A/N: All right, lovers, for any of you out there who were playing along at home, it is time to reveal the answers to the fun little game known as Guess How Zacharias Smith Was Killed! So stay tuned, kids, because here are the answers right now!
"The truth sits upon the lips of dying men."
—Matthew Arnold, Sohrab and Rustum
ALL BUT DEATH
XVII
UPON THE LIPS OF DYING MEN
"Jesus Christ," Harry muttered, glancing around the room. "What the hell happened in here?"
Hermione said nothing, rattling off the familiar series of detection spells before sighing and stepping more fully into the room. She cast another illumination spell, an even stronger one, directly over Smith's body. Harry and Ron stepped up beside her, glancing down at the corpse in rising nausea. Zacharias was lying on his back in a crimson puddle, thick splashes of dried blood covering his mouth and chin, soaking into his shirt and staining his throat. His eyes were wide open, staring up at the three Gryffindors blankly, face expressionless, and the sight gave Harry chills.
But it was Zach's mouth that Harry could not stop staring at. It was gaping open, nearly black with blood, but Harry could still see into it and the sight made his stomach churn.
"Where did his tongue go?" Ron whispered, sounding ill. "Why is it gone? They cut out his fucking tongue?"
"Jesus Christ," Harry repeated.
Hermione kneeled carefully on the floor next to the body, avoiding the blood staining the carpet. She cast several spells and examined the corpse, saying nothing for long minutes before finally sighing and climbing back to her feet.
"This was recent," she said, staring down at Zacharias. "Like some time in the last two hours recent. I don't think he bled to death from the injury though. The way he's positioned and the amount of blood I can see in his mouth and throat, it appears that he choked to death on his own blood."
The words made Harry shudder. Everyone in that house had wished for Zacharias to shut up at some point, but for this to be the way the man had died…Harry wasn't sure if it should be considered more ironic or more inevitable. Zacharias had certainly angered someone, that was for sure.
"Fuck," Ron sighed. "This still doesn't prove a thing. This still doesn't prove whether he was guilty or innocent."
Harry stared at him quizzically, wanting to argue that between the man's death and Justin's escape, it was obvious who was guilty and who was innocent, but Ron just shook his head.
"Maybe it was Zacharias that they were really worried about talking. We all know he liked to run his mouth every chance he could, maybe they were worried he would say the wrong thing to us. The whole tongue thing can't just be a coincidence. This has to be some sort of message; he was the closest to confessing."
"It's definitely possible," Hermione agreed. "But it could be just as likely that Justin didn't appreciate the way Zacharias accused him of being guilty this morning. If Justin really was the guilty one, that surely must've angered him. Or it could be Stephen. Justin could be innocent. Maybe Stephen took him just to mess with us, or maybe we just have yet to discover the body. This could be yet another red herring, like the locked door downstairs.
"The truth is," she sighed, sounding exhausted, "all we have to go on are our suspicions. We barely even have enough evidence that can be considered circumstantial, let alone indisputable. I was really hoping we would get at least a few answers from the two of them…"
"But we only got more questions," Harry finished quietly. "We should go to the others. I agree with what Neville said earlier—Stephen is clearly still alive. This happened while we were all downstairs. Neither Justin nor Zach had a wand, so they couldn't have unwarded those doors by themselves. Stephen really is the one behind all this."
Hermione said nothing for ages, staring down at Zacharias's body as though willing it to sit up and tell them everything that had happened.
But it didn't.
And, Harry shuddered, even it wanted to, it had no tongue with which to speak.
"Come on," Harry finally muttered, stepping away from the cooling corpse. "Let's get back downstairs."
As the three Gryffindors left the room, Hermione paused to seal it behind them, but the flashing lights of her wards settling no longer comforted Harry the way it normally would.
He was only beginning to realize that there was not a single room in this house they could truly be safe in.
oOo
"That was quick," Neville said, glancing up at them. Harry stared at everyone sitting around the dining table, picking at their meager dinner. It consisted of buttered bread, cold cheeses, and wilting fruit. He thought about trying to pick at a piece of bread before his stomach rejected the idea in the very next second.
"There were…unexpected complications," he sighed, crossing the room to drop into the free chair next to Draco, and he wondered idly if it had been left empty just for him.
"Complications?" Neville's voice was serious and razor-sharp.
