Chapter 25 -
Harry made his way to Gryffindor Tower, his home. He was suddenly sick to death of the dungeons, sick of the lake, and sick of Draco Malfoy. He knew his ex-boyfriend would be following him, let him. The full pounding behind his eyes told him Draco was near, but not near enough to see. Let him see how it feels to be led around by pain and broken promises.
He climbed the tower to his dorm, his headache growing deeper, but this was probably as bad as it would get. He guessed Draco would have to be standing outside the portrait hole, waiting. It was either that or end up in the infirmary. He was sure that Draco would hate waiting outside the Gryffindor common room more. It was probably more embarrassing, for him, anyway.
His chest ached when he thought of handsome proud Draco, his Draco, standing there, looking out of sorts, withstanding the inevitable jeering of other students. He wanted to ignore it. He wanted..he didn't know what he wanted. Things had been so clear before that dream, that nightmare. The familiar yet awful imagery, Draco's constant screams, the Dark Lord telling him his plans.
Harry faltered on the stairs, thinking hard. It wasn't like Voldemort to let him in on his secrets; he had always ridiculed Harry for not figuring everything out. What if this was part of the plan? To bring them together, tear them apart, and take them out while they were mired in their teenage angst and heartbreak. Harry shook his head. It seemed pretty far-fetched, even in this place. Even if it were so, Draco had still lied. A lie of omission is still a lie, isn't it? Hermione too, for that matter.
He reached the quiet dormitory. It was empty, his four-poster bed immaculately made, not slept in for weeks. Or was it only days? Harry couldn't count the passage of time and it was just one more thing on top of all the others. He felt a great anger welling up inside of him with nowhere to go. He kicked his trunk, sending it violently spinning across the room. He grabbed the blankets from his bed and threw them on the floor. The pillows went too, soaring through the air. It wasn't enough, it would never be enough. He felt the hot angry tears start to flow as he kicked his bedside table, making it rattle. He punched the headboard and almost immediately regretted it. Pain welled in his knuckles, his toes, his head. He let it consume him, the physical pain blotting out the emotional heartache, if only for a short time.
Harry found Draco just as he had thought, sitting on the landing of the staircase, near the portrait hole. He was folded up, resting his head on his knees. Was he..sleeping? Would he be dreaming? He wasn't sure if that was still his problem. Protecting Draco Malfoy wasn't at the top of his list, as least not right now. The warmth that bled into his bones with his nearness was so familiar, so comforting, he didn't know how he existed without it.
"Slytherins are not allowed in the Gryffindor common room," the Fat Lady chided behind him.
Harry turned. "Did he try to come in?"
"No, but still, Mr. Potter, you of all people should know the rules." She looked down her fat nose at him.
Harry only scowled. He straightened his jacket, ran a hand through his hair, and pushed up his glasses. It was over, he had said so himself, but Harry found he still cared a great deal what Draco thought of him.
He wondered how far he could get without the tall blond Slytherin. Probably not even down the staircase, let alone all the way to dinner. He reached out to touch him, but pulled back. Better to not, he supposed, better to not feel that any more than he had to. His resolve would weaken and crumble, without a doubt. Instead, he gingerly touched Draco's leg with the toe of his sneaker.
"I'm awake, Potter." He was drawling again, sounding tired, his arms muffling his voice. Harry pushed down the tight feeling in his chest.
"We're going to dinner."
"Like hell I am."
"You kind of have to."
"Harry, please," Draco raised his face. Harry had only been in his dorms for a short time, but it looked like it had been a lifetime for Draco. His eyes were slate, the color of stone, red rimmed and lined with dark circles. It made Harry's heart ache, and he knew the other boy could feel it, too. There was no hiding. It only made him more angry. He could feel Draco's feelings, now more than ever, it seemed.
"It's not a punishment," he said, fury igniting in him in response to words unsaid, "I'm only hungry."
Draco got to his feet slowly, like it pained him. Harry resisted the urge to reach out and help him up, to pull him into a loving embrace, to kiss him until his eyes turned warm and stormy. He was completely unprepared for the hope he saw in Draco's eyes. He turned away and started down the stairs, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets.
"We can stop by the dungeons, if you like," Harry said over his shoulder.
He felt Draco shuffle behind him, not too closely. "I would like that," he said softly.
They were alone on the stairs, late afternoon classes still in session.
"Harry," Draco's voice was no more than a sigh.
