Hello everyone! I know it has been a while, this story hasn't been abandoned I promise. I've struggled with my mental health this year and have found many things difficult to do. This chapter was equally as frustrating because I felt like I was rushing the plot just to fill a word count.
But I found some motivation and inspiration and got the story back on track without compromising the plot line.
So I hope you enjoy!
x.x.x.x.x
It was hours later that Draco had eased up enough to talk with Harry about what had transpired, neither had pegged the girls to be the ones behind the attack though Draco had admitted he had felt like something was off with Pansy from the start of the year.
"Girls," Draco muttered, as he held Harry in his arms, they had laid down on the Prefect's bed with Harry tucked underneath the blankets and as close to the blonde as possible.
Harry snickered and let out a laugh as Draco rubbed one of his more ticklish spots.
It was one of the mysteries that had eluded Harry since the incident happened, now he only hoped that Dumbledore punished them accordingly.
Harry should have known.
Harry should have known.
Harry should have known.
It was the following morning after Ginny and Parkinson's confession to the attack that Harry found himself in the Headmaster's office gritting his teeth as he listened to the two girls plead their case to Professor Dumbledore.
"It was an accident Professor, honest!" gnawing at the inside of his cheek Harry had to refrain from making a face at the youngest Weasley's cry of innocence.
Though as Dumbledore's eyes softened as he looked from the sixth year Slytherin to the fifth year Weasley, Harry realized with much anger that his fellow housemate was going to take the brunt of the punishment.
He felt Hermione shift next to him and briefly his eyes flickered towards her and took in her pursed lips; clearly, she had caught the exchange as well.
"It was a Halloween prank Headmaster, just something scary to liven up the night, no one was meant to get hurt," Parkinson whimpered, and Harry couldn't contain his eyes from rolling, while the Slytherin emblem was on her robes she was a poor embodiment of the house.
Dumbledore's brows furrowed as he nodded his head solemnly, hand stroking his beard as his eyes surveyed the room.
"Missus Parkinson, Missus Weasley, I'm deeply ashamed of what transpired back on Halloween, both of you have disrespected your house and your fellow students. While I do appreciate that you have both come forward," Harry's finger's clenched into the palm of his hands as he controlled the surge of anger, "I do believe a deduction of one hundred points from both houses and detention for the remainder of the year is appropriate. Missus Weasley you'll report to the kitchens every Saturday and Sunday and Missus Parkinson you'll report to Mister Filch on the after classes during the week."
It was Hermione who made a noise of frustration and Harry watched as the Headmaster looked towards her expectantly.
"Yes, Missus Granger?" pushing her shoulder's back she paused.
"Professor Dumbledore, attacking a student has a minimum punishment of suspension if not expulsion. They knowingly went out of their way to target Harry and the first years," her tone was clipped, and Harry picked up that she was angry, very angry.
Yet as Dumbledore nodded his head as if confirming what she had said both Ginny and Parkinson looked pitifully between them, Ginny shedding a tear as she looked towards Hermione.
"Hermione, I would never have gone out of my way to hurt another student. I miss you and Harry so much," her eyes glossed towards him, "You both are my friends and mean so much to me," she finished and tugged at the hem of her shirt underneath her robes.
"Potter, I've considered you a fellow housemate, and while we haven't always seen eye-to-eye, I respect you as a fellow Slytherin, and I remember my first year and I wouldn't want anything other than a normal experience for the first year's in our house," Parkinson said, sickly sweet, as her face scrunched up in what Harry assumed was to be an act of blamelessness.
Harry's stomach dropped as the pieces clicked, they had planned on getting caught, and he and Hermione had played into the trap of them getting off with a significantly lower punishment.
"While I understand Missus Granger, I do believe that Missus Weasley and Missus Parkinson both know the error of their action," it was with the dismissive tone that the Headmaster wrapped up the conversation but as he made to motion the students out of the office one of the portraits waved at him frantically.
"Headmaster Dumbledore, Headmaster Dumbledore!" it was an older man with a high-pitched voice that cried out and the group of students looked towards him interestedly as Dumbledore walked towards him.
"What is it Markus?" the voice dropped and whispered frantically as the Headmaster bobbed his head up and down.
"I see, Misses Weasley, Missus Granger, and Missus Parkinson you are free to leave, Harry if you wouldn't mind staying, I need to speak with you," the girls left, and Harry looked away at Hermione's concerned glance.
The Headmaster held the door and, turning towards him expectantly, the man caught his line of sight.
"I need to step out for a quick moment Harry," moving on autopilot Harry nodded and listen as the door clicked softly.
Humming to himself Harry peered around the office noting that the stacks of papers that Dumbledore had out regarding the Horcruxes were absent; oddly enough, many of the portraits that were lining the walls were empty and Harry could only wonder where the inhabitants snuck off too.
Trailing his fingers along the top of the nearest bookshelf his eyes wandered the titles on the spines and he tried to settle his flaring temper at the mediocre punishment levied against the two that had hurt him, Esmelda, and Anderson.
Turning slightly, he found himself in one of the alcoves off to the side. There was a plump chair with a table next to it angled just right to look out the window. It was such a secluded spot Harry could only imagine it was the Headmaster's personal space to unwind. Eyes flickering, he looked up and found himself unable to control his mouth dropping open.