Hermione nodded, taking a deep breath before marching to the head of the table and staring down at everybody.
"We're going to be completely honest about the situation," she said in a low voice, "because we are all just as equally in danger. But we can't have anybody panicking or giving into hysterics. We will tell you the facts and nothing more."
Harry nodded, grateful that she was keeping their private suspicions to themselves because, at the moment, all they had to go on was speculation and wild guesswork. And he knew just how dangerous speculation could be.
"What happened to them, Hermione?" Anthony demanded, fists clenched on the table. "They're dead, aren't they?"
Hermione sighed, gaze flicking around the room. "Zacharias is dead."
A collective gasp echoed around the room. Harry saw the Slytherins all glance between one another, and he noticed Michael nodding his head, appearing to be unsurprised. Harry filed the reaction away.
"And Justin is missing," Hermione continued. "Someone broke through the wards we had placed on their separate rooms earlier."
"Wait," Parvati said, a sharp edge of panic in her voice as she sat up, "someone broke through your wards? Someone broke through your wards?" She paused to laugh hysterically. "Well, fuck. So if someone broke through your wards, then what you're saying is that none of us are safe! None of us even have a chance of protecting ourselves with wards if someone could break through your spellwork!"
Voices rose, everyone beginning to speak over one another, and Harry could hear rising panic in every single voice.
Calmly, Hermione raised her wand and shot a volley of bright sparks into the air, succeeding in silencing the room. "It will be okay," she said, but her words sounded empty, and Harry wasn't sure how much she really believed them. "The Aurors will come soon and we'll be fine, we just need to hold out 'til then. But," she sighed, "this latest incident doesn't bode well for any of us. To be honest, we're not sure if Justin is still alive, but for the sake of our safety, it'd be better to assume that he is."
"So now it's not just Cornfoot we have to look out for," Nott interrupted, speaking in his usual indifferent drawl, "but Finch-Fletchley as well. There are now two psychopaths on the loose is what you're saying."
Anthony and Michael both immediately bristled, and Harry could tell they were still struggling to accept the possibility that Stephen might be guilty.
"We're just saying that we all need to be more cautious," Hermione corrected.
"More cautious?" Anthony said in disbelief, eyebrows rising. "How the bloody hell do we even get more cautious? I can't even go to the toilet alone! And you're really saying that there's even more caution we could be expending?"
Hermione stared at him for several moments. "Yes," she said simply. "That's exactly what I'm saying. Because the truth is, Anthony, that we've been thinking every step of the way that our level of caution has been enough. But we now have a seventh body on our hands and no real way to guarantee our own safety. So I don't care if you don't like the repetition—we all need to be more cautious. Because there is always more to expend."
"More caution or more danger?" Padma asked quietly, and Hermione gave her an appraising look.
"Both."
"So what's the plan for the rest of the night then?" Nott wondered, still sounding bored, as though it didn't matter to him if they continued to track down killers or if they went straight to bed.
Hermione sighed. "I wanted to discuss that with everybody. We can continue the search if everybody would like, if that would help make you sleep a bit easier tonight. But I personally don't like the idea of us wandering around in the dark actively looking for the person who wants to harm us." She paused as several shudders rippled around the room. "The other option is to find somewhere to sleep for the night and spend the necessary time making sure it's safe."
"All of us?" Parvati asked nervously, shooting a stinging look at the Slytherins, and Harry felt his shoulders tense.
Hermione glanced at them as well. "All of us."
"All of you, maybe," Zabini disagreed, eyes narrowed. "None of us have been killed off in our sleep, and that's the way we plan to keep it. We'll be fine in the room we've been staying in."
"No," Harry interrupted, surprising everyone. He turned to the Slytherins with a serious look. "That location isn't safe any longer." He still remembered the sound of the doorknob in Draco's bedroom jiggling as someone tried to force their way inside while they all slept. "Hermione's right—the only way to get through this is to stick together. No more going off in groups. We need to know where every single person is at all times. So I don't care if there are people here who've never gotten along. I don't care how you all feel about each other—we are not splitting up. This is not up for debate."
His words fell into ringing silence. Nobody said a word for what felt like years until Hermione finally spoke.
"So," she said, glancing around the room at everyone, "we'll all be spending the night together then. There will be at least two of us keeping watch at all times, so don't worry. Malfoy," she turned to face him, and Harry could see the surprise in his eyes at being addressed. "Do you still have any more of the invigoration potion left?"
