Disclaimer : Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I just enjoy messing with her characters. Alfred Hitchcock's "Notorious" belongs to MGM.
Warnings : strong language, lemon, rape (non descriptive and not H/D), dub-con, violence, drug use, hints of prostitution, multiple pairings, OCs.
Beta: The great Avenalanon. Any mistake left is mine.
AN: I'm so sorry for the lateness! I had a few technical problems, and a very busy agenda. But the next chapter should arrive much sooner. So, all my apologies and I hope this chapter will make up for the wait!
CHAPTER 13 : TURN OFF THE LIGHTS
June 4, 2004
Harry had woken with a start. It was the first time in a long time that he was unable to remember his dream. He rubbed his eyes still heavy with sleep and got up to look out the window. Then, the night's images came rushing back to his mind. He frowned.
Flint.
Yes, this nightmare was indeed real.
They probably had gotten rid of the body by now, cleaned everything up. Turned the page. Would his mother and his uncle receive a call from the Division? With this mission becoming increasingly more dubious, nothing was really sure. They might never know what really happened to Flint.
A dreadful feeling of loneliness and fright tightened his chest. Since he had arrived here, he had found strength in Flint's quiet and reassuring presence. The man was a rock and Harry knew that with him, he had a chance to succeed. He wouldn't have to bear the burden of his mission alone. But from now on, it was only him, and Flint's fate reminded him of the danger that was threatening him, a danger now very much more tangible.
He was going to die here.
Yes, this house, which had become almost familiar, was now stained by death. An unpleasant sensation, like a putrid smell, emanated from the place, and Harry had only one want : to get out of the charnel as soon as possible.
They had played cowboys and Harry had felt like he was a full-fledged member of the team. But while he was consolidating ties with the gang, they had butchered Flint behind his back. He had the distinctimpression he had let down the one he considered as his only ally.
Nott was speaking with Zabini at the terrace as though nothing hadhappened. Things were going their way, and it was this facade that had grown unbearable. Everyone was so calm. Harry felt like he was in another dimension. He stepped out from the window and headed to the bathroom. He splashed water on his face, unfazed, and crossed his reflection in the mirror. With a blank stare, he opened the medicine cabinet briskly, not ready to face his image yet. In front of him, all the body and bath products neatly lined up, the toothpaste, the shaving gel, the aftershave, the deodorant, the aspirin tube, everything at its place, and that's what made his anger burst. With his hands, he threw all the tubes on the floor, his palms shaking and his face distorted. It made a terrible clatter but it strangely soothed him. And when there was nothing left to destroy, he slammed the little cabinet's door violently, making it bounce against the magnet. He slammed it again and again, close to breaking the mirror, when he finally held himself to the washbasin's edges, head low, a whine escaping from his mouth.
He had made a hell of a racket, but nobody came in to see what was going on. Harry turned, pressing the small of his back against the basin, and wiped his face with his shirt sleeve, rolling his shoulders. He looked at the mess at his feet. The aspirin bottle had emptied itself on the floor, the cap of the aftershave was off and the liquid had spread across the floor. The products were lying at all four corners of the room.
Everything was falling apart.
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Harry walked down into the living-room and heard Zabini :
"I just want to say I'm against it. I think you're making a mistake."
All the clan was here. Once Harry's presence was noticed, Zabini's voice died down a few seconds before resuming.
Harry threw a somber look at the group. The message was clear: "Nobody gets close".
Draco took the floor, and his voice made Harry react, his heart beating a little stronger. He wasn't indifferent, no, but he would do his utmost to ignore this pinch inside of him.
"You voiced your opinion."
The blonde had made no sign to acknowledge his presence, but Harry didn't care one bit. He felt a hell of a headache arise. He took a glass in the cupboard, filled it with water and dropped an aspirin in it. In the corner of his eye, he could see the portal to hell, the dastardly door under the stairs. He half expected to see flames come out from under the door and Flint's ravaged body to storm out with a ferocious glint in his eye. The door burnt his eyes, its presence intolerable. He turned to the center of the room then, standing next to the bar, and swallowed the fizzy water, the effervescent tablet still singing, no more than a thin shriveled disc in the glass. He listened to the Snakes with an ear.
