He could feel Draco's emotions whirling up a storm inside them, like a building, dangerously controlled tsunami that was only being held back by mental walls. Walls could be broken down.
This had come at the worst possible time. The week had been terribly emotionally trying on the two young men stood gaping at what should be a ghost. They were both exhausted and still trying to process their newly confessed love for each other, along with the information on his past that Draco had divulged so honestly and openly – and this was like throwing a bottle of vodka on a bonfire.
"Is this some kind of practical joke?" Draco's voice came quiet and gravelly from beside him and it broke a ginormous state of silence that hung over the room, sweeping it away in a millisecond as everything seemed to become animated again.
"No, I'm afraid it isn't Draco," Kingsley spoke seriously, worry and a tiny hint of fear in his strong voice.
"What the fuck is it then?" Draco yelled suddenly, the room flinching at the noise hitting their eardrums like splintering shards of sharp ice.
"What does it look like?" the cause of the commotion finally spoke and foreboding replaced fear, like everyone knew that voice was only going to make everything ten times worse "has your sight or hearing been affected in the past two years?"
"Shut up you absolute fucktard, you're supposed to be fucking dead!" Draco yelled again, ignoring Harry's attempt to calm him down "Potter, my dead father is stood in front of me, I will not calm down dammit!" he snapped viciously and Harry sighed, retracting his hand and rolling his eyes to the ceiling to try and calm himself; this was all very confusing and whatever was upsetting Draco, was upsetting him.
"Draco, we found your father lying in a ditch when we were on our way back from Scotland," Kingsley began and Draco's eyes were hard and brimming with a slow-burning loathing. It had been a very, very, very long time since Harry had seen that look from his boyfriend.
"Well you should have fucking left him there!" he screamed, his breathing laboured, eyes wide, neck moving with the force and volume of his words "how the hell is he even alive? You were dead, I buried you!" he pointed at his father desperately "I was the only one at your funeral and I spat on your grave, how are you stood here like this?" Draco demanded angrily, standing up. The guards shifted as if to grab him, but Kingsley shook his head at them.
"We still don't know, he won't tell us anything. We were hoping to have Harry question him," Kingsley said hesitantly and Draco's eyebrows hit the top of his head.
"Are you actually serious right now?" Draco turned on the minister "you want me to wait outside the room whilst my boyfriend questions my supposed-to-be-dead father who hates him?" he yelled again and for the first time, Lucius's features contorted from completely blank and bored, to raging fury.
"What did you just say?" he spat, struggling against the bonds of his magical handcuffs behind his back, glaring even more when the guards grabbed his arms.
"I can't! I can't fucking deal with this, not again," Draco breathed, shaking his head, jumping out of his chair and storming from the room. But Harry wasn't able to follow quickly enough, and within a few minutes of trying to catch up with Draco, he'd blacked out, consumed by a misty darkness.
Draco sat, back hunched over, head bowed, hair falling forward and covering his face, tears dripping occasionally from his closed eyelids. His breathing was deep and rattily, like spindly fingers had caged around his lungs, restricting the amount of air that was going in and out. He'd lost track of how long he'd been sat there, but despite the sore scratching in his eyelids and the blurriness of his vision, he refused to let the slow beeping of the heart monitor spell lull him to sleep.
Not until Potter was awake.
The guilt was unbearable, yet he felt it still, in stabbing, resentful shots to his gut, settling in his bones, playing torturously with his head. Although he knew that Potter was perfectly fine, and was simply sleeping off the stretch of the link, Draco could not forgive himself for being so stupid.
Draco had blacked out too of course; halfway down the elevator to the second floor where a ministry official had managed to get him to St Mungos. They'd immediately put him in the same room with Harry, at which point they'd both briefly woken up. Potter, however, had been put back under. They'd told Draco that it was just precautionary though and now all he could do was wait. He didn't like waiting, he never had done, it made him snappy and anxious and, with his temperament, dangerous.
Harry looked so peaceful; the slow, tedious rise and fall of his chest, the black hair that was caught slightly on his eyelashes in a ridiculously innocent fashion. It was a foreign emotion, to feel completely broken just because he'd hurt Harry Potter; his old self would be shaking his hand right now.
