Disclaimer: I don't own them, but I do own Sayre.
Note: Things will start to pick up from here. Another thing, if there's either something you guys think I should include, or a bit that's missing, let me know, I'll see what I can do.
Golden Boy
Chapter Eleven
Dragon's Blood
Draco watched Harry through narrowed eyes. His arm was hidden in his sleeve again and the smile on his lips was frayed around the edges. Blaise remained standing in front of the fire, gazing into it's depths searchingly. Pansy sat with her eyes closed as they flickered along an unseen path in her mind's eye.
Only Weasel was oblivious to the tension in the room.
"I don't remember you getting headaches last summer or the one before, mate." He began conversationally. Pansy winced and Draco sat up straighter in his seat.
"Hermione made me the potion I needed. We didn't want to worry you, that's all." The muscle in his left cheek jumped.
"Alright, mate. I thought you were getting drunk or something," He chuckled at the absurdity of the thought of it and stood up, stretching, "I'm heading to my dorm to get some work done. I'll talk to you later, let me if you get an owl from Hermione." With a jaunty wave, he left. Draco glared at Pansy.
"How you could like a tosspot like that is beyond me." He growled out as he leaned back into his seat. Pansy's returning glower was to be expected, Blaise's confused look was as well, but Harry's chuckle surprised even him.
"Ron isn't as bad as you make him out to be. Bloody hell, he's saved my life on several occasions." With another chuckle he stood up and entered the kitchenette area, opening up the magic-run refrigerator and pulling out a can of some muggle soda. Draco thought that he saw the tip of his wand for a split second but nothing happened and Harry turned back around after a minute with a slight grin still on his face, the muscles more relaxed then just a few minutes before.
"Ron saved your life?" Pansy asked curiously and the raven haired teen nodded.
"Yes. Without him I would have died my first year here."
"He did play a mean game of wizards chess, from what we heard." Blaise mentioned from his vigil on the hearth.
"Yes. Without him and Hermione, and the rest of the DA, Tom Riddle wouldn't just be a figment of our imagination and nightmares." With a small smile and a gentle shake of his head, Harry settled on a barstool and rapidly sipped his drink.
Draco resisted the urge to tap his chin in thought. Something was off with Harry; his eyes were darting around wildly and the hand that held his drink trembled slightly. The other two didn't seem to notice it, though.
Draco shrugged imperceptibly and relaxed into his seat. Harry was most likely worried about his friend and dealing with a headache. There was nothing to worry about, but that didn't keep him from looking at the other man every few seconds to reassure himself.
Blaise sighed and Harry rolled his eyes, "Don't worry, Zabini, 'Mione can take care of whatever is going on. Go get some rest and if Ron or I get an owl, I'll owl you."
"Are you sure?" Blaise's eyes were unclouded as he looked at Harry with anxious orbs. Harry nodded, another gentle smile curving his lips as he took a sip from his drink with a still slightly shaking hand.
"I'm sure. I doubt you'll be missing much around here anyway."
"Just floo me. Lisa won't mind, she talks with her husband late into the night as it is." With that he turned and left the room without a backward glance. Pansy finally opened her eyes and Draco spotted Harry conjuring a straw and hiding his hands under the counter top. Draco frowned and stored the information away swiftly.
"I might as well go, too." With a soft sigh Pansy stood up and headed to the door.
"Alright, Pans."
"'Bye, Parkinson."
She paused in the doorway, one hand resting on the frame, and turned to look at Harry with curious eyes, "Call me Pansy." With that she shut the door quietly behind her.
The room fell into silence then, except for the crackling of the fire. Draco was forcefully reminded that Halloween, and with it Samhain(1), was less than a month away. It had been the day that Harry's parents had died, leaving him with a family and a destiny that he didn't fulfill until he was a fifteen year old boy, enraged at the murder of Sirius Black.