It's Nott who talked this time :
"Well, I for one agree with the Elders. We have to show them we're not joking. They can't walk all over us without consequences. And the leaders must fall."
"Singer, Patil and Humphrey," said MacNair. "Those are the next targets. So how do you want to proceed ?"
Draco answered :
"Hm I've got to plan this with Sammy tomorrow night, but I want to take care of the three of them at once."
Harry had promised himself he would not intervene, but here, he stopped everything and made his voice heard :
"Wait a second, I thought the message with Ellis was supposed to unite everyone." His voice had came out hoarse and broken, but he kept going anyway: "Has there been trouble since ? "
They all turned to him, surprised, at the exception of Draco who kept his eyes lowered. Yet, it was the blonde who answered him.
"It would be really stupid on my part to welcome potential traitors into our clan," he snapped with a scornful tone. "They were with Ellis and their allegiance won't change overnight."
Harry couldn't help but be stern and sharp with him:
"You said yourself that you would get more powerful once his men join you. You won't even give them a chance."
Draco laughed frankly of his naivety.
"This isn't a charity! I have been less than cautious, alright? Elimination will have the same result, but it will also confirm our positions and rid us of the parasites."
Harry shook his head and took a step forward.
" Reprisal by another massacre will only stir up minds! You're going to revive violence. Do you want to lose someone else ? Has all this taught you anything ?"
Draco threw the files he was holding in his hands over the table and retorted in a dry voice :
"We'll do without your comments. You can return to your room."
Harry moved forward to face the men on the couch. The conversation became heated.
" Here we go, you're ordering me again. You feel bigger when you order everyone around, don't you?"
Draco saw red and got off the couch to confront Harry. They were standing dangerously close now.
"I forbid you to talk to me like that in front of my men, you hear me ?"
"I'm not one of your subordinates," retorted Harry, head held up high. "I'll do whatever I want."
"Not in my house. If you want to leave, the door is wide open."
Harry opened his mouth but couldn't find a repartee. He couldn't leave the Organization. There lied the problem.
He realized that by staying, in the eyes of the others, he was staying for Draco. There was no other valid explanation to his presence here. How he would have loved to scream "Fine!" and slam the door without turning back, but this dignity there wouldn't even be granted to him. He had to stay for Remus, and now for Flint…
In front of Draco, he had no other choice but to attack. Frustrated, irritated, he aggravated the conversation:
"You're getting off on this, huh, playing gods, controlling everything, deciding who has to live or die ! You're sick."
A twisted smile painted on Draco's face. That was not the expected reaction. Harry braced himself and then it came. Draco threw at him with no shame:
"That's rich coming from a junky who'd get fucked by anyone for his dope."
The counterstrike had been astounding and cruel. The blood drained from Harry's face. How could Draco have used this against him? It was a low blow. A blow to hurt, and it worked. Tears of rage came up despite him, and he had to hold himself to prevent them for spilling.
Draco had turned his back to him. Had he even sensed what he had set off?
Harry hadn't said his last word, and if his voice wasn't strong, he hit hard :
"You know something Draco, you are just like your father."
The blonde's nape stiffened and his comeback was brisk. He turned around in a flash. Harry didn't see his face, just his fist swooping on his cheek. A left jab. The blow knocked him down.
It took Harry a moment before he recovered his senses. Collapsed at the foot of the bar, he attempted several times before getting up. Furious and out of control, he flung himself toward Draco, but Zabini had moved forward in the midst of the confusion and held him back by the arm.
"Harry, stop!... Let it go!"
Draco looked as stunned as if he had received the blow himself. He was frozen, eyes wide, as though he just now comprehended his gesture. Harry didn't analyze his attitude. Draco had hit him, this was the only fact of which he was sure. Harry was boiling with anger, eyes in flames. Zabini pushed him toward the stairs to put some distance between the two men. Above his shoulder, Harry yelled to Draco:
"Better be a junky than a murderer ! I'd rather crawl back to my hole, at least down there, we don't make up excuses for ourselves!"
Zabini tried to make him go upstairs, but Harry resisted:
"Let go of me !" He struggled : "Let me go, I tell you! »
He pushed Zabini with all his strength and managed to break free, his breathing heavy. He looked in every way, running a hand through his hair, the cellar's door right next to him. The vision of Flint covered in blood on his chair, the gunfire.