He felt a tug at his jacket. He ripped it away violently and spun to face him. "What is it, Malfoy?"
Draco actually winced, his normally straight shoulders sagged. He looked smaller, somehow. "I had reason to do what I did."
Harry scoffed. He wasn't ready for this, maybe he never would be. "I'm sure you think that."
"I was trying to protect you."
"And I thought it was you who needed the protection. You need me, remember? I'm fairly positive I don't need you. I never have."
"Never, Potter?" His knowing silver eyes were narrowed.
"All you're missing is your stupid smirk."
Draco smirked. "You love my smirk."
"Besides the point," Harry muttered, turning to leave.
Draco was grabbing his arm, the warmth shooting through him, straight to his-
"I'm sorry, Harry." The other boy's voice was soft, so soft and laced with pain, as if it physically hurt him to say the words.
Harry scowled up at him. Why did he have to be tall? It was so annoying. "Stop it."
"I am, Harry. You know it to be true."
Harry sighed. "I know you feel that way. Maybe it's only because you got caught." He started down the stairs again. "Besides," he said over his shoulder, "Malfoys don't apologize, isn't that what you told me?"
"I'm not that person, not anymore."
"Could have fooled me."
Draco said nothing more, but Harry felt his words hit home, the emotional pain an echo. Good. They walked to the dungeon in silence. This time, however, it felt like a giant invisible weight pressing down on the pair of them.
"Would you like to come in?" Draco asked, when they were at his room.
"I'll wait here, thanks."
"But you would like to."
"You need to stop doing that."
"You know it can't be helped," Draco said softly, his face open and vulnerable.
The truth was Harry wanted nothing more than to enter that room with him and never come out. The truth was Harry was tired of others getting the better of him. Tired of getting hurt. Tired of feeling alone.
"I'll wait here," he repeated and watched Draco's face fall again. It was unnerving, seeing the proud Slytherin's emotions play out in real time before his eyes. He almost missed the mask.
Harry closed his eyes and leaned against the dungeon wall. He hadn't seen Draco go in and shut the door, but he felt the absence.
He breathed a sigh, equal parts relief and frustration. Harry didn't know what to do. He had tried examining his options, when his anger had eventually ebbed away in his dorm room. The only thing he knew for sure was that this whole situation was dangerous, unbelievably so. His judgement had been clouded, blinded even. The Dark Lord was in his mind, in his love life. Harry itched to bring the fight into the real world, to be done with it, one way or the other. But he didn't know how. Let Draco bring him in, he supposed. Then what? He had no plan, no help, no backup. Unless Draco chose his side. Draco would be a powerful ally; isn't that what Voldemort had said? He didn't see that happening, no matter what was between them. And even if he did, how could he trust him after this?
He felt the anger flare again, sick of having other people in his head. Wasn't the killing curse that backfired some sort of binding spell, too? From the little that he had read from Draco's book, he was fairly certain it was. His hand went to his forehead, feeling his scar. He wasn't entirely sure, he just knew he shared some things with Voldemort when he'd rather share nothing at all. Now he was sharing with Draco, too. How many binding spells could one wizard hold? There had to be a way to undo it. An unbinding spell.
On second thought, he would like to wait inside Draco's room. He turned to tap the bricks, but it was already opening. He walked in, quickly searching for the large book, The Perils and Pitfalls of Magical Binding. The title made Harry want to laugh in that weird crazy way that took hold of him sometimes. Draco had been up all night reading it, and the way she was talking, Hermione had a look at it too, but maybe there was something they missed. Unlikely, but possible.
He stopped short, his eyes landing on a partially clothed Malfoy, fresh from the shower. His hair was slicked back and still wet, a towel around his slim hips. Harry stood still, not knowing if Draco had seen him, or felt him, as the case may be. He was rooted to the spot, watching Draco's smooth and deft motions, plucking expensive-looking clothing items from his closet and laying them on his bed. A different sort of warm feeling filled his chest, making his stomach feel a little sick. He felt like he did in the dreams, watching a Draco that couldn't see or hear him. A sad Draco, caught up in his own life's decisions. And regrets.
"I thought you were waiting outside," Draco's quiet voice interrupted his thoughts.
"I changed my mind."
"The book is on the table."
But Harry's eyes wouldn't leave Draco. He hadn't stopped rifling through his clothes, his back to Harry. He stepped closer, not remembering making the decision to move. He felt drawn to him, like a magnet to metal.
"Stop staring at me, Potter."