"We've got him locked in one of our high security rooms for the minute, but we can't leave him there forever without a trial Malfoy-"
"Don't," he snarled "don't call me by that name right now, it's – it's wrong," Draco snapped, not looking up at the Minister.
"My apologies Draco, I understand how difficult this is for you-"
"No you fucking don't!" he yelled suddenly, tears streaming down his face, eyes wide, skin paler than ever "you don't know how this feels, no one does!" he shouted again, smashing his foot into the side of Harry's bed "its head ruining! I was finally feel free, I finally push past all the shit and the heartbreak and the fear and the pain, and for the first tie in my life, I was happy. And then you pull me into work, put me in that room with him, and in a second, it's like it was just ripped away from me, right out of my fucking chest. I don't have a clue what to do, or how to make it right, or how I'm supposed to be reacting to all of this. All I know is that right now, I need to talk to my boyfriend, I just need to know he's okay. So why don't you take your white jacket bastards and your stupid policies and get the fuck out of the hospital; Harry will speak to you when he's ready," he said, trying more than ever to keep what little patience he still possessed.
"Very well, I can see you need time. I shall be in touch tomorrow," Kingsley said awkwardly, turning and leaving the room.
"Yeah, you can open your eyes as well, dick," Draco snapped, looking back down at Harry and crossing his arms over his chest.
"I want to stay asleep," Harry's voice came sleep drunk and groggy, but his eyes didn't open.
"Tough shit," Draco sighed, throwing himself back down on the chair and tipping his head back, rubbing his face "I'm sorry Potter," he croaked "I'm stupid and reckless and I don't deserve you," he breathed, swallowing the lump gathering in his throat again.
"Bullshit, I'd have done exactly the same thing and you know it," Harry said simply, putting his arms at his sides and pushing himself up into a sitting position, the covers falling away from his bare chest as he opened his eyes properly. It was a simple notion, but Draco would never be able to find words to explain what a relief it was to see those annoyingly gorgeous emerald eyes staring back at him.
"Potter that's not reassuring me about the health of our relationship. If we're going to keep almost killing each other every time something like this happens, what does that tell you about the state of our situation?"
"Look," Harry said firmly, taking one of Draco's hands between his own, holding on tightly when Draco tried to squirm out of his grasp "sometimes, I forget how strong the link is as well. I forget that it's unstable and dangerous and unorthodox. Sometimes, it all just feels so much like a normal relationship; I forget I can't just storm off and leave you hissing at the walls"
"Still doesn't change the fact that I don't deserve you," Draco retorted, lifting his head again, having to put in a little effort as it was feeling a little heavy on his shoulders, as was everything else.
"You love me, that's enough," Harry replied sternly, reaching out a hand and holding Draco's, squeezing it hard "please stop trying to make out like we're fire and ice and sunshine and thunder or whatever bullshit cliché the media try to put on us. We aren't elemental Draco, we're two severely fucked up individuals, not a whirlwind, forbidden romance of purity against monstrosity. I'm an asshole, you're an asshole. But we both have good hearts and we're both able to feel compassion and love. Just because you do stupid things sometimes, doesn't mean you're a bad person. It doesn't mean that I'm any better than you either"
"But this isn't right!" Draco exploded, throwing his hands up in exasperation "I don't understand how you don't hate me at the moment. My father has been back in my life for less than seven hours and you're already in a hospital bed," he said, frustrated.
"Oh shut up," Harry snapped, looking at him as though he was some sort of moron "it's like you want me to hate you. Besides, this isn't your fault, it's your father's and I refuse to let you start blaming yourself for everything bad that's ever happened to me," Harry said, suddenly yanking Draco's entire arm forwards and capturing his lips roughly, almost desperately, the type of kiss that would leave one desperately trying to remember their name, wiping out all coherent thought. It was the kiss that he needed right now.
And Draco would never be able to describe the exact moment when he'd realised the hold Potter had over him, or when he'd summarised that it was pointless to resist the man; he just knew that he wouldn't survive losing him, no matter what happened, Draco Malfoy would love Harry Potter. And he hated it as much as he couldn't live without it.
"I hate it when you do that," Draco huffed quietly when they broke apart and Harry smiled against his lips.
"So we'll get through this unbelievably fucked up situation like everything we've dealt with in the last three years; together," he whispered, kissing him again with even more determination, if it were possible.