" I can't," he said more for himself than anything else. He couldn't breathe anymore. They were all looking at him here, in front of him, embarrassed or bothered, looking so fucking nonchalant. A band of murderers.
He bolted then upstairs, in his room, and opened the door so strongly that it banged against the wall. He opened the cupboard and took out his travel bag that he threw violently on the bed. He picked up all the clothes he could in one armful and put them all jumbled-up inside, then he emptied all the chest's drawers. He left a few things behind. Only one thing in his mind : leave this place.
At that moment, his cheek still stung. The blow and the humiliation he just suffered were too strong for him to think about the consequences of his departure. Remus was miles away from his concerns. He put the voice of reason far away in a recess of his head.
Leave.
He got down the stairs with hurried steps and drew in a breath, then another one as if he were on the starting blocks. He walked to the entrance. The others were still seated on the couches, without reaction. Zabini threw a look at Draco, but nothing. Harry crossed the threshold and took a breath of air, full of emotion, angry, sad. Everything was churning around in his head, but when he looked at the portal, the street behind, a wind of freedom blew through his heart
His bag in hand, he walked like each step counted. But once in front of the gate, one of the new security guys stopped him:
"Where are you going?"
"Out."
Harry hold out his hand to push the gate but the man put a firm hand on his shoulder.
"We didn't receive any orders."
Harry sighed and gripped his hair. He was tired of all this. He dropped his hands and took another step.
"I'm not a prisoner here, alright. If I want to go, I go."
The man blocked him again but before Harry could protest, the man turned his head toward the entrance door. Draco was there, on the doorstep. Harry stared at him, so far already. Who was that man? The blonde looked stiff and emotionless, so different from the man he thought he knew. Draco just nodded his head and walked back inside. Harry's gaze stayed pinned to the door. He had the feeling he was leaving a part of his life behind. He didn't even know what he was doing, he just had this overpowering impulseto go. At this instant, he needed to leave.
Once at the other side of the gate, he didn't even know which way to go. It was like he was changing the course of things, but he saw nothing ahead. He finally turned to the left. It felt so strange, ushering his feet one after the other, walking away without goal or purpose. Down the street, he heard a voice screaming:
"Harry ! Harry !"
Pansy.
He was already far from the house but he stopped nonetheless. A moment of hesitation. He found himself completely at a loss, but he couldn't go back.
Keep walking.
He tightened his hold on his bag's shoulder strap and resumed his walk. He continued on his way, the girl's cries becoming no more than a faint sound behind him.
HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP
Harry walked for a good hour, emptying himself of everything, his doubts, his dread. Finally, he took a halt in a small pub. The place was almost empty. Harry approached the bar, threw his travel bag on the floor and ordered a gin and tonic.
"Strong liquor at this hour," an unknown voice noted.
Harry did not look up. He just wanted to be left alone.
"What is it matter to you?" he asked, embittered.
"I'd rather you'd be sober when you see McCarthy."
Well, that definitely caught his interest. Harry turned to the stranger, eyebrows down.
"What ?"
The man didn't return the look, staring down at the counter, acting casual.
"Look in front of you. You don't want to draw attention."
The man was tall, pretty average, but his voice was very direct. Harry told him:
"I'm not followed."
The man had this faculty to keep a neutral expression while his voice was curt:
"How do you know ? Did you spot us?"
He had a point. The man kept on :
"Take the backside exit, a car is waiting for you."
They would never let him go.
Harry put his glass down and slowly got up. Alright, if he left running, he wouldn't stand a chance.
Think about Remus. There may be news.
Harry bent to take his bag and made his way through the dirty tables with their alcohol whiff stench, and a bored looking waitress. It felt a long way until he reached the door. He took a big breath before pushing the door, and ended up in the back alley. In front of him, as planned, a black car with tinted windows. A man came out from the back, took the bag in his hand and opened the door for him. Harry had no choice: he climbed in.
McCarthy was inside, his eyes cold and piercing. Harry had forgotten how intimidating he could be, especially this close.
He heard the truck closing, then the henchman took his seat back, forcing Harry to scoot over, stuck between the two bigger men. Everything was calculated of course. Operation intimidation.