"Erm, yes," he cleared his throat. "There's still half a cauldron full and should be good for at least the next two days."
"Good," Hermione said. "We'll all stop by the potions lab as a group, and then we can find someplace big enough to settle in for the night."
Nobody looked particularly happy with the arrangement, but nobody said a word of disagreement. Nodding, Hermione sank down into a chair, waiting for everyone to finish eating. Ron snatched up a plate of food, his appetite clearly not deterred by either the danger or the sight of a freshly killed corpse. Harry felt his stomach echo hollowly but knew he would not be able to force down a single scrap of food.
Instead, he sipped at a glass of water, staring down at the table to avoid having to look at anybody. He could feel Draco's presence beside him, practically burning into him, but he could not look over. He no longer knew how to reassure Draco. He did not know how to keep Draco safe. And he could offer the man as many baseless platitudes and empty promises that he could spout, but he knew just as much how little death cared for promises. He could promise Draco the moon on a silver platter, but he also knew that he would not be able to keep such an outlandish promise, just as he was starting to feel about all the promises he had made to keep Draco safe. Would those be just as impossible to keep? Had those promises been broken before they had even been made? Harry had no idea what to expect; he had no idea what was coming or what plans the killer had for them. He didn't even know if anything so far had been premeditated or simply an impulse acted upon in that moment. He had no idea what to do or how to protect anybody in a situation such as that.
He was roused from his morbid musings by the scraping of chairs, and he glanced around to notice that half the group had risen to their feet. Hermione was staring down at him, a concerned look on her face. Sighing, he shook his head and waved her off, content to lead the back of the group with the Slytherins. He didn't really feel like standing just yet.
"How bad was his death, Potter?" Zabini's quiet voice captured Harry's attention, and his gaze automatically flicked to the man. "Smith, I mean," he clarified.
The thought of Smith's body twisted Harry's stomach, and he was glad he hadn't had anything to eat. "Bad," he said, voice dull. "Same as all the others."
"The exact same sort of bad?" Zabini pressed, and Harry wondered where the morbid line of questioning was going. "There was no excess brutality to it? No anger or rage or loathing? Everyone here hated Smith—he was possibly even less liked than the five of us. Was there any sort of emotion that you could sense in his murder?"
"No," Harry said slowly, turning more fully to face the man. "I mean, yes, it was brutal. It was awful. But really no more so than any of the previous murders. I don't think there really was anything more to it. It was horrifying, yes, but…" he paused as he wondered how best to state what he was trying to say, "in a strangely…clinical way." He wasn't sure if that word really encapsulated what he felt when he pictured the crime scenes, but Zabini was right. There didn't seem to be anything overtly vengeful in the killings. They were bloody and horrific, but it seemed to be more about shock value than outright rage. Harry had seen what murder committed from true rage looked like, and although the recent murders had been dripping with violence, they somehow hadn't been the same as some of the other murders Harry had seen in his job. There was no—he searched his mind for a word that fit—passion, he decided, in the crimes themselves. "These murders…there's something almost…detached about them. Something almost distant. They're violent, but I'm not really sure how personal. I—" his words cut off abruptly as he realized he had no idea how to finish the statement. If he was being honest, he still had no idea what to make of everything. He was still struggling to process the very first murder, let alone the most recent one.
"Is it not personal to tear a person's ribcage straight out of their chest?" Nott drawled. "I would definitely take it personally if someone did such a thing to me."
Harry cracked his neck with a frown of disgust, wishing he could forever banish the sight of Hannah Abbot's murder from his mind. "No, it's not necessarily personal. A murder can be gruesome without being personal. We still don't even know if Hannah was targeted on purpose or if it was just chance. We don't know if it was a spell or a potion in her drink. Honestly? I think this is more likely to be about creating a grisly visual than about the actual death itself. The whole thing keeps reminding me of this case I had a while back. A man was going around London mutilating people's pets and leaving them on the doorstep for the owner to discover." Harry sighed as he thought once more of Dodson and his casual, uninterested air when speaking about the horrific crimes he had committed. He had seemed almost bored when confronted with what he had done.
"Oh my god, why?" Parkinson asked, sounding disgusted.