As he came closer, he saw the scars. They criss crossed Malfoy's back in a crude typography, a map of past traumas. Harry's hands went to Draco's back, his fingers tracing them over his cool damp skin. He felt Draco shiver under his fingertips. "Draco," he whispered.
"It's over, right?" Draco's voice sounded cold and far away, 'Well, that is, too."
"Doesn't seem to be," Harry whispered, as his fingers found a mark that was more purple than white, somewhat healed, but definitely more recent than the rest. He leaned down and kissed Malfoy's pale puckered and scarred skin. He kissed his way up to Draco's shoulder, his neck, behind his ear, somehow not being able to stop, not wanting to stop.
Draco abruptly turned to face him, his hands tangling in Harry's hair, kissing him forcefully, lovingly. Harry kissed him back, unaware just how much he needed this. It was so hard to be apart. Everything was so simple when they were together. He couldn't remember why he was so angry moments before.
His hands trailed over Draco's cool, damp, perfect skin. Draco was pulling at his jacket and suddenly it was off. Everything was moving so fast, the need, the desire, the warmth, Draco, pulling him closer, deeper. It was like drowning but in the best possible way. He didn't need air anymore, just this feeling. Just him.
Draco's hot breath was on his neck, making his whole body tingle. He wrapped his arms around Draco's shoulders, hanging on. Draco's hands were inside his shirt, gripping his sides, up to his ribcage and back down to Harry's belt, making him sigh and shudder. Then his t-shirt was being pulled up, over his head. He couldn't not smile as it happened.
They paused, Draco adjusting his towel with a sheepish grin on his face, Harry taking off his glasses, folding them up. "We can stop, if you want," Draco said, in that quiet, sincere voice Harry loved so much.
Harry chuckled. "The glasses coming off, that's the green light."
Draco came closer, a wonderful smirk on his handsome face. "Aren't you mad at me?"
Harry's hand went to Draco's face, tracing his jaw, rubbing a thumb over Draco's lower lip. "I'm furious," he whispered as he kissed him.
He was mildly aware of Draco's hands on his belt, his soft voice in his ear, "Then what are we doing?"
Harry exhaled forcefully and pushed away. What were they doing? Draco looked heartbroken once more. He turned away. It was as if a cold winter wind blew through the room, the warmth, the feeling, suddenly extinguished. "I don't know." The words felt choked, ripped from Harry's chest. His eyes burned and his mind felt slow. "It's this bloody binding, I can't tell what's real."
"This is real, Harry."
"How can you say that when magic is involved? When he's involved?" Harry didn't have to say his name, or the silly thing that everyone else said when talking of him. They both knew who he meant. Harry shuddered.
He felt Draco's long arms wrap around him from behind. He felt the coolness of his bare chest pressed against his back, Draco's lips pressed against his ear. "I just know. I've been fighting against it for a long time now. I'm so tired of fighting. And now you're here, with me." He felt Draco shift behind him, clear his throat. Harry couldn't move if he wanted to. He listened. "It has always felt too good to be true. Much much more than I deserve. With you," Draco inhaled sharply, pausing. Harry waited. "You make me want to be a better person. You make me feel like I could be. If, if you'll have me, please give me another chance. I'll gladly spend the rest of my life making it up to you."
Harry's arms wound around Draco's. "Why are you telling me this?"
"It has recently occurred to me that we're quickly becoming the sort of people who could be dead tomorrow."
Harry snorted with an inappropriate laugh. "I don't know if you know this, Draco, but I've felt that way for a long while now."
"I do know," Draco said softly. "If this really is done, I want you to know how I feel. I want you to know, without a doubt, that I'm not trying to trick you or trap you. If I can protect you, moving forward, I'll do anything, no matter the magic."
The magic. The binding. He suddenly thought of what Ron had said that time at dinner. "Draco, tell me you didn't cast the spell."
Draco was silent.
Harry ripped his arms away, breaking out of the embrace. Draco's face was blank; the wall was up. "You're still hiding something from me," Harry growled. "If this isn't over, Draco, because it sure doesn't feel like it is, I need complete honesty from you. If you can't do that..you might as well take the mark and be done with it." Harry watched as his harsh words broke Draco's mask.
The tall blond Slytherin swallowed hard. He ran his hands through his damp hair. He cleared his throat. Harry could feel it, the vulnerability, coming from him in waves. It almost made him uncomfortable, but he had to know the truth, all of it.
"I can't be sure, Harry."