McCarthy tapped Harry's knee, both laidback and threatening, an odd combination, and asked him with a mocking tone :
"So, Harry, you're trying to slip the leash ? I wonder who did the breaking up."
Then, he took Harry's chin none too gently to turn his face around and admire the bruise on his cheek.
"Did you try to play clever again or was it a lover spat?"
Harry freed his face with a sharp movement and stayed mute.
"One or the other, I don't give a fuck, you're going back, understood?"
Harry shook his head and announced with a grave voice:
"Flint is dead."
McCarthy didn't seem that surprised. He simply answered :
"I had suspicions. He was supposed to contact us the next day in case we failed… He knew the risks."
His casualness was annoying Harry who already wished the little ride would end. He spoke again, still serious.
"We fulfilled our mission, we served you Draco and his team on a plate. It's not our fault if you weren't up tothe mark. I consider this over."
Harry knew what was coming.
McCarthy grabbed him by the collar, their foreheads almost touching.
"Little shithead, I am telling you when this is over, ok ? Your tip arrived at last minute. You think an operation like this can be hatched in the snap of a finger? Now it's up to you to fix this and give us more occasions. And if that's not enough to you, you can say bye bye to your dear Remus, because he won't make the night when I'll send him back to section A."
Harry changed expression and, hoping and doubting at the same time, asked him :
"The transfer… ?"
"Was successful. Remus is out of danger. For now. One word from me and he goes right back under the knife. Is that what you want?" Harry lowered his eyes. "That's what I thought."
Harry decided to impose a requirement. He needed guarantees, and he had to affirmit all himself.
"I want to talk to him,"he said.
McCarthy's reaction wasn't the one he expected. The man quietly told him:
"I can arrange it."
These words gave Harry more strength. He needed to hear his friend's voice, to feel he was still there for him.
The car stopped then but Harry had another important question to ask:
"Flint, why did he volunteer ?"
McCarthy raised a brow, recalling their first encounter.
"Ah, little Flint was well bitter when I met him. He wanted to bite the shit out of me for what happened to his father." He smiled. "When I told him it was Lucius Malfoy who set his father up by putting the police on his tracks, it turned things around... Malfoy killed Flint Senior as surely as if he had hanged the man in his cell himself. " His smile turned evil. "I knew he'd be a good element. Such a rage to fight…"
Harry whispered, thinking out loud :
"His father… "
Harry understood it all now.
Flint had been sacrificed. Remus was in the hot seat. And in the name of what ? Revenge. Settling scores that weren't their own. They were fighting others' battles.
He cried out then :
"But Draco has nothing to do with this !"
McCarthy leaned over him.
"What do you think !" he barked. "Draco and his father are the same ! Bad seeds! As guilty as one another. Killers and thieves, all scum !"
Harry could see a vein springing out upon McCarthy's forehead, his eyes scrutinizing him, turning from the right eye to the left one. Then, the man calmed down, straightened up and spoke plainly:
"You keep it up, okay ? Tonight, you'll go back to your apartment. There's a bus right ahead."
He gave him a 5 £ bill for the trip but Harry pushed his hand away. He couldn't stand the gesture. McCarthy smiled and put it back in his pocket.
"We'll contact you later. And don't be a smartass, alright ?"
McCarthy's colleague was already out. Harry got off, his travel bag waiting on the sidewalk, then he looked at the car driving away.
Outside, the sun was hitting strong. He took his blue sweatshirt off and went sitting down in the bus shelter nearby. He looked at the people waiting with their children, smiling and chatting among them. When did he move away from this world ? He felt so disconnected from the everyday life, so far from these carefree lives. He ached to just get on the first bus and go far, far way.
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When he arrived at his apartment, he was struck by the smallness of the place. Compared to the cottage, it was no more than a shoe box.
He looked at his room. Everything seemed in order, but not quite. The differences were barely visible. Goyle had done a good job.
Fortunately, McCarthy had told him to take his precautions. He had cut his phone line before leaving. His answering machine would have been filled with Ron's messages, no doubt about it. He was probably dying with worry…
Harry went down to his neighbor's cellar. The man had kindly allowed him to stock some of his things there. He walked among the small room cluttered with boxes, papers and dusty objects. He took out several boxes piled in a corner : more papers, notebooks and photos of the Weasleys, Hermione, Remus, and other traces of his past.