All newspapers agreed that it had been in the Ministry, after Harry's godfather had died in the Department of Mysteries. The Dark Lord had faced him down in the Atrium, the fountain standing behind Harry like a shining beacon for the Wizarding world. It was here that the reports altered, depending on who told it and which newspaper you read. The Prophet declaimed that it was a splendid battle, with flaring lights and amazing crashes and bangs. The Quibbler proclaimed that it was a sheer battle of mental will. Witch Weekly only spoke of Harry Potter's courage and grace, and availability. The others weren't even worth mentioning, all of them stealing their apparent knowledge from the top magazines and newspapers.
Draco wanted the real story, the one that Harry hadn't told to anyone. He didn't give interviews and Dumbledore protected him from nosy reporters when he was at Hogwarts; Draco doubted that the other members of the Golden Trio even knew what had happened. He wanted to be the one that Harry opened up to, wanted to be the one that Harry turned to when he needed something, even if it was as simple as a shoulder to cry on or a listening ear.
He wanted to be the one. Period.
And it both scared and comforted him.
".....tomorrow?" Harry's voice broke through his thoughts and Draco turned to look at him pensively.
"I wasn't listening, what did you say?" Harry rolled his eyes but repeated the question all the same.
"I asked, do you mind if you go to the library building tomorrow? If I don't get my potion I'll wake up with a migraine and have to stay in bed." Almost every word was punctuated by a sip of his drink and Draco raised an eyebrow.
"Why not just take a headache potion?" He asked simply.
"They don't work." With that, he got up to get another drink. This time Draco distinctly heard the sound of wood on the aluminum can. This time, as soon as Harry sat down, Sayre jumped onto the counter and knocked the drink onto the floor. The familiar scent of alcohol wafted up to Draco's nose before Harry spelled the mess away with a hasty movement of his wand.
"Sayre! You should know better than that!" Harry didn't get up to get another one, choosing to run his hand through his hair and take a shuddery breath instead. Draco narrowed his eyes at the intense look the cat gave him. It reminded him too much of his father.
"Harry, was that Firewhiskey I smelled?" Harry let out a short bark of laughter, but quickly winced and rubbed at his temples.
"No, it wasn't."
"I smelled alcohol, Harry." His voice was lower, more dangerous. The git disregarded it.
"No, you didn't. I have to work on my Muggle Studies essay." With that, Harry got up and headed to the desk next to his bed, erecting a privacy barrier and blocking both Draco and Sayre, who had started to follow, out. Draco turned his glare on the cat, who seemed to be glaring right back at him.
"I smelled alcohol and I am going to figure out what is going on. What more do you want?" The gray cat turned up his nose and started to clean his paws. Draco resisted the urge to growl at it, but instead walked to where Harry had left the first can that he had drank. Leaning over, he sniffed it delicately and instantly reared back, pupils dilated at the smell.
Alcohol.
His father had smelled like this when he had gone home after his fourth year, when the Dark Lord was brought back.
Draco turned around, intent on forcing himself into Harry's privacy bubble and demand the truth, when he almost tripped over Sayre.
"You knew about this," He hissed out dangerously, the cat merely gazed at him, "How could you let him do that to himself? My father disappeared because of this shite, Harry shouldn't come to the same fate." The silvery head dropped slightly in what looked like regret, before jumping onto the counter again and meeting Draco's eyes squarely.
His paw landed on the can and tipped it over. A smoking purple liquid dripped onto the surface of the counter and Draco's eyes widened. No, that wasn't Firewhiskey, like his father preferred, this was something far more dangerous to the drinkers health and stability.
"Dragon's Blood." He muttered in horror and turned his attention to the dark gray bubble that surrounded Harry at his desk.
DMHP
He kept the shaking of his arm down to a minimum as he pulled the parchment that he had started his essay on towards him. The dammed cat was right-may his forebears be condemned to pitiless after-lifes-he was caving to easily to the addiction that ruled his life now. He just didn't know how to quit.
