Dislcaimer: HP universe not mine; Rowan and Demora are. JK Rowling still owns all canon HP stuff.
Authors Notes: Thanks for the reviews, peeps. Please review again... and keep reading.
Harry Potter and the Redemption of Foes
-Chapter Ten-
The water trickled from his head to his thin neck, down his bony back and his withered legs... The water hitting the porcelain was a constant, peaceful sound, enough to blot out the screams, irregular whip cracks and sizzles of red-hot iron... Almost enough to blot out the pain, but not quite...
Ron's vision was a bit hazy and he was dizzy and light-headed even as he stood still in the shower, huddled up in the corner of the cubicle for a good few minutes, lost in flashback despite the relatively soothing water... His chest hurt again, regardless of the fact that he'd located no bandages right over the centre of his chest under his shirt...
The water got cold and he hissed in a breath, coming around. He glared a bit and turned off the taps in annoyance, shivering as he got out of the shower cubicle and wondered what the next step was... He kept forgetting things, simple things... After a pause, he remembered he needed a towel, but then paused as he passed a mirror.
Oh, right... he was supposed to have taken his clothes off first...
Ron plucked at the soaking t-shirt sticking to his chest, his every rib visible when it was flat to it, then shivered, feeling the cold. He struggled over to some towels and wrapped them around his bone-thin, wet-clothed frame.
Slowly, Ron sank down to the floor, bundled up in the blanket, unable to summon the sense to take the wet clothes off and dry himself properly... His haunted blue eyes stared at the tiled floor blankly, seeing blood on them every time he blinked... so fragile he looked almost breakable...
"RONALD!"
Severus called for him constantly, having checked every inch of the infirmary and asking around to see if anyone had seen him. Finally, he tried the infirmary bathrooms and paused then paled in horror when he saw Ronald sitting on the floor, bundled up in towels and seeming to look at nothing, paler than a ghost and so fragile and delicate it ached to look at him.
"Ronald..." Severus whispered softly in both relief to see him and horror to see him like that! He rushed to his side and bent down next to him, literally freaking out to see him out of bed and in such a state. "What are you doing out of bed?! My god... you're soaking wet! Are you trying to give yourself pneumonia?! You shouldn't be out of bed! We need to get you dried off! Ronald! Can you hear me?" he demanded, anxiously taking a towel to try and dry his face and hair, taking out his wand to cast drying charms on him.
Ron didn't seem to hear or see him at first... but once he was touched, he flinched violently and tried to turn into the wall away from him with a panicked gasp of shock.
"Ronald! Calm down, alright? I'm not going to hurt you..." Severus assured quickly, gently but firmly grasping him by the shoulders and soothed his hair. "Relax, Ronald! You're going to hurt yourself!" he said tensely. "We need to get you dry and back to bed, alright?"
Ron blinked a few times, cringing but eventually focused. "Snape..." he breathed softly, sounding distracted. "I was... Where...?" he murmured, looking around, suddenly not sure how he'd gotten to the bathroom.
Severus relaxed slightly, seeing he at least recognized him and finished drying the clothes, but he was obviously still cold as his skin was like ice, and with Ron's already weak immune system, that was bad.
"You're in the bathroom," Severus said softly. "I came looking for you. You're supposed to be in bed."
"I needed... the bathroom," Ron remembered slowly. "I got in the shower..." he added obviously, glancing down at himself.
Severus nodded. "I can see that," he said softly. "But you're finished in here now, so what do you say I take you back to bed now?"
"I don't... I don't - know," Ron murmured, frowning and distracted. He shifted, getting uneasily away from the touching, and dragged his weak frame to a stand. His breaths shallowed and he held onto a towel rack for a moment, getting his bearings. "I don't want to be... in bed..." he decided softly.
Severus sighed heavily, as though exasperated. "Ronald... you're not well," he said softly. "You're still recovering from your injuries and--" he cut off, not wanting to go into how weak Ron's heart was. He didn't want to alarm him. "Suffice it to say you need a lot more rest!"
"No... not bed..." Ron argued softly, walking slowly towards the sinks and paused to see himself in the mirror... He slowly tilted his head one way, then the other... almost as if he was finding it hard to reconcile the image as himself and was testing it...
He didn't look... like he remembered.
Severus bit a lip and came over to stand next to him, seeing he looked confused. "Something the matter?"
"Is that me?" Ron asked.
Severus looked at the reflection and nodded darkly. "More or less," he said softly, seeing the reflection was paler than death, frailer than any piece of ancient parchment and he still had scratches on him, and his eyes had dark circles under them from exhaustion.
"I don't look like I remember," Ron said softly, running a shaking hand back through his red hair, then weakly walked on with the sinks as support. He felt dizzy... "I don't like it in the infirmary..."
Severus raised an eyebrow. "Fine. Then we'll get you a private room," he said softly. "But Ronald... you still need to take it easy. You can barely stand as it is!" he said, noticing the boy's shaky balance.
"I'm okay," Ron argued. "Window. I need to sit at a window..." he added, abruptly.
Severus blinked. "A window?" he asked and hesitated. "There's a window in the infirmary."
"Okay," Ron said, supposing that would do, and tugged his grey t-shirt and material trousers straighter as he methodically walked from the bathrooms back to the main ward.
He located the closest window with a comfortable, cushioned windowseat, and carefully sat down on it once he'd managed the journey there. He was breathing fast and shallow for the exertion, translucently pale, but seemed more occupied by the view through the glass than his difficulty.
Demora, the nurse and even Draco tensed to see Ron come out of the bathroom, and Demora made as if to come forward and help, but Severus held up his hand, silently indicating for none of them to interfere right now.
He patiently watched Ron catch his breath, but didn't leave his side. "Will this do?" he asked softly in regards to the window.
Ron nodded, placing his temple to the cool glass, blinking as he watched the world continue outside... the clouds... the blue sky... rippling lake...
Severus took a seat on the other side of the windowsill and watched him silently.
"Ronald?" he called softly. "Would you mind if I gave you a check up?"
Ron said nothing and didn't move.
Severus bit a lip, deciding he would take that lack of response as agreement and summoned a stethoscope over, gently reaching forward to place the metal disk to the boy's chest and frowned as he listened to the weak, shallow breaths and the erratic, pounding heart beat which was close to palpitating in stress. Severus was worried, because Ron's heart was all the more fragile now.
"Does your chest hurt?" Severus asked softly.
Ron slowly nodded.
Severus nodded, biting a lip and looking at the redhead sadly. "I can give you something that will help," he said softly and took out a green potion bottle, uncorking it and holding it out to him. "Sip on that, okay?"
Ron turned his head slightly, looking at the potion and cringing a little, almost retreating against the window, distrustful and wary...
Severus sighed heavily. "Ronald, please..." he said softly. "Try to trust me." He put the potion aside and looked at the redhead intently. "I know you're confused right now... but I promise that nothing that happens here will harm you, alright? No more pain, Ronald. I'm trying to stop the pain now. I know that's hard to imagine after what you've been through, but you have to try and believe me. I know what happened... and I'm trying to help repair some of the damage, alright?" he said softly, his voice low, deep and intense with sincerity.
Ron looked into the dark, earnest eyes, and blinked his blue ones once, before slowly holding out a hand shakily for the potion.
Worth a shot... What was the worst that could happen? It could be poison and he'd die.
Severus handed the potion to him and was glad he'd started flavouring his potions so that they didn't taste so foul, sighing in relief at the boy's momentary trust in him, eager not to disappoint.
Ron drank the mixture slowly, stomach coiling in protest at having to ingest anything... He handed it back after a moment.
"Someone drinking a potion without gagging - not something I thought I'd live to see," Draco commented sardonically in the background.
Ron looked around sharply, staring at the blond for a long pause.
Severus sighed heavily and winced. "Thank you, Draco. Remind me to have a private talk to you later about the words 'timing' and 'tact'," he said darkly.
"What tact is there to have? He knows it was a potion... He's not that retarded," Draco drawled.
Ron narrowed his eyes. "Malfoy..." he said lowly.
Draco quirked an eyebrow. "Oh, well look at that... Apparently I'm memorable..."
Severus frowned. "Draco..." he hissed. "Be... polite!" he warned softly. Couldn't he see Ron was delicate?!
"Shut up, Malfoy..."