Later in the night, Harry was seated on the carpet in front of the TV, the coffee table strewn with boxes of chinese food ordered at the last minute. He hadn't taken more than a few bites: he couldn't eat. The TV broadcasted an insipid program. A woman was crying in a close-up, pouring out her heart in front of the camera.
Living with Draco, Pansy and the others had felt like finding a new family, admittedly dysfunctional, and in the end completely rotten, but somehow, he had found his place within them. This brief stay had drawn him out of the solitude he had crafted so carefully after Remus.
In front of the TV's light, he went over his old friends' pictures. On one of them, Remus and he, arm in arm, in the middle of a family that took them in for several days in Edinburgh. Memories of a journey interrupted too soon.
The last months with Remus had been exhausting. Their story had been more chaotic than the version Harry had told to Draco. Remus had indeed been tortured in one of the Division's centers, but Harry had managed to set up anoperation thanks to a high-placed contact whom he was in favour with, and the Weasleys' help. After an extreme rescue during a transfer, he had hit the road with latter had been in such a bad state that Harry had prayed each night for him to stay alive. But they had made it in the long run.
At the time of the breakout, Division 8 was a recently formed entity, and therefore fallible, but for the six months that had followed, the discredited Division had undergone a complete restructuring, their systems reinforced and their material means revised upwards. The man hunt had been speared, forcing them to take all their precautions and taking them to Scotland : Arthur had trusted men in Aberdeen.
Merely a few kilometers from their destination, Harry and Remus, exhausted, had taken refuge in a little inn. Yet, they had stayed awake until late that night. Remus had been particularly agitated, persuaded something wrong was going to happen. An anxiety attack. Harry remembered how lost he had felt at that moment, and how hard he had tried to stifle his friend's fears. They had shared a beer and talked for hours. Finally, Remus had fallen asleep before Harry.
It was the last time Harry had seen him.
The next morning, Harry had woken up alone in his room. In a panic, he had left in search of his friend, but once outside, McCarthy had came down on him with three of his oafs. McCarthy was a feared agent. He was at the top of the division, renowned for his thorough methods and his pugnacity. And he had come to arrest Harry and Remus himself, looking so content. Harry had struggled, had cried out his friend's name, but it was already too late, and McCarthy had taken delight in announcing him that Remus was already in the convoy heading for the detention center, among the other"aliens of his sort". Harry hadn't even had the chance to see him one last time. No goodbye, no farewell.
Harry looked at the picture sadly, running his finger alongtheir smiling faces. He took another gulp of beer and put the picture back in the middle of the pile inside the box.
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June 5, 2004
In the morning, Harry locked up his door and headed down the stairs to the exit door. Once on the sidewalk, he caught sight of a Chevrolet parked further down the street. The front doors opened and Goyle came out.
Oh yes, I forgot, the rest of my things.
Harry stayed at bay and raised his voice, addressing Goyle as he would a friend :
"Did you miss me ?"
Goyle looked at him, impassive, and Harry wanted to laugh.
But suddenly, the back door opened and Pansy got out of the car like a tornado.
"What ?" he let out in a surprised whisper.
Pansy threw herself at Harry and told him pouting:
"You left without telling me !"
Harry looked at her and then lifted his eyes toward Goyle. The girl took his hand.
"Come everyone's waiting for you."
Did he miss an episode?
When he came next to the car, he made out Draco inside, on the front seat, quiet, his eyes fixed on the windshield. Finally, Zabini picked his head out behind and said:
"It's Snape."
A mysterious message from their former professor had alarmed Draco who had dragged off all his team at the man's demand, Harry included. This unexpected rendez-vous was wearing McCarthy's mark all over it, Harry would have bet his lifeon it. The Elders had left at the same time as them and should havealready been on the premises. Here they were on their way to the EMD*, an old cinema in East London. The building had closed the previous year and remainedunoccupied since.
In the car, Pansy had told Harry the discovery of her first films over there, with Draco and Snape. At first, Snape had been reluctant: it was a silly concept, to gather in the dark to watch old grainy black and white picture shows. So primitive. But surprisingly, it had felt like looking at a strange, antique pensieve, the still images sucking them inside the film without any higher power but that of the mind. They took a liking to these showings, and decided to go each time the films were accompanied by the famous organ of the cinema. Good memories.
