"Fear is the relinquishment of logic, the willing relinquishing of reasonable patterns. We yield to it or we fight it, but we cannot meet it halfway." Shirley Jackson, The House on Haunted Hill
ALL BUT DEATH
XV
THE RELINQUISHMENT OF LOGIC
"Veritaserum?" Malfoy's voice was surprised. "No, I don't keep any in the house."
"Damn," Harry exhaled, rolling his shoulders. But no matter how much he rolled them, the tension still remained, clinging to his muscles like glue.
"You really can't figure out which of them did it?" Zabini asked, only the barest hint of accusation in his voice. "There are only two suspects."
"It's a bit more complicated than we initially assumed," Harry said, wondering if his voice sounded as tense as he felt.
"In what way?" Nott drawled in his usual bored tone.
"In a complicated way."
"And you can't uncomplicate it without truth serum?"
"It would definitely make it a lot easier," Harry shrugged, rubbing at his left shoulder. "What about brewing it?"
"We could," Draco began hesitantly, "but the potion takes two weeks to complete, I'm afraid."
Sighing, Harry nodded. He should have known that nothing about the situation would ever be so easy.
"So what are the complications?" Nott asked again, drumming the fingers of his left hand against the armrest of the chair he was sat in.
"Just a few things we're still trying to sort through," Harry answered evasively, trying to sound as vague as he could whilst hoping it would be enough of an answer.
But of course it wasn't. Damn Slytherins.
"Like what?"
"Like things, Nott," Harry sighed, raking one hand through his hair. "Things I can't really discuss."
"Fine, Potter," he drawled, "keep your many dark secrets."
"So what's being done with Smith and Finch-Fletchley while you sort out the mysterious complications?" Blaise asked.
"They're both locked up for the time," Harry responded, swinging his arms. For some reason, he felt restless and itchy and wished he had the option of going for a run around the property. Lord, he was getting sick of being cooped up inside all day, and he knew that if they didn't find a way out of the house soon, everybody would start going stir-crazy. And that would only increase the panic and desperation already hanging heavy over the manor. Fuck, Harry hated feeling trapped. It made his chest throb and his bones itch, and he continued swinging his arms, knowing the movement was not enough to burn off the tense ball of energy coiling tighter and tighter within him.
Fuck, he needed to move. He needed to do something.
"I'm gonna go speak with Ron and Hermione," he said, unsure if he really would go speak with them. They were still inspecting the latest crime scene, going over the room with a fine-toothed comb looking for more clues. Harry wondered if anybody in the house would notice if he ran up and down the grand staircase a few times. Or maybe he could find a nice empty room and do push-ups until his arms were seconds away from dropping off. "I'll be back in a bit," he told the Slytherins. And without another word, he turned and strode from the room, knowing they would automatically ward it shut behind him.
But the sound of approaching footsteps had him whirling around, wand clenched tightly in one fist. At the sight of Draco standing less than a meter away, he lowered his wand, heart suddenly pounding for completely different reasons. He and Draco had barely had a chance to speak to one another since the previous night; why had Malfoy followed him?
"Can we talk?" the blond asked, one eyebrow raised.
"Talk?" Harry echoed, throat suddenly feeling dry.
"Yes," Draco nodded, and without waiting for a response, he snatched at Harry's wrist, dragging him down the corridor and all but throwing him into an empty room.
"Er…" Harry hesitated, glancing around at their surroundings. It was a spare bedroom, one with cold walls the color of smoke and an ebony floor. The sound of a lock sliding shut got his attention, and his gaze snapped back onto Malfoy, who offered a sultry smirk before striding up to stand only inches away. "You—you wanted to talk?"
"I think we've already talked enough, actually," the other man murmured, lifting one hand to cup Harry's jaw. He stared into Harry's eyes for several moments before leaning forward to press a warm kiss to his mouth, and Harry did not hesitate to kiss him back. Instantly, he seemed to relax, feeling his body finally calm down as the thrumming beneath his skin began to slow, the burning ball of energy finally beginning to quiet.
Pulling back, Draco's mouth curled into a smile. "Turn around," he instructed, smiling at Harry's confusion. "Trust me."
