Title: From the Cold
Author: silenus (silenusnz@hotmail.com)
Rating: well give it a hopeful R
Pairing: eventual slash of the HP/DM variety.
Disclaimer: characters belong to JK Rowling. I'm just borrowing them for a
tic.
Summary: a family secret, the emergence
of a new talent. Can two boys find peace and forgiveness in post-war Hogwarts?
A Harry/Draco story.
A/N: special thanks to all those who reviewed chapter one! I have an idea of where this is going, and in case you can't tell, it's going to be a long while getting there! So keep reviewing, and let me know what you think! As to what Professor Binn's first name is, I have no idea, so I just guessed.
Chapter Two: Discussions
Many things had changed during the course of the war, but the Headmaster's office of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was not one of them. At least not to the casual observer. Albus Dumbledore himself, or any of the figures gracing the portraits which hung suspended from the walls might have noticed subtle differences within the room, but on the whole it remained relatively unchanged. If asked, Albus might have said that the consistency and similarity seen within the office (and as an extension, the school itself) by both teacher and student alike, facilitated an easier progression from a period of peace to a period of war and back again.
But then again, the current occupants of the room well knew how disastrous the results could be of either ignoring or disguising such progressions. Such as the problem they now faced.
"I still do not see how this is possible Albus. Surely the family would have notified us if this were the case?"
"Under usual circumstances perhaps we would have been Poppy. However, these last few years have been tiring for the best of us, and with Lucius's demise I fear that Narcissa has not been left in the best state." Albus's voice, though soft-spoken, was pitched perfectly for the three other faculty members in the room to hear. Usually jubilant, it was now strained and weary, reminding Severus of previous meetings he had conducted during the war. He was, without doubt, a person who could still inspire awe, and yet in the dying light of the day, sequestered around a small table within his office, Severus couldn't help but notice that he was just a man. An old man who must be very tired of this.
"Surely you're not suggesting that Narcissa is unstable Albus?" Similar to the Headmaster, Minerva's voice had not changed remarkably over the years, and it was often difficult to tell exactly what the Head of Gryffindor House was thinking. However, the worry in her features was clear to see and Severus once again felt a spark of warmth and companionship for the older Gryffindor.
"Draco's illness has placed her in something of a state, yes, and I would not like to hazard what would happen to her if we were to lose Draco at this point. I was however, merely suggesting that Narcissa is become an uncommonly lonely woman, ostracised by many of her peers and has held onto this secret which she could with good reason see as a final wedge between herself and the rest of society. Seers have not been looked on kindly in the past. I imagine she was hoping that worries would come to nothing and that Draco was not inflicted."
"Yes, but if she had told-"
"It matters not Severus. We know now, and it is we who must do something. Am I correct, Poppy in suggesting that if left unattended Draco will not last the night?"
Madam Pomfrey nodded in the sombre atmosphere. "Yes. He is in a deep coma. If he truly is a seer as Narcissa suggests then he is likely trapped inside one of his own visions. The more he fights it, the more he is drawn into it. And he is slipping away as we speak."
"Can a potion be made that will stop him fighting? Severus?"
Severus watched as all eyes turned to him. Could a potion work? Perhaps a Dreamless Sleep potion? No that would be too simple. And one by one he suggested then discarded every potion he knew of before he sighed and slowly shook his head for the benefit of the others. No. "His mind is in too fragile a state. Were I to give him anything it would either be nullified by his own system, or it would simply make it worse."
"So no potions then?"
"If there is a potion for this, I do not know of it. There are some Dark Arts spells that could halt the process though." He expected, rather than saw Albus's minute shaking of his head and continued, "Albus, I would not suggest it if I did not think it necessary."
"I know Severus. However, I will not have any Dark Art's spells performed on him while there is still hope. It is at best, a last resort," and his voice darkened "a very last resort."
"Well then, surely there must be some written accounts of known Seers. Draco is not the first. This must have been seen before. Bacchus for one died at thirty-five, and he was a well-known seer."
"That is my hope Minerva. It is my belief that such an accounting exists. I remember once reading a book which mentioned a 'Seer's Trial' in conjunction with the maturation of the gift. I thought it odd at the time and put it aside to research at a later date. I unfortunately never found time to research it properly. Perhaps-" and bending towards the fireplace spoke into the flames "Robert, my office now if you will."
A moment later Severus was not surprised to see a white spectre belonging to Professor Binns rise quickly up from the beneath the floor and settle in the middle of the table. If the professor was surprised at the impromptu meeting, he did not appear so.
"Robert it has come to our attention tonight that Draco Malfoy is a Seer and is currently in the hospital wing. Would you know of any historical records containing information about seers?"
"What sort of information were you requiring? Birth details, death details, examples of fashion-"
"Quite simply Robert, how they stayed alive. Perhaps something relating to a 'Seer's Trial'?"
The ghost of Robert Binns had moved out from the table and was calmly pacing the floor to the left of the small gathering, silently muttering to himself and rubbing his chin. His head snapped up when he registered what Albus had just said.