But why Snape had given them rendez-vous there ?
They arrived in front of the façade with its art deco windows, the street deserted, the windows blackened and covered with posters pasted the ones above the others, preventing the light from entering. Draco's eyes roved over the façade, filled with nostalgia. It had to ache, seeing the state of the building, probably recalling the old times.
What were they doing here ? Where were the Elders?
It was Goyle who entered the door. Against all odds, it opened without difficulty.
They advanced on the red carpet and were all astounded to enter in a luminous and clean hall. The decor was baroque. In front of them, at the center, a white hexagonal ticket office, almost yellow under the warm light. Mirrors adorned the walls, some of them unfortunately broken, like a hitch in the middle of all this beauty.
Zabini and Nott came in front of the pop corn and soda machines : they were all-working. The place seemed to have come back to life, it was almost frightening. Nott helped himself to a big box of pop corn and Pansy's face lightened up. He filled himself a cup of coke, followed by Zabini. Draco scowled at them like he would children. They weren't here to play.
They went upstairs and entered the auditorium. It looked like an old theatre, with its balcony, his high ceilings and its chandeliers. Walls were decorated in places with artdeco arabesques, the details remarkable. The seats were bright red, some rows burst. Harry looked up and noticed the cross-shaped mouldings on the ceiling. They walked down the stairs : in front of them, the stage was huge, long golden curtains were covering the screen. The organ was still there, next to the stage, but several keys were missing.
The Elders were nowhere to be seen. The place was empty. So silent.
Harry had an uneasy feeling about this. It smelled fishy. Draco seemed to have the same hunch : he took out his gun and kept it along his body.
Suddenly, the curtains on the stage parted and in front of the screen appeared Severus Snape, half-hidden in the corner in his dark clothes, the Elders, Sammy a bit further, and other people Harry had never seen before.
Draco looked at them, dumbstruck, then all yelled as one voice :
" Happy birthday !"
Draco gasped and let out a laugh while Pansy bounced behind him, clapping wildly.
"What… ?" the blonde blurted out, taken aback.
Eyes wide opened and a confused smile plastered across his face, he turned to Zabini who stood on the same step as him :
"Is it… ? I didn't even notice the date with everything that happened… "
Zabini gave him a little tap in the back.
"Well mate, it's for you ! Happy birthday."
Draco turned toward the stage and walked down the stairs while Snape already made his way to him. When they met in the bottom of the staircase, both hugged.
"Severus, I should kill you for this. You put the worst fears in my head."
Snape looked at him with a little grin and told him with his silky voice :
"You're not the only one who knows how to put on a show."
Draco turned and looked around him.
"How did you do all this ?"
Snape said in a detached tone :
" Pronouncing your name sufficed to open the doors," Snape answered in a detached tone. "Believe me, it didn't require much effort from me."
Draco nodded with a skeptical air, without losing his smile. While the other guests started to climb up the stairs to wish him a good birthday, he kissed Snape on the cheek, his hand on his shoulder and thanked him in a low voice. His friends and acquaintances crowded him one by one, cheering loudly.
Harry had stayed at the top of the stairs, as an observer, hands in his jean's pockets. His face was close and sullen.
Draco's birthday.
Much ado about nothing.
Harry wished he had never met the blonde at this instant, therefore, celebrating his birthday was not in his plans.
He walked up to the main hall and glanced distractedly at his reflection in the mirror. When he saw the purple mark on his cheek, he downcast his eyes to look at the red carpet at his feet and moved on.
He went down the few steps leading to the ticket office and turned around the booth. He ended up opening the door and settled behind the big window, as if expecting clients. Rummaging around, he inspected the drawers, but there was nothing to see, so he just sat there, elbow on the tablet, his cheek on his fist like a bored kid. Then, suddenly, the door opened. It was Snape.
Harry's head snapped up and Snape looked at his bruise with a little grimace. Harry turned around, his profile hiding the mark. Snape said nothing and Harry was grateful for that. The man in black went to seat on the chair next to him. In front of the window, they both made a pair of strange ticket clerks.
"It's McCarthy who asked you to make me come here."
Snape didn't deny and said:
"These last days were difficult I presume."
Harry simply nodded.