Hesitantly, Harry turned around, wondering what Draco was planning to do. But the next second he no longer had to wonder as Malfoy began to knead the stiff muscles of his shoulders. A groan escaped his mouth as he dropped his chin to his chest. Lord, Draco's hands felt amazing.
"You're so tense, Harry," Draco whispered, deepening the massage. "You need to relax."
"Can't," Harry mumbled. "How does someone relax after this morning? Another body, two suspects, a million more questions, zero answers, and still no way out of this mess. None of it—"
"Shhh," Draco said, pressing a kiss to the back of Harry's neck. "This is what I'm talking about. I know that everything this morning has been terrible. And I know that our situation is far from ideal. But you winding yourself into a walking bundle of stress is not going to help. Just take a break from it for a bit. Just a few minutes. And then if you like you can go back to looking as though you're only a moment away from tearing at your own skin."
"I should go help Ron and Hermione," Harry protested, already knowing that his body would not be able to walk away from Draco at that moment. "They're still examining the scene and I should be—"
"You should relax, is what you should do," Malfoy interrupted, earning another groan from Harry as he dug into a knot on Harry's right shoulder. "Just relax, Harry, please. Let me take your mind off everything for just a minute."
"Just—just a minute," Harry said hesitantly.
"Then I better make the most of it," Draco murmured, and in the next second, he had spun Harry around before beginning to steer him back toward the bed, smirking as Harry collapsed in an ungraceful heap on the mattress. His lips twitched as he righted himself into a sitting position, but the expression vanished in the very next second.
"What are you doing?" Harry whispered as Draco unexpectedly dropped to his knees, shifting forward to settle between Harry's thighs.
"Helping you to relax."
And even if Harry wanted to respond, he found that he couldn't when Malfoy was kissing him so intensely. He slid one hand into Malfoy's hair, holding him securely in place as he returned the kiss, pouring every ounce of stress and fear into it. Draco moaned as he shifted closer, reaching down to run his hands over Harry's chest and stomach, mumbling curses into Harry's mouth about the robes preventing all access to skin.
"These need to come off," Draco muttered, pulling back far enough to speak as he fumbled for his wand. "I know they're technically my robes, but right now, I really hate them. I'm going to take these off."
When no word of protest came from Harry, Draco flicked his wand and Harry suddenly found himself naked, shivering into the chill of the room. Draco flicked his wand again and Harry felt warmth settle over the two of them, smiling gratefully down at Draco for the spell.
"I'm going to suck you off," he said in a low voice, and Harry shivered again, despite the new warmth hanging over them. "I've been wanting to do this ever since you walked into the dining room that very first night, looking the way you do. Fuck, Potter, you don't have the slightest idea, do you?"
Harry wasn't quite sure what he was talking about, but his brain just didn't have the capacity at that moment to focus on anything outside of the feel of Draco kissing a burning path down his throat and chest, pressing wet kisses to his stomach and biting lightly at his thigh.
And then, his cock was in Draco's mouth and Harry's entire world was perfect. He knew it was not an appropriate time for the two of them to be doing such a thing, but at that moment, Harry couldn't make himself care even if he were to try. Because Draco's mouth was perfect, and Draco was perfect, and they felt perfect together.
Burying both hands in Draco's hair, Harry released a breathy moan, one that seemed to spur Draco on. He stroked the base with one hand as he bobbed his head, pulling back every now and then to suck only the very tip before ducking down and swallowing nearly the entire thing once more.
"Draco," Harry breathed, wanting desperately to kiss Malfoy at the same time he never wanted the man to stop what he was doing. "Draco, fuck."
"Later," Draco promised, pulling back to smirk before continuing where he had left off with no warning. Harry's back arched as Draco gave a particularly hard suck, tightening his hold on Draco's hair out of instinct. A moment later, he forced his hands to relax, hoping he hadn't accidentally ripped any of the blond strands out or hurt him.
But Draco said nothing, only continued to make Harry feel more incredible than he could remember feeling in a very long time.
"Draco," he choked, a moment before coming so hard he thought he might actually go blind from the force of it. Panting, he forced his eyes open, noticing that he seemed to be looking up at the ceiling. He was lying flat on his back, apparently having collapsed backward onto the mattress. He was breathing heavily and his limbs felt shaky, but he felt amazing. Christ, how he felt amazing.