Draco scoffed. "Oh, well when you put it like that..." he mocked.
Ron frowned. "Don't you have some first years to intimidate?"
"Is this counting you?"
Ron pursed his lips. "I'm warning you, Malfoy!"
"Warning me what?" Draco drawled dryly.
"Just warning you! Trying to give you a chance to shut up before you regret it..."
"I rarely regret exercising my wit..." Draco admitted.
"Oh yeah? Well, try exercising some common sense and hold your tongue for once! The last thing I want is to be stuck in the infirmary and listening to you!" Ron said sardonically.
Draco looked around him briefly. "Did you hear something?" he asked his twin. "Little squeaky noise... some kind of weasel? Hard to tell..."
"Maybe it was a ferret," Ron said with a sarcastic smile.
Draco frowned slightly back at the redhead. "Oh, very clever... think that one up yourself?"
"Yes..." Ron murmured. "Incidentally, don't think I don't know what you're up to!"
"What are you talking about?"
"What you're up to with Harry!" Ron said distrustfully.
Draco paused. "I'm not doing anything with him!"
"Oh yeah? Trying to get in his good books by leading him to me? I'd say that's a big something to be doing with him! Harry's just trusting enough to start to like you - and then when he least expects it, you'll pull the rug out from under him!" Ron accused.
"...Firstly, I think you're just a little paranoid. Secondly, I couldn't pull a rug out from under anyone; I have weak arms," Draco said disdainfully, shrugging.
"Weak arms, weak mind..."
"Weak constitution, in your case," Draco retorted. "You make a pretty pathetic sight, Weasley..."
Ron stood up, and would have tried to go for Malfoy in some form had Severus not grabbed his arm. "You just wait, Malfoy! I'll beat you unconscious with your own broomstick! You just wait! If you so much as touch a hair on Harry's head, I'll have you choking on splinters before you can say 'ow'!"
"Until then," Draco said with a small wave a sarcastic little smile, and turned and left the infirmary silently.
Severus was so ridiculously pleased he could barely speak, and if it had been different circumstances, he would have hugged Draco!
He could only stare in shock as Ron was seemed to have been completely shocked back to his senses by the banter and he swallowed thickly, looking at the boy worriedly.
"Are you alright?" he asked softly. "Calm down, Ronald. I'm sure he doesn't mean Potter any harm."
Ron shook his head slightly, "I'm not so sure," he retorted, but put a hand to his chest as he felt it suddenly pang, and had to sit down quickly.
Severus looked worried and anxiously reached over to soothe his hair. "Just relax, alright? You have to be careful, Ronald. You're still very weak and you can't over-exert yourself," he said fussily.
"Ugh..." Ron murmured simply.
Severus smiled slightly, but his eyes were still dark with sympathy. "I don't think it's good for you to be around the other boys in the common room. If I get you a private room...with a window... will you agree to stay there and rest for a while?"
Ron considered for a moment, looking at the professor with clear eyes for once, then sighed and nodded. "Yeah, I guess..." he murmured softly, running a hand back through his red hair.
He noticed the blond girl across the room, and nudged Severus with an elbow. "Who is she?" he asked. Had he got partial amnesia?
Severus hummed. "That's Draco's sister," he said softly.
"Ah," Ron said simply, after a pause. "Poor thing."
Demora smiled from across the room, having heard him and stood up, deciding she might as well make an introduction. She dragged herself away from Rowan and smiled shakily. "Hello. I'm Demora," she said softly, holding out a hand. "I've heard a lot about you. I'm glad you're feeling better."
"He's not feeling better. He's just - pretending to feel better," Severus said darkly.
Demora rolled her eyes. "Let up on him, Sevvy. He can stand! That's a good sign."
"I like to think so... It makes walking around so much easier," Ron supplied softly, taking her hand gently, giving her a small nod and a faint wry smile. It was a forced smile, but a smile nonetheless. He felt oddly self-conscious about being in just a grey t-shirt and some plain grey trousers to match suddenly.
Demora smiled at him, thinking him quite handsome and seeing why Hermione had been so intent to see how he was.
"Well... it's a vast improvement that's all I'll say. Everyone's been pretty worried about you," she said softly. "Is there anything I can get you?"
Ron shook his head. "No..." he assured softly, standing up carefully, a hand to the wall for casual support. He looked at her silently for a moment, then asked, "How old are you? You can't be much younger than Malfoy..."
Demora laughed. "Haven't you heard it's rude to ask a lady her age?" she asked wryly.
Ron paused, and would have flushed if the blood was spare for it. "Ah... yes, actually... Sorry," he said. Mum would've killed him for that...
Demora shook her head and waved it off. "That's fine. I have respect for rude people," she said with a wink. "Actually, I'm older than Draco... by about four minutes."
"Wow... your mother conceives fast..."
Severus looked dry. "They're twins, Ronald!"
"Only recently reunited," Demora explained. "I've been living in France with my adopted family."
"Oh..." Ron said in understanding. "I have twin brothers..."
Demora raised an eyebrow. "You have more than one twin brother? Wouldn't that make you triplets?"
"Umm... no... I have brothers who are twins."
"Ahh..." Demora said softly and flushed pink. "Sorry. Blonde!" she said, indicating her hair. "Happens now and then."
Ron smiled slightly, amused. "Mmm... no problem," he said, suitably distracted for the moment.
Severus raised an eyebrow. "I was going to escort Ronald to his new room."
"Oh... I can do that! There's an empty room right next to mine and Rowan's," she said softly, needing to get out of the infirmary... to distract herself from the trauma of earlier. When in doubt, repress! She hesitated and looked at Severus. "Will you stay with him?" she asked softly.
Severus nodded. "Yes...I'll let you know if there's any change."
Demora nodded darkly. "Thank you," she said softly.
Ron hummed and looked down at his clothes briefly, and was just about to ask Severus if he could have a change of clothes when he handed some conjured items over to him before he could even open his mouth!
"Umm, thanks..." he said, wary and surprised, then looked back to Demora. "Give me a second," he entreated, and walked carefully to the bathrooms to change.
Severus looked at the girl seriously. "Demora, listen to me carefully because we don't have a lot of time until Ronald comes back," he said softly. "The only reason I'm allowing him out of this infirmary and to go with you is because this is the first spark of life he's shown since he's woken up. I want you watch him very carefully, understand? He has a weak heart and he can't be doing too much at all! Take him to his room, talk with him, but make sure above all things he rests! Here..." he reached into his pocket and handed her a couple of potions.
"These are emergency potions in case he has severe chest pain or anything else. I hope you won't have to use them. Once he's settled, come back down here and stay with Rowan and I'll be checking in on Ronald constantly. But I want you to be careful, alright?" he said intently and looked at her sympathetically. "And don't do too much yourself. You look like you could use some rest."
Demora nodded seriously, grey eyes dark as a sea at storm. "I will," she assured softly and kissed his cheek. "Don't worry. I'll take care of your Weasley," she assured with a small smile and looked at him seriously. "Just take care of my Rowan."
Severus nodded sombrely. "I will," he assured as well and tensed when Ron came out a few minutes later. "Ronald, you promise me you'll rest when you get to your room?" he asked intently. "And I'll be up later to check on you and make sure you're settling in properly."
And to give him a more thorough check-up from head to toe.
"Uhuh," Ron said dismissively, smoothing the green t-shirt and navy jeans down. They were loose so he'd had to evoke the shrinking option, which made them fit - but made him look far too thin, which he was... It was the first time he'd been fully lucid enough to acknowledge it... but he wasn't surprised.
After everything... he didn't expect to be in perfect health...
Demora smiled, seeing the tiredness in his eyes and the obvious discomfort at being fussed over. "This way then!" she said, and gently tugged on his shirt, liking the way he smelled of spring rain. She was so thankful for this distraction!
She led him up to a flight of stairs and paused, wondering if he was in any physical shape to climb them and would have asked (tactfully, of course), but she didn't get the chance as suddenly a brunette appeared at the top of them.
Harry paled starkly and his jaw dropped at the sight of his friend.
"Ron!" Harry exclaimed in shock, and made his way down the stairs quickly towards his friend. "Are you okay? What are you doing out of bed?! You should be sleeping! Who let him out?! Demora! Are you crazy?!" he asked, looking quite panicked, having lost every semblance of colour, his mind vivid with images of Ron's torture and the confused state he'd been in upon first waking. It didn't help that he'd already been paranoid about Ron's health previous to this! He felt like shrinking him and tucking him in his pocket to keep him safe.