Above the alcove entrance, hidden from anyone who could have stood anywhere else were four portraits, specifically the portraits of the founders. His green eyes traced each of the images; there was Helga Hufflepuff, Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin, all there, and oddly enough, all unmoving.
Standing beneath Slytherin's portrait he looked up at it curiously.
"Slytherin?" nothing, the man didn't move.
It couldn't be that the portraits were unanimated, he mused, they were the founders.
"Salazar, I need to talk to you," still nothing.
Knowing better then casting a spell at a portrait he continued to try and get the attention of the founder of his house, and the founder of his lineage, to acknowledge him.
"Look, I need to speak to you, this might be the only chance I get, please, talk to me," he pleaded and groaned as there was still no response.
"He's very particular with whom he chooses to speak too," came a light voice and Harry turned to see a warm smile directed towards him, with her bright eyes and yellow ensemble he realized who had spoken to him.
"Helga Hufflepuff?" he asked even though he knew who it was, she let out a tinkering laugh and nodded.
"Yes, that would be me, and who might you be? Not too often does anyone try to get Salazar to talk with them," she cast an annoyed look towards her fellow portrait and Harry gave her a lopsided grin.
"I'm Harry Potter, ma'am, and I need to talk with him about something really important," his eyes flickered towards the door, "I'm not sure how much time I have," whether it was his tone or body language she looked at him interestedly.
"Well Mister Potter, I can't make him talk unfortunately, but is there something I can help you with?" she asked calmly, and Harry appreciated that like so many of the Hufflepuff's he knew, she made him feel at ease.
"I, well, I need to know where he was buried, it's a long story, but there's something going on, something bad, and he was buried with something that could help me – us, the wizarding world," he fumbled, knowing he didn't have time to explain his dreams and being a descendent of Slytherin.
She hummed and looked at him thoughtfully.
"Would this have to do with our current Headmaster, Mister Potter?" he gave her a curt nodded and she looked at him sadly.
"After we died and our portraits were hung here at Hogwarts, we've been sought out by all the Headmaster's, or mistresses, during one point or another in their time overseeing the school. Many asked us for guidance, or advice, some sought out the knowledge that we had while we were alive, but unfortunately, only one has sought out some of the darkest secrets we hold," her face dropped as she glanced towards her unmoving co-founders.
"Rowena hasn't spoken since she was removed from her initial place, and Salazar claimed that he would never speak again until there was a worthy person in the Headmaster's position," Harry looked towards the stilled portrait of the Gryffindor founder, she let out a giggle.
"Godric believes he could be silent longer than Salazar," Harry's face split into a grin at that, it was such a Gryffindor thing to do.
"Why are you guys here?" she looked towards the window longingly.
"We each found our place where we wanted our portrait's to be hung, places that meant the most to us, where we could be the most useful to students, we never intended to be moved and hidden away," Harry felt a pang at his heart.
"Who moved you?" he asked softly.
Her eyes flashed.
"Headmaster Dippet moved us, later on during his career, which was very strange as he hadn't minded us where we were initially," scratching at his chin Harry looked at her expectantly.
"I'm sorry you were moved, I know the students would have loved to talk with each of you," her face lit up once more.
"Rowena asked to be in the library, so she could talk with the young minds curious about information. Salazar wanted to be hidden in the depths of the dungeons, so that those who wanted to seek him out would take the effort to find him," she chuckled as if remembering a fond memory, "Godric had a spot claimed in the Great Hall, he said that he wanted to be near the action, but," she covered her mouth effectively hiding her smile, "I believe he wanted to be near the most amount of people who would listen to his stories."
Harry grinned, imaging how nice it would be to talk with the founders, to hear their stories and information they had.
"What about you, ma'am? Where was your spot?"
She tilted her head to the side, pushing back a piece of hair that fell to her shoulder.
"Oh, I wanted my portrait to be in the Hospital Wing," something in his face must have shown his surprise as she smiled at him fondly.
"The Hospital Wing isn't just for injuries, it's traditionally a place where students go if they are missing home, hurting emotionally, or needing the comforts of a familiar place," she said, and in that moment, Harry knew that hiding away the portraits was only hurting Hogwarts.
"I'll find a way to get all of you back to your spot," he said, determination lacing his words, and she beamed.
"I would like that Mister Potter," a brief blanket of silence covered the room.
"He lies at his family manor," the comment caught him off guard and for a second he didn't recognize what she was implying.
"A family manor becomes as such after the head of the household is buried on its grounds," scratching at his throat Harry pondered what she said.
"I don't recall a Slytherin manor," he thought back to the things Blaise and Draco had talked to him about regarding purebloods and the wizarding world.
She chuckled daintily.
"Oh, it wouldn't be known as the Slytherin manor, a manor's title is passed down as the next generation builds upon it. The Hufflepuff manor was renamed once my daughter was married, and I believe she had two children of her own, unfortunately," a sad look washed over her face, "I was never able to meet my grandchildren," as soon as it clicked in his mind where Salazar was buried, he scowled, flushing a moment later at her raised brow.
"Thank you so much ma'am, for helping me, I truly appreciate it, and I know the day will come where you can be in the Hospital Wing helping students once more," biding his goodbye he waited for Dumbledore to return.
It was two hours later before Harry finally found himself back in the Slytherin common room sitting on one of the couches next to Draco and across from Blaise. Many of the students hovering around them didn't approach them but kept sending them curious glances.
"Annoying, the lot of them," Blaise sneered as a third year scuttled having been caught peeking over his text at the trio.