"Come here," he said thickly, gesturing to Draco, who climbed up onto the bed and lay down beside Harry, one eyebrow slightly raised. Pulling him closer, Harry didn't hesitate to press their mouths together, understanding Draco's earlier frustration with the robes as he placed one hand on Draco's chest and encountered fabric.
Growling into Draco's mouth, he fumbled blindly around the mattress until he encountered his wand, flicking it and smiling to himself in satisfaction as the robes vanished, leaving nothing but miles of pale skin on display to Harry's eyes. Harry broke the kiss, unable to keep from looking at Draco's uncovered body. It was beautiful; he was so beautiful. His skin was as pale as snow but warm to the touch, the muscles in his abdomen clenching and twisting as Harry dragged his hand over every inch of the man's torso he could reach.
"Fuck," he whispered reverently to himself.
"Later," Draco promised again, squirming as he silently pleaded with Harry to move his hand lower.
With a smile, Harry bent forward to capture his mouth in a kiss before trailing his fingers down to finally grasp hold of Draco's cock, which was somehow warmer than he had been expecting. He began to move his hand slowly up and down, relishing the way Draco whimpered and sighed as he pressed himself closer to Harry's body. Harry released him long enough to snatch at his wand once more, casting a quick lubrication spell before continuing to stroke him. Draco clutched at his arm and moaned into his mouth, unable to remain still as he twisted and writhed. It was the hottest thing Harry had ever seen. He pulled back to watch for several moments before kissing Draco even more fiercely, tightening his grip and speeding up the movements of his hand.
"Harry," he groaned into the kiss, shuddering a moment before Harry felt warm liquid on his hand.
Slowing his movements, Harry waited until Draco had melted back into the mattress before releasing him, sitting up enough to cast a quick cleaning charm over the two of them before laying back down and pulling Draco into his arms, feeling the man's heart beating in his chest.
"How do you feel now?" Draco asked quietly, tracing patterns over Harry's torso with one finger.
"Better," he said simply. "Thank you."
"Glad to be of service," the blond remarked, a smile in his words.
Harry chuckled. "Feel free to service me any time then."
A mischievous smirk crossed Malfoy's face at the words. "Careful," he said slyly. "I may just take you up on that."
"You say that like you think I'll mind," Harry snorted.
"Can I ask you a question, Harry?" Draco began hesitantly, taking a deep breath when Harry nodded. "Is this…whatever this is…is it only meant to last for the duration of our entrapment here? Or is this something you want on the outside world as well? I—" he continued before Harry could speak, "I just want to be prepared for either outcome and I would prefer to know now, just so I'm not caught off guard by your decision."
"Draco…" Harry trailed off, uncertain how to answer. Of course Harry didn't want this to be some sort of casual, temporary thing. Harry didn't do flings.
"Mostly," Malfoy said, staring down at Harry's chest rather than his eyes, "I just need to know if you would prefer it to remain a secret. I mean," a grimace crossed his face, "the other Slytherins all know, but you know that nobody listens to or believes a single word we say, which I suppose might be a relief in this case depending on what you would prefer."
Harry stared at him for several moments, trying to figure out how best to word his rampaging thoughts. "Do you really not know me at all, Draco?" The question succeeded in snapping Draco's gaze up to meet his own. "I mean, do you really think that I'll ditch you the second we get out of this house? This isn't just some temporary fling I'm using as a distraction from everything horrible that's happening. I like you, Draco. I really like you." He reached out to stroke the back of one finger down Malfoy's cheek, who was not even blinking as he listened to Harry. "And I don't necessarily think it's appropriate to broadcast our relationship to everyone in the midst of such terror and grief, but…"
"But what?" Draco breathed, frozen in place as he waited for Harry's response.
"But I like you. And I don't mind who knows that we're together. I would never get involved with someone I wasn't comfortable taking out in public. I would never get involved with someone I felt I had to hide away from everybody."
"Not even if I'm me?" The question was asked so quietly that Harry had trouble hearing, even though he and Malfoy were wrapped around one another.