Harry shrugged. "He liked watching the owners' reactions. He had nothing against the animals. He even told us under Veriteserum that he had no problem with animals. He killed them, but he didn't hate them. He just wanted to watch the owners' reactions when they discovered them. That was the only reason."
The Slytherins all fell silent, nobody saying a word.
"Harry," a sudden voice said, and their heads all snapped up as one to see Hermione standing in the doorway, frowning at them. "Are the six of you coming? We're all waiting for you."
Returning her frown with one of his own, Harry pushed himself to his feet and allowed the others to lead him from the room.
oOo
"So, Potter," Zabini said, adjusting the newly Transfigured blankets on his newly Transfigured bed. "On a scale of one to dead…"
"Zero," Harry interrupted. "Nobody is getting killed tonight, Zabini."
The man shrugged. "Hey, it's a legitimate concern."
"Well, not tonight," Harry said firmly, holding up the potion vial they had just retrieved from the lab. He swallowed it with a grimace, the potion tasting oddly salty. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if that was what ocean water tasted like.
"Yeah, Blaise," Nott said, lounging on his own Transfigured mattress, "Potter loves us far too much to allow any harm to come to us. The man adores us."
Harry rolled his eyes but did not refute the statement, something that caused a smirk to spread across Nott's face.
"That'll teach the rest of the world to say we're not pleasant company," he said, still smirking. "We managed to trick the Chosen One into adoring us with nothing but our lovely personalities and natural charm."
Harry rolled his eyes again, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth. "Natural charm?" he huffed, still fighting off a smile. "As if I've seen any proof of that yet."
Nott waved the words away. "Lies. Draco, do something about his dishonesty."
Harry snorted. "Yeah, Draco. Do something about his dishonesty."
"God," Davis chuckled, "we managed to find someone even less mature than Theo."
"It's just part of my natural charm," Harry retorted, a small smile still on his face.
"Is everyone settled in?" Hermione called loudly, snapping all attention onto her and away from the banter Harry had just been starting to fall into with the Slytherins. She waited, but when no one disagreed, she continued. "Okay, so Harry and Neville have agreed to sit up for the night and watch over everyone." Harry felt more than saw the sets of eyes flicking in his direction, eyeing him where he sat on a mattress near the Slytherins, who had all set up against the far wall of the large upstairs lounge they had decided on. "We've barricaded the doors," Hermione continued, gesturing to the double doors they had spent ages layering wards over, "so we should be fine. But nobody is allowed to leave this room." She paused to swing her gaze over every single person. "I placed a ward on the door to alert me if anyone touches it. If anybody touches any part of those doors, it will trigger an alarm, and trust me when I say, it will wake every single one of us up. So no going near the exit."
At her words, Harry noticed that several people looked relieved and others surprised, but it was Anthony's reaction that he could not stop watching. The man was shooting a narrow-eyed, uneasy look at the doors. The expression itched at Harry's skin like wool, and he tuned Hermione out as he wondered what exactly that uneasiness was about. Was it only fear of someone breaking through the wards? Or did the uneasiness stem from a different source?
He finally snapped back into himself when Hermione stopped speaking and silence fell over the room for several moments before a soft murmuring broke out as everybody prepared for bed. It was still somewhat early for sleep, and Harry knew that everyone would be up for a while still despite how many of them were climbing into their Transfigured beds.
"I'll be right back," Harry murmured to the Slytherins, pushing himself to his feet and crossing the long room to where the other group had set up.
"Neville," he called. The man instantly stood, following Harry to a far corner to speak.
"Listen," Harry said softly, glancing around to make sure nobody was within earshot. "Do me a favor and keep an eye on Anthony tonight."
"Anthony?" Neville's face scrunched in confusion. "What do you mean? Why?"
"I'm not sure," Harry sighed. "I just—I just have a feeling. I dunno." He wondered if he should try to explain the look on Anthony's face when he had been staring at the warded doors but decided against it in the next second. It didn't even make sense to Harry in his own mind, and he didn't think it would sound any less ridiculous out loud. All Harry knew was that the expression had made his shoulders tense.
"All right, Harry," Neville agreed slowly, eyes searching Harry's face as though trying to make sense of the request. "I already took the potion Malfoy made and Hermione brought some extra vials, so I'll definitely be able to keep an eye on him. On all of them."
Harry nodded. "Thanks, Nev. I'll be sitting with the Slytherins, but I'll be up as well if you need anything. Just lemme know."