The familiar rage ignited within him. He kicked Draco's bed post, not having much effect other than making Draco recoil in surprise and pain in his toes. "What does that even mean?" He hadn't meant to shout, but there it was.
Draco cleared his throat again, nervous. "There is a time I can't remember. Before all of this. With you." His ex-boyfriend was talking fast but still not making much sense.
"What? Before that first night in the dungeons?" Harry heard the anger lacing his words. It made him sick but he couldn't control it, and moreover, found he didn't want to try.
Draco shook his head. "I remember before, I remember you giving me your cloak. What I don't remember is the time between then and running into you after breakfast."
What was he saying? It seemed like such an insignificant amount of time to be missing.
"It was only a couple of hours, but I've been getting the feeling I've been forgetting something important. Especially when," he took a breath, seeming to steel himself for what he had to say next. "When Snape is around. When he starts to talk about you. I think he," Draco paused again. Harry exhaled forcefully, feeling impatient. Draco gave him a look.
"I'm trying to be patient. This is just- it would have been-"
"I know, Harry." Draco sat down on the edge of the bed. "It's been coming back to me, little by little. It sounds like a lie, even to me, how would it not sound like a lie to you?"
"If you told me it was the truth, I would have believed you."
"And now?"
"Just tell me the rest."
"I think Snape cast the spell. Then obliviated my memories of it."
Harry's eyes narrowed. "Why would he do that? It doesn't make any sense."
"After the Room, he was there. I thought he was there as my.." Draco paused again, his eyes flitting back and forth. "My handler. He said he was there to protect you."
"Me? He hates me."
Draco gave him a look. "Most things are more complicated than they seem, Harry."
"But you said you couldn't be sure you didn't do it. Why are you pinning it on Snape?"
"I can't be sure. Could I cast it and then obliviate myself?"
Harry thought about it. As with most things in the wizarding world, he wasn't sure. There didn't seem to be any hard and fast rules here. He supposed it was possible, Draco was fairly adept, after all. Then he had an idea.
"Where's your wand?"
Draco jerked his head towards the mantel over the fireplace. "You already know."
"Why did you put it away?"
"Bad memories," he muttered.
Harry felt the anger return. "Transparency, Draco. Stop with the half-truths and omissions. This is it," his voice raised of its own accord, "this is your chance. Tell me everything. Now."
Draco's cheeks flushed, his eyes widened. "This is difficult for me, Harry."
"I know. And you know how I feel about it, too." Harry bent down, picking up his t-shirt and pulling it on. He squinted, looking around for where he put his glasses.
"Over the summer," Draco's voice was barely audible, "my father devised a series of tests, meant to be my final preparation for serving the Dark Lord."
Harry stopped what he was doing, listening hard.
Draco folded his hands in his lap, his fingers moving nervously. "My father, he always said I wasn't quite right. I wasn't the son he was supposed to have. I was too emotional, I made the wrong decisions, I was better off dead. These tests, were to be a cleansing of my unwanted qualities, to turn me into a son he could be proud of."
Harry sat next to Draco on the bed, taking one of his nervous hands in his own. Draco gave him a grim smile.
"I wanted to please him. I wanted to be that person, for him, for my family."
Harry remembered the flayed man from some of the first dreams they shared. He felt his stomach flipflop inside of him. "You don't need to tell me the rest."
"Transparency, Potter. You wanted the truth. It was the last test. I made it through all of the others, barely, but still so. He was our gardener, a squib. No family, wouldn't be missed. He had been in our employ for years, I grew up with him tending our gardens. My father wanted me to torture him, so I did. I thought if I could get through that, it would be done. But it wasn't."
Harry understood where this was going. "Did you do it, Draco?" He held his breath as he looked into Draco's face, his silver eyes rimmed with red again. Draco looked away.
"I couldn't."
Harry exhaled in relief.
"He died anyway, Harry. My father finished it for me. I failed. Imagine his surprise and pride when the Dark Lord wanted me still."
"Because you're powerful."
Draco shook his head sadly, his voice barely a whisper. "Because I could get him you."
"Draco.." Harry's mind reeled. A powerful ally. A powerful ally in a position no one else could hope to enter. A powerful ally inside a fortress, a protected castle. "Are you a spy?" Harry whispered.
Draco shifted, uncomfortable. "I was supposed to be. Since our first year together, I was supposed to get close to you. Gain your friendship, tell them your every move. I couldn't do that job very well, either, it seems."