One corner of his mouth pulled up in a small smile. "Draco," he said gently, "you say that like you think we're strangers or something. It's because you're you that I'm with you."
Draco said nothing, dropping his head to Harry's chest and squeezing him so tightly that Harry had trouble breathing for a few moments. He mumbled something into Harry's skin that he couldn't hear, and it was something that Harry was quite sure the blond did not actually want him to hear.
Smiling to himself, he ran his hands lightly up and down Malfoy's back, luxuriating in the warmth of another person's body pressed so tightly to his own. It had been such a long time since he had last held anyone or been held in return. It made him feel safe, in a way that nothing else seemed able to.
"I'm glad you invited me to this party," he murmured, cringing in the very next second. "I mean—I-I don't mean that I'm glad that any of this is happening! I just mean that, you know—"
"It's okay, Harry," Draco interrupted, a soft smile on his face. "It's okay. I know what you meant. At least there's one good thing to come out of the horrific nightmare this party has unfolded into." His words were tender and he was still smiling, but there was a sadness to his expression like a lingering shadow, one that Harry did not like to see cast over the man.
Reaching up, he traced Draco's cheek with one thumb. "It's not your fault, Draco," he whispered. "Whatever's happening, it's not your fault. I know that none of you are the ones behind this."
The sadness on Malfoy's face grew more pronounced. "You say that as if it even matters. We'll be blamed regardless of fault. We already have been blamed regardless of fault."
"We'll figure out who it is," Harry promised. "I swear it. We'll figure out who's behind this and we'll get out of here and I'll tell everybody who the real culprit was. I won't let you lot take the blame for it."
A smile flickered across Draco's face before vanishing. "Which of them do you think it is, Harry? Smith or Finch-Fletchley?"
"Honestly?" Harry sighed, wondering how much he should reveal to Malfoy. "I think it might be both of them. There was something just a bit off about their reactions to the evidence that I can't put my finger on. But we still have no idea where Stephen is. I'm sure that it was either him or Smith who tried to break into your bedroom last night. The room they were staying in is in the same direction whoever it was ran in. It was definitely close to where I heard the door slam. Ron thinks it's Zacharias, but Hermione seems more uncertain." He sighed again, shifting into a more comfortable position. "I know that Ron wants to interrogate them again, so that's most likely what we'll be doing later."
"What if they won't cooperate?" Draco whispered. "What if they won't tell us how to get out of here?"
"I don't know," Harry admitted. "They know that we'd never torture them for the answer, and there's no threat of Azkaban hanging over them while we're in here. There are a few different ways we might be able to get an answer, but they're not nice ways and I would really rather not resort to using them."
Draco nodded, lapsing back into silence.
"I should probably go," Harry said after long minutes of silence had passed. "I really do need to find Ron and Hermione and speak with them."
"All right then," Draco said reluctantly, tightening his hold on Harry for a moment before releasing him. "Do you feel a bit better now though?"
"Loads," Harry said truthfully. The restless itching in his bones had stopped, making him feel like he could think clearly once more.
"I'm glad," Draco murmured, stealing a kiss before glancing around for his robes. They were several meters away, lying in a crumpled heap on the floor. Harry had meant to send them to the armchair near the fireplace, but he supposed getting them where they were was impressive enough with how distracted he had been at the time. At least he hadn't Vanished them forever.
They dressed slowly, each lost in their own thoughts. "Come on," Harry said quietly, reaching down to twine their hands together before beginning to pull him from the room. Draco kissed him once more before the door was opened and they were back out in the dreary darkened corridor, the shadows seeming to have somehow multiplied. Lord, it wasn't even midday.
"I'll walk you back to your bedroom," Harry offered, beginning to lead Draco in the direction of his door. They stopped outside of it and stared at one another, Harry feeling suddenly shy.
"Be careful," Draco ordered, releasing Harry's hand to hold his head in place with both hands. He gazed into Harry's eyes with a serious look.
"I will be," Harry promised. "I'll be fine. You lock the door behind you and barricade yourselves in, got it?"
"Sure," Draco said softly, eyes searching Harry's face.