"Gryffindor's would have just asked what was going on," Harry mused, chuckling at the dual glare's sent his way.
He had filled them in on what had transpired earlier, and both had been furious with the lack of serious punishment for each of the girls. Draco was quick to point out that once Severus knew he wouldn't go lightly on Pansy and could possibly make Weasley's life more difficult in class.
For once, Harry wasn't bothered by the notion, Esmelda's panicked face kept appearing in his mind as with Anderson's motionless body.
He glossed over his discussion with Helga Hufflepuff and the information that the Hufflepuff founder had revealed, he needed to talk to Salazar first.
Once eight rolled around he yawned and meandered back to his room ignoring the suspicious look that his mate shot him, it had become something akin to a ritual that they alternated between sleeping in one room versus the other so sleeping alone was unusual but not unwarranted.
Sleep didn't settle with him easy as he was anxious to speak with his house founder. So as his eyes finally drooped shut, he woke in the familiar manor.
He woke in one of the random bedrooms, a guest room of sort, and it didn't take him long to start wandering the halls keeping a sharp eye out for his recent dream visitor. Glancing towards a door that he knew led into the dungeons, he shuddered. It shouldn't have surprised him that Salazar would have hidden himself in the darkest part of the manor.
Creeping slowly, he edged around the first corner at the bottom of the stairs and measured his footsteps carefully; while he knew nothing would crawl out of the shadows at him that didn't mean he wouldn't be cautious.
The dungeon space wasn't large, only a handful of rooms; some were locked while others just opened to an empty space. As his fingertips trailed the cold wall of stone he paused at the door at the end of the hallway. It was one that didn't open, and he never felt inclined to force it.
Walking the short distance to the handle he cocked his head to the side as he took note that there was a small serpent carved underneath the base of the handle. Crouching down he traced the outline of it with his thumb and hummed.
"Could it be something so simple I wonder?" he mused to himself.
'Open,' he hissed and gave a satisfied smirk at the click that came from the door, pushing it open he peered inside.
It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dark consuming most of the room as his eyes easily trailed the sides of the wall towards the lit candles at the opposite end. Sitting between the candles, thumbing a book between his fingers was the man Harry had been looking for.
"There you are," Harry wasn't too surprised that his words came out as hiss, he tended to switch to Parseltongue when he was emotional.
The man's eyes flickered upwards then back down to the page he was on.
"No need for the tone," he sneered, eerily reminiscent of the current Potion's Professor, "Why do you seek me out, after our last discussion I didn't believe you wanted to see me again," he commented scathingly and Harry had to refrain from letting his cheeks flush, vividly remembering him screaming in frustration at the founder.
"I needed to know about the Horcruxes, I've been trying to figure out where you were buried to see if I can find the information that you left and what do I learn? That you were buried here the entire time," he snipped, and Salazar's eyes regarded him attentively.
"What makes you believe I was buried here?" breathing slowly through his nostrils Harry calmed his emotions.
"I found your portrait at the school, you naturally wouldn't talk with me, but someone else did," Salazar rolled his eyes and snapped his book shut.
"She could never keep her mouth shut," he muttered with an annoyed sigh.
"She told me because she wanted to help me," just shy of explaining what had happened Salazar waved his words aside.
"I don't need to hear it, Helga was always the one with the biggest heart, she trusted far too easily compared to the rest of us," a flicker of annoyance trilled down Harry's body and he narrowed his eyes.
"She didn't do anything wrong, there's nothing wrong with trusting people," he snapped at the snort from the man across from him.
"Hufflepuff was always an unnecessary house, many of the students that were sorted with the badgers were ill fit to be at Hogwarts," the tepid anger that had been stewing reacted immediately as the wall nearest to them shattered.
"There is nothing wrong with the Hufflepuff house! Without those who are caring," an image of Hannah Abott flashed in his mind, he had watched as his fellow sixth year had taken to helping Madam Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing, "without those who are loyal, a true friend," he pictured the third year Hufflepuff's that had reached out to some of the Slytherin students to study with, he thought of Justin, of Susan, he couldn't move the image in his mind of Cedric.
"Those who have been sorted into Hufflepuff are some of the kindest people that you can meet, people who want the best from you and for you, that are supportive; Hufflepuff's shouldn't be put down because they aren't brave like a Gryffindor – being a loyal friend takes more bravery than facing down a beast in the forest; Hufflepuff's don't need to be sneaky and sly like a Slytherin to get what they want, they work for it and earn it, and Hufflepuff's brilliance can rival that of a Ravenclaw because they believe in themselves and of other's," as he thought of Neville, one of his most loyal, true friend, the door splintered behind him but Harry was too angry to care.
"You've preached being better than anyone else and because of that you've shut out people who can teach you more than you know, you hide in the shadows not realizing that in the light you can still be stronger than anyone else, no house is perfect, there are still rotten Ravenclaw's willing to cheat to be the best, cowardly Gryffindor's that feel comfort from other's success, Slytherin's who amount to nothing on their own accord, but at least, many of the Hufflepuff's I know are true to themselves more than many can say that they are," he bit out.
Closing his eyes Harry concentrated on his breathing as he could feel the swell of his magic surround him; he hated the stereotypes that came with Hogwarts houses, he hated that the magical world was divided based off status, so much could be learned from one another if wizards and witches just opened their eyes.
