Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to the content and material of Harry Potter. This story takes place in Harry's Sixth Year, with NO horcruxes involved - BUT the main events from HBP and DH will still be in effect and will still shape this story's plotline.
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Chapter Fifty-One - Can't Hardly Wait
Time was slipping through his fingers.
Thirteen of the fifteen days he had been given to complete his task were already gone. Just a page torn off a calendar - seconds, minutes, hours turned to sand. Draco barely had forty-eight hours left now and, unbelievably, his nerves had reached an all time high.
He barricaded his portrait as soon as he returned to the dungeons and cast as many locking and protection charms as he knew. His mind racing with improbable scenarios, he pointed his wand at the fireplace and cement poured from the tip. The large alcove was filled within seconds but that did not stop him from closing the metal covers on the ceiling windows into the Black Lake above as well.
Draco looked down to see his hands shaking and he angrily lifted his wand, pointing it at a lamp on the side table before him and blowing it to pieces. With the porcelain shards covering the floor he turned to another object and blasted the silver candle stick holder. An empty vase was next followed by a second lamp. Draco was seething with the pent up frustration and worry that had been plauging him and he continued, blindly moving, to shatter the small items in his living room until there was nothing left but the furniture and bookcases.
Pillow stuffing and torn bits of fabric littered the rectangular rug beneath the sofas where scraps of parchment and puddles of ink dotted the stone below the large wooden table. His wrath had avoided the wet bar and his feet took him to the far side of the room, easily stepping over debris, without pause. Draco did not need a glass, uncorking the bottle of whiskey and pouring it down his throat as his eyes slid shut with painful force.
The burning amber liquid reminded him of everything that had gone wrong. It spoke to him of the agony he was going to endure and the pain he was going to cause. The alcohol seeped into his blood stream and reminded him of the utter mess he had created with Ginny. He fought down the remembrance of his run-in with Potter and the Unforgiveable that almost left his mouth. He pushed away the cruelness of his task and the conviction with which he knew that he was going to die soon.
Draco saw Ginny's cherubic face in his mind and he felt the pain that he had caused her. His chest clenched with the guilt that he had carried since three days before when he had selfishly and irrationally given in to his baser instincts. He felt the regret for using her then pushing her away when she had only come to help him.
He remembered the pure hatred and complete comfortability with which he had held his wand at Harry and prepared to speak the Killing Curse. Revulsion swallowed that dark glee as he heard Lucius reminding his son that only the strong would survive.
If that was the case - and this was what he had to do to be strong - he wasn't sure how long he would last.
Sleep eluded him that night but inebriation did not. There was probably more alcohol than any other fluid in his body but Draco could not find the will to care as the clock over his mantel chimed the six o'clock hour. Sluggishly he lifted his limbs then his torso to wobble on his feet as soon as he stood.
A cold shower sobered him slightly but his vision was still slow when he rotated his head and his body felt heavy as he moved between the rooms. He didn't quite care that the clothing he put on was the same that he had worn the day before nor did he bother to preen his platinum locks before he left his quarters.
Moving through the dungeons, Draco ignored his fellow Slytherins and passing students who turned to gape at a surprisingly disheveled Malfoy. He didn't hear the girlish whispers of how much more attractive he looked and he didn't listen to the snippets of gossip that followed in his wake. His nerves were on edge, as they had been constantly as of late, and his head was spinning lightly with each step he took but Draco was complacent to adhere to his daily routine instead of attempting to keep himself busy for the several hours it would take for him to attend class.
His usual seat was empty in the Great Hall and he silently sat down and focused on his plate as the Slytherins around him glanced at his appearance. Draco could feel Harry staring at him from across the room - or maybe it was Ginny, once more attempting to corral herself into his business - and he fought the urge to defiantly meet his glare with one of his own. Movement to his left refocused his hazy concentration on his golden plate and he used his peripheral to, thankfully, confirm that it was Blaise shifting next to him.
"There are more than one way to cover your tracks," the dark skinned wizard said conversationally as he reached forward to a dish of roasted potatoes.
Draco froze, his mind instantly jumping to the task that would be the death of him.
"But if you were out of Hangover Drafts you could have just asked me for one."
He released the thick breath in his lungs and fumbled with the silver fork in his hand.
"I didn't realize anyone would care," Draco replied flatly, his tone aloof as he stabbed at a piece of fruit.
"They don't have to care about you to notice that you reek of alcohol and that you're drunk at eight o'clock," Blaise retorted casually.
Anger flared as he mistook his friend's careful observation for cruel judgment. The whiskey still coursing through his veins dimmed his perception and caused him to turn a loathing gaze on the swarthy wizard.
"I hardly think that you are suitable to make the judgment call on whether or not I am sober enough to be here."
His eyebrows shot up at the degrading tone but Blaise shrugged his shoulders.
"I'm merely telling you what everyone else has been saying since you left the dungeons."
"If someone else thinks that I should be in the Hospital Wing or gulping down a hangover potion, then they can be the ones to tell me as much."
Blaise turned back to his plate of breakfast edibles and pressed his lips together. The notion of allowing his irritation with his best friend to surface was tempting but he more than anyone else knew that the Great Hall was not a place for such a spectacle.
"And if they did have enough stupidity to say as much to my face - then they deserve what is dealt back to them," Draco finished heatedly, his silverware dropping next to his plate with a clank as he hastily stood up.
His movements were jerky and he drew a fair share of attention as he indignantly glared at Blaise. He couldn't think straight enough to think of how many people were actually watching him and Draco made that much obvious as he sprinted down the far aisle to the double doors, his leather book bag flapping loudly against his hip as he hurried.