Slowly, Harry bent forward, allowing his eyes to slide shut as he pressed a kiss to Draco's mouth, who did not hesitate to deepen it. God, how Harry wished he could stay right there, wrapped around that man forever. He just wanted the horrors of the last few days to fade away, to become nothing but a distant nightmare. He just wanted to forget everything and lock himself away with Draco for the rest of eternity.
But he couldn't.
Breaking the kiss, he pulled back to study Draco's face, noting the flushed cheeks and the quickened breathing. "I'll be back soon," he vowed, laying one hand over Draco's heart and feeling it pound beneath his fingertips. They stood that way for long moments, Harry taking the time to re-center himself and remind himself that Draco was still alive; he was unharmed. As long as Draco was okay, Harry could get through this. He could face the latest horrors and get them out of this awful situation.
Draco nodded, saying nothing as Harry reached past him to rap sharply on the door. "It's Harry and Draco," he called, the two men waiting as the barrier of spells were removed and the lock slid open.
"Hurry back, Harry," was the last thing Draco said before the door was closed and Harry was alone in the corridor with nothing but the shadows to keep him company.
oOo
"Oi, where you been?" Ron demanded the second Harry found him and Hermione. They were standing outside the room the Hufflepuffs had spent the night in, speaking in low voices.
"Er, just checking on the Slytherins," Harry said, shrugging as casually as he was able to. "Like I said I would."
"You were gone a long time," Ron said, eyes narrowing.
Hermione frowned in concern. "Was everything okay?"
"What? Oh yeah, yeah, it was fine," Harry said distractedly, raking a hand through his hair. "They're fine. What did you two find?"
"Not a lot," Ron admitted with a frustrated sigh. "Practically nothing new. We combed every inch of that bloody room and got nothing to show for it."
"Well," said Hermione in a troubled tone, "that's not quite true. It's more what we didn't find that's the troubling bit."
Harry felt his eyebrows raise. "And what was it you didn't find?"
"Kevin's wand," Hermione told him, tucking a curl behind one ear absently. "We combed through that entire room. It's nowhere to be found."
"So…" Harry said slowly, unsure what to make of the information, "what, you're saying his wand disappeared?"
Hermione sighed. "That's exactly what I'm saying. At first, I thought it was trapped beneath his body or the mattress, but it's not in there. We both tried Summoning it, and it hasn't appeared."
"So he wouldn't have even been able to defend himself," Harry mused, wondering what the new information meant.
"They would have taken it first then, before attacking," Ron pointed out.
"Yes, I suppose," Hermione frowned.
"Or," Harry said, "if Zacharias and Justin were working together, maybe one of them Stunned him or held him down while the other one inflicted the injuries. They wouldn't have needed to take it 'til after he was dead."
"That's definitely possible," Hermione mused, chewing idly on the end of her biro. "I don't understand why though. That means that either Justin or Zacharias got rid of it afterward. Why is this murder so different from the others? I don't understand."
"Or maybe someone else broke into their room and took it," Harry said quietly. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake the feeling that Stephen was somehow involved. His disappearance was suspicious enough, but the footsteps at night and now the missing wand…
"The part I think is most interesting about the whole thing," Hermione said, interrupting Harry's thoughts "is the way that neither Justin nor Zacharias wants to claim responsibility for choosing the room. They both say it was the other who chose it, and I can't understand why they think such a detail would be so damning unless that room was chosen specifically."
"What if it was?" Harry wondered, staring into the distance. "We still have no idea where Stephen is. Maybe all three of them are in on it."
Hermione sighed. "That seems like quite a high number for this sort of thing. I feel as though there are too many unstable variants involved for anything more than two people to be responsible. But it is always a possibility."
"Maybe that's what we should be focusing on," Ron cut in. "Maybe we should spend today looking for Stephen. We can get everybody together and check every single inch of the house. It's not like he could have just vanished. The whole place is locked up. He has to be somewhere."
"Maybe," Hermione allowed, biting her lip.
"Meanwhile," Ron said, "we leave Justin and Zacharias to sweat it out in their rooms. I think we'll have more success with an interrogation if they're forced to wait. That sort of thing has helped me and Harry crack more than one suspect."
"I agree with Ron," Harry nodded. "The more they sit there waiting for something to happen, the more likely they are to snap and confess."
