Harry hid under his invisibility cloak until the Gryffindors had gone to
breakfast. He uncast the concealing charms which were very strong,
hopefully strong enough to be unable to be uncast by anyone except himself,
and looked at his gaunt face in the mirror.
"Still not invisible," he whispered, "Still here, still making people ashamed."
A few older boys were shaving and there were two razors in the bathroom. Harry drew one along his upper arm, sucking in his breath as the blood started flowing. There were advantages to being a wizard - he could at least cast a congealing spell to stop the blood flowing, but keep the pain. And that was exactly what he did.
Still in his invisibility cloak, he tossed a handful of powder in the fireplace, and murmered "The kitchens". Dobby looked quizzically at him. Or rather, at the empty space where he should have been.
"Hey Dobby, it's Harry. Can you bring up a little food to the Gryffindor dorms?"
Three seconds later, the food was there. Harry had acted from experience, not thinking. But then the tray appeared and he suddenly felt hungry, so he ate. Too much. TOO MUCH! Creamy, rich, fatty, the food slid down his throat. And then the food slid back up, the back of Harry's fingers aching as he frantically tried to drag the food out of his throat. Exhausted, he slumped against the mirror, hitting his head. He stood, semi-unconscious, for about 5 minutes and then decided to go to his next lesson, after recasting the concealing spell.
***************
No Gryffindors would talk to him that day. After staying in the library throughout dinner, Harry stumbled upstairs, willing his leaden legs to keep moving. By some fluke he managed to get up to the Fat Lady and gasp out the password. "No."
"Huh?"
"Wrong password."
"Umm....bravery?, courage, valour?"
"No."
Harry realised the Gryffindors must have changed the password and forgotten to tell him. Please, let them have forgotten to tell him. Lavender and Pavarti hurried past Harry, whispering the password so quietly that Harry couldn't hear it. He moved forward, calling
"Um, sorry, but I don't have the pass."
The portrait slammed in front of him to the muffled laughter of the two girls.
Harry slumped against the wall, unable to stop the tears flowing down his face.
It was nearly 10.00pm. If a teacher came past he would be in a lot of trouble. But - what the hell. They couldn't hate him any more, could they? So when the footsteps came, Harry didn't even move.
"Potter."
"Piss off."
There was silence.
"Harry."
"Piss. Off."
The footsteps came closer and a hand tilted Harry's chin up. Draco looked into Harry's red rimmed eyes and sighed.
"Come with me."
*********************************
Harry had no idea how he got all the way down to the dungeons. He had no idea why either. For all he knew, it was some plot to deliver him to Voldemort. But, what did he have to lose? He followed Draco through a mournful grey landscape, into a room that was obviously Draco's own.
"I betrayed Voldemort. It's not safe for me to be with the Slytherins anymore. Professor Snape and Dumbledore set me up with this room. To keep me safe."
Harry nodded. He had guessed as much, from snippets of conversation overheard throughout the year, and Draco's rant last night.
"So. Care to explain?"
Harry looked stupidly at Draco.
Draco elaborated.
"Would you care to explain why you were sitting outside your common room crying, and why nobody in Gryffindor is speaking to you?"
"No."
Draco rolled his eyes.
"I think you mistook that for a question."
Harry simply glared.
"Did you know my father put the Cruciatus on me at a Death Eaters meeting? It hurt like hell. I thought I was going to die. Now tell me what could be worse than the Cruciatus?"
Harry looked at Draco, and kept staring. Eventually Draco turned away, white faced.
"But - how can you know - what you suffered - could have been worse than the Cruciatus?"
"Last Summer. I had the Cruciatus. Voldemorts rebirth."
Draco was worried. Harry's pupils were dilated and he was quite pale. But the most worrying thing was that Draco had overheard Snape talking about the concealment charms. Positioning his wand behind his back, he muttered, "Finite Incantatem". Nothing happened. "Revelo". Nothing. And the bloody Boy Who Lived wouldn't talk. What the hell was going on here?
"Well, if you're satisfied now I'm not a Death eater in disguise."