"Ah, Mr Potter, glad to see you've recovered. Although you do seem prone to fainting, you should probably get that checked out," a mocking voice taunted him the moment he stepped into the room, glancing one last time at an extremely tense Draco stood outside, before he shut the door behind him and locked it.
It had taken five long hours of extremely colourful shouting matches and fights to get Draco to agree to let Harry talk to Lucius alone; they hadn't blown up at each other like that in a long time. Harry would have said that their relationship had hit rocks, if it weren't for the all night make up session they'd had afterward. And when they'd woken in the morning, Draco had mumbled about 'an hour to get answers out of Lucius' at which point Draco had promised that he would be bursting into the room to stop the questioning.
Once he'd surrendered, he'd been a typical Malfoy, smoking and sulking on the balcony of their flat for three hours, but it was okay; now and again Harry knew to let Draco sulk and gather his thoughts. It was what assured him that they were strong as ever... if slightly shaken by the events of the past week.
"And you should probably be tortured even further into insanity and then be left alive forever hanging from metal hooks in the ceiling in Azkaban; but we don't all get what we want these days, do we Mr Malfoy?" Harry said, regarding the man in the same way he had always done, with malice and complete disrespect. After all, why on earth should he go easy on the man who had made his boyfriend's life hell for seventeen years?
"No, we don't. If I had my way, a disgusting, homosexual, half-blood little boy would not have gotten anywhere near my master to kill him," Lucius replied, all hints of a pretence lost from his voice.
"You do know your son is in love with me? Is he disgusting too?" Harry spoke, beginning to circle the older man who was tied to a chair with his hands behind his back in a full body bind curse.
"My son is not in love with you, he is just stupid," Lucius snapped, clearly irritated by the fact that his great warrior boy was not the puppet he'd once called a son anymore.
"Oh Draco is very in love with me; trust me, I've made sure. Over, and over and over again," Harry spoke, his words like knives twisting in Lucius' gut, unable to help himself winding up the man; he was just so... wrong.
"I see a lot has changed since I've been... otherwise engaged," Lucius said through gritted teeth and Harry stopped pacing right in front of him, crouching down.
"Tell me how you're alive," Harry said, looking Lucius straight in the cold, green eyes.
"I believe the answer to that ridiculously put question is, no comment," he replied, spitting in Harry's face. Harry refused to flinch however, and simply took a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping his face and drawing back up to full height, starting to pace again.
"People think I'm the lesser person in the relationship, you know, like Draco's the manly one? But they're stupid," Harry said roughly and before Lucius had a chance to reply, Harry's fist had collided hard with his jaw, a loud crack echoing around the room as the chair wobbled on its legs. Lucius turned his head sideways and spat blood out on the floor along with a couple of teeth "because there's a reason why they have me question the worst criminals," Harry whispered almost feral, pulling his fist back again and laying it into the left side of Lucius's ribcage, drawing a sound from the man somewhere between a cough of breath and a yelp of pain.
"It's bastards like you that ruined me, you know?" Harry said "you ruined my life"
"You shouldn't have been on the side of the angels then should you Potter?" Lucius hissed, swallowing the excess blood in his mouth and heaving through the snapped ribs stabbing at his lungs. Then, Harry crouched again, putting one hand on the back of the chair either side of Lucius's head, leaning in close so his breath was deliberately fanning over the pale, ragged face.
"I might be on the side of the angels Mr Malfoy," Harry breathed, eyes narrowed as he watched the twitching of the muscles at the corner of the older man's cruel eyes "but don't think for a second that I am one of them," Harry finished in a sinister voice, standing up and putting one foot out, kicking the chair back forcefully so Lucius smacked his head full pelt on the concrete floor.
Harry walked around him, putting a foot on the ribs that were broken and pushing the tiniest bit of pressure on them.
"How are you alive?" he repeated simply, pushing down harder with his foot when Lucius simply shook his head.
"Does it matter? You're going to kill me anyway," Lucius snared, the corner of his mouth curling in a sadistic smirk that was the true Malfoy legend, completely incongruous to the the sexy, good natured smirks that Draco produced on a daily basis.