Ron smiled wanly, lucid enough blue eyes a cross between amused and uncomfortable. "Hey, Harry..." he murmured, with a wave, as if his friend had not just gone off on an irrational tirade. "So I take it you've met Demora too?" he added, by way of small talk.
Harry smiled shakily. "Yes... we've met," he said softly and looked at Demora pleadingly since obviously Ron wasn't going to answer his questions.
"Sevvy has looked him over. He's, umm... still a bit shaky," she said tactfully. "He's asked me to take him to a private room so he can rest," Demora explained.
Harry nodded. "Oh... okay then..." he said softly and gently reached over to soothe some of Ron's hair back worriedly. "I'll come with you, alright? Do you need help up the stairs?"
Ron flinched and took a few steps back when Harry moved to brush his hair away... He felt a brief queasy feeling, like heartburn, that made his chest ache for the moment of stark terror he'd felt... but then for the realisation that that feeling had caused him to flinch from his best friend.
Harry's green eyes darkened sadly but he tried to smile as though to dismiss it, not taking it personally. How could he? This wasn't about him; this was about Ron and the hell he'd been through.
"Come on, mate. Let's get you upstairs, okay?" Harry said gently.
Ron hesitated, then nodded a little, brushing some hair behind an ear himself. "Right... yeah," he murmured, then frowned slightly. "Why would I need help?" he added, recalling the comment from before. "I'm fine... I'm not 'shaky'," he threw in Demora's direction. "But I might be 'cranky' if Malfoy gets too close to me again... You know he has a real attitude problem, right? I mean... a serious one?"
Demora and Harry both looked at each other... and shared a secret, fond smile.
"Yeah, I know," Demora said softly.
"Part of his charm," Harry said with a shrug.
"Charm?!" Ron echoed, starting up the stairs carefully, ashamed to admit he was finding it strangely difficult. "Oh, gee, I'm sorry... I thought those insults were designed to be scathing --- not charming."
Harry flushed slightly, unaware that Demora was watching him closely. "Well... I mean, he doesn't really mean them! Well... okay, yeah he does. But in a nice way!" he tried to defend, following his friend up the stairs, hovering carefully in case he needed help. "And you have to admit, they're quite clever!"
"Harry... please don't make me hit you with one of Fred and George's rubber chickens again... because you're really scaring me now."
Harry rolled his eyes. "It's his defence mechanism, Ron! He doesn't know how to relate to people other than to insult them. He was never taught anything else! Sometimes I think it's just habit. And besides, it's easier to keep people at a distance that way! If he insults them, then he doesn't run the risk of them getting too close. I just laugh it off when he insults me, and it confuses the hell out of him! Eventually, he'll understand he doesn't have to do that," he explained.
Ron stopped and turned on the stairs, looking a lot paler. "Sorry? I think I've taken too many blows to the head... What exactly did you just say? Because what I thought you said made it sound just like you... but no... No, I'm hearing things."
Harry blinked. "Like I what?"
"Like you..." Ron had to swallow to form the word, "-like Malfoy."
Harry bit a lip. "Well... yeah... umm... actually, I do, Ron. He's my friend," he said softly.
Ron passed out.
"RON!" Harry exclaimed, reaching for his friend and catching him before his head could hit the stairs.
"Nice going!" Demora snapped. "Why don't you tell him you have a crush on him too?!"
Harry paled and almost dropped Ron. "I don't have a crush on Ron!"
"Not Ron! Draco!" Demora exclaimed, helping Harry keep Ron to his feet.
Harry's mouth dropped open. "I - I don't have a crush on Draco!" he exclaimed, feeling his cheeks go red as he and Demora guided Ron up the rest of the way.
"Oh please..." Demora said with a roll of her eyes. "Either way, I take it you being friends with my brother isn't exactly a good thing in Ron's eyes?"
"YOUR BROTHER?!"
Demora looked dry as she helped Ron into the room next to hers and helped Harry guide him to the bed. "You're obviously a bit behind, Harry. Draco is my twin. I just told him today."
Harry stared at her and shook his head incredulously. "Wow..." he said softly. "I mean, I - I suspected! I just... Draco must be so happy! And devastated! Oh my god... did he faint?!" he asked quickly. "Er -- I mean, lose concentration?"
Demora smiled slightly in amusement. "You really do know my brother, don't you?" she asked wryly and paused. "What do you mean, you suspected?" she asked, covering poor Ron up. "You mean... you knew about me?!"
Harry nodded. "Yeah... he told me about you. Showed me your picture too!"
Demora stared at Harry in shock. "He - he confided in you?!" she asked, the idea ludicrous. Draco didn't confide in anyone! Even when they were six, he'd had a repressive personality and she did most of the talking.
Harry nodded. "Of course!" he exclaimed, as if it were natural and frowned worriedly at Ron, reaching over to soothe his friend's hair. "Poor thing. I shouldn't have told him this now. He's had enough shocks already," he said sadly.
He silently cringed at the idea of telling Ron what they'd just found out this morning; Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were missing.
"What did Snape say about him?" Harry asked softly.
Demora winced, still wrong-footed by the realization that Draco had confided anything so deeply personal to Harry, but deciding she'd look into that later. "His heart took quite a beating apparently and - well, he was acting kind of out of it earlier. But Draco..." she trailed and smiled slightly. "I think he was deliberately baiting him to draw him out of it. After they yelled at each other for about two or three minutes, Ron seemed better."
Harry smiled slightly, an almost tender look coming across his features and he laughed shakily. "Yeah... I can see Draco doing something like that..." he said softly.
Demora blinked in surprise. "My god... you really do like him, don't you?" she asked.
Harry frowned. "He's a very good and decent person!" he said almost defensively. "He's brave and honest and frankly one of the strongest and most admirable people I've ever met! Of course I like him!"
Demora smiled slightly. "Right. Well, if my brother ever needs a fan club, I'll be sure to name you President."
Harry flushed weakly and cleared his throat, deciding to focus on Ron for now. He'd go over what Demora... ridiculously... suggested later.
"Ron?" Harry called guiltily, gently soothing his hair and oddly reminded of when he'd found his friend originally and had anxiously called to him to wake up. "Ron... can you hear me? Wake up, Ron!"
Ron twitched a little, murmuring a startled, barely coherent whisper, containing the distinguishable word of 'Master'...
Harry winced softly, remembering being called that earlier and gently cupped his friend's face. "Ron?" he called a bit more softly. "Come on, Ron... wake up. There's no master here, okay? Just Harry and Demora."
Ron's blue eyes opened an inch, then he shuddered all over and curled up on his side, rubbing his arms as if they were cold.
Harry looked worried and covered him up more warmly. "Ron?" he called gently. "Ron, are you okay? Are you cold? I can get you a hot water bottle if you want it."
"Stop it!" Ron shouted, flinching a bit and managing to stagger off the bed, looking very pale and shaky. He looked around, in distraction, then hunched his shoulders with folded arms, and walked over to the window to stare out across the grounds, without really acknowledging them.
Harry paled slightly, looking at Demora in confusion. "Ron? Stop what?" Harry asked, coming over to stand not far away from his friend. "What's the matter? Talk to me!"
Ron slowly raised a hand and held it out against the glass of the window... He stared at the condensation print that formed around it... "When will the sun set?" he murmured, in a vague tone more like Luna than himself.
Harry bit a lip. "In a few hours," he said softly, looking worried. "We'll make sure you have light in the room though." he assured, thinking perhaps Ron was afraid of the dark.
Ron could see red... It drizzled from the sky like acid rain...
"Are my... parents alive?" he whispered, asking again, brows drawn together so he looked almost lost.
Harry paled slightly at the question and swallowed thickly. He couldn't lie. "I don't know," he said softly.
Ron's fingers curled against the glass until it was more like a fist pressed to it... "Don't - know?" he asked, more haltingly.
Harry winced softly. "No... I don't know," he said softly. "But I'll find out, okay?" he tried to assure quickly. "I'll find out where they are, I promise." he said softly.
