in my head everyday, how I see the disgust in people's eyes every time they look at me. 'Filthy whore .Dirty Death Eater'. It's like I can hear exactly what they're thinking. That boy you remember? He died a long time ago along with everything that really mattered. There's nothing left of him now. Nothing."
Malfoy's voice was bitter, angry, resigned.
"You wanted me to talk, Potter? That's what's running through my mind right now."
Harry was silent for a moment, collecting his thoughts, but it was not long before he softly offered, "You're wrong, you know."
Malfoy scoffed exasperatedly. "What more do you want, Potter? Stop being such a damned -"
"Let me finish," Harry interrupted. His gentle tone must have caught Malfoy's attention because, though he did not acquiesce, he did stay silent.
Harry nodded almost to himself and went on. "I still see that boy in you. He's in the way you walk and sneer and the way you argue. I can see him in your eyes sometimes, when you let your guard down and actually allow yourself to smile. I see more than you think. I just wish you could see how much better things could be if you just let me in, even a little bit."
"I don't have to listen to this." Malfoy stood there grinding his teeth before he swiftly turned on his heel and began striding away from Harry until suddenly Harry's voice stopped him.
"Draco...stop. Please."
At the sound of Harry's quiet plea, Malfoy fell silent. His steps stilled, but he did not turn around.
"Draco?" Malfoy repeated softly in near silent question. His head tilted to the side, nearly looking behind him but not.
"...Malfoy," Harry righted his momentary slip of the tongue. He took a small step toward Malfoy. "Just stop this. You know that this can't go on. It's not helping either of us right now."
Harry expected some smart remark or stinging insult, but all that greeted him was an awkward pause. Silence permeated the room for a long while. It was a sick, muggy silence that bore down like a blanket of discomfort. It spiked in Harry's ears until some time later when he heard Malfoy give a barely discernable sigh. His shoulders sagged as he turned around, and he looked so tired, so very, very tired. The blond's abrupt show of vulnerability stunned Harry for a second.
"What do you want from me, Potter?" he asked flatly.
"I don't want anything," Harry gave a helpless shrug, not knowing what to say without fucking up. "I just want you to talk to me...to take off some of the weight on your shoulders."
"Weight off my shoulders, Potter?" Malfoy chuckled humourlessly. "What would you know about that? It's not like you really care. All in a day's work for the hero."
Harry sighed. "No, Malfoy, that's not it," he spread his arms to encompass the air around him, "and you know it. And I do care. I know that what happened earlier today, what I saw, wasn't something that was my business, but it is now. I can't pretend it never happened. You're wrong about me - I care that it scared you...and I," Harry swallowed painfully; he did not know why he was suddenly so nervous. "I care that you're hurting so much when maybe I could take some of that away."
For long, tense moments Malfoy stared at Harry with an unreadable expression. His shuttered eyes were flat as Harry got the impression that they were surveying and judging him. He shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, his fingers twisting knots in his pockets.
"You don't know what you're asking." Malfoy's mouth was a thin line. As Harry took another step closer, he saw the slenderly muscled body further tighten.
"Malfoy, please don't fight me," Harry begged as he saw this. "Please."
"I'm not," he replied tonelessly, then a little trickle of life wove into his voice. "I just..." He seemed so unsure of what he was going to say. "I don't know...I've never done this before. It's confusing."
Malfoy shook his head, but Harry held his breath.
After a while, when it seemed Malfoy was not going to continue, Harry opened his mouth to speak but then seemed to change his mind at the last minute. Instead, he switched directions and perched on the side of Malfoy's bed.
"Come here."
Malfoy looked startled and unsure of what Harry was doing. "Why?" he questioned warily, his eyes scanning Harry up and down.
"Just sit down. I promise I'm not going to do anything," Harry said jokingly.
His tone appeared to put Malfoy at ease; within a few seconds, Malfoy's resolve softened and he sat down, albeit at the far end of the bed.
Harry rubbed the back of his neck, and finally after a time he spoke. "You know…boggarts used to terrify me as much as dementors."
Startled at the sudden change in topic, Malfoy could not help asking, "Why were you afraid of dementors?"
Harry shrugged but was secretly glad that his ploy seemed to be working.
"Well, Dementors always bother me, no matter how many times I've had to deal with or be around them. The memories they bring up…" he shook his head, "are hard to ignore. I hear my mum and dad dying, hear my mum pleading over and over again to spare me. Never asking for herself. Always me." He turned to Malfoy, whose face was an expressionless, yet almost sympathetic mask, and smiled dryly. "Just the thing to hear while trying to argue with Ministry officials, right?"
"That it is," Malfoy said softly.
His silver eyes were quiet and gently penetrating. As Malfoy stared at Harry, the brunet fought down an instinct to shiver. His gaze made Harry's skin tingle with the intensity. Malfoy, for his part, seemed to understand how personal Harry's confession had been. He, also, appeared to accept it which was a test in itself for the Boy Who Lived.
"Why do you want to know about me?" Malfoy asked quietly, suddenly. "What do you think it will accomplish?"
This was a side of Malfoy that Harry had only seen the first night Harry had become his watcher, when they had first been left alone in the Room of Requirement. Although his abrupt change to the heart of the issue did surprise Harry at first, he supposed that it was just the sort of thing that Malfoy would do.
"I don't know," Harry answered truthfully. He shrugged. "Maybe if nothing else you'll have someone you can talk to."
"Someone I can talk to…" Malfoy mulled the words over in his mouth, almost as if he were tasting them. "Someone I can talk to…"
He glanced over at Harry, at a decision it appeared. "Do you know what you're asking?" he asked for the final time with serious questioning in his eyes.
For once in his life, Harry felt complete confidence in his next words. "Yes, I do."
"Then come here."
End of Chapter Ten.
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A/N: MWHAUAUAUAHAUAHAUA!!!! evil grin Okay, there's a little more to the boggart thing that needs to be explained. Draco will be opening up next chapter as well as giving us our first taste of boy love! I'll bet you're thinking "Wtf. She just led us through this gigantic, tedious chapter…and then just CUTS OFF?!" Yeah, I'm evil.