"Did I not tell you that I think you should be left alive to rot? Once I've got the answers from you, which is going to happen, I'm leaving Draco in this room with you and he can do whatever the fuck he wants... and you don't think he's capable? I've seen the ins and outs of your son's mind Lucius Malfoy, he's told me about what he had to do to become a deatheater and I don't believe for a second that he's going to welcome you into open arms," Harry said, lifting his foot ever so slightly and smashing the heel into the side of the man's face, stepping back a second to grab the control from his subconscious.
More than anything Harry wanted to rip the heart out of Lucius Malfoy for what he'd done to Draco in the past and how he'd brought him up; but Harry was not going to have his boyfriend's father's death on his conscience. Besides, it would tear their relationship apart completely.
Lucius yelled in pain again, struggling with the bonds still tying him to the uncomfortable wooden chair.
"But I'm not going to torture you Malfoy, I'm not that person; I'm not a deatheater," Harry grabbed a long strand of white blonde hair, yanking Lucius upright, ignoring the swear words pouring from the man's mouth as he held the chair still, looking him right in the eyes again "I'll be back tomorrow Mr Malfoy. I suggest you have some answers ready for me... that is of course, unless you want a shattered eye socket to match the other one," Harry swallowed tightly, getting a little closer one more time.
"Narcissa sends her utmost words of hatred by the way; if I remember correctly, she hugged me, threw her last bottle of wine down the sink, and told me to tell you that she hopes you rot in hell," Harry said, feeling a foreign type of triumph as he watched despair seep into Malfoy's vision and tears immediately began to fall "good day Mr Malfoy," Harry said simply, turning away and leaving the room behind him.
He didn't even flinch when the gate to the cell opened. It was only when the sweet smell of lotus flower slid through his nasal passages that his head snapped up, his eyes widening.
"Cissa-"
"Shut up!" she snapped sharply, glaring at him with nothing but hate in her eyes.
"But-"
"Not a word Lucius," she hissed "I am sober today and I refuse to allow you into my head," she said forcefully, walking over to the other side of the cell and sliding down the wall with her back, sitting on the cold floor opposite him.
"Sober?" he inquired softly in a voice he reserved only for her and she nodded once, curtly.
"I've had a slight… problem with it lately; you ruined almost everything in my life Lucius and you left me alive and alone to deal with the consequences"
She looked neat and aristocratic as ever, despite the fact that she was stood in a prison full of maniacs. Her white blonde hair was tied back partially, the bottom half curling softly over her shoulders and catching on the fabric of the dark purple robes she was wearing. Narcissa Malfoy was aging rather brilliantly actually, despite the small bags under her beautiful eyes that the alcohol had inaugurated. Wrinkles were present at the corners of her eyes and the lines on her forehead were slightly more defined, but other than that she was as flawless as a Black daughter should be.
"It seems a lot else has happened since I left as well-"
"Oh don't you dare come in with the prejudices Lucius, don't tell me you want to start it all up again; remember what it did to you? To us, to Draco, to our family?" she sneered.
"Evidently it did more damage to our son than I realised; he seems to think he is in love with Harry Potter. I wonder Cissy, how could you let that happen?" Lucius said, betrayal in his tone "how could you allow him to be guided astray so revoltingly? You know it is against nature, don't you? Man shall not lay with man, it is an abomination"
She shot him a look that would've had a thousand deatheaters running for the hills.
"Don't feed me that bullshit Lucius, its built off of centuries of muggle misinterpretation and you are a disgrace to the name of religion and sacred belief. Draco is happy. For the first time in his life, his smiles are real, his laughs are genuine and he is as he always should have been. I have no intention whatsoever of spoiling that for him-"
"Cissy, he thinks he's homosexual! Potter's brainwashed him!" Lucius yelled and she laughed, high and bitter; it was alarmingly like her dead sister's actually and she stopped the moment it hit her eardrums.
"He doesn't 'think' he's gay you moronic harpie!" she barked "he simply fell in love with someone – gender is not important to him. And I have no problem with it. Besides, your views have no place in this society anymore," she rolled the syllables off of her tongue as if possessed by their house totem "you should have stayed dead," she leered coldly, standing and siphoning off dirt that had clung to her cloak.