Ron could hear screaming... covered an ear with his free hand to try and block it out... But it was his own screams, and they came from nowhere outside his own mind... His breathing started to get harsh and quick, and his bony frame shook badly...
He abruptly staggered to the bathroom and turned the shower on, the loud splatters of water hitting the ceramic helping to blot out the noise for now. He sank to the floor in the corner of the bathroom and rocked himself, eyes tightly closed.
"RON!" Harry shouted, running after him, horrified at his panic and guilty. He should have lied! He should have just LIED and told Ron they were safe! He ran after him, into the bathroom and knelt on the floor next to him, dragging the redhead to him and crying as he clung.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry. Shhhh! It's okay, Ron! It's going to be alright! Just calm down. I'm sorry! Shh... it's okay..." he comforted brokenly, frankly not quite sure what to do. Ron was back, but his mind seemed to fade in and out, and Harry realized any kind of stress at all could send him back into that dark corner where Harry had found him.
It tore at his heart to see it, and he inwardly promised himself he would keep that from happening at all costs. He would see if he could find Ron's parents and he would do his best to keep him from stressing out! The idea of losing Ron mentally was just as terrifying as losing him physically...
Ron didn't cry... but he did scream... unable to even accept comfort in his state of trauma. He curled himself up as if in need of protection and shrieked his denial... He even begged, plead not to feel any more pain... The fast thundering of water on the bath was matched only by the rapid flutters of his erratic heart.
Harry pulled back, careful not to touch him, horrified by Ron's trauma.
"Shhh! I'm not going to hurt you! Damn it, Ron! It's me! It's Harry! You know I would never hurt you!" Harry called, and eventually, Ron stopped screaming and begging and just whimpered in his corner, curled into himself as though trying to protect himself from the world at large.
Harry's own heart screamed in pain at the sight of it.
He sat not too far away from Ron, refusing to leave him though he didn't touch him and mimicked his position with his legs curled up into himself and silently watched his friend with pain filled eyes.
"I'm sorry," Harry whispered softly. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you, Ron. I - I should have," he said painfully, not even sure if Ron understood him and frankly at this point, it didn't matter. He spoke to Ron above the sounds of the shower, knowing his friend was lost in his own mind, but if that was the only way Harry could talk to him, then so be it.
He sighed heavily and bit a lip, looking pained. "I can still remember you begging me not to take you to that infirmary. I think that's going to be with me for a long time, Ron. Even though I say I'd never hurt you, I did... by not believing you. You were right; she was a Death Eater! And to think I believed her over my best friend. God, I was so stupid!" he berated himself. "And now this is the result and... and I hate it 'cause I know it's partly my fault. So... I'm very sorry," he said softly.
"I promise I'll always believe you from now on. If you say the sky is pink, then it's pink!" he exclaimed shakily and looked at his friend, pained for his whimpering. "Please, Ron... calm down, okay? No one is going to hurt you like that again. I won't let them," he said shakily. "I swear I'll do everything in my power not to let this happen again, okay?" he said softly, gently reaching over to try and take Ron's hand.
Ron lay on his side on the tiles, ashen pale and shaking tensely, curled up into himself, breathing far too quickly for it to be considered healthy... When the hand touched his, he winced his eyes shut, but didn't violently draw away, just braced himself.
Harry took the hand in his and held it for a time, before bringing it up to his lips and kissed it gently.
"I love you," he said softly and rolled his eyes. "Not like Hermione suggested! I'm not in love with you," he said with a shaky laugh. "But you're... the only family I've ever known, Ron. The only person who's ever really just... been there... no matter what. I--" he cut off, swallowing back more tears and soothed the hand tenderly. "I would have rather it been me. But since it's not... I'll just try and be here for you, okay? Even when you're terrified of me," he said softly.
Ron listened to the soothing tones for a few minutes, then slowly shifted and inched just a bit closer until he could rest his head on Harry's knee. He was obviously very skittish, tense and waiting for something to set him off again, but he was closer nevertheless...
Harry looked pained at the gesture and leaned forward to soothe his hair almost hesitantly and cried silent tears, wanting to just wrap his friend up in a warm cocoon of protection away from the world at large.
"You're going to be okay, Ron... alright?" Harry said softly. "You're not alone. I'm right here with you always, okay?" he soothed softly and kissed the top of his red head, sniffing softly and looked worried as he saw his friend was gripping his chest. He glanced up, seeing Demora through the crack in the doorway, obviously having been hovering nearby. "His chest is hurting," he informed her.
Demora startled, not having realized she'd been spotted and fighting back her own tears for the moving situation. She nodded at his statement and came in carefully, holding out the potion Severus had given to her and knelt on the floor not far from Ron.
"Ron?" she called softly. "Do you want some of this? It will stop the pain..."
Ron nodded with a strained, paler expression.
Harry took the potion from her and uncorked it, holding it to his friend's lips. "Here... sip carefully..." he instructed gently.
Ron sipped as suggested for a couple of seconds, drinking more than was probably wise... He pulled away at length, still breathing shallowly and rubbing at his chest fitfully...
Harry looked worried and continued to hold his hand and soothe his hair as was barely allowed. "Why don't I help you back to bed, okay? You can lay down and rest until the pain passes," he suggested softly.
Ron slowly nodded, standing with obvious trouble and turning off the shower (oddly calmly), before he started to walk to his bed with a little much-needed support. He got into bed without fuss and lay back, able to feel the vibration of his heart pounding.
Harry and Demora hovered, both of them covering him up warmly. Demora lit the fire while Harry conjured some water and put it beside Ron's bed.
"Do you need anything?" Harry asked, not sure if Ron was completely lucid again yet... or somewhere in between. "Do you want me to keep a window open? Or the door?" he asked.
Ron shrugged a shoulder, not looking bothered either way.
Harry nodded and smiled slightly. "Okay. I'll keep them closed. We don't want you getting sick," he said softly and kissed his friend's hand again gently. "If you need anything, just call one of the house elves and tell them to get me or Snape, okay?" he said softly, looking worried. "I'll come back and check on you in a bit."
Ron slowly nodded, eyelids heavy with weakness.
Harry bit a lip, watching Ron fall asleep and gestured to Demora, turning to leave.
Demora closed the door behind them and winced, looking at Harry sympathetically. "He's in pretty bad shape, isn't he?" she asked and casually looped an arm through his as though they were old friends, walking together.
Harry smiled slightly at the gesture and didn't object, his eyes going dark as he nodded. "Yeah... pretty bad," he said softly and winced. "I didn't help the situation."
"You can't blame yourself," Demora said firmly. "He would have found out his parents were missing from someone else if not you. The moment he steps out of his room, people will talk," she said softly and sighed. "But it's sad. He's so very sweet! I hate to see bad things happen to good people," she said with a wince.
Harry nodded darkly. "Unfortunately, I've learned that's a simple fact of life."
Demora frowned slightly. "You're hanging around my brother too much! Don't get cynical, Harry."
Harry blinked in surprise. "I'm not cynical!" he exclaimed. "But it's the truth. Bad things happen to good people! Just look at Draco!"
Demora paused and looked at him with a frown. "What do you mean?" she asked tensely and narrowed her eyes. "What do you know of what he's been through?"
Harry hesitated, biting a lip and shifting awkwardly. "Well... nothing conclusive," he said softly. "Just... I know his father hurt him," he said softly.
Demora's eyes widened and she grabbed Harry by the sleeve, yanking him into an empty classroom and closed the door, whirling on him. "How do you know that?!" she demanded.
Harry's eyes widened in shock. "He told me!" he exclaimed and hesitated. "Well, I mean he didn't exactly volunteer the information! It was liking pulling teeth. But it was kind of hard to deny it when I told him I'd seen his scars and - well, he admitted to me that his father basically controlled everything, from what he wore to who he saw! I admit I don't know exact details, but after seeing what happened to Ron, I could imagine," he said softly.
Demora stared at Harry in silent shock. First Draco tells him about his twin sister, and then he tells him about his past?! It was... unthinkable! It just didn't mesh with anything she'd learned about her brother's personality, or anything she remembered about him!
She frowned and leaned up against a desk. "So... you're saying he admitted this?" she asked and shook her head. "I can't believe that. It was engrained into both of us that you just don't talk about the family! And believe me, Harry...no, you can't imagine what he's been through. Ron's condition was something Draco would have suffered at five... on a good day," she said wincingly.