In front of his silence, Snape continued:
"Draco can be harsh sometimes. You need to understand the world he lives is a world apart, with its own rules. He bears responsibilities you can't even fathom. It is a lot of pressure for such young shoulders." He paused and then said, stressing the words: "Do not judge him."
Harry didn't know why, but Snape's presence brought out all the emotions accumulated, making them flow at the surface like a torrent, and tears began to roll on his cheeks by their own accord. He wiped them with his hand but it didn't stop.
Snape softly said " Harry… ", then put his hand on his shoulder. The contact broke Harry who swooped down on him and put his head against his chest. Harry hooked his tight hands like fists on Snape's black shirt and let himself completely go, his sobs amplifying. Snape didn't know how to react at first, probably unused to this kind of effusion, but with a hesitant hand, he began smoothing Harry's hair down to appease him. Seeing Snape in such a tender embrace was an unusual occurrence, but Harry was too overwhelmed to even realize it. A minute passed before Harry pulled himself together. He sniffed and whispered a hoarse "sorry".
After a few seconds, Harry still not speaking, Snape tried to reason him again:
" Draco wants to change, you know it as I do. And you are the only one who can help him."
Harry looked at him, eyes still shiny, pensive.
How could he help Draco when they were fighting each other ?
Harry wiped his face again then said :
"You know about Flint ?"
Snape looked perplexed.
"They killed him. They discovered he was a spy."
Snape lowered his eyes with no more reaction. Harry resumed :
"There's been an ambush. Nothing to do with McCarthy."
"Don't let yourself be fooled."
Harry frowned. " No, it was Ellis, he… »
Snape cut him short :
"I didn't think he would go this far, but as soon as I heard the rumors about the ambush and the escape, I knew. If Ellis heard about Draco's plans, you can be sure it is the work of McCarthy. A messenger, an anonymous phone call… "
Harry lost his temper, refusing to see the situation straight :
"What are you talking about ? I know he doesn't hold Draco dear to his heart, but to go as far as killing him! He wouldn't risk his career !"
Snape corrected him:
"You don't know McCarthy. He is obsessive and neurotic. He and his crew couldn't bear to see Draco steal their business right under their nose. Besides, McCarthy has suffered a few reversals of fortune. It has tarnished his reputation. "
"You're talking about Lucius."
Snape stared at him a second and asked:
"You know ?"
Harry nodded and Snape went on :
"After this affair, McCarthy became even more vindictive. Lucius had ridiculed them and slipped through their fingers. Then, Draco put the enterprise back together. From then, it escalated. McCarthy made it personal. And then, there was Astoria."
"What does that have to do with?"
"Astoria was working for Division 8, she was supposed to testify against Draco, but she disappeared not long before the trial. McCarthy is convinced Draco murdered her, which is utterly false."
Harry sighed :
"Lucius ?"
"The sins of the father will fall on the son," Snape said in a solemn voice.
Of course, these words in his mouth implied so many things. Was it a way for him to make amends? Maybe it was. Harry didn't know. And at that moment, it wasn't important.
"McCarthy won't give up, he will fight tooth and nail until Draco bites the dust," concluded Snape.
Harry dithered. The affair was more serious than he had thought.
"If what you're saying is true, how can I keep going ? I saw a face of Draco I hate, yes, but for nothing in the world would I wish his death ! So what? I can't give McCarthy the weapon to shoot him down."
"You will know what to do," Snape answered wisely.
Harry erupted:
"No! No! That's the thing, I don't know what to do! My hands are tied ! It's a nightmare ! I have two lives between my hands, and if I choose one, I'll sacrifice the other."
"Why should you choose ?"
Snape's voice so calm and wise it became irritating. Harry was growing fed up with these cryptic answers.
"Because they're making me !" he retorted.
"Harry. You'll know what to do," Snape insisted. With that, he rose to leave but Harry asked him one last question :
"That's why you didn't tell me about him?" Snape turned around. " Lucius. You were afraid my choice would be biased, like Flint."
Snape put on a strange grin, then said before leaving :
"Don't do the same mistake. Draco is not Lucius." In the doorway, he added without turning back: "The film is about to start. You don't want to miss it."
HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP
Harry headed straight to the empty balcony, far from the little assembly downstairs, and sat on one of the chairs in one of the middle rows, pulling up his knees to place his feet on the back of the seat in front of him. He could hear voices and laughter coming from the orchestra stalls.