When he had first realized that he was bordering on addiction, this time last year, he had tried to stop, but no one could help him with it, considering that no one knew of it until just four short months ago. Ginny might have suspected it, being the closest one to Harry next to Ron and Hermione, but she had confronted him on one of his more sober days and he had denied it.
Those thoughts just served to remind him of why he had started to drink in the first place. He put his head in his hands and took another stuttering breath as the conversation surrounded and consumed him.
"What's up with you, mate? You've looked sick since you came to the Burrow."
"It's nothing, Ron, don't worry."
"I'm going to worry! You're my best mate!"
"It's just that I've been... dealing with some things over the summer that I couldn't understand. I don't know if I can even admit it to myself."
"Does it have anything to do with Voldemort or Sirius?"
Harry had to chuckle again at the way Ron had hesitantly said the names, afraid that one would jump out and kill him or the other would evoke a torrent of unending tears.
"No, neither of them."
"Than what is it?"
"I'm not sure if I can tell you."
"Please? We're so worried, mate."
The blue eyes looking at him with genuine fear had done him in. He had stammered out his confession, never mentioning that his dilemma had been bothering him since the middle of fifth year, when he had randomly noticed that Draco's eyes were the same shade as the silver that represented the Slytherin House. That had been right before Christmas break, but he hadn't even admitted it to himself until Voldemort was gone.
Ron had taken it as a joke and laughed heartily for a few minutes until he had noticed the way that Harry's eyes had dimmed considerably. His color had faded rapidly until he got up, said he needed some time to think. When Harry had bid him goodnight only a few hours later, Ron had looked at him coldly and refused to talk to him civilly for almost two months.
By then it was too late for Harry. He had fallen into the role of Draco's silent protector, always there to cast a charm or hex when necessary. Harry was also getting completely pissed on a near nightly basis in the Room of Requirement and then not returning until it was almost morning and he had puked his guts out several times and taken a hangover potion that the Room would provide for him.
At first it had only been once a week, after Ron would yell at him about something. Hermione would try to be there for him, but it had been getting harder for her, Ron had eventually taken to insulting Harry in the dorm rooms before bed, after she had already left them. After a while Harry stopped going to the dorm at all unless he had to, staying in the Room of Requirement instead.
It was during that time period that he had saved Draco's life, or at least health, multiple times. Harry had taken to tailing him during his nighttime rounds, under his Invisibility Cloak, of course, and thanks to that, he had stopped several curses from taking off a limb. He was positive that Draco didn't know of his escapades, of course.
It was also during this time that he had fallen the hardest for the Dark Prince of Slytherin. At first, the hounding was sheer curiosity, to see what it was that attracted Harry to him. Harry had quickly found a long list of reasons, and it grew almost nightly. There was little that he didn't know about Draco's personality, or history, by the time that Valentines Day had rolled around and Boot had given him those poisoned chocolates.
Harry still wasn't sure how he could tell that they were poisoned. Something inside of him had screamed the moment that Draco had opened the box of Honeydukes chocolates at dinner. It was a simple matter of using a charm to burst a few, believing it to be jealousy that brought on the emotion. Boot had given himself away. He had been sitting behind Harry at the time and had started to curse the minute that he had seen the mess. No teacher heard his muttering, but Snape had rushed over to his godson after the minor explosion(Draco hadn't even gotten any on him, only Nott was covered, who had been whispering in Draco's ear) and had smelled the poison lingering in the air.
After that, Harry didn't doubt his instincts again.
Even now, sitting at his desk, attempting to finish his essay on the British muggles governmental system. It literally yelled at him, much like Hermione would, but he couldn't figure out what it was saying. He finally sighed and did his best to ignore it.
A little while later Harry pushed away his completed assignment and cast a quick tempus. He started with shock to realize that he had been hiding at his desk for far longer than he thought and dinner was long past. Draco had most likely made himself something and gone to bed, seeing as it was a little after eleven.