"All right," Hermione said. "I think that's for the best at the moment then. We'll give them a few hours before we go speak with them.
"Lunch in the meantime?" Harry suggested. It would be easier to do a thorough search of the house on a full stomach; there was less chance of a fight breaking out in the process. "And then we can go look for Stephen."
"Yes, all right," she sighed. "I think we should take away the sharper utensils in the kitchen while we're down there, at least until Stephen is found. I still have no idea why someone would have chosen a kitchen knife over a spell, but…"
"Maybe he thought his signature could be traced," Harry shrugged.
"Yes, but why worry about that now?" Hermione sounded frustrated. "If he had not yet been caught by his signature before, why suddenly begin to worry about it out of nowhere? And that still doesn't explain the missing wand."
"Well," Ron cut in," you're assuming that there even needs to be a reason. Maybe he just wanted to go for as dramatic a scene as he could. Harry and I have met some proper nutters in our job who have done horrible things for absolutely no reason."
Harry raised one eyebrow. "You mean Dodson?"
Ron shuddered. "Yeah, that sick fuck. I mean, really. Mutilating people's pets and leaving the bodies on their doorsteps to find…there isn't enough Azkaban in the world for that fucker."
Hermione frowned. "What was his reason for doing such a thing?"
A look of disgust crossed Ron's face as he shook his head. "Boredom," he said simply. "That's all he would ever say to us, even when put under Veritsaerum. They were all strangers that he targeted, absolutely no prior connections. He had no reason for doing what he did, and we could never find any sort of childhood trauma that could have led to him ending up the way he did. And I would like to say the war had at least some part to play in it all, but he hid out on the Continent the entire time and only came back after it was over. We never could figure out what made him suddenly snap and go on an unprovoked killing spree, especially with people's pets. He said it was their reactions to discovering the bodies that he liked the most. He would Disillusion himself and hide close enough to watch it."
"And the Caverdash case," Harry added, turning to Hermione to explain. "He was this bloke who would target women, trick them somehow into letting him into the house, and then strangle them. Nothing was ever stolen, there were never any signs of sexual assault, and when we finally did catch him, we weren't able to draw any prior connections to a single one of his victims. No priors, no history of violence or mental problems, no signs of any drugs or potions in his blood, nothing. He just enjoyed killing them."
Hermione said nothing, staring down the corridor with narrowed eyes. "Well," she finally said, "I don't think we'll be able to sort out any sort of motivation, or lack thereof, before first figuring out exactly who it is behind this."
"My money's on Smith," Ron said immediately. "That slimy git, I don't trust a word he says. Did anyone else get the feeling that there was something just a bit too desperate about his reaction to our questions?"
Hermione hummed uncommittedly, but Harry nodded. He knew exactly what Ron meant.
"Stephen has some part in this though," Harry said quietly. "Maybe Smith is some sort of distraction while Stephen's doing all the dirty work, I don't know. But he's definitely involved in this."
"Yes," Hermione mused, "but how? And why? There are so many dots still to connect at this point…" her words trailed off, falling into silence.
"I s'pose we should go get the others," Harry said, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I'll go get the Slytherins, you go get the rest of them."
"All right," Ron agreed. "We'll meet you down there then, yeah?"
Harry nodded and waved them off, taking a second to roll his shoulders to try to loosen the muscles, wondering if he could somehow persuade Draco to continue with the massage he had started earlier. Lord, how his body ached.
With a sigh, he set off down the hall in the direction he had come in, hoping that they could find at least something on their search of the house.
After all, it's like he had told Ron and Hermione—there's no way Stephen could have simply vanished, right?
oOo
"So you believe him to be the guilty one then, is that it?" Zabini asked, sitting up straighter at the table. They were all sat around the informal dining table, nobody really making eye contact with one another as Hermione outlined the plan for the next several hours.
"We just think it's best to find him now," she answered, neatly sidestepping the question.
"There's no way it's him," Anthony said heatedly. "No way in hell. He could never be capable of doing something like this."
"You'd be surprised at what people are capable of, Anthony," Harry said quietly.
His head snapped in Harry's direction as his eyes narrowed into a glare. "Not Stephen," he growled. "He would never do that."