Neville tilted his head, staring at Harry for several seconds in silence. "You really like them, don't you?"
The question surprised Harry. "I, uh…" he trailed off, unsure of how to respond. Did he like the Slytherins? He definitely liked Draco, he knew that with certainty. But the others? He thought back to Nott's indifferent mannerisms and Zabini's dry sarcasm and found himself smiling. He thought of Parkinson's fierce determination and Davis's unexpected sincerity, and the smile grew wider.
"Yeah," he finally said, voice still soft. "Yeah, I do." He laughed. "Is that weird? Seems a bit weird to me."
One half of Neville's mouth lifted in a smile. "Yeah, it's a bit weird," he admitted. "But also really not surprising. You and Malfoy make sense together, in an odd way. I can't really explain it."
Harry blinked at him, unsure what to say. He and Draco made sense together? Was Neville saying he didn't mind them being together?
"You—you know?" Harry croaked, staring at Neville with wide eyes.
Neville chuckled. "Harry, you were holding his hand downstairs. You two are always walking together and sitting next to each other. You always find little ways to touch him, on the arm or the shoulder, and I've never seen you do that with another bloke. I mean—" he continued, sounding amused, "I know that I was a bit of a late bloomer when it came to dating, but even I can recognize what's going on with you two. Neither of you is subtle, you realize."
"Oh, right," Harry said, feeling his cheeks growing hot. Were they really not subtle?
"Is he the reason you're so set on protecting them?" Neville wondered, glancing over Harry's shoulder to the Slytherins.
"No," Harry answered honestly, not even needing to consider the question. "Even if he and I weren't involved, even if he didn't want to be with me, I would still be watching out for them."
Neville nodded thoughtfully, a small smile lighting up his face. "Well, I'm glad at least one good thing has come from this."
The words made Harry flush once more as he shook his head at Neville, grinning. "I'll be over there if you need me," he said, striding back across the room to the mattress he had set up next to Draco's. He sank back down onto it with a sigh, casting a quick warming spell over his feet. Even through socks, his feet were freezing. The floors felt as though they were carved from ice instead of wood.
"So, Potter," Nott began, lounging in the same careless position he had been in when Harry had left. "What were you over there blushing about with Longbottom?"
"Sod off," Harry snorted, praying that the pink in his cheeks had faded. "I wasn't blushing, you prat. And we were just talking about things. Important Auror things."
"Suuure," Nott drawled.
Shaking his head, Harry cast another warming charm over his blanket before tugging it over his shoulders like a cape. He reached out to take Malfoy's hand in his own, grateful for the warmth Malfoy's fingers provided when they wrapped around his.
"Not going for subtlety, are we?" Zabini said, staring down at their clasped hands pointedly.
Harry snorted. "Well, according to Neville, I've never really been very good at subtlety. So why try to start now."
"Fair point to Longbottom," Zabini smirked.
Harry rolled his eyes but did not release Draco's hand.
oOo
Everything was silent. The only sounds Harry could hear were soft breaths and light snores, accompanied by the rustling of blankets and the sounds of someone shifting in their sleep. The gas lamps were still lit, dimmed but on, and Harry could see Neville on the far side of the room, sitting up and glancing around. He had an open book on his lap, occasionally flicking through pages.
Harry wished he had thought to bring a book to occupy him.
Instead, he found himself passing the time by staring down at Draco, who had fallen asleep with his head in Harry's lap. Every time Harry glanced down at him, he found himself smiling. Draco's hair spilled over Harry's thigh in a silver puddle, looking impossibly soft, and Harry was unable to resist running his fingers through it. If he had hair like Malfoy's, he wasn't certain he would ever stop touching it. It was as soft as silk and smooth as water, and now that Harry had started, he couldn't make himself stop combing his fingers through it.
Draco shifted in his sleep and Harry paused, the fingers of his right hand still buried in the soft strands of Malfoy's hair. His eyes flickered open, blinking as he lifted his head to peer around.
"Harry?" he murmured, his voice sleep-soft and thick, and the sound sent an odd shiver down Harry's spine.
He held one finger up to his mouth in a signal to be quiet, and Draco sat up with a frown, glancing around to see everybody asleep. His wand was lying beside him on the mattress and he grasped it, performing the same tricky silencing ward he had back in the library, allowing them to hear the room but preventing them from being heard.