Harry winced as well, swallowing thickly and nodded. "I know," he said softly. "I mean, I gathered it was pretty bad," he said softly and sighed heavily. "It's amazing he's sane."
Demora hummed. "What else has he told you?"
Harry shrugged. "Just... stuff. Like... well, he's bi."
"WHAT?!" Demora's demanded.
Harry blinked. "Bi. You know? As in he likes both girls and guys?" he asked and wondered at a peculiar sensation in his stomach. He refused to acknowledge it as jealousy. He had nothing to be jealous of! Just because Draco could be attracted to either side, which meant he was twice as likely to get pulled into a relationship with some slut... and likely not a monogamous one either!
Harry found himself trying not to frown.
Demora shook her head incredulously. "I had no idea!" she exclaimed. "Well, I mean, of course I didn't! I haven't been around. So... do you know if he's had a relationship with a guy before? Or a girl?"
Harry sighed heavily. "I know he was with Pansy, but that was more forced than anything. Draco does have taste, I assume! So he wouldn't have gone with her otherwise. And understand, I'm just gathering this from what I heard! When I asked, there was some ambiguity involved which suggested he might be attracted to both genders," he informed.
Demora looked wry. "I see. Well, well, well... isn't that interesting..." she mused.
Harry hummed and shifted. "Not really."
Demora smirked and looked sly. "Aww... but Harry, it's so obvious that you are no bi. You're one hundred percent gay as they come, aren't you?"
Harry flushed red and frowned. "So I've been told. I haven't decided."
"Who said it was a decision? Recent developments suggest it is genetic," she replied and frowned. "Though I'm not sure how that would relate to Draco. Perhaps he's one or the other and is just confused... or even in denial! Some people who are gay want to say they're bi to avoid personal conflict or other issues," she exclaimed and looked wicked. "I'll have to help him sort through his confusion, I suppose," she said with a smirk.
Harry rolled his eyes. "I pity him."
Demora laughed and shrugged, hopping off the edge of the desk. "Well, Harry... I know for sure and certain he likes you. Whether it's more than like at this point is anyone's guess. But I do know that he would never have confided half of what he has, then alone risked his life for you, if he didn't care for you in some fashion."
Harry felt warmed and smiled shakily. "He'd give himself a paper cut in the eye before admitting it though."
Demora smiled slightly and nodded. "True. If there is one thing I do know about my brother, it's that he's slow to catch up with himself. He might feel something, but he won't acknowledge it until he's ready. You can't push that."
Harry nodded. "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind. Speaking of which, I should probably check on him and thank him for helping Ron."
Demora nodded and her eyes went dark. "I should get back to the infirmary," she decided. "Tell Draco I'll talk to him later."
Harry nodded. "I will," he assured and turned to leave to go and find his friend.
Harry had knocked lightly but there was no answer, so with a frown of concern, he slowly opened the door to Draco's private room and hesitated as he took in the stillness and the sound of soft breathing, indicating that the occupant of the room was sleeping. The wise part of him told him to return later, but Harry found himself instead closing the door behind him silently and approaching the four poster bed where the blond slept.
His long, lean frame was stretched out over the bed, his head resting on a soft, plump pillow, his hand extended above his head innocently, leaving himself remarkably vulnerable and open. Harry found himself smiling slightly, taking in every detail, watching the way his flat, impossibly-bony chest rose and fell delicately under the grey t-shirt, temping Harry to reach out and place his hand over the blond's chest to feel the movement and hardness of it.
The shirt had pulled up with the movement of his arm over his head, revealing soft, smooth skin at his side just above his hips, and Harry remembered (vividly) what Draco looked like with just a towel on. He drew his eyes away from the exposed skin at his waist and more towards the collarbone of his neck where the shirt had come off a shoulder. Draco's thinness was further emphasized by the bony protrusion of his clavicle and the dips of soft skin between, extending into a long, pale neck which supported a face so handsome it could make angels weep.
His lips were thin and parted, yet his lower lip was oddly full and sensual. His chin and jaw line were sharp and defined, his high cheek-bones made him look elegant, especially when coupled with a straight nose, gorgeous eyes covered by heavy grey lids, long lashes and perfectly arched eyebrows. His pale features were brought out by the colour of the dark green blanket he slept under, and his platinum blond hair just made him look all the more angelic and beautiful.
Harry found himself entranced, watching Draco sleep silently for several long moments, before he shifted and stretched out on the bed a little bit away from him, resting on his side and watching his chest rise and fall. Harry frowned to see that Draco stopped breathing every few minutes, before murmuring something in annoyance and then shifting slightly until his breathing became normal again. Harry looked pained to think that Draco had trouble breathing even in sleep!
He didn't disturb him though, knowing how very little Draco slept anyway, and just lay there, watching his every movement, finding himself memorizing Draco's features by heart, so he could close his eyes and still see them clear as day.
He was in trouble, he realized. Serious trouble...
At least fifteen minutes dragged slowly by... and save for the very quiet hisses of shallow breath, all was still and silent...
Then, just after another brief stint of no breathing, Draco clearly murmured, "Stop staring at me, Potter," under his breath.
Harry startled in shock and sat up, blinking. "How - how did you know I was here?" he asked incredulously.
Draco kept his eyes closed. "Irrelevant. You are and you are staring... Stop it," he mumbled softly, exhaling a soft sigh of sleepy irritation.
Harry smiled slightly. "I should think you'd be flattered," he replied dryly and winced. "But you're right, I'm sorry. I just came to see how you were and talk to you. But... I'll come back later when you're done sleeping," he said softly and shifted to get off the bed.
Draco warred with himself for a split-second... a part of him actually wanting to allow himself sleep while he was susceptible to it for once... but...
With a dramatic little groan, Draco turned over under the blankets onto his side, sighing, "No rest for the wicked... Go on then, Potter; what did you want to talk to me about?"
Harry paused and smiled slightly, before laughing in amusement. "You're funny," he said softly, avoiding the word 'cute' which he was certain would not earn him brownie points with Draco. He reached over to gently soothe some of Draco's hair back from his face gently. "I just wanted to tell you I was happy for you. I had suspected she was Demora, but I didn't know for sure," he said softly and smiled shakily. "I'm sure you were floored. Literally," he teased.
Draco opened his eyes a squint, pulling a sarcastic smile. "Oh... very witty. Joke's on you, Potter... I wasn't floored - I was, if anything, staired."
Harry blinked. "You fainted down the stairs?!"
"I just lost my concentration for a moment..."
Harry rolled his eyes, looking both amused and worried. "Are you alright now?" he asked worriedly. "You weren't hurt, were you?"
"Just a broken wrist... and a cut on the head," Draco replied, pulling his bandaged wrist out from under his blanket and turning it experimentally.
"Awwww!" Harry exclaimed, reaching for his arm and wincing as he held it. "I'm sorry, Draco," he said sadly and shook his head wryly. "You just can't make anything simple, can you? Even a reunion!"
"You make that sound like it's a bad thing," Draco pouted pridefully.
Harry smiled slightly. "I didn't say it was bad. It's certainly... interesting," he said softly, putting the wrist down gently on the bed and sighed. "But I really am happy for you, Draco," he said softly. "I'm sure it's... upsetting... in some ways, to realize you've missed a lot of time together. But at least you have your family back."
"It's a positive development," Draco affirmed softly, and shuffled a little to make more room, in silent invitation for the brunette to sit (or lie down, as he apparently had no qualms doing).
Harry smiled slightly and gladly accepted the invitation, stretching his long frame down on the bed not far from Draco, propping his head up on an elbow, facing his friend.
"You have a gift for the understatement," Harry said with a small smirk of amusement. "I think it's fabulous!" he exclaimed and sighed heavily. "And at this point, I think we could use some good news," he said wryly and bit a lip thoughtfully. "I wanted to thank you for what you did for Ron."
"Oh god... do you never stop? You gave me my trunks back and got me Saturdays out of curfew - that's more than thankful enough, Potter... Don't keep on about it as well..." Draco drawled wearily. "If that's all you have to say, I'll go back to sleep," he added indignantly, closing his eyes again.
Harry rolled his eyes. "Not for saving him, stupid! For baiting him!" he exclaimed. "For what you did downstairs earlier. Demora told me how you sort of snapped him out of it."