Draco wouldn't even notice his absence.
The lights went out. Harry welcomed the darkness that enveloped him like a protective coat, carrying him out of the world, out of time. The projection began and he felt himself relax on his chair. The title appeared on the screen : "Alfred Hitchcock's Notorious".
The story of the film started to unfold and Harry gave a stifled laugh. It was the last straw: a film noir with Ingrid Bergman as a spy and Cary Grant as the agent who recruits her.
The film continued and Harry let himself be caught up by the story.
As if he were given a signal, Draco entered during the famous scene of the kiss where Grant and Bergman kiss in a close-up for long minutes.
Harry felt his presence immediately, his hairs standing on end. Even so, he didn't make a move. It was Draco who came to him and sat on the seat next to his. Harry lowered his feet and straightened up, keeping his eyes on the screen, the beautiful faces of the actors invading the screen, constantly touching, talking in the kiss without leaving each other. The grainy sound had this charm that all the old black and white mofs possessed.
Ingrid Bergman: "This is a very strange love affair."
Cary Grant : "Why ?"
"Maybe the fact that you don't love me."
Draco was sitting still and Harry was trying to focus on the film as best he could.
"When I don't love you, I'll let you know."
"You haven't said anything."
"Actions speak louder than words."
Harry wasn't expecting Draco to stay like that, so still and quiet. They both watched the film in silence, the projection's beam of light skimming the air above their heads.
Harry was deeply touched by the film : he shared Ingrid Bergman's fears when she was thrown into Claude Rains' clutches, and at the same time, the tortured love story brought back his feelings for Draco to the surface. He felt as if the film was only speaking to him.
Ingrid Bergman : "Oh you love me ! Why didn't you tell me before?"
Cary Grant : "I know. But I couldn't see straight or think straight. I was a fatheaded guy, full of pain. It tore me up not having you."
"Oh, you love me. Oh, you love me."
"Long ago. All the time, since the beginning."
Harry's hand rested on the arm of the chair. Suddenly, he felt something warm brushing his skin. He made a quiet gasp. Draco had put his hand over his. They weren't looking at each other, eyes riveted on the screen, but Harry's body and heart were bursting with intensity. How a simple touch could provoke such heat? It was as though all his senses were converging to his hand. Harry contained his shaking, trying to keep still. He didn't want Draco to feel him responding to the touch.
"I'm sorry."
There was a catch in Draco's voice, and Harry's throat constricted. His feelings were still confusing, but Harry was not ready to give in. He pulled his hand away.
"I know you'll probably never forgive me, but I care about you."
Harry answered nothing. He wanted to believe in Draco's words, but he knew they could never be together. Their story was doomed since the beginning.
Ingrid Bergman : "Oh, don't ever leave me."
Cary Grant : "You'll never get rid of me again."
"Never tried to."
Harry had deceived himself to believe in a spectacular escape with Draco, running together to Remus' rescue, braving the Division and the gangs around, but it was only a childish dream.
Draco was so close to him and yet so far.
"I need you."
The words had been barely whispered, but Harry had heard them loud and clear.
As the words "The End" appeared onscreen, he felt a hand sweetly brush his cheek. The caress sent him shivers. The light came back, and Harry's eyes squinted under the brutality of its brightness.
When he turned aside, Draco was already up. Harry followed him with his eyes then left his seat in turn. When he started to head toward the orchestra stall, he found a silent, still room.
A few steps further down, Draco was still descending.
"What is it ?" Draco asked.
Snape and the Elders were standing still, their faces grave and pale.
"You look like you've seen a ghost…"
A well-known laughter answered him. Draco swirled around and his face fell. Harry followed his gaze.
There, in front of the screen, the man once so dreaded, seated in a wheelchair. The voice, dark and distinguished, sprung out and echoed in the vast room :
"Happy birthday, son."
* The EMD is a real location. I wanted to find a real, disused theatre or cinema since it is part of Draco, Snape and Pansy's discovery of Muggle London. I don't know, it felt important. It closed in 2003 so it fitted the dates perfecly. Of course, the reopening and the projection are completely unrealistic but well, it's Draco we're talking about, so nothing's impossible...