Knowing that Blaise would most likely come after him and highly aware of the probability of him going straight to the dungeons, Draco swerved out of the Great Hall and nearly tripped up the grand staircase as he took the stairs two at a time. The running did not help the spinning of his head or the lurching of his near empty stomach but he moved as fast as he was able until he was panting at the top of the stairs ending at the Seventh Floor.
I need somewhere to practice what I need to succeed.
The mantra repeated itself three times in his head as he breathlessly hobbled back and forth in front of the empty stone wall. The floor began to tilt beneath him as the rectangular entryway appeared. Draco wrenched open the wooden door and stumbled into the Room of Requirement. He barely made it five steps before the sides of his vision darkened and his head felt like it was detaching itself from his body. Yanking off his book bag and his robes, he felt sideways onto a plush but dusty sofa as his eyes slid shut and he fell unconscious.
D/G
Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as if someone were watching him. Seeing as how he was sitting in the second row of desks in the DADA classroom it was most likely that it was just one of his classmates but he idly twisted in his seat, as if he were stretching his back, and glanced around the darkened room.
He met a handful of bored gazes while the rest of the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws were busy watching the Professor pass or lazily taking notes. Hermione was hunched over her parchment next to the blue and gold decked Lisa Turpin and Harry watched the bushy haired witch for a moment, his brows creasing as he remembered her adamant refusal to allow Ron after Malfoy and Ginny.
"You know who was missing from our morning class," Ron whispered next to Harry. "And he wasn't at dinner last night either."
"I know."
"So what are we going to do? We can't just let him get away with this."
"Get away with what exactly?" Harry returned more forcefully than he intended, his emerald eyes narrowed as he turned to the redhead beside him. He had no reason to be defensive of Malfoy, after all he had caught the blonde acting highly suspicious, but his tone begged for an argument as Ron's cheeks flushed scarlet.
"I don't know! But you know he's up to something, Harry!"
"We don't know anything. And that's how I want to keep it - Malfoy's just a waste of time at this point."
Harry refrained from saying anymore right away as the Professor's looming shadow slowly passed by their table, his dark head ducking to make it look like he was doing as he was supposed to.
"If you want to be of any help to me -" Harry paused as a break in lecture silenced the room momentarily. "Then you and Hermione can assist me with getting the DA started again."
Ron's face was whipped of anxious emotion as his mouth fell open and his blue eyes grew wide.
"Really?"
Harry nodded, his own expression blank as he bent over his notebook to distractedly jot down some of the lesson.
"Yes - as soon as we can get everyone notified, the sooner we can all start training again."
"Yea - yea," Ron agreed, opening his own notebook and grabbing his quill as he wrote "DA" at the top of a blank page. He began making a list of everyone that he could remember being at the secret meetings and Harry nodded once more to himself, satisfied that that would keep his friends busy for a day or two.
Harry went through the rest of his routine that day while keeping a sharp eye out for Draco. He looked for him in the hallways between classes and he sought out his blonde head in the Great Hall during lunch. His own conjectures and plausibilities grew larger and more insane as each instance occurred without him finding or seeing the Slytherin.
Blaise was sitting with Theodore Nott at the far table, appearing as though Draco's absence was not a cause for concern. Harry was tempted to ask Ginny if she knew anything but decided against it when he saw her looking as harried as he was at that moment. She was not nervously glancing at the Slytherin table though which prompted him to think that maybe Malfoy's disappearance was something of a common thing.
Whatever the blonde's reasoning was did not matter as Harry still thought about his Hogwarts rival and what he was up to throughout his afternoon classes. No one seemed bothered by Malfoy's absence and when the bell finally rang for the end of the day, he stole away to an unused classroom and pulled out the Marauder's Map.
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
The expansive blank parchment sprung to life as blots of ink appeared on the pages, reforming to outline the entire castle, followed by the moving names which represented the people present within the grounds. Harry opened, unfolded, and refolded the various papers until he found the dungeons. A frown marred his troubled face as he greedily searched for Malfoy's ribbon, finding none within the depths of the school. Quickly he flipped the pages until he found the Seventh Floor. The hallway was empty and as he searched, he found that the stairways leading up there were vacant as well.
With his frustrations mounting, Harry tapped his wand to the Map and stated 'Mischief Managed.' He roughly shoved the thick wad of parchment back into his bag and shouldered the sack as he stormed through the classroom door.
Thankfully he had checked for Severus' location on the Map before closing the portions for the dungeons and Harry angrily hurried there as his nerves crawled with restlessness. It didn't matter that he passed more and more students clad in silver and green instead of the other houses colors - he ignored their curious stares and proceeded towards his father's office which connected to his private quarters through a hidden door. Harry knew well enough that he couldn't trapeze through the dungeons, enter a well known portrait, and not have the gossip mill turn - especially at such a bustling time on a Friday afternoon.
Shutting the door behind him, he cast a locking charm and stowed his wand. Standing atop the dais that held Severus' enormous oak desk, Harry reached for the middle of the surface and turned an inkpot. Stone moved behind him and he twisted around and strode forward as the bookshelves slid sideways to reveal a darkened tunnel. Harry was not certain of what he would find in the Potion Master's private living room when he arrived unannounced but it most definitely was not the scene that he found himself in.
On the far side of the oval room where the hallway leading to their bedrooms normally was a brick wall hid any existence of the personal rooms. He didn't want to believe it but he hurried around the furniture anyways to place a palm against the rough surface. The stones did not give against his touch and he stilled as the possible reasonings for Severus doing this sailed through his mind.