"Oh, that..." Draco drawled quietly, opening his eyes again, looking completely composed and stoic. "Nothing intentional. It's in my make-up to insult him... I can't help it, alas."
Harry looked dry. "I don't buy it," he said softly and smiled slightly, reaching over to adjust the covers over him. "Nope, you can try to pass it off as just your charming personality, but I think we both know the truth! You did it deliberately, with the intention of helping him! You're far more kind than you want people to believe."
Draco rolled his grey eyes wearily. "If I say it was on purpose, will you stop badgering?" he asked exasperatedly. "Yes, alright? It was intentional... He's at a very delicate stage; that much was blatantly obvious, and frankly, the nicer and more worried you act around him, the more his nerves will increase with your tension - and the further behind he'll be. By injecting something that used to be a normal slice of reality into his hazy situation, he gained a little clarity, as I had every suspicion he would... And personally, I'm not one to step on eggshells," he summarised bluntly.
Harry smiled and abruptly reached over to hug his friend tightly.
"Thank you, Draco! Honestly, I can't thank you enough!" he exclaimed and pulled back, looking anxious and tense. "And you're right! He's so very delicate and I'm afraid I might have made things worse! I sort of told him you and I were friends and then he fainted, and when he woke up he was all vague and he asked me if his parents were dead and... well, the truth is I don't know and I told him the truth!" he exclaimed and winced.
"I know, I know! It was stupid! But I didn't know what else to say! And so he freaked out and retreated into the bathroom and eventually I got him to calm down and he took some medicine and we put him to bed but... god, it's just so terrifying! I'm worried he's going to completely lose it. And what happens if his parents really are dead?! He couldn't handle that now! He just couldn't!" he rambled.
Draco sat up a little once he was released from the discomforting hug, and frowned slightly as he absorbed all of Harry's rambling assertions. He pursed his lips slightly, and reached over to cover Harry's mouth with his hand eventually, just to get him to shut up...
"Shush," he said, simply. "If the Weasleys are missing, it was better not to lie. Yes, his behaviour will alter drastically from one moment to the next. No, he couldn't handle it if his parents died right now. Best suggestion available, get someone to lie and tell him they are fine, should that become an issue... And finally, do not ramble like that as I am too tired to separate your incoherencies for any length of time," he drawled, sounding wry, though his expression was placid.
Harry stilled at the feel of Draco's hand over his mouth, the mere contact sending an odd sensation down his spine, but he ignored it forcefully in order to concentrate on Draco's words. He finally nodded and felt himself smiling against Draco's hand at his last statement.
"Ohmmhmm.." he murmured against Draco's hand.
Draco drew his hand away. "Pardon?"
Harry smiled slightly. "I said, 'okay, sorry'," he informed and sighed heavily, running a hand back through his dark hair, mussing it further. "I'm just worried about him," he said softly and nodded vaguely. "But what you said makes sense."
Draco nodded seriously. "Yes... it does," he murmured, and sighed a little, propping his elbow on a pillow as he lay sideways, the blankets slipped down to his waist now. "And if he's aided properly now, I daresay he will recover. His situation is hardly hopeless..."
Harry deliberately kept his eyes to Draco's face, refusing to allow himself the indulgence of looking at his exposed body, knowing Draco was sharper than a tack.
"Yeah... well..." he trailed and sighed heavily. "I hope so. It's just... Ron's never been through anything like this," he said wincingly. "It's a shock to his system... to his mind. And even if he does recover, he'll never be the same..." he said darkly, green eyes going sad.
"No," Draco drawled, quirking an eyebrow. "What did you expect, Potter? That we'd get him back and it would be all sunshine and daisies again? He was tortured... Nothing can take that back, I'm afraid, short of a Memory Charm."
Harry sighed heavily. "And that's not something I want to resort to unless absolutely necessary," he said darkly and looked wry. "And you're right; I suppose I was a bit naive to think he'd be the same," he said softly and winced. "I just...hope he hasn't changed too much."
Draco shrugged a bony shoulder. "Mmm... I think that hinges a lot on you," he drawled.
Harry blinked. "What do you mean?" he asked.
"I mean... the less you change towards him, perhaps the less he will change."
Harry seemed to pause, taking that in, and then smiled brilliantly. "You know... that might just work!" he exclaimed.
Draco quirked an eyebrow slightly, smirking a small, amused expression. "So glad you thought of it," he said with mock-enlightenment.
Harry laughed in amusement. "No... glad you thought of it!" he acknowledged and nodded seriously. "I'll try not to change towards him either. It's just... hard..." he said softly with a wince. "I probably won't be able to stop being over-protective. It was bad enough when he was--" he cut off, deciding that probably wasn't a good topic.
"When he was... poisoned?" Draco completed.
Harry nodded sombrely. "Yeah..." he said softly and sighed. "Up until that point, he'd been injured but...it was never that close," he said darkly and shook his head. "But I know you didn't intend for him to get a hold of that poison," he said softly.
"No... I didn't," Draco admitted quietly, looking distant for a moment, before he blinked, refocused, and smiled thinly. "So... what do you make of my sister then, Potter?"
Harry laughed in amusement. "She's nice. Very pretty! And she reminds me of you in some ways. But I think she's more in touch with her feelings," he said bluntly.
Draco quirked an eyebrow slightly. "Oh, yes?" he drawled.
Harry nodded. "Oh yes... quite. And she's a bit more dramatic than you too I think," he said wryly. "Not to say you aren't dramatic! Just in a different way."
"Ah..."
Harry laughed. "And she definitely talks more," he decided and shrugged slightly. "But she cares about you a great deal. She's quite protective of you. I think that's a good thing."
"It might get a little annoying," Draco admitted. "I've long since got used to life without her..."
Harry's eyes darkened slightly and he smiled sadly. "I know," he said softly and sighed heavily. "I suppose it's like... loosing your hearing... or your eyesight! You learn to get by without it... to become independent. Then suddenly you have it back and it's odd. You almost don't want to depend on it again."
Draco considered for a moment, slowly sitting up again and letting the blanket pool around his bony waist. He brushed a strand of slightly-mussed blond hair behind an ear. "A workable analogy," he admitted softly.
Harry bit a lip thoughtfully, looking oddly distant for a moment. "I felt that way with Sirius," he said softly. "I mean... I grew up not having any parents! And suddenly I did," he said softly and looked briefly strained for a moment before sighing heavily. "I wish I could say it was a mistake. Sometimes I wish Sirius had never shown up," he said darkly and shook his head.
"But to be honest, I wouldn't have traded it for the world. So... don't distance yourself from her, Draco... no matter how tempted you are. You'll regret it," he said softly.
Draco was quiet for a moment, before suddenly sliding out of bed and walking across the cold floor towards the trunks at the base of his bed, wearing only black boxers with the grey t-shirt he had on..
Harry was briefly shocked, and couldn't help getting a nice long look at Draco's very gorgeous legs and his bum in those boxers! But he quickly pulled himself back to reality.
"What are you looking for?" he asked.
Draco had opened the more personal of his two trunks and after some intense searching, he came to a box that was not very deep but a wide rectangular shape, lacquered and polished to a shine. He placed it on the bed and unlocked it with about eight charms before opening the lid and sifting through what mainly appeared to be parchments and papers.
Harry looked curious. "Wow..." he said softly, coming closer to see the box. "You've got a lot of stuff in there! What is it?"
Draco tilted the box away from Harry privately, then finally pulled out two items from the bottom of the pile inside the box. He closed the box, letting it charm itself secure again automatically, then held out what was revealed to be two photographs. "Perhaps you'd like photographs of him..." he drawled quietly.
And sure enough, the two pictures were of Sirius; one of him skulking along a corridor, and another of him standing, leaning against the gargoyle to Dumbledore's office would-be casually.
Harry took the photographs and held them as if they were precious jewels, seeing Sirius' familiar face and smiling shakily at it. He reached out with a finger and traced his features lovingly, his eyes filling uncontrollably as grief was still a fresh piercing in his heart. He nodded shakily, unable to look up at the moment.
"Thank you..." he whispered softly with obvious difficulty, but was truly grateful. He would have hugged Draco again if he were capable of it...