"Seer's Trial?"
"Yes. Have you heard of it?"
"It's only alluded to in a few works, and in these volumes only casually mentioned-"
"Yes but what does it say?" snapped Minerva who had become quite agitated during the discussion and was only further annoyed by what could become a length narrative.
"It states that when each Seer comes of age, which as I understand it, though it is debated in some academic circles, is well after puberty in wizards in witches, they are subjected to visions. Each seer is considered a vessel through which visions, from the important to the mundane are passed through. Most scholars agree that only seers who are deemed strong enough are given the visions and that the Trial represents a test of internal strength. The seers that die early are those who are apparently not suited for the position."
Albus, who was quite well versed in his colleagues' mannerisms, did not miss the vital point as Minerva, Poppy and Severus did. "Most scholars Robert? What is your opinion?"
"I believe that the trials actually represent a choice. The person can accept the visions or chose not to."
"And die? That's not exactly much of a choice Robert," Minerva replied rather sarcastically.
"To you or I the choice is perhaps academic. Life or death. You couldn't fathom choosing a path that ends in death over one that ends in life. But then neither can you envision the life of a seer. It has been referred to as a cursed life, a half-life. And if I am right in my assumption, then many have already chosen death. It is not unreasonable to think that young Malfoy might do the same."
No! He wouldn't. Would he? What exactly has Draco got to live for? A depressed mother, a dead father, a live condemned to being 'The Deatheater's Son' and a 'Malfoy', and now coupled with the visions, Severus for once in his life found himself silently agreeing with the history professor.
Would Draco chose death over that life?
If given the choice, would he?
"But that of course is not the interesting point," Severus looked up to realise that Binns, quite missing the sensation he'd caused, had not finished. "It is possible that he does not even realise that there is a choice."
"What do you mean?"
"Am I to assume he is in a coma of some sorts?"
"He is."
"How long has he been in one?"
"For about six hours now." And no one there needed to say that perhaps this should've have been acted on earlier. Perhaps Narcissa should have been brought immediately to the school. Perhaps they would have been more time. Perhaps. Perhaps. Perhaps.
"To us, acting passively or aggressively in this situation we would interpret as a reaction to a choice. If he is fighting to control the vision he is choosing to accept it and by accepting it, accepting life as a seer. If he is merely a passenger within his vision we may see this as acquiescence. He has chosen to give up."
"I'm failing to see your point here Robert," and by the looks Severus cast quickly around the table save perhaps Albus, he was not alone in his confusion.
"What I'm suggesting is that Draco does not know how he is supposed to be acting. We do not know how long he has had visions. Seers are born, we know this, but we do not know when the visions start. Are they preceded by headaches and nightmares? Or are these simply actions that mask the vision. We do not know-"
"Robert. The point."
"The point is that it is unlikely young Malfoy has been trained. After all, who would be around to train him, the last known true seer died over a hundred years ago. If Draco is acting passively to the vision, which the amount of time he has been in his coma would suggest, he may not know that he can act otherwise." The room was silent as the ramifications of that statement sank in. "He may be walking the path to death without realising that there is another option."
*
* *
Harry had never liked the hospital wing. He'd spent one too many nights within the white walls and sleeping on hospital beds, which were in his opinion, the absolutely least comfortable thing to sleep on. Ever. Sleeping on the floor would have been preferable in most cases, except for the fact (as he'd found out one night) that it was dreadfully cold.
Not unlike the seat in the corner where he'd positioned himself actually. You think Madam Pomfrey would have bought a few more seats in for Malfoy's visitors, but he was much too relieved that he'd even been allowed to stay to be angry about sitting in the corner, which after all, he'd relegated himself to.
Though his segregation in the corner was certainly for the best. He couldn't imagine being more out of place anywhere. It was like he'd just casually walked into the Slytherin common room and seated himself on Malfoy's favourite chair, or if he'd sat at the Slytherin table for lunch instead of with the Gryffindor's. He was 'one of those things that doesn't belong here.' Though in retrospect it definitely helped that most of the occupants seemed to have forgotten he was there in the first place.
From his corner he could Malfoy's mother, who still sat, unmoving, in the chair adjacent to her son's bed from when she had first entered the room. He couldn't be certain from this position, but he was sure that she was grasping Malfoy's limp hand within both of her own. Harry had only met Malfoy's mother once before and that was at the Quidditch World Cup before his fourth year, and if not for that memory he was sure he wouldn't have recognised her. He remembered her being proud, disdainfully so, and incredibly reserved. And yet here before him this Narcissa Malfoy had none of these qualities. She was just a mother who was very, very scared that she would lose her son.
And privately, Harry thought she had good reason.