"You shouldn't be here."
The oily voice of the Potions Master was flat but for a hint of warning. Harry did not turn, his dark head falling slightly against his chest as he inhaled slowly.
"What's going on? Why did you conceal the hallway?"
He did not know how close Severus was standing to him or that his father had been cautiously waiting in the kitchen archway and had watched him enter through the concealed passageway. His reply sounded as distant as the elder wizard appeared and it gave Harry a hint of how much space had come to be between them.
"I'm not allowing you permission to enter my quarters until further notice. There is too much at stake to permit a small mishap to derail what is to come."
Anger and hatred and sadness should have boiled over in his gut. Harry should have felt something - even remotely small. But instead he felt nothing. His expression slackened and his lungs continued breathing, his heart continued beating steadily.
Somewhere hidden behind all of the hope and happiness he held for his future with Severus was the small box of fear and anticipation for everything to fail. Harry held onto the possibility that this was all just some experiment to see how parenthood would work for Severus - that again he would be left abandoned by the people he loved most. Growing up underneath the staircase at Number Four Privet Drive had ensured that he always had the notion that he was burden for everyone else around him. As an orphan who had never been shown love by any legitimate family member, how was he supposed to fully believe that happiness could ultimately be his?
The Weasleys had been wonderful in their pursuit to adopt him into their brood and Harry truly was grateful for the love and kindness that Arthur and Molly had shown him over the years. But - it wasn't the same. He didn't have his own bedroom to go home to at the Burrow; he couldn't call them 'mom' and 'dad' like their seven children did. For all of their familial support, they weren't his given family. They were his chosen family but he couldn't look around the dinner table and grin as he recognized his own features on someone else's face. Or laugh and poke fun at one of them because they enacted a quirk that he too held.
It just wasn't the same.
"What about my things?" Harry asked, equally as toneless. Still he did not turn around and the question passed through his thoughts as to whether or not Severus was scowling at his emotionless responses. Surely the Potions Master was guessing that he was angry, that his weighty emotions were being kept in check for the moment.
"I have already put your things in boxes. I'll have a House Elf take them to your dormitory."
Harry nodded and did what he knew was inevitable. Rotating around he faced his father and met his dead stare with a matching expression. He was inwardly relieved that the Potions Master was standing by the kitchen and took a handful of steps to close the distance as he veered off to briefly glance into the boxes on the table containing his things.
"Will you tell me what is going on?" He questioned again, his lifeless gaze turning back to Severus as his nerves stood on end with a creeping anxiousness.
"The Headmaster has instructed that he will explain - everything to you soon enough. He will inform you of everything that you need to know."
Harry raised one eyebrow and let a beat pass before he spewed another inquiry.
"Is there something you're not telling me?"
Severus mirrored his expression with the trace of his usual sneer curling up the corner of his lips.
"There is nothing that I can reveal to you that the Headmaster will not tell you soon enough."
"What about Malfoy?"
The question popped out of his mouth with a biting snap and Harry wondered if his assumptions would be answered, his musings finally confirmed. The smirk slid off his face and Severus' expression darkened as his narrow brows crawled together.
"What about Mr. Malfoy?"
"I know what he's doing," Harry assured him, his courageous conviction tightening the line of his lips. "I know he's working for Voldemort. I know he has the Mark."
Severus, while appearing composed, raged internally with surprised and irrational fervor. He mustn't know of Dumbledore's demise at Draco's hands. Harry couldn't know about the circumstances that led to his involvement with the young wizard's task. So he did what he had to do - he lied.
"Whatever you think you know - whatever it is you're planning on doing to Mr. Malfoy - don't." Severus relaxed his facial muscles and took on an aloof tone. "There are many things I cannot tell you, Harry, but I will make an exception for this. Mr. Malfoy has been emotionally misguided this year with the absence of his father; Narcissa Malfoy has taken a firm hand with his life and he has not been home since he left in August. As his godfather I have stepped in on several occasions for her sake and never would I have allowed him to receive such a burden."
Harry didn't know what to say. Severus was adamant in his statement and he knew the Potions Master was not one to tread lightly with his words. If he had something to say, he was going to say it. This felt like a moment of honesty wherein his fatherly duties kicked in and he overrode whatever oaths he was bound to. But he was also not foolish enough to discount the possibility that this was a way to lead him off Draco's tail. Had he talked to Malfoy in the time since the blonde was seen last? Had he tattled about their hallway scuffle and almost duel?
And what did he mean by 'emotionally misguided'? Something about the disgust in his tone when he said those two words led Harry to think that he, again, was not the only person who knew about Draco and Ginny.
"Have an elf take the box up to Gryffindor Tower during dinner," Harry said flatly, all hints of anger and irritation gone. "No one will be in the dorm then."
Severus mutely nodded, his chest constricting with a desire to deny everything he had just said and protect Harry until the war was over while his jaw clenched and his face showed the lack of emotion that was necessary to push his son away. Without another word Harry turned around and headed for the portrait. His shadow disappeared in the darkness of the small alcove and the door swung open and slid shut without the visible proof of a body. Sighing softly as a frown creased his forehead, Severus glanced at the open cardboard box and turned to walk into the kitchen.
D/G
Draco awoke with a start. His lungs were heaving and his heart was pounding in his chest. Rapidly he blinked to absorb the flickering light in the room and as he sat up to take in his surroundings, the blurred memory of how he got there streaming back.