Draco turned away with the excuse of placing his box back in his trunk for a lingering moment. "I had another of the two of you together... but, as my father often checks my belongings, I was obliged to destroy it," he drawled quietly. "Those were taken after the third of the Tri-Wizard tasks... He was heading to Dumbledore's office on your behalf, I believe."
Harry paused, glancing up and wiping at an eye. "You took these?" he asked softly. "Why? I mean... you took photographs of me and him together too?" he asked, confused.
"Mmm..." Draco said quietly, looking a little tense. "I took Colin Creevy's camera off him to take them... as you can see they are of poor still muggle quality..."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "That...doesn't answer my question, Draco," he said softly. "Why would you take pictures of Sirius? Or me for that matter?" he asked softly.
"Ideally... to provide evidence of where he was and of your affiliation with him."
"Ah..." Harry said softly and bit a lip. "But you didn't," he said softly. "You kept them hidden! Why didn't you use them?"
Draco looked up, and smirked thinly. "Well... no fun to be had tormenting you if you're in Azkaban is there?"
Harry smiled shakily, knowing there was probably more to it, but not entirely sure he should press the issue.
"Well... nevertheless... thank you," he said softly, pocketing the photographs carefully. "All I have left of him is this two-way mirror he gave me," he said softly and shook his head. "Apparently, it doesn't work beyond the Veil," he said with a shaky scoff.
Draco froze for a split-second, then covered it by casting a last charm on his lock in a paranoid manner. "I see..."
Harry shrugged and then sighed heavily, running a hand back over his face, inwardly pulling himself back together. It was a wound he had learned to live with, like so many others, but one that still bled from time to time.
"So what were all those other parchments and things? Notes? Diary?" he asked curiously.
"Something like that..." Draco drawled quietly.
Harry smiled slightly. "Oh come on, Draco! You've told me practically everything else."
"I most certainly have not," Draco muttered, going to some drawers to pick out his jeans, since he was obviously going to have to forgo sleep - again... He pulled the black jeans smoothly up his long legs, and fastened them with a belt. "And it's absolutely of no interest of yours..."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Actually, it is! I'm quite interested. Come on, Draco! What is it? Poetry?"
Draco scoffed quietly. "That's so insulting it's not even funny."
Harry rolled his eyes. "It's not insulting! Fine then. If not poetry, then what?"
"Just notes!"
"About?"
"About... my life," Draco said tightly. "Alright? They're just notes."
Harry looked curious. "So... it's a diary of some kind!"
"No... it isn't dated."
"So... just thoughts then?" Harry asked softly.
"Basically," Draco said shortly.
Harry looked hesitant. "Can I read some of it?"
"NO!"
"Awww... why not?" Harry asked and sat up, looking pleading. "Come on, Draco! Just a little bit! Don't be embarrassed!"
Draco shook his head. "I am not embarrassed - but I don't want anyone reading it, thank you."
"Why not?" Harry asked.
"Because! Ugh... shut up, Potter. Just shut up."
Harry smiled slightly. "You know what I think?"
"What?"
Harry bit a lip. "That you're afraid if anyone reads it, they won't like you anymore."
"Your psychological insight astonishes me," Draco said with ample sarcasm, walking over to the side of the bed to take a seat. "...Not."
"I notice you didn't deny it," Harry pointed out and gently reached over to put a hand on his arm. "Come on, Draco. Just one little note and I promise I'll still like you when it's done with!"
"Would you rather burn to death or drown?"
"Neither," Harry replied and shrugged, examining a nail casually. "But fine. If you're afraid, I can understand."
"I am not afraid!"
Harry shook his head. "It's okay, Draco. I understand you're very sensitive right now!" he said in an almost piteous tone, gently reaching over to pat his hand. "You've been through a lot. You're in a delicate position! It's natural not to want the emotional upset. So if you're afraid to let me read it, that's more than fine! I'm not one to pry into anyone else's business."
Draco glared and went to his trunk and pulled out the box again, grasping some parchments from the clump within it and tossed them in Harry's direction. "Fine! Read some... Do what the fuck you want, Potter - it appears privacy is a thing of the past!" he exclaimed, and left the room completely.
Harry smiled slightly in triumph.
That had been too easy!
A part of him felt guilty though, and he realized he'd have to smooth over ruffled feathers. But he had what he wanted, which was more knowledge about Draco's past, and in his own words no less!
Harry gathered up the parchments carefully, organizing them into neat piles, realizing they would be out of order, and deciding he'd have to just try and piece them together as best he could.
He pulled out the first note and looked at it carefully, thankful Draco's writing was so neat.
'…The moon looks orange tonight. Isn't it strange the way that sometimes happens? My father used to call it 'blood on the moon', and he'd be in a good mood for a good day or two afterwards. Generally a bad sign...
It isn't as though I'm superstitious; I'm truly not. I don't believe in fate, I don't believe in faith, or that by knocking on a piece of wood after you say something ominous stops it from being jinxed.
I believe in fact, I believe in cause and effect, I believe in magic... And I believe in pain. I believe in power and I believe in hate. And, I suppose, if I believe in hate, I believe in love... But is feeling something enough...? Scratch that bit out, Quill. I said 'scratch it out'! Ugh... bloody thing. Fine... forget this page.'
Harry smiled shakily at the words, saddened by the tone of it which seemed almost dark and hopeless, and yet Draco had mentioned love. What did he mean by 'is feeling something enough'? Had Draco felt love for someone other than his sister?!
The idea had Harry both intrigued...and yet his stomach writhed at the thought that it could have been a romantic attachment. He had no idea, so he eagerly went to the next note in hopes of finding out more.
'I do not want to be my father.
I do not want to be my father.
I do not want to be my f-father.
I do not want to be my father…
I do not want to be my father!'
Harry's eyes widened at the note and he swallowed thickly, almost hearing the conviction, and yet the painful conflicting emotions he obviously felt when he wrote that was nearly overwhelming. What had spurned on such a tirade? Perhaps he'd seen Lucius do something horrible and vowed never to be like that?
Either way, it only confirmed what Harry had already suspected; Draco was twice the person Lucius could ever be!
He went on to the next note carefully, wondering what other secrets he'd find.
'Today I am a murderer for the fourteenth time. Would that these pages could contort into shock, or distaste, or regret, or hate... anything but the blankness that reminds me of my own... The featureless posing... the stoic posturing... Emotionless death.
They are innocents. I don't know where he gets them all... One almost wonders if there's a market in trade for hopeless souls... And there I thought the slave trade ended 200 years ago... It isn't so. I'm a slave myself - only my every day shackles would be made of gold if it suited the public world... Instead, they are invisible; and invisible they must stay. At least I can end it quickly... I've fooled him into believing I have a thirst for it now, and I don't tarry with the torture; I have even halted his tortures by killing the victims...
Anything to stop the screams...
They will never cease in my mind.'
Harry had to read the note over again... and again... and still he couldn't fathom it.
Fourteen times... Draco had apparently killed fourteen times! At least...
Harry absorbed every word carefully, surmising through Draco's eloquent speech the reasons behind such actions, which to Harry's mind were a complete contradiction to Draco's nature. He was horrified to realize the truth; that Draco had killed to end the tortures. He had seen the victims and had killed to stop the screams. And apparently his father had gotten the wrong idea! Believing him to have a blood thirst.
Nothing was further from the truth.
Harry put a hand to his mouth, his silent tears falling into his hand and thankfully not falling onto the parchments. He separated that one from the rest, deciding that one was important he would want to re-read it later.
After several minutes of just sitting there, trying to imagine what Draco must have gone through, how far close to the edge he must have been driven to even consider euthanasia, he turned to the next note, almost afraid to read it now.
'How much of who we are is laid down by our parents and our environment? If I look out of the window and I see a sunset silhouetting the trees and think it beautiful, how much of that is genetically engineered? Are genes passed down with the predisposition to like that particular sort of sight? And to what extent is it my own environment that makes me think so? Does seeing a dungeon every day make me simply more able to establish beauty elsewhere? And how much of what I think is unconsciously grown of what I've heard from my parents... Did my father look at such a sight and comment on it being beautiful within my earshot, therefore cultivating my own mindscape into becoming of the same mind as he? Somehow, this seems unlikely... but it's a worthy thought..'