He still, even these few hours afterwards, couldn't quite shake the image of when he had first seen Malfoy, unconscious in the corridor, from his mind. He was pale, more so than usual, and unmoving. He was lying face down on the stone floor, his bag on the floor beside him, several books spilling outwards from the canvas as if they'd been dropped in a hurry. He remembered dropping down beside him and his frantic search for a pulse, something, anything. It never even occurred to him that this was a trap, another ploy to humiliate him because something was clearly wrong; the wrongness was almost palatable, as if he could feel it in the air.
He'd alerted Madam Pomfrey shortly after his discovery and followed her to the hospital wing. He hadn't moved since. She never asked for an explanation and he didn't try to give one. He wasn't really sure he could. How could he explain that he'd seen Malfoy lying there and somehow felt responsible for him? He couldn't even explain it to himself.
And so he'd assigned himself the position of watchdog and steadily watched as more and more people entered the room. Firstly Crabbe and Goyle, who far from being the mindless oafs he'd once accused them of, looked incredibly sombre and kept sneaking glances at each other and then at Malfoy, worry clear on their faces. They were followed soon after by Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini, though Harry had no idea how they were alerted to Malfoy's condition since neither Crabbe or Goyle had left Malfoy's side and Harry had been the first one to see him and he certainly hadn't told. Madam Pomfrey had been in and out several times, and save spotting Malfoy's head with what he supposed was a damp cloth, left them in peace for the most part. Snape eventually joined them and with him Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore.
He'd had no idea they were sending for Malfoy's mother until she arrived, shaking and subdued, to sit next to her son. Her revelations were startling to say the least. A seer? Malfoy? He wished Hermione were here to make some sense out of the jumble of his thoughts. Make sense of this mess that Malfoy had gotten himself into.
He flat out refused to think about Malfoy's impending death.
"Mrs Malfoy?" The speaker was definitely Pansy, being the only girl in the room, yet when Harry looked over everything was as still and as quiet as before and if not for catching her next words, wouldn't have thought she'd spoken at all. "Will….will Draco be alright?"
And not for the first time did he remember that these were Malfoy's friends. For all that Harry personally loathed and detested him, here he was, on what was probably his deathbed, surrounded by his friends who did not want him to die. How would he have felt if it had been Ron or Hermione lying in that bed instead of Malfoy. He quickly choked back a sob and vowed to think of something else. Anything else.
"I hope so Pansy. Dumbledore has given his word, and you know he would never do that if he didn't believe it was possible to save him." Narcissa had shifted slightly in her seat to answer Pansy and Harry could see a slight smile gracing her face, and yet, it looked more like she was trying to convince herself than Pansy. He thought he saw Pansy about to reply but whatever she might have said was lost as Snape pushed open the door and bounded back into the room.
He headed quickly over to Narcissa's side, and though evidently only speaking to her, the quietness of the room meant that Harry could hear everything even though he was on the other side of the room.
"Narcissa? I need to ask you a few questions?" Even Harry could sense his urgency and his voice had this soft, pleading tone that he'd never heard from the Potions Professor before.
"Sev..Severus?"
"Have you been into Lucius's study since his death?"
"No. Um, the house elves have though. Why?"
"The Aurors? Did the Aurors enter the room?"
"Of course they did. They removed all the wards from the manor, particularly in those rooms of Lucius's. What has this got to do with anything?"
Harry thought Snape's dismissal of her questions with a casual wave of his hand was rather rude, and frankly inconsiderate. Didn't he realise that she of all people had a right to know what was happening?
"Did they remove anything from the study? Anything at all? Did they happen to know of the secret compartment behind his bookshelf?" Secret compartment? How typical.
"Um, no, I don't think so," Narcissa replied, confused. "I was there for all their inspections, they didn't find anything in his study." Probably because they were all focused on the compartment in the drawing room, Harry thought.
Snape smiled. That in itself was a scary thing, but he seemed positively relieved about something. There must have been something hidden in that room, something that could help Malfoy.
"Would you give me permission to enter your house, and Lucius's study?"
"Severus, of course. Now?"
Severus nodded. "Now."
Harry could feel something in the room. It wasn't excitement; Narcissa, Pansy, Zabini, Crabbe and Goyle certainly weren't excited about this new prospect. But it seemed they were ready to hope.
Will it be enough? Whatever it is that Snape is going to get? And then, as always happens in these situations, what if it isn't there? Snape's entire attitude seemed to suggest that this option was their only option. He glanced quickly around the room, it had better work then, and not just for Malfoy's sake.
Snape bent over and kissed Narcissa briefly on the forehead before heading back out of the hospital wing, and without a second thought about his own motives, Harry followed Snape out the door and into the night.
* * *
"Do you really think this idea will work Albus? Wouldn't Lucius have mentioned having the book to either Narcissa or Severus?"
"Perhaps he, like Narcissa, was hoping that it would not be needed. In any case he probably thought that he would still be around if this was to happen to Draco. However, I do not think that it is just coincidence that Severus was shown this compartment and this book shortly before Lucius's death."
"You think-"
"It is only a possibility Minerva. It does instil some hope though does it not? And unfortunately, that is all we have now. We must hope that it is not too late."
------
Please Review!