His head spun dizzily, forcing the pounding object into his hands as he hunched forward. Why couldn't he have just taken a sobering potion that morning? Now he was stuck with a string of absences, a bevy of notes to copy, and a line of excuses to make up for his Professors. Draco groaned as he thought about the detentions he would receive for skipping a whole day of classes. Snape was surely going to talk to him about -
His drooping eyes absently landed on the grayed shadow of a small rodent. It had been kicked off to the side after it had served its use and now it was there to remind him of the desperation in his choice of locations.
Suddenly the Room of Requirement did not feel like a safe haven. The walls seemed to shrink in on him and his imagination got the better of him as he swore the furniture grew smaller. Jumping to his feet Draco bolted for the door and flung it open, slamming it shut as he leaned against the dissolving surface and appraised his surroundings. The Seventh Floor was empty but he didn't want to take the chance that Potter was lurking in the shadows, waiting for him again.
Draco scurried for the stairs descending into the heart of the castle and his feet moved rapidly as he maneuvered through the shifting staircases. Sweat plastered his platinum locks to his forehead and his face felt like it was burning with the highest degrees of shame as he tore through the Main Floor hallways. Students milling around during the remainder of their free time before dinner stopped to watch him run by, his appearance drawing whispers, and he didn't care to look at their robes as he pushed through the gawkers and sped down the stone stairwell to the dungeons.
The coolness of the lower level immediately calmed his spinning nerves and his lungs inhaled the biting air with a thirst. He couldn't stop yet, though. Draco dipped around corners and dodged wandering students as he hurried towards the portrait of the dark knight. The painting swung open without a command and he scrambled through the entryway before the hallway disappeared with the closing door.
A scalding shower was the first thing he did as soon as he had the second to pause and thirty minutes later Draco was rubbing a fluffy towel over his blonde head as he strolled out of the bathroom. A sort of calm had overcome him while he was standing under the steaming spray of water, a confused peace with his situation and what would happen tomorrow. He couldn't necessarily say that he was content with dying the next day, and Draco was certainly not going out without a fight, but he had begrudgingly accepted that he might not see the following morning. He would be lucky to make it to midnight if he failed Voldemort.
Until then though - he could do nothing but wait.
Draco was absolutely sure that the Dark Lord would not mind if Dumbledore's death preceded his attack on Hogwarts in the headlines. But the Slytherin was manipulating the situation to his advantage as much as he could. If the Headmaster was killed during the attack then his passing would be spawned off on He Who Must Not Be Named instead of the buck falling directly on him. Voldemort would gain all of the credit and Draco would be free to walk in public without every person giving him a murderous look.
Dinner had passed and even though he had not eaten since the scraps of eggs during breakfast that morning, Draco was not hungry. Probably something to do with the sparse hours he had left. He had cleaned out almost all of his liquor stash over the past few weeks but alcohol was not a temptation that he wished to divulge in at the moment. His thoughts were too chaotic and his attention in need of too much focus for him to chase away the panic with mind numbing liquids.
Ginny was at the forefront of his musings and he couldn't think of the spirited redhead without his gut twisting. What had he been thinking when he got involved with her? It had seemed like an entertaining distraction at the time but now she was in more danger than just what her last name attracted. How could he have been so stupid?
Sometime in the middle of the night when his nerves became too anxious and his legs felt like they were going to start moving with or without his consent, Draco threw his robes around his shoulders and stowed his wand up his sleeve. The dungeons were suffocating him with their oppressing atmosphere and lack of fresh air or natural light. He ducked through the portrait and speedily made his way through the hallways.
The hour was late and not a soul crossed his path. He was lucky to not run into Filch and Mrs. Norris but Draco tragically noted that the Caretaker was probably already in place for the attack tomorrow. If not, then fate was looking out for him as he breezed through the castle to stand before the Astronomy Tower door.
Draco ascended the spiral staircase in a matter of quick breaths and he deeply inhaled as he strode across the large platform atop the tallest spire in the castle. He paced towards the metal railing and his hands gripped the cold guard rails as he silently stared over the entire grounds. The frigid wind whipped through the open area but Draco remained motionless as the currents licked at his robes and snowy locks.
He stayed there until sunrise, when the faintest glow of light peeked out from behind the tallest trees of the Forbidden Forest, spending hours alternating between sitting then standing depending on how antsy he felt. Draco knew he had to see the sun rise one last time - he had to see the dawning of his final day.
His breath materialized in short puffs as he gazed over the tops of the trees and the dewy grounds, everything seemingly covered in a grey mist that retreated as the sun brought color to it all. Everything was how it should be and no one was the wiser that this Saturday would decide Draco's fate.
He took his time returning to the dungeons as the castle awoke. Several ghosts greeted him in passing or nodded a hello and even Peeves seemed to be in an agreeable mood as he floated by in a discussion with himself about tormenting Madam Pince. Hardly a person was seen though and for that Draco was thankful as he easily moved through the hallways without pause.
The dungeons were as dank and compressed as ever but this time he welcomed the near claustrophobia and remoteness of the familiar place. These narrow corridors had been traveled thousands of times over the years and they had contained many Dark and powerful wizards on many occasions. They too were a witness to the spiral of destruction that had become his life and Draco fondly ran a hand over the smoothed stones as he passed through the many underground hallways.