"Curious," peering towards Salazar's voice Harry couldn't make of the man's face as he watched his chin jut towards the door.
"I do believe you'll be useful elsewhere," shooting the founder a glare Harry turned and exited the room and the dungeon, he could vaguely hear footsteps behind him but ignored that the older man was following him.
Making his way outside Harry surveyed the grounds wondering where he could find where Salazar was buried, he couldn't imagine it being too far from the house yet – as his eyes trailed along a cluster of trees on the very outskirts, he could also imagine that the family would want some semblance of privacy.
It was mere minutes as Harry found himself pushing through trees and bushes and copious amounts of weeds before he finally made it into a clearing with a small stone building in the middle. Quirking his eyebrow up in surprise he was skeptical that he had the right place, wasn't the family supposed to be buried here? Wouldn't it have been bigger?
As if sensing his thoughts, a snort from behind him encouraged him to go further. Approaching the entrance, he ran his fingers along the gated door. The metal felt cool under his touch, yet he noticed that it was rusted.
"I'm surprised it isn't a pristine, glorified entrance to the Slytherin line," Harry mused, not expecting any response.
"We had been hunted," startled at the man's calm comment Harry peered towards him from underneath the fringe of his bang, noting annoying that he needed a haircut.
When the silence lapped for an extended amount of time Harry shifted uncomfortably on his feet, "Hunted?" he pressed, haunted eyes flickered towards him.
"We were the great house of the Slytherin line; royalty, brilliant minded, elegant beyond compare," the man preened, and Harry held back an eye roll, conveniently ignoring his disrespect Salazar continued.
"It came with a cost, the magical community wanted to destroy us, tear apart our family. We buried our secrets with us because our homes had been attacked, it was best that we didn't bring attention to where the members of the family were laid to rest," when it was clear Salazar wasn't going to say anything more on the subject Harry pushed open the door with a loud thunk as the metal hit the wall he pressed forward.
It was quite dreary, cement walls surrounded him, and it was quick work that he found himself at the top of a set of stairs heading down. Rolling his eyes at the founder's appreciation for dungeon-like areas, he treaded onward.
Another door was at the bottom of the stairs, very similar to the metal door that was at the entrance and with ease he pushed it open. Still expecting something grand from the Slytherin lineage Harry blinked in surprise at the rows of tombs that laid in front of him. There were torches in each corner that were lit and flickering but aside from that, nothing.
None of the tombs were labeled and Harry's stomach churned at the idea of opening each one, not thrilled at the idea of coming face to face with, well, whatever remained.
"Pity you didn't bother to check the archives," came a snooty comment and Harry shot the man a glare and as he went to push open the tomb closest to him and quick smack to the back of his head had him glaring.
"Don't open things you don't know the consequence of," came the cold response and Harry followed the man as he ushered him towards one of the furthest tombs.
"Here," taking some solace that the man didn't want anything to happen to one of his only two heir's, regardless of being in a dream, Harry edged forward and pressed the lid of the tomb off. It fell with a clatter and Harry's stomach eased as he realized that the tomb was void of a body, yet a small leather-bound book was in the center.
Picking up the book his shoulder eased as the magic surrounding it seemed to relax in his presence, without even having to look at Salazar's annoyed expression he flipped opened the cover to see what had been written.
Brows furrowing, he eyes stung as the lines on the pages weren't of any language he recognized. Rubbing at the bridge of his nose he squinted as his mind tried to rearrange what was etched into the paper.
Time elapsed and nothing had changed, with a huff he turned towards the smirking man leaning against the wall.
"What's it written in," he asked calmly, clinging to the small amount of hope Salazar would help him out and not make him beg for it.
The man seemed to be having an internal debate before answering, "It's in Parseltongue," came the salty-sweet tone and Harry groaned, he could speak it but had never thought about reading the language.
"I, I didn't know Parseltongue could be written," he commented, hands running through his hair lightly, this task having just become more difficult.
"Why were you able to speak in tongue when you found me earlier," blinking, Harry was thrown from his train of thought as he remembered earlier.
"Well, I was angry with you, I was frustrated that you had the information that I've been looking for," Salazar waved a hand at him, clearly annoyed.
"Skip the emotions, why were you able to speak in tongue to me, what usually enables you to speak Parseltongue," the man prodded, hair glinting in the torch light.
Harry wanted to get frustrated with the man, he had been emotional, that's probably what had triggered it, yet taking a deep breath he vaguely recalled feeling himself channel his magic.
"My magic?" he said, quite unsure of himself; Salazar huffed.
"What the dratted school is teaching you is beyond me, what happens when an individual turns sixteen?" Harry felt embarrassment coarse through him at his lack of knowledge.
"You were not born an heir to this family, by magical means you were granted ownership of a title, yet with this magic you were given traits of the family member's before you," Harry licked his lips, still not completely confident he knew how this was going to help him read Parseltongue.
"Most, if not all, individuals in this family have been trained to channel their magic into reading and understanding the Parseltongue language. It's not a trait that anyone can use as the magic hasn't evolved enough until the person is of age," Harry's green eyes trailed the lines on the pages.
"So, if I channel my magic enough, I'll be able to read it?" the man gave a curt nod.
Sighing, Harry proceeded to concentrate his magic into reading Parseltongue.