"But I love you-"
"Oh shut up old man," she snarled "you don't love anything anymore. You don't even love yourself!" she glared, standing up and moving to crouch in front of him, speaking quietly but clearly, her breath fanning over his battered face "hear this Lucius, if by some miracle you get out of this place and you start the old group up again – which I know you're planning to do – I will have no part in it. In fact, I shall directly and actively oppose it. And if you ever lay a finger on my son or attempt to ruin him again, I will kill you myself. Do not underestimate me Lucius Malfoy because I was there too. I went through this war twice in my life and I am capable of things that most have never even dreamed of," she was smirking slightly now, her beautiful eyes narrowed and lit up with satisfaction, as though she had been waiting to say these words her whole life "do yourself a favour Lucius and just Avada yourself; or better yet, jump into a pit of fire, it would be marginally more entertaining," she finished by slipping her high heel from her foot delicately and slamming into the side of her husband's skull, glancing once at him as he curled up in the corner, clutching at his scalp in pain.
She left, the gate clanging behind her as the guard locked the cell once more, and for the first time in her life, she had no intention of ever looking back.
"Are you okay mother? You've been rather annoyingly quiet this afternoon," Draco inquired, handing her a cup of tea and sitting down beside her.
"I went to Azkaban yesterday," she said slowly and Harry sat up in his armchair, suddenly much more interested.
"What? Why? Mother, that was incredibly stupid-"
"Draco, hush," she rolled her eyes "I am a grown woman, I can handle the likes of Lucius Malfoy," she waved her son down as he looked outraged, but shut up nonetheless "I lost my temper with him and ended up smashing the side of his skull in with one of my rather expensive Lou Vuitton's; I apologise Harry, he may be a little disorientated the next time you question him," she explained, barely managing to keep a straight face. Harry on the other hand, didn't bother to hide his amusement and chuckled at her in surprise, shaking his head and leaning across the armchair to kiss Narcissa on the cheek.
"Potter, don't condone it!" Draco blasted "Mother, I told you I didn't want you involved in this!" Draco said angrily and she glared at her son, watching as he immediately sat back.
"You look me in the eye and tell me that you don't want to torture that man into insanity," Narcissa said simply, watching him expectantly. Draco's vision flickered away from her, settling on the flames of the roaring fireplace.
"Exactly. But you're not going to, because you are not that person anymore, and neither am I. Besides, I am sure Harry has those injuries handled, do you not?" she asked, looking at her son's boyfriend with approval and he nodded once, not particularly proud of the fact that he'd lost his temper with Lucius, but satisfied that he'd caused the man pain at the least.
"Five broken ribs, shattered eye socket, cracked skull and a broken jaw," Harry informed and she arched one delicately shaped blonde eyebrow, a muscle in the corner of her mouth twitching "I was feeling a tad irritable"
"Good, because he deserves it. However, there was something I wanted to tell you, something far more notable than the chaos your father is causing," she informed, gaining Draco's further interest having successfully momentarily distracted him "I hope you don't mind Draco, but I went down to registration today and changed our last names back to Black" she said to Draco, looking a little sheepish as she judged for a reaction.
"Really? You're legally allowed to do that?" Draco asked curiously with no real concerns. She shrugged.
"Technically I can do anything to your file if I can get access to it," she said, smirking at Harry who was tactfully trying to hide his further and complete approval.
"So, as of today my name is Draco Black?" he asked and she nodded, making a noise of exasperation when he drew her tightly into his arms and hugged her, pressing a rough kiss to her cheek in the exact spot Harry had previously.
"Thank you," he said solidly, smiling at Harry over his mother's shoulder "was this you? Did you help her out with this?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry pointedly looked at the ceiling, feigning innocence "it would be illegal for me to use my clearance in order to help change legal documents without clearing it with the board of international census control," he denied in a ridiculously obvious voice. Draco smirked, hugging his mother tighter.
"It's not really a hardship, but I thought you'd appreciate it. You know he isn't going to be easy though. He won't listen to my threats; I know that man and he's hell-bent on getting revenge on whatever he can. He needs a distraction, all the time; even more now he's got all those painful memories," she sighed when Draco released her, having to direct the conversation back to the pressing matter of Lucius Malfoy "Harry, your first step should be to drag up all the old deatheater files, keep tabs on them, get tracking them all. If Lucius is back and wanting domination again, people will be talking, assembling again," Narcissa said seriously, and he guessed it wasn't the first time she'd advised an Auror on how to catch a deatheater.