Without a specific knowledge of when the attack would happen that day - Voldemort had only mentioned that the task be completed by midnight and therefore implied that he wanted them to strike under the cover of darkness - Draco again felt restless upon entering his private rooms. Lucius was not going to be apart of the team that infiltrated the school and attempted to take out as many staff members as possible, while also attempting to capture Harry, but the Malfoy patriarch had specifically told his son, in several letters at that, that he would Floo him as soon as the Dark Lord dispatched the Death Eaters. He may be a cold and ruthless, stupidly deceivable follower but he still held a small spot of fondness for his offspring and Lucius covertly hoped to get his son out of the castle before any real damage could be done.
A House elf brought him a tray of his favorite breakfast edibles and treats and Draco half heartedly swallowed down a majority of a croissant before tossing the small remainder back on the plate. His fingers were absently tapping on the wooden arm of the sofa and he forced his hand to stop fidgeting as he leaned forward and rested his elbows atop his knees. Figuring that ten o'clock was a good guess he sprung to his feet and casually strolled to the door leading to the Slytherin common room, his mind eager to focus on something else besides his own problems.
The hallway was short and no one looked surprised when his blonde head appeared in a far corner. A fire was blazing in the large marble hearth and several couches scattered among the lowered area were occupied by teenagers dressed in their most comfortable clothes. Two girls were heatedly arguing about an anonymous boy and a handful of Third Years were attempting to wrangle their Care of Magical Creatures books.
Sitting underneath a wide tapestry of Salazar Slytherin on the south wall closest to the doorways for the dormitories, Crabbe and Goyle were silently staring at a chess board as one or the other thought over their next move. Draco tried to appear as nonchalant as possible as he strode over to where his two former companions were stationed. Neither looked up when he hovered next to the table and for a gaping moment he thought they meant to ignore him.
"I'll play winner of this match," Draco suggested without the usual condemning authority that he had most often used with them in the past.
Crabbe grunted as he begrudgingly moved his knight across the board and a small smile twitched on the corners of Goyle's mouth as his hand leapt over the figurines to move his own piece.
"You won't have to wait long," Goyle commented tonelessly. Crabbe made a noise of frustration and shuffled his rook over several squares.
"You're cheating again!" Vincent proclaimed angrily as Gregory moved his final piece and called "checkmate".
A smug grin twisted the larger boy's features. "Learn how to play properly and you' see that I'm not."
Crabbe grunted a string of explicatives and roughly pushed the black leather chair back. He glared at Draco as he stood up and the blonde's gaze followed him as he lumbered over to a long couch in front of the fireplace.
"You want to play or what?" Goyle asked rhetorically and Draco swiftly turned to fill the empty chair, his mind focusing on the chess pieces as his bundle of worries was pushed to the back of his thoughts.
D/G
Severus' clammy palm lightly grasped the two glass vials in his robe pocket. His long fingers ran up and down the cold lengths as his feet methodically moved in a wide oval. Only the slight crackling of the fire in the living room broke the silence of his quarters and for the hundredth time that hour he wondered what Harry was doing.
His chambers had been regretfully quiet without the noise of a teenager to fill in the gaps and again he toyed with the idea that throwing Harry out had been the wrong decision. He looked so much like his own adolescent self that it was scary but Severus still could only see James Potter when he gazed upon his son. Even though Harry had Lily's eyes and her kind smile, he saw Potter's smirk and defiant stare instead of his own expressions.
He knew it had been the irrational thing to do when he booted Harry from one of the first places he felt accepted but -
But he had no excuse. Severus had pushed Harry away just as he had done Lily and now he was going to be an instrumental part in the ploy to capture and kill him. He wanted to claim that it was to protect the boy, and some part of him truly did want to keep Harry safe, but he very easily could have revealed Voldemort's plans to the Boy Who Lived and avoided crushing his son's hopes for a real family. He could have changed his decisions and actions but he had allowed himself to fall back into his old comfortable habits in order to follow through with the plan for the larger picture.
The Polyjuice Potions rolled around in their vials inside his pocket and Severus felt their movements like a clock ticking down his final minutes. Only a few short hours remained before the Death Eaters would come waltzing through his Floo grate and began their attack on the school. The minutes could be counted, albeit slowly, and the seconds could be heard passing as he focused on his steady breathing and the familiar route of his pacing.
A handful of hours and Severus will have cemented his place in the Wizarding history books as a villain and corrupt double spy. He will have signed his name next to one of the most vicious and Darkest wizards Britain had ever seen.
Nothing could be done to prevent the attack because even if he accepted his role as a coward, closed his Floo, and took Harry with him, the Death Eaters would penetrate Hogsmeade, break down the protective wards, and enter Hogwarts through the front gates. He had no options but to play his part and hope that he could prevent Harry from being found.
Anxiously glancing at the clock on his mantle, Severus pulled his pale hand from his robe pocket and let the vials clink together. His ebony cloak billowed around his thin legs as he rapidly walked to the portrait and without a backwards glance at the room that would soon house several eager Death Eaters, he pushed open the door and set off for the Headmaster's office.
D/G
As hard as he tried, Draco could not keep his eyes from straying to the ornate grandfather clock across from the fireplace every few minutes. Goyle must have noticed this because his gaze followed Draco's with each neck rotation and after his third prolonged turn, the larger boy took to clearing his throat whenever his opponent became distracted. Draco would return his attention back to the black and white checkered board without comment and rapidly move his piece, his concentration floating away again as Gregory leaned forward to assess his own possibilities.
"You comin'?" Goyle hesitantly asked, half turned around, when the bell chimed for lunch almost two hours later and Draco did not move.
The blonde jerked his head up, his grey eyes wide as if startled by the words directed at him. His mouth opened to respond but Draco remained silent, his gaze almost blank as Goyle, now flanked by Crabbe, watched him curiously.