Harry stood up, stretched, and dispelled the bubble in a single movement, which he was strangely proud of, before turning to the counter and seeing a sight that had his addiction-crazed heart stuttering.
Draco had fallen asleep at the counter, head pillowed on his arms with Sayre curling up next to his blond hair. Harry smiled slightly at the sight and picked up the can of transfigured soda, snorting at the irony as he threw it away.
"Of all the things I could have learned, this is what I spent so much of my time on."
With another sigh he turned back around and pulled out his wand. Some things he hated having to do to protect himself and others.
"Obliviate ." Draco's breath evened out further and his shoulders relaxed completely. Harry sighed in relief into the silence of the room.
"That won't work for long," Glancing up he looked into the silver eyes of the Malfoy family patriarch, "I trained him to break through those when he was only seven." Harry chuckled morbidly.
"Being the son of a Death Eater is a dangerous game to play," His wand was slipped into his pocket and he rested his hand on Draco's head, fingers threading through the silky strands easily, "Right now it's the best I can do. You told me yourself that no one should find out about my drinking. It's my fault that Severus, and then Hermione, found out in the first place, Mr. Malfoy."
"It's Lucius." A feline growl passed through pale lips and Harry smirked expertly at him.
"Of course, sir."
"I should kill you for lying to my son."
"Then why don't you? Right now, that's all I deserve." Harry blinked as he felt a cool droplet run down his face. He wiped it away quickly and continued to concentrate on Draco's head, plopping inelegantly on a stool next to the taller teen.
"Because my son cares for you-"
"No he doesn't." Lucius ignored him, choosing to run a hand through his own hair in an attempt to take out a few tangles instead.
"-and for some odd reason I do as well. Now, I will take a shower, you are to get out the robes that Hedwig delivered for me while you worked."
Harry snorted again, but nodded and charmed his brush and a pair of scissors to follow Lucius into the bathroom. Maybe the'Malfoy patriarch' would get a clue and cut his now bum-length hair. Harry snorted a third time and stood up, leaving Draco at the counter for now and instead looking at Hedwig, who had a wrapped parcel on the floor in front of her perch. He picked it up and set it on the floor inside of the bathroom, ignoring Lucius' comment about needing a different kind of shampoo.
He cast a lightening charm on Draco instead and picked him up, as best as he could with his already trembling arms. Luckily the Slytherin's bed was only a few feet away and Harry reluctantly put him down. He took off Draco's shoes and covered him up, only allowing himself to linger for a few minutes after that before heading to his own bed. Lucius would be out after a while on his own, he knew better than to get caught by his own son.
And Lucius accused him of hiding from his problems.
Hypocrite.
DMHP
"Draco! Your friends are at the door!"
Draco sat up slowly, holding a hand to his spinning head. Something wasn't right, there was something that he had to do, something that he needed to talk to someone about. If only he could remember.
"Malfoy! Get out of bed!" He looked at the lump across the room that was laying on Potter's bed, and the silvery cat laying on top of said lump. Potter must have given Sayre a bath after he had gone to bed last night, a trim too.
"Alright, I'm getting up, hold your flying horses." With a barely restrained groan he stood up and headed to the door, attempting to figure out why he had dreamed that he had heard his fathers voice as he did so.
"Finally." Weasley pushed past him and headed to his friend's bed. Blaise and Pansy walked in at a calmer state and took their positions on the couches. Draco shut the door and looked down at his wrinkled clothes. With his brow furrowed he opened his wardrobe and pulled out a clean set, going to the bathroom and changing into them. In the living room the other two talked quietly in an attempt to not wake up Potter.
Weasley didn't bother and Draco heard his shriek of pain as he walked back into the main room. The redhead sat on the floor, cradling his hand to his chest and Draco could only roll his eyes as Harry went back under the blankets, a privacy shield covering his bed this time. Draco smirked and sat in an armchair across from his friends as the Weasel nursed his swelling hand.