"I, for one, am very happy in your failures, Draco Malfoy." He squeezed Draco's hand and was rewarded with a sad smile. "You're very close to me now, aren't you?"
Draco laughed grimly. "That's part of the problem."
Harry leaned forward, meaning to kiss him. Draco moved away.
"I think that this a last ditch effort, our last year of school, my very last chance to complete the mission. But.."
Harry could actually feel Draco's courage leaving him. What a strange feeling. Harry ran a hand down the side of Draco's face, his neck, his chest. Why was it so good to touch him? Having him so close made Harry feel whole.
"Does it really make you feel that way?" Draco whispered, finally meeting his eyes.
Harry could only nod. "But..?" He prompted, trying to keep Draco on track.
"But they took me out of the equation. Snape may be acting on my father's orders, casting a binding spell, binding us without my knowledge. Because without my knowledge-"
"You couldn't fail again. It would happen or it wouldn't."
"And no one would be held accountable, unless it was successful."
Harry thought about it for a moment. It made sense, he supposed. "This is an awfully strange plan though, don't you think?"
"I'm sure my father knew of my..unconventional feelings for you."
"So he's using you."
"You sound surprised."
"How would he, though?"
"Use me? He's been doing it my whole life, Potter."
"No, I mean, how did he know?"
Draco was quiet once more. Harry was waiting to hit a wall. He was waiting for Draco to clam up, for all this progress to mean nothing once more.
"He may have figured it out," Draco said slowly, "when I kept taking action against him, where you were concerned."
"Dobby," Harry breathed.
Draco nodded. "That was one instance, yes. It was quite careless of me."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Draco peered at him with his silver eyes. "Would you have believed me?"
Harry imagined it. Draco coming to him second year, telling him everything that he knew. "Not at first, but I'm pretty sure I would have eventually."
"I figured as much, Potter, you're so good and pure of heart," Draco had a strange smile on his face, "But then, say you did, say you trusted me after that. What would have happened?"
"We might have been friends."
"And?"
"Your mission would be there, hanging over your head."
"Yes."
"So you kept me away."
"Yes." His voice was a sad whisper.
Harry let that sink in a moment. Terrorizing someone you liked, or maybe even loved, if Draco was to be believed, in order to protect them? Would he be strong enough to do something like that? For years? "Draco, I.."
"Don't, Potter. I can feel your pity and I don't need it."
Harry scowled. "It's not pity. Not exactly."
Draco scoffed. "Then what is it?"
Harry thought for a moment. "Maybe it's more like admiration."
Draco was looking at him with a quizzical expression, like he was waiting for Harry to pull a rug out from under him at any moment. "Don't people usually say nice things to Draco Malfoy?" Harry asked, jokingly, a bit of a smile on his face.
"You're the only one," Draco's voice was barely a whisper.
Harry felt the now familiar tightness in his chest, his desire to reach out and kiss the other boy nearly taking him over. He reminded himself that Draco had lied, had placed him in this precarious position in the first place. He got up, needing to move, to feel like he was doing something.
Draco stood, adjusting his towel once more. Harry's eyes roamed over his nearly naked body, drawn there. He tried to imagine if there was no warmth, no binding, would he still want to see Draco Malfoy naked? A Draco Malfoy who loved him and only him? He thought of the way his skin felt, the way he kissed, the way he talked to him when they were alone together. The way his blond hair fell across his forehead, the way he walked so tall and proud, the way he played quidditch, the way he encouraged Harry to study and pay attention in Potions class. He smiled to himself. He wished he had seen the dream that Draco had mentioned, of them together, older and in love.
Thinking of the future gave him a warm feeling. Ignoring the past, though, was easier said than done. He had been fooled before. This time, he had to be sure.
"There is a way to tell, isn't there? If you were the one who cast the spell?" Harry asked suddenly.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, we can see the last spell you cast with your wand, right?"
Draco looked stricken. "Maybe I don't want to know, Harry."
"Isn't wondering worse?"
"If I did.."
Harry waved a hand. "We'll burn that bridge when we come to it."
Draco made a face. "Is that a muggle phrase?"
Harry ignored him and stood up, moving towards the mantel.
"Could I get dressed first, Potter?"
Harry smirked over his shoulder. "No. We're doing this, right now." He reached for the ornate wooden box, trying to ignore the feeling of icy apprehension in his chest, trying to be braver than he actually felt. But when he opened it, Draco's wand was gone.