What Salazar had failed to mention to him, which in hindsight, shouldn't have surprised the teen, was that concentrating on reading Parseltongue took a lot of energy. So, as he blearily woke up the following morning to banging on his door he moaned as his head throbbed and his vision swarmed.
Stumbling to his door he panted as he opened it, the action alone making his body ache.
He felt Draco freeze but before he could fully take in what was happening, he found himself in the Veela's arms being coaxed back into bed.
"Merlin, Harry, what happened, you seemed fine last night," the blonde huffed, and Harry groaned as Draco's colder body clashed with his overheated skin.
"Did Dumbledore give you something Harry?" panic creeped into his mate's voice and Harry nodded his head sluggishly, feeling more drained than he had in a long time.
"No, he dif't give me 'nyfing," his voice seemed unrecognizable as his eyes tried to concentrate on the worried silver orbs above him.
"I, I fund Slythrin's book, for – for," he panted, feeling helpless as Draco ushered him back into bed, "Horx, takes nngy to read," he sighed and leaned into Draco's hand that started to caress his head.
"You found Salazar's book? You left last night?" the tone was guarded, yet Harry was able to pick up the tinge of sadness laced in the words, not even needing to check their bond to know that Draco was feeling hurt at the idea that he put himself in danger.
"No, no, my dream," rapid hissing came from his side as he felt Seviper slide up against his back and place his head atop his neck.
Eyes flickering shut he felt lips press against his temple.
"I'll let the Professor's know you're sick and unable to come to class, I'll back to check on you during lunch," there was a quiet murmur of 'I love you' before Harry's eyes fell shut, not even hearing the door close.
What felt like minutes, yet by Draco's gentle shaking, had been a few hours, Harry pushed himself up. Blinking, he felt more like himself, and not so drained.
"How do you feel," Draco asked immediately, as it seemed to the blonde that his smaller mate was feeling more coherent than previously, his nimble fingers traced Harry's face, through his hair, and gently tugged the green-eye teen towards him.
Harry felt warmth blossom through him as he pressed his ear against the other teen's chest, taking a moment to feel at ease at the heartbeat.
"Much better," his voice came out hoarse and Draco was quick to summon him a glass of water, rubbing his back gently and ushering him to drink slowly. Harry didn't have the heart to fight the coddling, in a way, it was nice to be fussed over.
"Care to explain to me what happened?" Harry nodded and gave the quick version of what he had learned from Salazar, watching carefully as Draco masked his reaction, yet their bond conveyed his unease.
"So, to figure out how to deal with the Horcruxes, you must learn to read Parseltongue, and drain yourself doing so, by that logic, you'll be as weak as you were this morning – what, every morning? For how long?"
Harry mulled that over, understanding quickly what Draco was eluding too, he couldn't miss the morning classes and while he felt like he could attend the afternoon lessons, he still felt shaky.
"I think with time, I'll get better at it, and I'll just have to find a way to adjust to it," worry spiked through their bond and Harry nuzzled into the crook of Draco's neck, putting the Veela somewhat at ease.
"It'll be rough for a while, but we'll figure it out," he said softly, Draco hummed.
"I'm beginning to understand your frustration with Salazar, how easily he could just tell you what information you need to know," Harry paused, agreement settling at the tip of his tongue.
"I don't think it has to do with that, he's teaching me a skill that is passed down from one family member to the next, and Tom wasn't able to learn it, and this might be my only chance to keep the family," he bobbed his head, "tradition alive," Draco peered down at him with a small quirk of his lips.
"Well, well, well Potter," the blonde teased, and Harry pushed his shoulder, squeaking slightly as his arms were caught up and his lips captured with teasing lips.
There were only light touches along sensitive skin before sharp raps at the door had them pulling apart. Blaise appeared as Draco opened the door, dark eyes skimming him with concern.
"Draco mentioned you were ill, are you better?" taking in his rumpled clothing Blaise shot his best friend a glare, the blonde returning one of his own.
Harry rolled his eyes.
"I'll be fine, Draco can fill you on what happened," brown eyebrows shot up.
"You're not planning on attending the rest of the day?" it was Draco who interjected.
"No, he needs to fully recover and despite his chipper demeanor, he needs to rest," the tone left no room for discussion and Harry bid the two goodbye and slid back underneath the covers.
"You're taking too much on," came the hiss from atop his head, Seviper's go-to spot when he was anxious.
"I know, but I need to figure it all out, before ssssomething bad happenssss," neither said anything more as unease settled in the room, Harry knew he was taking too much on, and deep down he knew if he failed, it could be costly.
The week following Harry learning how to read Parseltongue was brutal to say the slightest. He woke up each morning, shaky and sluggish, with Draco tipping a Wideye potion down his throat that helped boost his energy through the first class.
When he had explained to his friends what was happening each had their own idea how to boost his energy after Draco had warned him that he could become addicted to the Wideye Potion. Neville had suggested coffee, which Hermione had pointed out would have adverse effects on his health; Luna had opted for an herbal blend, which Hermione had made a face, and Blaise had suggested liquor or sex, which had Hermione smacking him upside the head – a fond gesture that had Blaise smirking towards her and Harry watching the exchange interestedly.
"Granger, you've nixed all the ideas, so unless you have a better suggestion, I'd say we give Longbottom's offer a shot," Draco snipped and Hermione bristled, the blonde thumbed his hand lightly as he looked up towards him with an exhausted look.