"Is he always like this?" Blaise asked cautiously as the only true Gryffindor settled himself in the other armchair. Draco shrugged and petted Sayre as the cat curled up on the arm of his chair, shut off from Potter's bed with another shield.
Another? But this is the first time that he's cast one.
"It's worsened in the last year or two. After... well... you know. It's like he's trying to catch up on his sleep, or something." Weasley shrugged and started trying to cast the countercurse on his now purplish hand, eying the spreading color cautiously.
"Didn't he get nightmares?"
"Tons, he did. Most of them were visions, from Voldemort. He spent five years watching, unable to stop the damage." Weasley sighed and finally found the right charm, grinning as the swelling started to recede.
"Five years?" Pansy frowned and eyed the still lump with something akin to concern in her eyes. Draco repressed his sigh. Looks like Potter would have a Slytherin acting like his mother.
Alright, a Slytherin-Gryffindor. The fact of the matter still stood.
And he wanted to know why he was suddenly feeling protective of the raven-haired git himself.
"Don't worry about it Pansy, I'm sure he's over it by now."
"Yeah, after he left his relatives for the last time he had us help pick out a flat for him. It's a nice little thing, in Dragon Square off of Diagon Alley, it is. He's trying to pick out furniture, but so far it's not working so well. The poor kid has no design sense, as Hermione calls it."
Draco snorted, "Like you have any either, Weasley." The red-head only grinned before stretching and going into the kitchenette, Sayre following and pushing his bowl around to get fed.
Blaise snorted as he picked up a magazine that was laying on the table, "I wonder how Hermione is doing at her parents."
"Don't worry, Blaise," Pansy stated as she watched a common barn owl enter through the window and head straight to Potter's bed, passing through the privacy barrier easily, Draco vaguely saw it pecking at Potter's head and grinned.
Served him right.
So why did he want to roast the bird for disturbing Potter?
Something wasn't right and he had a feeling that an obliviate had something to do with it. He narrowed his eyes and glared at the shifting form of Potter.
What embarrassing thing had he seen this time that would constitute a spell of that magnitude?
He watched as Potter came out from under the blankets and took down the barrier as he shoved the parchment into his friend's hand. His green eyes were bloodshot and Draco had the sudden urge to force him to go back to bed.
"How's your headache, Harry?" Pansy rushed over to him and instantly started to check his head for fever. Draco rolled his eyes as the Weasel handed the letter to Blaise, who nodded in thanks before devouring the words hungrily
"I'm fine, just need to lay back down and hope one of them sends my potion soon. I'm useless at brewing it myself." Potter chuckled nervously and started back to his bed.
"Could Draco brew it? He is better than Hermione at that." Draco watched as Potter swerved around quickly and shook his head, and grabbed the back of a chair to keep his balance as he swayed dangerously.
"I wouldn't want him to go to any trouble. I'll be fine on my own for a few days." This time he rubbed the back of his neck and retreated back to his bed, casting the barrier again.
The others started to talk about Granger's letter, her mother was fine, but she was going to stay a week or two to keep an eye on both of her parents.
Draco ignored them and leaned back in his chair instead, choosing to delve into his mind in an attempt to find anything that altered or blocked his memory. All he could find was a vague memory of Potter making him promise to call each other by their first names and a pair of really tight jeans that outlined his bum perfectly...
A snarl stopped itself at his lips and he glared across the room. There was an obliviate on him. He had every intention of breaking it, and finding out what he had done that would make Potter do something like that to him.
DMHPDMHPDMHPDMHP
Thanks for all of your reviews, they mean a lot to me. Sorry if Draco seemed a bit out of character, as it is, I debated about this chapter for almost a month after I wrote it. I had to reread it and evaluate how I want things to turn out before I ended up rewriting it.
How many of you expected that Sayre was Lucius?
(1) Samhain- pronounced Soh-in, is a Wiccan holiday, saying goodbye to the God. It is believed that this is the day the the barrier between the physical and spiritual realms is the thinnest.