Harry raised an eyebrow, looking vaguely amused at the random philosophical question in regards to perception. He smiled slightly in amusement, though he doubted Lucius had any kind of influence over Draco's perception except that, of course, being in a dungeon meant he appreciated the beauty of the out doors more. Harry winced at the casual reference to the dungeon and had to wonder just how often he spent time down there.
He imagined it was a lot.
Impressed despite himself and doing his best not to feel intimidated by Draco's intelligence, he went on to the next note, finding himself eager to hear Draco's random thoughts.
'Her blood's on my hands... her blood – on my hands.
I tried to scrub it off... really, I tried. And every time I wash my hands, even now, I get stains of red flash across my vision. Hallucinations. And before I know it, I have rubbed my skin raw – yet again. Just like Demora, she was - just like Demora... So young.
Oh - the ink from my quill warps into red paint even as I scrawl now... I know it's just an effect of having not slept for... I don't remember when I last went to sleep.
But it's everywhere - the blood is everywhere! She wouldn't stop screaming... oh, Merlin, god. Shit. FUCK. UGH... Okay... okay, he's calling; must go.'
Harry looked pained at the note and could tell Draco had lost it. The handwriting was erratic and tense, a stark contrast to Draco's usually neat scrawl. So... Draco had had to do it again, only this time, it was a little girl! Harry's heart twisted in pain at the thought of Draco doing that. He knew why, of course; to save her the agony of a slow death.
But Draco would still see it as murder. His conscience would still torment him, and he could understand why he would hallucinate the blood being on his hands. The guilt alone would be enough to drive most sane people crazy!
He was beyond crying at that point. Rather, he was stoic and tense, his eyes glistening but his pain for Draco was just too deep to allow for tears. He knew he couldn't read many more, and thankfully there weren't many left.
'Foreword: I want to have it down in writing that my intention is to one day let these pieces of confessional script fall into the hands of someone who may publish them in some form... even if it is only in a newspaper. I hope I am dead when this happens, naturally. Or at the very least, living in a heavily-warded home in the middle of a thick forest.
I think that was always my plan. The first note I can find dates back to when I was six... I have sporadically tried to update my life on paper since then... and I hope that by allowing this to be made public some day, I might... Well, I don't really know what I wish to come of it; if I am dead, little difference will be made to me. But perhaps people will be brought to justice who ought to be... Vain hope; it's a wonderful thing.
--Today is a Thursday, for the record. And I have pneumonia at the moment, yet again... but this hasn't kept me out of the dungeons. I've had to filter the recess pipe again. I've thrown up so hard... it is impossible to describe the smell on parchment. Basic run of the mill workshop... I think my father is losing his touch...
I can't really feel a thing any more. Well, nowhere he was slashing today in any case... The numbness has hovered for years, but I think it has finally taken a permanent hold. Oh, I'm getting blood on this page... oh well, authenticity? In any case, I have conducted a number of tests. As I have recorded previously when reporting the extent of injuries' aftermath, I tend to set most of my own bones and joints now; it saves time and the pain of an infection; but since last month, I've noticed I don't feel a thing when I force something back into alignment...
I am poking at a cut on my arm right now and I don't feel so much as a twinge. It's oddly fascinating. And as I was saying... What was I saying? Oh yes - tests. I've put a fork in my thigh - don't feel that either. And I burnt one of my feet - don't feel that either... I still don't have my hearing back in my left ear; I think he might have seriously damaged it this time - I knew that spiked bat would give me one hell of a headache, and as I suspected at the time, I fear a spike may have unfortunately punctured my eardrum...
It may heal up over time, but for the moment, I am hearing all conversations one-sidedly... hah! See there, that's comedy... When are these potions going to kick in?'
Harry was at first intrigued and even proud of Draco for wanting his memoirs published, but quickly grew horrified beyond belief, not just for the vivid description of Draco's numbness in his limbs and sickening descriptions of his own tests, but also for the mention of his left ear.
Draco was deaf in his left ear?! Had it been healed?! He didn't know, but it was a shocking revelation, and if Draco indeed had trouble hearing, Harry had never noticed it. He knew Draco would never give any hint of weakness to anyone!
No wonder he didn't want Harry reading this.
Harry was glad to see there was only two more, and went for the next note eagerly, wondering what other horrors he would find there.
'I've been... how many days? No... three weeks. I have lost practically the entire summer; how I'll finish all my homework is beyond me. Snape says I need to rest... but honestly, how likely is that? My father is frustrated enough for the disruption this has caused. Hushing up nurses always vexes him... unless the hushing up means killing, which in this case it didn't.
My head aches... It is actually throbbing... And my heart is still not right; it is actually hard to climb up a gentle slope. The strain is too great at the moment... It wasn't this bad before, so it's mainly the trauma that's caused this complication of an already-complicated matter...
It makes me wonder if I'll see 3rd year... It hurts so damn much... For future reference; comas are bad for your health!'
Harry frowned in confusion.
Draco's heart wasn't right?!
He knew about Draco's breathing problem, but this was the first he'd heard of any kind of heart complication! And after second year no less. He'd fallen into a coma??! What kind of heart problem was it?! And why the hell hadn't it been mentioned before?!
Harry started to imagine all kinds of horrible things, from heart attacks to heart failure, and it was everything he could do to pick up the last note and read it without giving in to the urge to go and find Draco and demand to know the state of his health! And if that didn't work, he'd find Snape and find some way of getting the information out of him! He refused to acknowledge his tension as fear...
'Before even turning seventeen and coming of age, I have to date killed twenty individuals... aided and abetted in the deaths of 59 individuals via numerous methods of depravation and torture and stood aside and borne witness to the murders of probably three times that amount...
...including my mother.
My mother died today. My father did it, as I always knew he would.
He tied a rope around her neck and shoved her off the second staircase landing; her neck didn't break, I heard no crack and she gurgled and struggled. My father went down to the lower landing, then cut across the base of her abdomen, and then in a straight line over that... Very medieval.
All the guts and blood fell to the foyer floor. I cleaned it up later. Did nothing to stop it all happening... I think I'm beyond caring. It feels... like a relief.
I was sure I wouldn't sleep after seeing that, but my exhaustion caught up with me and I suffered one of my collapses of concentration in my bedroom. I dreamt about her...
"Don't ever – ever – ever let me catch you eating another bite again! What did I teach you? Have all my lessons been in vain?" she hissed.
She slapped me soundly, which felt so real... She took the apple away from me and threw it out of the window. Two dragons fought over the tiny thing in the garden, and there was a fly buzzing about the windowpane in the shape of a phoenix.
"I need to eat on occasion, Mother. But fine... I am sorry," I said.
"You will be, boy," she replied, her gaze narrowing, suddenly stoic as ever. "You were born for death... don't you ever forget it."
She raised my hands, and they were covered in blood. I thought it was victim-blood, but then I saw my wrists were cut...
"Is it mine?" I asked.
"Yes," she said.
"Oh..." was all I remember saying, because then I woke up. I'd fallen on my fencing sword stand - both of my wrists were bleeding all over the floor.'
Harry looked strained and frowned angrily, everything inside him screaming that the woman's words weren't true. Draco wasn't born for death! And he could tell the dream had disturbed him. The entire situation would have disturbed anyone! But seeing your mother die, cleaning it up and then having the bitch come back to you in a dream and give you some vague, fucked up view point had to be disturbing!
And it was a lie. A cruel, horrible lie! And was that why Draco didn't seem to eat much? His mother's voice was still somewhere inside his head, telling him not to?
He wincingly put that last piece of parchment aside with the others, piling them neatly back into the box. A part of him still felt guilty for prying, for manipulating Draco into showing him, but he felt justified nevertheless. Draco had to open up to someone! And now he was convinced more than ever that he'd been right; Draco was afraid of people's reactions should they ever know that much about him. It was, objectively, a justified fear. Harry imagined there were a lot of people who would react badly to what was contained in those parchments.
He wasn't one of them.
He closed the box, carefully locking it and placing it back in Draco's trunk, before setting off to the find the blond, his mind whirling with questions, finding that the notes, rather than satisfy his curiosity, had only made him want to know even more! But one thing he did understand was that he would never fully be able to understand Draco. He was too complicated, his mind indescribably complex and full of twists and turns and thoughts that would no doubt keep scholars awake for years!
But it would be a hell of a lot of fun trying...
Authors Notes: R&R! Plz let me know what you think.