"Go ahead - I have some Defense homework to do," he stated.
The two boys exchanged glances, knowing full well that they did not have any assignments due this week, and shrugged their massive shoulders. They certainly were not going to let a reluctant Housemate get in the way of their attaining food.
Soon the common room was emptied of students as they trickled out for lunch. As the giant clock chimed one o'clock Draco looked up and reluctantly noticed that he was alone. Seeing no sense in wasting the few precious hours he had left, now that he was suitably companionless, he wordlessly left the dungeons and headed for the open grounds.
The air was bitingly cold for the end of March and a dense thicket of clouds covered the sun. A few students were scattered across the melting snow and grass, appearing as small as ants from his position at the front doors, but Draco paid them no mind as he slinked around the base of the castle until he was nearest the Quidditch pitch. At first he had intended to retrieve his broom and fly circles around the stadium until his body was numb or the sun went down, whichever came first, but his feet kept moving as he passed the broom shed and he ended up standing in the middle of the oval pitch with just his hands in his pockets. The sluggish blood in his anxious veins started pumping again as he climbed the wooden stairs leading up through the stands and his momentary relief of warm air was cut short as he exited the bannered tower and walked across the open stands.
Draco climbed the stairs once more until he reached the staff tower and for a long second he was captured by the magnificent view. He saw the entire structure of the stone castle and the snow capped hills appeared to roll on forever until the stark outline of the Forbidden Forest met the patchy green grass. He sat down facing away from the Quidditch pitch and with one elbow balanced on the edge of the railing, he stared out over the expanse of Hogwarts.
His ears perked up with the hourly ringing of the enormous school bell and Draco felt his panicked nerves strum with intensity as he counted each loud tolling. He was reluctant to leave the anonymity of his perch and his legs protested when he stood to stretch but the setting sun was an ominous time check and he knew that if he was caught out on the grounds after dark even Voldemort would not be able to save him from a load of detentions.
Draco snorted a derisive laugh, his blonde head hung against the fierce wind, at the notion that if he was caught and found to be in trouble, that he would somehow be safe from the Dark Lord's plans for him. Not even Dumbledore was removed from Voldemort's agenda and he was the most powerful wizard of this century's generations.
The warmth of the castle enveloped him with a shiver and for a moment Draco was saddened by the possibility that he would never walk through the front doors again. A thin aroma that he had come to associate with Hogwarts permeated his nostrils and he inhaled the familiar scent with the vague hopes of trapping the smell in his memory.
But if there were any place that he wished to meet his end, it was Hogwarts. The school had become his refuge from Lucius and his violent rants over the years. Draco could count on one hand the number of good memories he had somewhere besides this castle. Malfoy Manor had been home in name only and like so many other lost and confused magical teenagers, he found solace within these stone walls.
Every hallway held some sort of meaning to him and as Draco wandered through the corridors and up and down the staircases, he felt more at peace with what was coming. The clock ringing every hour brought less and less heightened anxiety but the tolling still rang too loudly, too obvious, it seemed, to be counting down his remaining time.
Five o'clock.
Six o'clock.
Half past six.
When seven rolled around Draco found his feet hurrying to a nearby window, wildly thinking he would see several dark figures hurrying towards the castle. His heart beat rapidly in his chest as his eyes scoured the grounds but the rolling hills and steep declines were white with a fresh, unmarked snow. Draco knew they would be appearing out of thin air, entering internally through the dungeons, and the hope that they had changed plans diminished as his hand slid into his pocket to find his wand.
He gripped the stick firmly, gaining a slight of reassurance as his magic pulsed with the object. Any minute now chaos could ensue. At any moment screams and shouts would replace the laughter and merriment.
Half past seven came and Draco found himself in the dungeons. Dinner would be starting at the end of the hour but he was rooted to the spot just inside his private portrait entrance. He had a Weasley's Extendable Ear sitting on the other side of the doorway with his own ear pressed to the opposite end, his eyes shut as he concentrated on every sound he heard through the magicked device.
The dungeons were quiet but for the distant rumblings of students going up the Great Hall and as his stomach growled for sustenance, Draco begrudgingly left his post to obtain food, his tardiness to dinner not mattering one way or the other. His nerves had returned, despite the peace he had been feeling for the past day, and every fiber in his being told him he was going the wrong way as he ascended from the depths of the castle. Every cell in his body panicked with a heavy dread that flushed his cheeks and caused a cold sweat to form along his spine and across his brow.
Nothing appeared to be amiss until he came into the first public hallway nearest the dungeons secret stairwell. Ginny was waiting for him off to the left side of the dimly lit corridor. Her fiery locks flickered with the low burning torches and her arms were crossed over her chest. She did not look happy.
Draco kept his silver gaze straight away as he neared her rigid stance and he hardly flinched as he passed her, not saying a word as he went. Ginny huffed irritatedly and he mentally counted to three, timing it correctly as her small hand grabbed his elbow.
"Quit running from me," she chastised.
"Quit stalking me," Draco quipped and took a step forward, yanking his arm from her grasp.
Ginny growled, a noise low in her chest that give him slight pause. A soft whoosh preluded a swift Petrificus Totalus and he felt his muscles betray him as his body froze on the spot.
"You left me no choice," Ginny said by way of apology.
She walked around his statuesque standing and Draco urged his expression to form a glare, his lips to move and tell her off. Ginny did not look entirely gleeful or enticed with what she was doing but he felt his body sway as she pointed her wand at his prone form and levitated him across the hallway to a large broom closet. Placing him against the far wall, she stood between Draco and the door, locking it with a strong spell, and whispered Finite Incantatem.