"But he's locked in a high security vault in Azkaban," Harry frowned "his trial's in three weeks, he's going to be sentenced to death," he said, wondering why she was talking about her estranged husband as if he was already out of prison.
"Oh Harry darling," she sighed "you are an excellent Auror but Lucius is far more intelligent than you give him credit for. I suppose now he has basically seen it all, there will be nothing he's afraid of; he's going to attempt to escape and trust me when I say, if Lucius wants something to happen, it more than likely will," she continued, taking a long swig of her tea.
"But Azkaban is completely secure, there's no way for him to escape-"
"Then he will create one Harry," she cut him off "mark my words if you want to stop him, you have to beat him at his own game, not play your own. Follow his lead, hope you eventually end up in the same place that he does, and then kill him. Or of course, you could just kill him now. But that won't stop the group he's just started up again. He'll have specific targets lined up, certain people on a list that he wants assassinated, and you need to try and guess them. Before you do anything, you need to bring Granger back from America immediately," Narcissa instructed again. Harry huffed, looking tired and bummed out, really rather fed up of dealing with all this ridiculousness. He'd thought that after the war he might finally be able to catch a break. Apparently, the universe had other ideas. Eventually, after finishing his cup of tea, Harry went to the drawing room to make the call and ask Hermione to apparate back to England at her first advantage.
"So," she said, turning to her son and watching as his expression hardened and a shiver ran down his spine "how are you coping?"
"This isn't supposed to be happening right now," Draco breathed, moving back against the sofa exhaustedly, staring at the fireplace again "we're supposed to be getting on with our lives, not dealing with history repeating itself," he said stressfully, hunching his back and holding his head in his hands. She sighed, putting an arm around her son and pulling him into her, stroking his hair and pressing a rough kiss to the top of his head, her eyes fixed fiercely on the fire flaming in the mantelpiece.
"I swear to you now Draco," she spoke determinedly "we're going to stop him, I promise," she repeated in a lower voice "Lucius Malfoy is going to pay"
Harry sighed when he woke up, wanting nothing more than to sink back deeper into his pillow and let his dreams consume him in a world of blissful unconsciousness.
The 2nd of May was always going to be a difficult day and it wasn't ever going to stop being painful, Harry knew this the moment Voldemort had dropped to the ground; but he never thought that he'd be in this situation. He closed his eyes again, loosely acknowledging the sound of Draco showering in the en-suit. Other than rushing water and the steam coming from under the closed door, complete silence filled the house.
Harry had a feeling that most of the day would be filled with dragging silences and tense nods of respect if he was being honest. He sighed again as his phone rang on the bedside table, shattering the illusion of tranquillity that had seeped its way into his subconscious and he rolled over, pressing the call button to answer.
"Harry, is there a specific time you want me to come over?" Hermione asked immediately from the other side of the line, and before she'd even gotten through the sentence, he could tell she'd already been crying.
"I think people start getting there about ten to eleven, so just be here for about quarter past ten," he said, squinting at the dim stream of light casting itself through the gap in the closed curtains; but he could hear the hammering of the spring rain against the glass outside, wearing itself out before the summer came and heat glazed the country in golden sunlight.
"Alright then," she sighed "what time is Ron getting there?" she asked, her voice quietening ever so slightly, as though she was preventing her heart from hearing the name.
"We're meeting him at the gates at eleven," he said, coughing the grogginess from his voice and realising that even he sounded dull and gloomy without even trying.
"Okay... you're not freaking out or anything are you?" she asked shakily and he swallowed tightly, shaking his head like he was reassuring himself.
"No, I'm doing-" there was a small pause where he drew in a shaky breath "I actually think I'm alright for the moment," he said, trying to convince himself not to drown in the pain that the day was to bring.
"And Draco?" she asked hesitantly.
"I don't know, I just woke up, he's in the shower," he replied and he could practically see her eyes roll from down the phone.
"Harry, I know perfectly well that you're tuned in on Malfoy frequency; seriously, is he okay?" she asked more firmly.
"As far as I can tell, he's not having a mental breakdown... but there's still time and his dead father is suddenly still alive," he said, feeling the muscles in his jaw clenching involuntarily.