"Pardon?"
"The revealing charms. I'm not Ithat/I stupid."
Draco swore under his breath.
"I'll just be off then..."
Harry got to his feet, lurched unsteadily, and yelled as Draco supported him. Holding him upright, the Slytherin looked into the pain filled eyes. Tears were starting to fall, and Draco couldn't remember Harry ever crying. He practically carried Harry to the green bed and laid him down.
"Now what the hell is going on?"
"My wand..."
Against his better judgement, Draco handed him his wand. Harry muttered something under his breath and his face warped under Draco's terrified eyes, the boy he had known as an enemy for almost 5 years changing into someone else.
But it wasn't someone else. It was Harry.
"Draco...I think I need help - please, help me - and don't let Sirius or Dumbledore know - please Draco..."
Draco was frozen to the spot. He had never seen anything so repulsive, so evil. What those muggles had done to Harry.
Worse than the Cruciatus...worse, more painful, nastier, true hatred from all angles...
Draco could taste Harry's pain, feel it in his bones. Levering his legs to life, he sprinted to the fireplace and threw in some powder.
"Professor Snape!"
The hook nosed face appeared, features twisting from annoyance to concern.
"Draco, is everything ok?"
"No! Get in here! I need you Sir!"
Snape's head disappeared briefly and then he stepped out of the fireplace.
"Draco, what the hell is...oh shit."
He had seen Harry.
"Sir, don't tell Dumbledore or Sirius. Sirius - who's Sirius? Oh shit. That innocent guy who has a real problem with Malfoys, oh god Sir don't let him hurt me..."
Snape ignored Draco and glided over to where Harry had slipped out of consciousness again. Blood soaked through his robes and his breathing was ragged and wet sounding.
The potions master shut his eyes, trying to feel where the pain was coming from. Everywhere, by the look of it.
Trust the Potter boy.
He peeled the robes of the boys back and had to fight the urge to retch. Harry's back was covered in bruises and welts in varying degrees of healing. Some had been recently opened, though Snape had no idea how. His ribs stuck out dangerously.
"That was no street fight," he murmered to himself. "Damned Gryffindor bravery."
"Still not invisible," he whispered, "Still here, still making people ashamed."
A few older boys were shaving and there were two razors in the bathroom. Harry drew one along his upper arm, sucking in his breath as the blood started flowing. There were advantages to being a wizard - he could at least cast a congealing spell to stop the blood flowing, but keep the pain. And that was exactly what he did.
Still in his invisibility cloak, he tossed a handful of powder in the fireplace, and murmered "The kitchens". Dobby looked quizzically at him. Or rather, at the empty space where he should have been.
"Hey Dobby, it's Harry. Can you bring up a little food to the Gryffindor dorms?"
Three seconds later, the food was there. Harry had acted from experience, not thinking. But then the tray appeared and he suddenly felt hungry, so he ate. Too much. TOO MUCH! Creamy, rich, fatty, the food slid down his throat. And then the food slid back up, the back of Harry's fingers aching as he frantically tried to drag the food out of his throat. Exhausted, he slumped against the mirror, hitting his head. He stood, semi-unconscious, for about 5 minutes and then decided to go to his next lesson, after recasting the concealing spell.
***************
No Gryffindors would talk to him that day. After staying in the library throughout dinner, Harry stumbled upstairs, willing his leaden legs to keep moving. By some fluke he managed to get up to the Fat Lady and gasp out the password. "No."
"Huh?"
"Wrong password."
"Umm....bravery?, courage, valour?"
"No."
Harry realised the Gryffindors must have changed the password and forgotten to tell him. Please, let them have forgotten to tell him. Lavender and Pavarti hurried past Harry, whispering the password so quietly that Harry couldn't hear it. He moved forward, calling
"Um, sorry, but I don't have the pass."
The portrait slammed in front of him to the muffled laughter of the two girls.
Harry slumped against the wall, unable to stop the tears flowing down his face.
It was nearly 10.00pm. If a teacher came past he would be in a lot of trouble. But - what the hell. They couldn't hate him any more, could they? So when the footsteps came, Harry didn't even move.