"What time is it?" Draco asked, still sounding groggy. He scooted back to lean against the wall like Harry, their shoulders, thighs, and hips all pressed together, and Harry smiled, adjusting the blanket on his lap to cover Draco as well. Draco burrowed into Harry's warmth, resting his cheek on Harry's shoulder, and Harry's smile widened at the unexpected gesture. It was not something he had ever really pictured Draco Malfoy doing with a lover.
"Not sure," Harry answered, leaning his cheek to rest on Draco's head. "If I had to wager a guess, I'd say it's just gone four."
Draco nodded. "This is weird," he whispered, despite the privacy ward in place around them.
"What is?"
"How many people there are in here. I don't think anyone's stepped foot in this lounge in years, and now it's full of people." Draco paused for a moment. "But I think it'll be even weirder when they leave. I know that nobody here likes the thought of anyone spending real time in this house, sleeping in this house, waking in this house, especially me in regard to the others. But when they go, it's going to seem so quiet again…" He trailed off into silence, his words making Harry's stomach tighten.
"Are you still planning on living here afterward?" Harry wondered, wrapping one arm around Draco's waist and pulling him closer. Was Draco really planning on living in that awful, blood-soaked Manor by himself? Why would he do that? Why on earth would he actually want to stay there? There were already far too many nightmares woven into the seams of that house, scratched into the floorboards and soaked into the ceilings, and Harry did not want him staying by himself in such a place.
It took a while for Draco to respond. "Where else would I live? I mean, I suppose I could always move to one of the other properties on the estate…"
"No," Harry interrupted, disliking even more the thought of Draco living somewhere close by, still alone and forever cast in the Manor's icy, extensive shadow. "You need to get away from this place, Draco. I can't stand the thought of you living here all alone."
"But I have nowhere else to go." The words were feather-soft and steeped in pain, and Harry tightened his hold on the man.
"I'll help you find a place," he vowed. "Somewhere, anywhere else, it doesn't matter. I have a house I don't use, although it's not really any less depressing than this place…" he paused, wondering if he should say what he really wanted to. "Or…"
"Or…" Draco prodded, an almost knowing, hopeful tone to the single syllable. His body was tense, and Harry wasn't sure if that was because he was hoping Harry would finish the statement or hoping that Harry would not. Was it too rash a question for the current point they were at in their brand-new relationship? But Harry would never forgive himself if he didn't ask purely out of cowardice.
"Or…" he said, taking a deep breath, "you could come stay with me. I mean—it wouldn't have to be long-term if you don't want! Just until you find someplace better! But—but my flat really isn't too bad. And I even have a spare room if you'd rather stay there. I just…I can't stand the thought of you in this place, Draco. I can't stand picturing you living here all alone." Just the idea of it made Harry's chest ache and his stomach twist.
Draco sat up slowly, peering at Harry with an unreadable expression. "You want me to come stay with you? In your home?" he finally asked, unblinking in his gaze.
Harry swallowed. "Er, yes. You—you can't stay here all alone, Draco." At that moment, Harry felt as though he would have done anything, promised anything, to guarantee that Draco would not remain in the Manor all alone once everyone else was gone.
Draco reached out one hand to touch Harry's cheek with trembling fingers. The way he was gazing at Harry—as though he had never seen anybody like him before—was making Harry tremble in return.
"Okay," he whispered, startling Harry with the response. He had been expecting Draco to argue, to claim that he did not need or want anybody's help, or to claim that he was fine living alone in such an awful place, but he did none of those things. He simply continued to look at Harry, running his fingers lightly over Harry's cheek.
"Okay?" Harry repeated, speaking in the same barely audible whisper as Malfoy.
Draco smiled. "I mean, I'm not promising that we won't drive each other insane or kill each other in the first week, but…" his smile dropped, "I really don't want to stay here. And I really don't want to be alone any longer. I can't stand the silence. And I actually do enjoy being around you, however surprising that might be. And if you're truly offering…" His words sounded doubtful, as though he was expecting Harry to laugh and rescind the offer, but Harry was too busy smiling and kissing Draco to do such a thing.