'Potter, get off the phone; it's only eight in the morning' his favourite voice sounded in his head and he read the hidden request behind it. A demand for him to put the phone down and shut up, normally meant 'I need you to come and hold me but I'm too much of a stoic bastard to admit it'. So Harry smiled sadly and smally, making an excuse to Hermione and getting out of bed, heading for the bathroom.
Draco was going to be one of the main things getting him through the day, and he wanted to absorb all the warmth and intimacy he could before the reality of the memorial service overtook his rationality.
A cold wind swept over Hogwarts grounds, whistling the trees as though a very weak, dying banshee was flitting through them. England was having typical May weather which meant that the entire stretch of sky across the country was dark and unstable looking, the rain holding off for the moment, although present in patches throughout the day, effervescent in and amongst the clouds as it did little to improve the melancholy rushing over the crowd.
Strange really, how thousands of people could be stood around one space, and complete silence could be among them. The occasional sniffle could be heard and everywhere tears were dripping down faces; but no one sobbed. No one made a sound.
To anyone who was to walk in on the scene and did not know why there were so many gathered around a slightly smaller patch of gravestones; it would have been very perplexing. But even if someone were to come across it, even they would feel the despair, even if it was just a snippet of the immense loss present in this gathering of such a mixed race.
Harry's teeth were clamped shut, his entire body shaking under the black suit he was wearing, one hand gripping Draco's hard enough to stop the blood flow, the other threaded tightly with Hermione's on the other side of him. Ron was on Hermione's left, and even their hands were joined and it was as though, just for today, things had been forgotten as she leaned her head sideways into the crook of her ex-boyfriend's neck and watched unblinking with everyone else as the silent firework display came to an end.
"Thank you," Harry breathed suddenly and Draco looked sideways, confused.
"What?" he asked, his brow furrowed.
"Thank you. I know you won't believe me but... you've saved me. You don't owe me a life debt; you saved me the moment you pulled me out the way of that cauldron explosion and you've been saving me every day since. So thank you," Harry said, his voice off, distant; but his emerald green eyes were fixed firmly on Draco's ice blue ones and he meant every word.
Then, without a second thought, without caring about the fact that there were at least a thousand people around them, Draco grabbed the back of Harry's head and kissed him.
It wasn't a foreign feeling, but it was the first time that the love Draco had claimed a couple of weeks back had shown in the kiss. It was searing, passionate and full of emotion; the pressure of those gorgeous pale lips against Harry's, the gentle brush of a tongue slipping into his mouth, the fingers bunching in his hair at the back of his head. It was absolutely perfect and thankfully only a few people around them had noticed the encounter.
When the kiss broke, they didn't come apart, Draco simply pulled Harry straight into a bone crushing hug, his arms around his neck, face buried in the fabric of the blazer in Harry's shoulder. A single tear dropped from Draco's eye that only Hermione, who was the closest, could see.
"I really fucking love you, you silly bastard," Draco said quietly, his voice muffled by the blazer, but Harry laughed, hugging him tighter, one arm completely around his waist, the other clutching the blonde hair at the back of Draco's neck.
"I love you too," Harry whispered.
"Thank you, don't let anyone near this block until I've finished," Draco Black's gravelly, dangerously calm voice echoed along the grubby bricked corridor, the slightly menacing sound of his footsteps bouncing off the walls as he walked to the cell that contained the person he hated most in the world.
The young man clicked his fingers and the gate opened, swinging forward slowly and closing behind him as he stepped inside. There was a single barred window letting little moonlight in up high by the ceiling, but years of being in darkness had made Draco's eyes accustomed to dim settings and immediately he could see very clearly a body curled up in the corner of the room.
A long, waist length mane of dirty, white blonde hair reflected the little light in the circled room, silver tones in the strands sparkling disgustingly.
"Look at you, you can't even lie down anymore; I'm glad to see they're keeping up our bargain," Draco's voice cut through the silence, cruel and defined as his father turned a weak head towards him.
"What?" the man hissed through the darkness and Draco rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, paying no heed to the crippling cold of the night and the awful prison. Slowly, with a stance resembling that of a tiger, Draco paced around in a semi-circle, presumably thinking more than really deciding what his next move would be.
Then he walked towards Lucius and crouched athletically, crystal blue eyes narrowing as he took in the battered face of his father.
