His arm felt as though it were detached from his body, and his ribs as though fire were threatening to overtake him. And the rest, the rest of his body, was sheer pain, magnified. His throat closed in upon itself, and Draco looked down at himself in horror as the wounds of another were echoed onto him for the span of thirty seconds. He screamed again, this time in fury, as he realized that his fears had been confirmed.
He had placed a spell around Harry's cubby to heal him as he exited it, but had also placed two others: one to alert him to when the healing spell was triggered, and another to echo the wounds Harry had inflicted upon himself onto Draco, so that Draco could keep track of the damage Harry had done himself. This last was a precaution to prevent Harry doing too much damage to himself. Draco fretted that one day Harry would take the last step toward insanity and begin to harm himself in ways that Draco could not permit.
In the case of such an occurrence, Draco knew he had only two options. One, to confront Harry in an attempt to convince the raven haired one of his innocence. This option was particularly risky, as he knew that Harry would, most likely, kill Draco the instant he saw him, and Draco would never get a chance to redeem himself nor would Harry be rescued. So that left Draco with another option, one he deplored just as much, but knew would be better for Harry. He would have to tell one of Harry's old friends where Harry was hiding, and as a result would die. The spell left no way to get around it. In the instant when he told Harry's whereabouts, he would be consumed by the fires of the spell, and would die a rather painful death.
But Harry would be found and saved. And that was all that Draco cared about.
For the last few months during which he had watched over Harry's cave, he had been trying to find a way to overcome his predicament. He knew that delaying the inevitable, his own death, was selfish, but every time he had worked up the nerve to tell Dumbledore Harry's location, his son had walked into the room, all innocent eyes and longing heart, and he had not had the strength to do it. He longed to be alive for a time when he could openly display his love for his son, when he could dismiss his current associates and scream his loyalty for the Order into the open. Yet until Harry Potter himself returned and was safe, he could not cause such a stir. He would not endanger himself and his son for the dream of something that simply could not happen. He knew that the world they lived in was still too shattered, too scared and broken down, to put himself on the line, unaccepted by both sides. The effect the day he did such a thing would have on his tender natured son was likely to be disastrous unless he could guarantee his son a place in the ranks of the Order and their protection. A place among their love.
But this! This agony, this cruel infliction of pain, was too much. He knew that Harry would have no way of inflicting this type of pain on himself, so someone else had to be there, someone had to be torturing Harry.
Draco had no choice. He apparated to Hermione's house.
Harry's tears blurred the world around him until he could hardly see the youth arching in pain, blurred his vision so much that he could no longer detect the marks around Raiden's throat.
Harry blinked. Twice. His vision cleared and he focused on the boy's neck. The marks were gone.
His eyes flickered to the enraged Draco Malfoy, yet the other seemed not to have noticed the absence of bruises.
Yet what did it mean? Had Raiden found a way to heal himself, or had someone else intervened? Was this the same effect that his hands had been subject to for the last several months? He knew that his hands, after he had clawed at the walls, always healed on their own, but would the same thing be happening to Raiden? And if so, was it possible that Raiden could fight back?
Harry beat against the Hagani Wall and screamed Draco's name. The blond smirked as he tossed Harry a glance which froze his soul, but Harry knew that he had to do something to allow Raiden to gather himself. He had to distract Draco long enough for Raiden to run.
"Draco, please," he sobbed, and as much as he wanted to believe that his next words were a lie, he knew the truth, and it cut him deeply. "Draco, please, stop! I love you!"
That got the blond one's attention. Raiden fell still, released from the spell, and Draco spun to face Harry.
"What did you say!" he rasped, his eyes wild and wide.
Harry met his eyes squarely. "I'm… still in love with you, Draco," he murmured, softly. He felt surprise sweeping across Draco's stony features, and knew then that something was seriously wrong. He had told Draco many times that he loved him, before the betrayal. There was no reason that this should come as such a surprise to the Slytherin.
Unless Draco had lost his memory?
Draco strode toward the kneeling man, eyes glinting maliciously. Harry felt the animosity radiating from Draco, the fury and the rage, and shuddered.
Then Draco was upon him, his lips brushing the glass just before Harry's when he spoke. "In that case, lover boy, I have some very interesting plans for you."
Harry's eyes felt as though they were being clawed out as Draco's unfeeling gaze stabbed his own. He felt his heart trip and suddenly could imagine very clearly the sort of plans Draco was speaking of.
Draco raised a hand to press against the glass between them, letting his hand phase though the material, and ran his thumb across Harry's lips. Harry shuddered under his touch, his eyes fluttering closed, and cursed that his heart so desperately wanted this type of affection from the other man. He was too weak to stop loving the heartless bastard. Too weak not to be affected. His eyes opened once again to see the smug look on Draco's drawn features.
"If you're a good boy," Draco murmured with a victorious smirk. "I'll let you share my bed."
Those words struck a cord in Harry's heart, made him think again that he was definitely missing something important. Something was wrong, even more so than it appeared at first glance.
And suddenly Raiden was there, behind Draco, with a large stone clasped in his hand.