Her eyes traced his face and she hummed, "I'll do some research," and she abruptly stood up and headed away from their secluded area of the library, Luna giggled as Neville eyed the blonde.
"I'll see if she needs any help," the tiny Ravenclaw smiled lightly as she skipped the direction that Hemione had left.
"Are you going to be okay to take the final exams?" Neville looked at him, biting the inside of his cheek as Harry bobbed his head.
"I think I'll be okay; we've got about a month" he glanced towards Draco who nodded, "until final's start and most of the Professors have us reviewing material," which was mostly true, he had to finish a potion for Snape's class, a star chart with an essay for Astronomy, and some prediction of his death for Divination, but other than that, review.
"Well, if you need anything Harry, let me know," beaming towards his friend he nodded and his attention was diverted when a second year, the name completely skipping him, came over to ask Draco for help with homework.
With ease the blonde walked the twelve-year old back to where his books were laying, and Harry listened as his mate's voice became lighter with distance.
Neville excused himself as he had a prior engagement with Professor Sprout and a comfortable silence settled between him and Blaise, the latter stretching out in his chair, review sheets in front of him completely forgotten.
"I hope we have an uneventful end of term," came the offhand remark and Harry gave him a weak smile, the previous year's flashing in his mind.
"Yeah," he whispered, dread settling in the pit of his stomach as his eyes traced his mock Transfiguration questions.
It was Hermione who, unsurprisingly, had come up with a solution that would help Harry maintain his energy while not relying on any substance that could disrupt his health or potentially cause further harm.
"I believe with the correct adjustment, the Invigoration Draught could properly aid Harry with his energy," Hermione said, pushing towards him a piece of parchment with her writing scrawled across it. Draco snatched it up, eyes tracing what was written.
"Interesting, Granger, you managed to adjust the draught to accommodate the needed energy, while also taking into consideration the addictive factor of the Wideye Potion," Hermione beamed while the group looked between the two curiously.
Nudging Draco's shoulder the blond glanced slightly down at him.
"See, what makes the Wideye Potion addictive is the use of six Billywig stings, which, in single amount such as what is required in the Invigoration Draght, is harmless," Harry made a noise of acknowledgement.
"Why does the potion have to be altered?" Neville chimed in and rather be annoyed Draco turned the parchment towards him and pointed to Hermione's writing.
"When altering a potion, you have to be extremely careful of which ingredient you are changing and for what intended purpose. Granger has pinpointed that by increasing the amount of Peppermint while reducing the Honey water will increase it's longevity while decreasing the initial spike that the potion give's its drinker," he said factually, and Harry's heart swelled towards Hermione whose cheeks were dusted pink.
"Is there any danger in making these changes with the potion?" Luna asked calmly as Blaise skimmed over the parchment.
"Typically, no, yet with any potion if the dosage is too much or too little then there can be some imbalance with the results," Hermione paused, cheeks slightly puffing, "It'll take two hours to brew with these changes and the ingredients can be used in the after-class Potion's lab," her underlying question wasn't missed.
Draco raised a blonde brow.
"I believe neither of us have rounds tonight, after dinner then Granger?" a warm feeling settled in his stomach as Draco and Hermione went over the potion once more and Blaise taunted Neville with more Herbology nonsense.
A tugging at his arm had him glancing towards a smiling Luna.
"I'm happy too," she whispered, and for that moment, he let himself indulge in the feeling as well.
It was two weeks before finals began that Harry and the other sixth years, and most of the student body, felt the pressure of exams. Teachers were cramming review after review and while no homework assignments were due there was a level of expectancy to complete the optional review.
Harry had managed to read half of Salazar's book and while he still hadn't found anything about the Horcruxes he had learned a lot about the man himself. Salazar was present each night, reminding him to concentrate when his mind would wander, and to clarify something when his magic mixed up words or phrases.
Yet, the man didn't explain anything that was written, even when Harry pressed him with questions.
The modified Invigoration Draught had done wonders and Harry felt himself able to balance it all. He was still cautious, because while everything was going fine, that seemed to be the problem.
"The rumor mill is wondering when something will happen," Blaise muttered, nudging Harry over as they walked by some adults headed into the nearby building.
It was the last weekend that students were able to meander through Hogsmeade and Harry was soaking up the sun that he so desperately missed while he was in the dungeon's. There weren't too many students who took advantage of the break ask they flooded to the library to get some extra time in to study but Harry was jittery, he needed a break.
Draco had wanted to join him, but it didn't take a mind-reader, or their bond, to know that the blonde was one of the many who wanted to study. Harry had offered to stay, knowing it would put the Veela at ease, but the blonde had quickly disagreed reminding that Harry that he was entitled to do what he wanted without feeling obliged to alter his plans to placate him.
Nothing more had been said but when Blaise had snapped his quill in half and chucked a textbook across the common room, barely missing the Head Girl, Harry had suggested taking a break and accompanying him to Hogsmeade. It had made Draco feel better and Harry was excited to get out of the castle.
Harry nodded; he had felt the tension rise as each day leading up to exams seemed to be weighing heavily on everyone's mind. The younger students didn't understand, the Slytherin first years were happily chatting at meals whereas the seventh year seemingly always had their hand on their wands.
"It's not too unusual that nothing has happened," knowing that Tom was regaining some of his memories the man wasn't plotting an attack though his last letter had alluded to some unalignment among his followers.
"While you're right, it's not the enemy that I'm worried about," Blaise said lightly, and Harry picked up on what he was implying.