Draco regained movement of his limbs and immediately he removed his wand, pointing the tapered end in her direction as he glared.
"You little wench," he seethed.
Didn't she realize by now that he was avoiding her for a reason? Couldn't she get it through her thick skull that he was in danger? He was danger.
"You're a bastard - you know that?" Ginny shouted. "You lead me on and fuck with my head -" she accompanied the words with a spastic rolling of her wrist and hand pointed at her skull "and then you toss me away like I'm just your slut of the month."
Draco sneered, too eager to disappoint her and get away so that she would not be anywhere near him when chaos erupted.
"Did you honestly think that you were something special? That you would be any different than the other witches I've shagged?"
Ginny lunged forward, her face contorted in pure anger as a small fist bounced against his chest.
"You're such an asshole! I hate you!" She screamed.
"You should," he mumbled.
"I hate you - I hate you - I hate YOU!" She inhaled sharply and a hitch formed through her following words. "I hate that you're all I can think about!" Ginny punched an effortless hand against his torso. "I hate that I can't concentrate when I'm in class because I'm stuck wondering where you are and what you're doing! I hate that I can't sleep at night because I'm worrying about you!"
She breathed thickly, her throat clearly roughly as if she were on the verge of tears. Draco did not dare say a word and his arms stayed limp at his sides, his blonde head craned to watch her through the darkness of the storage room.
"I hate that I can't breathe - I can't focus - I can't eat - without thinking about you," Ginny finished in a softer tone, her own head bent so that the trailing end of her fiery sentiment was almost lost to muffling.
"I hate what you've done to me - and I hate that all you keep saying is that you're trying to protect me, when all you're really doing is pushing me farther and farther away."
Draco jerked at her final statement, his resolve to remain silent breaking as she placed all the pity on her own shoulders.
"How do you think I feel?" He shouted, his back pressing against the wooden shelves as he put some space between them. Ginny leaned away from him too, her chocolate eyes widened slightly. "I can't sleep - I can't breathe - I can't focus! Not without thinking about you! And trust me, I've tried not to. But every time I do -" Draco shrugged his shoulders as if he were not apologizing for what he did but finally embracing the actions that had worried him "I just start thinking about you again.
"You're always on my mind. Everywhere I go, I see you. Every time I open a book or sit down in a chair, I think of you. And it has nearly killed me to stay away from you - to keep giving you excuses and making you mad at me. But you have to understand that you're not putting yourself in any better situation by hanging around me - by being with me."
Ginny was - well, she was shocked. That was the most he had ever admitted about his feelings for her and her heart gave a bout of shaky leaps at his declarations.
"I can take care of myself, ya know," she commented dryly, her lips quirking a bit as she stated the obvious.
Draco growled, an exhalation blowing through his nose. "I want to take care of you! I want to be able to keep you safe without my presence impacting your survival!"
The slight smirk fell from her expression as Ginny arched her eyebrows.
"I think I should be the one to make that call."
"No! You shouldn't! You have no idea what's going to happen to me. You have no clue what danger you are in just by being around me tonight."
Her brows shot even further into her hairline, their auburn curves furrowing as they ascended up her forehead.
"Tonight? What's happening tonight?"
Draco mentally cursed himself for the slip of his tongue.
"Nothing - I meant. . . By being around me in general."
"No -" Ginny protested, her mocha gaze narrowing as she took a step towards him. "You said tonight - you meant tonight. What's happening tonight?"
Her words were rushed together at the end, her voice spiking with mounting curious anger.
"I didn't mean to say tonight!" Draco responded tensely, his tone taking on a defensive pitch as he held his emotions in check.
"But you did - you said especially tonight. What's happening tonight, Draco? Are you going to a meeting? Is he threatening you with something else?"
Draco opened his mouth to respond but the words were not to meant to leave his lips. A loud explosion echoed through the hallways and shook the stone walls of the castle.
Sharing a wide eyed glance with Ginny, he knew he would not be able to keep her from coming with him as he went to meet the Death Eaters.
D/G
Harry had hardly been able to think straight since the night before. Severus booting him from the dungeons had taken a larger toll on his ego than he realized and so far, he was not handling the rejection well.
Seeing Dumbledore sitting at the staff table, smiling and laughing with the other Professors, while the Potions Master's seat remained absent infuriated him even more. Did the Headmaster not even care that their fragile relationship had dissolved over night? Harry grunted a false laugh - of course Dumbledore didn't care about the familial ties between the two. He had probably just pretended to support their budding closeness just to keep an eye on Harry and to have another way to garner information about the Boy Who Lived. What did the Hogwarts Headmaster care if that advantage was taken away when he ultimately knew Harry would run to him for answers?
Ron and Hermione had yet to say anything about his moodiness and instead attempted to distract him with the most recent news from the Daily Prophet. The Death Eaters had gone on a spree two days before and the paper was reporting that pieces of bodies were still being found and identified. As if that were going to somehow lift his spirits.
When the bell tolled at eight o'clock, signaling the start of dinner, the periwinkle robed Headmaster took to the ornate, gold podium at the front of the raised dais and cleared his throat. The Great Hall quieted exponentially and a majority of the teenagers turned to stare at the aged wizard.
"In light of the goings on beyond the walls of Hogwarts, I am issuing a strict curfew for the remainder of the school year. Beginning tonight every student will be required to return to their House following the end of dinner where you will remain until morning. There is not a specific reason for this precaution but I expect each of you to understand the importance of your safety to myself and your Professors. Your Heads of House can answer any questions you may have and I assure you, you are much safer here at Hogwarts than anywhere else."