"Of course I'm truly offering," Harry breathed, breaking off the kiss to speak. "I can't stand the thought of you staying here either. And I'm not promising that we'll never fight or that I'm an easy person to live with. But we can at least give it a try, right? And I do always have that house I mentioned if it gets to be too much. But…" he hesitated, searching Draco's eyes for something he wasn't quite sure he was looking for, "but I won't leave you here all alone, Draco."
Something in Draco's gaze seemed to soften, looking nearly as soft as Draco's lips felt as he leaned forward to kiss Harry. Draco didn't say a thing, but Harry could feel the words thank you expressed in every press of their mouths against one another.
Harry pulled back, casting a discreet glance in Neville's direction. He was both relieved and embarrassed to see Neville's face buried pointedly in the large book he was holding. He chuckled as he turned back to Draco, who was frowning despite the amusement Harry could see in his eyes.
"Neville said something interesting earlier," Harry said, nudging Draco's temple with his nose.
"And what was that?"
Harry smiled. "He said that we make sense together. I mean, he said it was in an odd way, but still…he didn't really seem surprised."
"Hmm," Draco said vaguely.
"I mean, I don't really know if we make sense together," Harry said, "but I'm not sure that I'm all that surprised either."
"Of course we don't make sense together," Draco murmured, and Harry's stomach dropped before he smiled as Malfoy continued. "I'm clearly out of your league."
"Sure, Malfoy," Harry said sarcastically. "You keep telling yourself that if you need to."
Draco grinned. "Thank you, I think I will."
Harry huffed, still smiling as Draco settled back against his shoulder. He adjusted the blankets covering them, taking Harry's left hand in his right, and Harry felt his smile widen. He wished that he could take Draco somewhere private, just the two of them.
"I'm glad you're here, Harry," Draco whispered, and Harry squeezed his hand tighter.
He couldn't honestly say that he was glad to be there, in that house, but he could tell Draco something far truer. "I'm glad you're with me."
Draco squeezed his hand back before settling more comfortably against him.
oOo
Draco was asleep again—Harry could feel his soft breaths against his shoulder. He could see that Draco's eyes were closed, his fingers loose and relaxed in Harry's hold. Outside, dawn was just starting to break. The sky was changing from indigo to lavender, shot through with pale rose and various blues. Everything was silent—everything was still.
And then the screaming started.
Harry jumped immediately to his feet, twisting his head from side to side as he tried to figure out where the screaming was coming from. It sounded so close, it was definitely coming from the room they were in!
Until he cocked his head and realized that the screaming didn't sound like normal screaming…there was a strange whistling to it like a tea kettle.
"The alarm!" Hermione said sharply, already on her feet with her wand in one hand. Everyone was now awake, sitting up and staring at the door in horror. She instantly ran to it and began casting spells at the door, and the screaming ended just as suddenly as it had begun. Harry, Ron, and Neville all took position behind her as she worked to dismantle the wards, and Harry turned to give Draco what he hoped was a reassuring look. Draco was sitting against the wall, staring at Harry with wide eyes, and Harry wished he could go comfort the man. But someone had tried to break in, and Harry needed to find whoever it was. Was it Stephen, or Justin? Was it both? Harry needed answers.
What felt like a million years later, the wards were finally down. Hermione cast a strong shield charm over the four of them before opening the door, and Harry raised his wand.
But there was no one there. The corridor was empty.
"Fuck," Ron swore. "What do you think? Go after him?"
"He could be anywhere," Harry said, sounding frustrated. "He could be on a completely different floor by now!"
"Half the rooms in this house are sealed," Hermione said, peering up and down the hallway stretching to either side of them. "And I'll know if someone tries to break into one of those rooms. He won't be able to hide from us forever. We only have the upper floor left to search. We'll find him."
Sighing, Harry turned back to the room. Every single person was staring in their direction, eyes wide and wands held stiffly. The Slytherins were huddled in a group, staring at Harry as though he had even a single answer to offer for their thousands of questions. Everyone's face was drawn, the air was serious, and they all seemed to look almost desperately at the four Gryffindors. He did not need to be a mind reader to know that every single person in that room was terrified for their lives.
And Harry had no idea how to protect a single one of them.
A/N: So, did anyone correctly guess Zacharias's death? Twenty House points and a Chocolate Frog to you if you did :) Aaanyway, what are we thinking so far? Anything standing out? Anyone acting sketchy? And where oh where has Justin gone? Don't worry, readers, all shall be revealed! Stay tuned for the next chapter!