Dumbledore had been more reserved in the last few weeks than he had ever been. He'd wander the halls, nodding to students, but never really engaging with them. There were days he'd be absent from breakfast and lunch and arrive at dinner seemingly exhausted. Gossip spread through the halls that he was finding a way to defeat the Dark Lord, but Harry knew better, knew that the man so many trusted, was the enemy.
Neither spoke as they rounded the corner, yet Harry caught Blaise's excitement as he was pressed towards the bookstore.
"Books Blaise? What could you possibly need?" he teased, and the Prefect pushed him playfully, scowling at his cheeky grin.
"I don't need anything, but Draco's gift should have arrived, and I specifically had it sent to the shop rather than delivered by owl to the castle, he snoops, and I've learned my lesson," Harry bit his lip, all playfulness gone.
He had felt embarrassed that they hadn't talked much about birthday's, especially since none of his were memorable, until Draco had bemoaned about his parents plan for his birthday celebration at the manor two weeks after term ended.
"It's always been an inconvenience that my birthday has landed traditionally during exams, yet mother and father have always planned something," Draco said exasperated and Harry had given him a weak grin, not understanding the feeling of a birthday celebration.
The relationship between Draco and his parents had been quite tense since the disaster during Easter break. His mother had sent him a few letters while his father had been quiet, yet as their only son's birthday came closer it seemed as if excitement seeped into the letters.
Harry didn't realize it until Blaise had explained it to him that when they celebrated Draco's birthday, it was a large, decorated, over the top celebration and that most of their year was invited.
Draco didn't seem to think much of it, that Harry was invited, regardless of what his parents said of the matter, and neither did Harry until he realized that he didn't know what to get the blonde.
The Veela had everything he could want and if he didn't have something, he could easily get it. Harry knew clothes were out of the option, as he had awful taste, same with jewelry – not wanting to repeat a similar gift he had got the blonde for Christmas, but then his mind was blank.
"Something practical, he likes to study, so a charmed planner and organizer," Hermione had suggested, and Harry winced, he couldn't imagine getting Draco something like that.
"Create something, you know he'd love anything you'd make," came Luna's suggestion and while that idea had merit, he didn't have a creative bone in his body.
"Perhaps a date? Take him somewhere special?" Neville offered, having lost most of the insecure feeling when he was around the Slytherin's, Harry had pondered that idea yet didn't know where would be elegant enough to take someone as posh as Draco.
Blaise's suggestion had made him blush and slam his hands over his ears as the teen cackled madly much to Draco's confusion.
So, Harry watched as Blaise meandered into the bookstore after making a promise he was only going to wander the area; and his feet lead him to a familiar storefront.
Newtman's Jewelers
Deciding it would be better to have something than nothing at all he pressed the door open and peered around the quiet entry way. As it had been before there was no one else shopping and Harry could only wonder how it had managed to make profit.
"I see you're back Mister Potter," came the warm voice and his eyes widened in surprise as the same man that had helped him before the Christmas holiday's came around the corner of the shelf.
"You remember me?" he asked, bewildered, the man chuckled.
"I try and remember all of the customers that I have sold something too, did your boyfriend like the pocket watch?" Harry nodded his head, eyes trailing the shelves.
"He did, it's one of his favorite accessories," he said with a fond smile, which was completely true – Draco had a habit of making sure his pocket watch was always on him and had even charmed it unbreakable when he played Quidditch.
"Were you hoping to find something else for him today?" the man pressed gently, and Harry hummed.
"I am Mister - " his face flushed as he realized he had never caught the man's name, the gentleman waved his hand in understanding.
"I'm Alexander, Alexander Newtman. My great-grandfather was the original Newtman that opened this shop, and every member of the family has run it at one point in their life," Harry marveled at that, which made sense seeing as the shop had an old feel to it.
"I appreciate the help you gave me last time Mister Newtman, I'm not sure what I'm looking for today, I'm not the best with gifts," he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as the shop owner bobbed his head.
"Please call me Alexander, now Mister Potter, what are you wanting your boyfriend to feel from the gift?" licking his lips, Harry squinted his eyes lost in thought.
"I want him to know how much this year has meant to me, it hasn't been perfect by any means. We've had our ups and downs, but I've loved the time we've spent together and how much our relationship has grown," fighting the blush he could feel blossoming on his cheeks he jutted out his chin, Alexander regarded him curiously and beckoned him towards the back of the shop.
They walked past the sections he had seen before until they got to the furthest corner of the shop. Harry looked at the cabinet interestedly as there didn't seem to be a theme of what they items were. Alexander grabbed a flat stone from the top shelf and rubbed it gently before presenting it to Harry.
From what Harry could tell, it was a normal stone. It was flat, grey, and incased in a silver chain. Weighing it in his hand it felt light and smooth to the touch.
"This is a memory stone. It acts very similar to a Pensive but without allowing to viewer to step into a memory it enables them to feel the emotion of the person's memory," Harry gaped, this was an impressive piece of magical work, "Unlike a Pensive you won't be able to add additional memories too it, so after you cast Locus affectus you'll want to recall the memory as it was and let the feelings of that moment channel through your magic and into the stone. Once you give the stone to your boyfriend, he'll say Memento affectus and be able to feel what you had felt. You can add as many memories as you can recall as you cast it but once you stop you won't be able to cast the spell again," the man warned and Harry's heart swelled at the gift, it was something truly perfect for Draco.