"I made a deal with the guards," he said "they come in every couple of days and give you a good beating, no healing you until the end of the week. Now you get to feel what it's like to be pummelled and crushed, and healed only to have it all happen again. Head ruining isn't it?" Draco said, pointing a finger at his own temple and twisting it "having someone chip away at your strength until the healing spells don't work anymore, until you're not even sure what's real and what's a hallucination?" he moved closer still, looking his father in the eyes "that's what we put them through," he breathed "that's what we did to them, father," he spat the last word with complete revulsion, watching his dad wince at the malice.
"They deserved it," Lucius yelled back, crazed and hateful. Draco raised his eyebrows in a snarky way, tilting his head to the side as if he was examining a rather toxic pile of horse excretion.
"And do you deserve it? Don't you think that after all the revolting things you've done, that you deserve to suffer?" Draco taunted, a slow, a sadistic smirk creeping up one corner of his mouth "I have," he continued "I've suffered for all the evil things that I did. So tell me father, what is it that makes you so special?"
"No!" Lucius growled "I was just doing what's right, what's natural! I- we were putting them in their place; the muggles and mudbloods, they're not-"
"They're not what?" Draco bellowed in his father's face "they're not normal? Not human? Not natural? Have you looked at yourself lately, you fucking disgusting old man? Did you know that your precious master was a half-blood?" he spat "his father was a spoilt little brat and a muggle; so, answer me this father, if we were to completely wipe our race, the earth's population, of anything that isn't pureblood wizard, would we not have to kill our own master as well? Would you not be disgusted by him too?" Draco said viciously and Lucius shook his head rapidly.
"The Dark Lord was an extraordinary man-"
"He wasn't a man, he was a fucking twisted, pulverized monster; a half form. He split his own soul into seven pieces and floated around as vapour for eleven years! We were terrified of a thing that was nothing but air for half my life, do you even know how stupid that is? How weak that made us? It tore us apart you mind fuck, it tore our family apart!" Draco yelled, hid hand colliding with the side of his father's face backwards, the slap echoing heartstoppingly through the whole cell block "but then," he carried on, unable to stop it now it was flowing so freely from his pale lips "we never were a family were we? Not really, my Mother loved what you used to be. In the end, she loved a ghost of a man warped with fear, rage and hate. You're everything I was and everything I despise now and if you so much as attempt to ruin my life again, I will hunt you down and I swear I will not hesitate to kill you," Draco said through gritted teeth, still crouched, holding the ripped fabric of his father's collar.
"Oh you will, will you? Funny that, your mother said almost the same thing," Lucius coughed, twitching his cheek to try and banish the stinging of the skin.
"I am not my mother," Draco reminded him harshly "I know that woman like the back of my hand and she still feels something for you, no matter how much she denies it. I swear, I'm a better person than I used to be, but she doesn't know what you let them do to me behind closed doors, she doesn't know the full extent of what you did to my head – there are things that I haven't even told Potter about, and if I told Shacklebolt about all the sick, paedophilic, perverted, inhuman shit that went on in the manor over the years, he wouldn't even let you on trial. Mark my words father, I haven't forgotten what you allowed to happen and trust me when I say I will put my hand in your chest cavity and rip out your heart if you so much as touch a hair on Potter's head, is that clear, you lunatic fuck up?" Draco spat in his father's face.
For a second, their eyes met in deadlock before Lucius let out a high pitched, unhinged cackle very similar to the one of Bella that used to travel through the hallways of the manor.
"Oh I heard you," the old man shot "doesn't mean I'm going to obey you. You kill me now Draco, you will only fuel their rage; they're good and ready to rip Potter to shreds. The Granger girl is quite popular on the claim list as well you know, should probably put more protection around her; that Darren guy isn't going to be a match for the deatheaters," Lucius said maliciously, coughing out a yelp of pain when Draco smacked his head back against the stained stone wall behind him.
"There's one thing that your 'deatheaters' haven't taken into account though" Draco said, barely a whisper in his father's ear.
"Oh and what's that?" Lucius managed to gulp through blood filling his throat.
"Me"
And then in a flash the gate was slammed shut and locked again, and Draco was gone, leaving his father chained in metal shackles bleeding against the old stone wall.
He truly had no idea what he'd just started.