Dumbledore stepped away from the podium and chaos erupted in the Hall. Mostly the older Years were protesting the new rule but several of the younger students were just as upset about the restrictions. Harry was upset - but only because the Headmaster's announcement truly confirmed what he had only conjectured so far: something was going to happen soon, something that could nullify the safety of Hogwarts.
"I guess that means you won't be having your lessons with Snape anymore," Hermione interjected his thoughts. Harry twisted back around to face his best friends sitting opposite him, his emerald eyes focusing on the lilt of her right eyebrow.
He paused, not sure what to say. "I guess not," Harry replied sluggishly.
"I'm sure the old bat will be just as disappointed to cancel your training," Ron snickered.
Harry mutely nodded, his expression blanking as he reached for the serving forks atop a plate of turkey.
"Now he can turn that spare room back into whatever torture chamber he had it as before," Ron continued.
"It was probably just a storage room," Hermione admonished, fixing her own plate as she maintained her knowledgable there's-a-silver-lining-somewhere attitude. Though she soon pulled a face that she thought neither boy noticed, no doubt wondering what else Snape would have used a spare room for.
"How is the DA coming along?" Harry questioned flatly, diverging the conversation before either of them spoke of Severus again.
"Everyone's real excited, Harry!" Ron immediately responded, his shoulders hunching as he leaned forward with an eager grin.
"I have a list of the names of everyone who has agreed to participate," Hermione said. "Neville, Luna, Colin, Dean, Seamus, the Patil twins - most everyone who was in it last year."
"What about Ginny?" Harry asked, his question poised as bait to make them think he was still sniffing around the idea of getting back together with the redhead.
Hermione sniffed, her attention turning to her food as she forced out, "I have not been able to find her and ask her about it. No doubt she's been sneaking around with some wizard."
Ron's mouth fell agape at the suggestion, Harry rolling his eyes and sighing as he prepared to defuse the budding situation.
"I've seen her in the library studying a lot recently, maybe you should look there."
Hermione frowned at the idea, her bushy head nodding reluctantly as her lips pursed.
Back to shoveling food in his mouth, Ron began talking as he chewed. His excitement visibly grew as he rattled on and on about what they could learn this time with the DA and who else he thought they could get to join. Harry responded when spoken to but otherwise his mind was whirling with thoughts and ideas of what Severus and Dumbledore could be hiding from him this time. When the DA became a dried up subject Hermione began a not so discrete lecture at them about finals and preparing properly. At that Harry finally tuned out completely, silently thanking Merlin when students began leaving the Great Hall and hoping that Hermione too would want to leave soon.
A majority of the other teenagers had left the dining hall and a few could be seen loitering in the entrance way, grappling at the restrictions on their free time - and on a weekend no less.
Harry had his chin placed in his hand as he idly stared up at the Gryffindor flag hanging above them. Some of the larger plates were disappearing as the House Elves magicked them back to the kitchens and the scuffing of chairs could be heard as several Professors stood to leave.
A suit of armour crashed loudly in a nearby hallway, drawing some's fleeting attention. Peeves was most likely the culprit and everyone in the castle knew not to panic when something large randomly broke or shattered. Harry certainly did not give it a second thought as he rotated his neck and boredly stared between Ron and Hermione. His mind was elsewhere, his nerves and senses heightened through years of experience as he absorbed everything while still lost in his own head.
The moment he heard the shrill squeal of a laughter he froze, instantly knowing why Dumbledore had implemented the strict curfew. He would know that heinous peel of glee anywhere. Harry slowly turned towards the wide open doors, the room having gone near quiet with the resounding cackle. The manic bark sounded again, louder this time as the distinct sound of quick footsteps followed the noise.
When Filch appeared in the doorway, a collective breath was let out. Perhaps the cackles had only been Mrs. Norris. But then the Squib caretaker pulled a wand out of his robes, pointing it directly at Harry as a wicked sneer pulled apart his thin and cracked lips.
The clicking of heels echoed again just as another shadow appeared in the doorway.
"Aaaahhhh - home sweet home," Bellatrix stated with a mirthless laugh.
Her heavily kohl rimmed eyes scanned the shocked faces of the witches and wizards in the Great Hall, her gaze lighting up as she found the scarlet and gold robed students.
"Harry Potter -" she said his name reverently, her blood red lips curling into a malicious smirk. "You have just made this so much easier for us."
Harry whipped his wand out of its holster and jumped to his feet, his hand steady as he pointed the tapered end at Bellatrix.
"None of this will be easy," he retorted seethingly and he flicked his wrist as a spell slipped off his tongue.
A bolt of orange light whizzed past him just before an explosion rocked the Great Hall. The column ten yards behind him had exploded and judging by the aim of the two beams that followed, most of the wall or ceiling was about to be destroyed as well.
Screams of panic and shouts of anger sounded over the crumbling stone. The students were in a frenzy and the few remaining Professors were advancing to attack. Harry stole a hasty glance around the Hall before his feet picked up and he began sprinting. Halfway down the aisle towards Bellatrix's hazy black figure, a stream of bright blue magic shot towards him.
Harry threw up his arms in a weak attempt at defense and hoped that the caster of that spell knew what they were doing when they attacked him.
.
A/N: One more chapter kiddies! There's a possibility for an epilogue as well but I may just cram it all into one big finale instead of stretching it out. Who knows - we shall both see before too long.
Leave me some lovins pwease :D