"This is amazing, how did you come by it?" he felt like he was taking something precious and rare, the shop keeper laughed.
"My Uncle has been the only one to craft these stones and when he died, he didn't pass the trait on, so I'm very particular about who I show these too," feeling his heart swell he felt extremely grateful.
It was another ten minutes before he had the purchase neatly in a bag and walking down the path towards a panic-stricken Blaise who seemed to deflate as he approached him.
"Merlin Harry, I think I foresaw a hundred different ways Draco would have murdered me if I had lost you," rolling his eyes Harry enjoyed the playful banter as they made their way back to Hogwarts.
The end of year exams began with a flurry of stress and Harry felt as if he was being pulled into a million different pieces trying to keep from snapping at Draco or one of his friends. Everyone was increasingly on edge as nothing bad had happened as many had come to expect, for a moment even Harry felt himself easing up from a perpetual state of anxiousness.
It was the third of June and just two days from Draco's seventeenth birthday and Harry had finally managed to find time to put memories into the stone and wrap the gift. They'd have exams on his birthday and the day after, but he knew he could coax his mate into an hour or so of time to themselves seeing as they only had a few moments in between exams to spend with one another.
Harry, Draco, Blaise, and their mixed group of friends were sitting in the courtyard after lunch taking advantage of a late evening exam when Professor Flitwick approached them.
"Ah, there you are Mister Malfoy, I have time now to go over your assignment questions," Harry watched as it took Draco a moment to remember the questions he wanted to discus, Professor's were so busy trying to help all the students of the different years that it could take a few days before having a one-on-one meeting.
"Thank you, Professor," watching fondly as his mate walked away he ignored the coo's coming from Blaise, sending Hermione an appreciative smile as she flicked his ear making the sixth year Prefect whine.
He had his Divination exam with Blaise next and waved goodbye to his friends knowing that Draco would have his Arithmancy exam with Hermione, the group had promised to meet up each evening after they finished exams for the day.
What Harry hadn't expected was Hermione's panicked face as she rushed towards him, his heart sank as he realized the blonde wasn't with her.
"What do you mean he never showed," Blaise snapped, but Hermione didn't seem upset at the tone, her hands shaking slightly.
"He wasn't there, he never showed, we were going to go over chapter thirteen because we debated about it, but not chapter twelve, he said that one was too easy," she was rambling and Harry reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, his heart was pounding, and he felt sick to his stomach yet he attempted to give her a reassuring look.
"Let's split up and look for him, Blaise will you check with Professor Flitwick?" the teen nodded and turned with Hermione on his heels, both Neville and Luna looked towards him expectantly.
"Check the Great Hall and the library," they nodded, and Luna looked at him carefully.
"Where are you headed Harry?" she asked softly.
"I'm going to check the dorms, in case he left a note," they split up and Harry felt himself speed past the students mingling in the halls, ignoring the looks shot his way. His heart hadn't stopped racing, it wasn't like Draco at all to miss an exam, probing their bond his concerned intensified as he felt nothing from the other end – even as he pushed his worriedness there wasn't a reaction.
He made a beeline for Draco's room, and once inside noted that nothing was out of place, everything was as neat and organized as it had been that morning down to the sock that had been left in the corner that he had tossed aside just to tease the blonde. As nothing was amiss, he headed towards his room, hand lingering on the doorknob as something felt off, nothing great, just slightly off. The wards that he had up since the beginning of the school year were still in place and not tampered with, but he felt nervous as he pushed his door open.
His room was as it was when he scrambled to get his bag this morning, the bed wasn't made, and he had two robes on the floor and one hanging from the edge of the closet.
Still, something felt off.
"Ssseviper?" it was unusual that his friend wouldn't immediately bombard him when he entered his room, even asleep his cold-blooded familiar would wake to pester him about his day.
Silence was his only answer and his stomach churned once more.
Looking at the top of his canopy he couldn't find his friend nor underneath the closet. Turning towards his desk he felt his heart sink and beads of sweat pool at the base of his neck.
There was Seviper, curled up motionlessly and unresponsive. Placed innocently next to him was a white box, the size of the palm of his hand with a folded piece of paper atop it.
"Ssseviper?" he said once more, reaching out he traced the familiar scales that didn't move with his touch.
With a shaky hand he waved his wand over the snake and waited with bile in his throat as a piece of parchment was summoned and words began to appear. All he recognized was that there was a heartbeat but the pounding in his head and ringing in his ears were distracting him from what was wrong.
He grabbed the piece of paper folded on top of the box and as his hands shook and mouth dried up, he read the somewhat recognizable penmanship: apparition point.
Still somewhat confused he opened the box, blinking once, then twice, he grabbed the wastebasket at the edge of his desk and threw up in it. Heaving again he brushed away the tears that were streaming down his face and looked at what was inside the box once more.
In the middle of the box laid the pocket watch that he had got Draco for Christmas. Yet it wasn't the watch that had made him sick, it was the copper smell that wafted up from it and the dried red stains that blemished the traditionally polished silver.
It was blood covering it, and Harry knew immediately whose blood it was.
Draco was bleeding, someone had taken him, and Harry had one guess to who that was.
Dumbledore had Draco.
x.x.x.x.x
Thoughts or comments? Any idea as to what Dumbledore has been up too?
Till we read again,
Fennekitten.