"If he's so innocent," Ron raised one eyebrow, "then where is he? Why did he disappear and where's he been hiding?"
"But that's assuming that he's even still alive," Michael said in a low voice. "He could have been killed and hidden anywhere."
"It's a definite possibility," Hermione admitted. "But either way, we need to know. We're looking for any trace of him we can find."
"It's not him!" Anthony interrupted, sounding upset. "I'm telling you, he wouldn't do this!"
"Whether he is or is not the guilty one," Harry said, drawing all eyes in the room onto himself, "we need to find him. We need to at least know what happened to him and why he disappeared the way he did."
Still glaring, Anthony leaned back in his chair with a huff.
"All right then," Hermione said, and every gaze snapped back to her. "I thought we could split into two groups and each take one side of the same wing and work our way through the house that way. I want us all to stick together, but if he is the guilty one, I don't want to afford him the opportunity of changing rooms or slipping past us. We check everything. We move slowly. We cover every exit and check every corner. I want a thorough sweep. Ron," she turned to the redhead, "you and Neville go with this group," she gestured to the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors huddled together, "and Harry and I will go with the Slytherins. All right?"
"Harry could come with us," Parvati said, leaning forward in her seat. She was pinning Harry with an intense stare, one that seemed to be made up of wild hope and pleading desperation.
"Er…" he hesitated. Next to him, he could feel Draco tense. "I mean, I better just stick with this lot. That way there's an even number of Aurors in both groups. But you'll have Ron and Neville, and Michael and Anthony to watch out for you."
"Oi, what about us?" Dean demanded. "We're tough blokes too, you know!"
"One of us is, at least," Seamus snorted. Dean rolled his eyes but made no comment.
"See, Parvati?" Harry said, "You'll be fine."
She said nothing, only continued to stare at Harry. Beside him, he could practically hear Draco gritting his teeth.
"All right then," Hermione said, "that's decided. We should go now."
"Yeah," Harry nodded, climbing to his feet, and as if that had been the cue everybody had been waiting for, they all rose as one, trading glances with one another before beginning to file from the room. Hermione rushed forward to lead the group, but Harry hovered in the back with the Slytherins, who were the last to exit.
"Do you really think we'll find him?" Draco murmured, stepping close enough that their arms brushed.
"He can't hide forever," Harry shrugged, wishing he had answers to any of the questions asked over the last several days. "I mean, we have to find something, don't we? He can't have simply vanished."
"Well," Nott drawled, "I for one have no problem thinking he could be the one behind it all. If we do end up finding him, what exactly do the super Aurors have planned for the prat?"
Harry sighed. "We'll figure that out when it happens."
"I'm mostly wondering," Nott continued, "how you plan to get any information out of him. What if he won't tell us how he trapped us in the house? Are you planning on threatening him? Torturing him? Asking nicely and hoping he'll give in?"
"Of course not," Harry said with a frown. To be honest, he still wasn't sure how they would get the information they needed if Stephen refused to cooperate. They were all trapped in the same building, so threatening him with any sort of in-house jail was hardly going to do the trick, and torture was definitely off the table. He supposed they could always use hunger as a motivator; if Stephen went long enough without food, surely he would eventually crack, but Harry had no idea how long that might take or how stubborn Stephen might be about it.
No, there had to be something they could do that would get answers. Maybe Hermione had an idea or two. And it wouldn't matter regardless if they could not even find Stephen first, so Harry would worry about first finding the man, and then they could figure out what to do with him.
His heart sank as he glanced down the corridor the others were strolling down, noting the way it seemed to stretch for miles before splitting into two branches and extending out of sight.
Fuck. Searching for someone in a house this size could take days.
The daunting task seemed to slow his steps and make his legs feel heavy, as though all the blood in them had somehow been replaced when he wasn't looking, his heart now pumping lead through his entire body.
"Come on," Draco said quietly, reaching down to grasp at his hand; Harry clutched back fiercely. "Let's get this over with."
"Yeah," Harry said hollowly, focusing on nothing but the feel of Draco's hand in his own, the warmth of the man's fingers, and the strength of his grip. "Let's get this over with."
A/N: And the hunt for Stephen Cornfoot shall begin next chapter!