"Potter."
"Piss off."
There was silence.
"Harry."
"Piss. Off."
The footsteps came closer and a hand tilted Harry's chin up. Draco looked into Harry's red rimmed eyes and sighed.
"Come with me."
*********************************
Harry had no idea how he got all the way down to the dungeons. He had no idea why either. For all he knew, it was some plot to deliver him to Voldemort. But, what did he have to lose? He followed Draco through a mournful grey landscape, into a room that was obviously Draco's own.
"I betrayed Voldemort. It's not safe for me to be with the Slytherins anymore. Professor Snape and Dumbledore set me up with this room. To keep me safe."
Harry nodded. He had guessed as much, from snippets of conversation overheard throughout the year, and Draco's rant last night.
"So. Care to explain?"
Harry looked stupidly at Draco.
Draco elaborated.
"Would you care to explain why you were sitting outside your common room crying, and why nobody in Gryffindor is speaking to you?"
"No."
Draco rolled his eyes.
"I think you mistook that for a question."
Harry simply glared.
"Did you know my father put the Cruciatus on me at a Death Eaters meeting? It hurt like hell. I thought I was going to die. Now tell me what could be worse than the Cruciatus?"
Harry looked at Draco, and kept staring. Eventually Draco turned away, white faced.
"But - how can you know - what you suffered - could have been worse than the Cruciatus?"
"Last Summer. I had the Cruciatus. Voldemorts rebirth."
Draco was worried. Harry's pupils were dilated and he was quite pale. But the most worrying thing was that Draco had overheard Snape talking about the concealment charms. Positioning his wand behind his back, he muttered, "Finite Incantatem". Nothing happened. "Revelo". Nothing. And the bloody Boy Who Lived wouldn't talk. What the hell was going on here?
"Well, if you're satisfied now I'm not a Death eater in disguise."
"Pardon?"
"The revealing charms. I'm not Ithat/I stupid."
Draco swore under his breath.
"I'll just be off then..."
Harry got to his feet, lurched unsteadily, and yelled as Draco supported him. Holding him upright, the Slytherin looked into the pain filled eyes. Tears were starting to fall, and Draco couldn't remember Harry ever crying. He practically carried Harry to the green bed and laid him down.
"Now what the hell is going on?"
"My wand..."
Against his better judgement, Draco handed him his wand. Harry muttered something under his breath and his face warped under Draco's terrified eyes, the boy he had known as an enemy for almost 5 years changing into someone else.
But it wasn't someone else. It was Harry.
"Draco...I think I need help - please, help me - and don't let Sirius or Dumbledore know - please Draco..."
Draco was frozen to the spot. He had never seen anything so repulsive, so evil. What those muggles had done to Harry.
Worse than the Cruciatus...worse, more painful, nastier, true hatred from all angles...
Draco could taste Harry's pain, feel it in his bones. Levering his legs to life, he sprinted to the fireplace and threw in some powder.
"Professor Snape!"
The hook nosed face appeared, features twisting from annoyance to concern.
"Draco, is everything ok?"
"No! Get in here! I need you Sir!"
Snape's head disappeared briefly and then he stepped out of the fireplace.
"Draco, what the hell is...oh shit."
He had seen Harry.
"Sir, don't tell Dumbledore or Sirius. Sirius - who's Sirius? Oh shit. That innocent guy who has a real problem with Malfoys, oh god Sir don't let him hurt me..."
Snape ignored Draco and glided over to where Harry had slipped out of consciousness again. Blood soaked through his robes and his breathing was ragged and wet sounding.
The potions master shut his eyes, trying to feel where the pain was coming from. Everywhere, by the look of it.
Trust the Potter boy.
He peeled the robes of the boys back and had to fight the urge to retch. Harry's back was covered in bruises and welts in varying degrees of healing. Some had been recently opened, though Snape had no idea how. His ribs stuck out dangerously.
"That was no street fight," he murmered to himself. "Damned Gryffindor bravery."