All Torn Down

by Obake

Draco's world has been turned upside down, and he is left searching for a ray of light.

2. Lingering

Rating: R

Warnings: The 15 Years Rule continues. Herein will be found: slash, het, mentions of rape and torture, coarse language and a lot of blood. If you can't handle all of that, get out now. I don't want to be responsible for lasting emotional or psychological damage.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters and The Story So Far are property of J. K. Rowling and Warner Brothers, and I have no intent of contesting that right, especially since both have done extremely well in creating and maintaining the spirit of said characters and story. In case either one happens upon this story one day: congratulations and please don't sue me! I mean no harm.

Pleas: Reviews would be nice; flames are also welcome. I will make a spirited attempt to reply to every single one, but I can't guarantee it. Flamers be warned: I will be very logical, pedantic and probably curious in my response. It can be a nuisance, but you'll have to learn to live with it.

Thanks To: Badtz, ILLK, Ashedraven, Savannah, typical fangirl, S. Maldiva, Voodoo Daisuke, xfasciXnationx, emma-sama, Morien Alexander, taichi kuna, Whisper in the Soup, Britt (I know, I was a little concerned about that originally but if you look back through there are lots of little warnings—Draco's involuntary reactions to Harry, the way he obsesses over the eyes, and so on—that all add up if you look at them the right way.) Rose of Jupiter, Myr, Kallianah (Thanks—I know how you feel about spelling), badfaith, Kimagure, Juliana Black, Gwen (Believe me, Draco has some Very Good Reasons for his pain. Ron's just being Ron—he always was and will be a hothead; that's they way I love him—and you can't really say he was completely unprovoked. Remember that all of this was from Draco's POV: he doesn't hold a very flattering image of either Hermione or Ron.), Rilar Cray, Twilights Death, Saheen, Penelope-Z, lilly*potter, ~*Black Dreamz*~, Biz The Insane, Penpusher (I'm flattered you think that about the style. I haven't tried to emulate her apart from the Quidditch match—couldn't write it otherwise—but apparently that's the style I like. As for your comment about Draco—he's currently looking over my shoulder and congratulating himself for turning in such a wonderful performance.), Daemon Girl, Dawn, Prongs, CrystalStarGuardian, Megumi, Kcarke (Actually, Evil's one of my friends…But thank you. I'm glad I've managed to turn your head.), and pikaboo. Thank you all for your wonderful reviews; I'm amazed I got so many in the first week. I hope you like this next chapter half as much as the first. Doumo arigatou!

Thanks also to Farseeker, Min_1979, Kirsty and Crystal for beta-reading this, and to Alex for the free research. Without you this thing would never have continued to happen.

All Torn Down: Lingering

...

If you lingerest when I linger,

If thou tread'st the stones I tread,

Thou wilt stay my spirit's hunger

And dispel the dreams I dread.

Come thou, love, my own, my only,

Through the battlements of Groan;

Lingering becomes so lonely

When one lingers on one's own.

--From Titus Groan, by Mervyn Peake

The instant Draco stepped away from him, Harry snatched his wand from the floor, brandishing it.

'You--' he snarled. But Draco was gone.

Harry took a deep breath, wiping the moisture of Draco's tongue from his mouth with his sleeve. That hadn't been...real. It couldn't have been.

He remembered the strange, ghostly light in Draco's eyes as they opened. The way the light had died as it met Harry's own blazing irises. He shuddered.

Harry left the room as quietly as he had entered. He knew he would have to go after Draco. He felt a jab of frustration as he began to walk up the corridor. Why couldn't Malfoy just have been the arrogant, evil little bastard he, Ron and Hermione had come to know and...hate?

Harry jumped at the sound of a crash in one of the classrooms ahead of him. It was probably Peeves, but he began to run towards the sound anyway.

It was the Transfiguration classroom. Harry muttered 'Lumos,' as he entered. He gave a low gasp as his wand shed its light on fallen desks and chairs, a dented blackboard, and a mass of torn sheets littered across the floor; and Draco, hunched in the far corner. Harry felt a shiver of horror roll down his spine. He was crying.

'Draco?' he whispered, reluctantly crossing the room and standing over the pale boy. 'What's wrong? Why--' Harry paused, licking his lips. 'Why the hell did you do that?'

Draco refused to meet his gaze. He looked as though he might choke on his tears. 'I wanted--wanted--'

Harry felt a sudden surge of impatient anger. 'What?' he spat. 'Got sick of all the fighting, did you, Malfoy? Decided you'd try screwing me instead?'

He instantly regretted the words as Draco recoiled from the blast of his anger. 'No!' the boy howled. 'I didn't--I wanted--I hoped--'

'Hoped what?'

'I hoped...' The rest of Draco's words were lost in a garble of sobs.

'I can't understand you, Malfoy,' Harry said impatiently.

'...hoped you might feel the same way....'

Harry froze. 'You...what?'

'Oh, for God's sake, how many times do I have to say it!' Draco cried. 'I've fallen for the mighty Harry Potter, all right? Leave me alone!'

Harry didn't leave, but he was silent for a very long time, watching Draco as his sobs began to diminish. 'How long?' he said finally.

'What?'

'How long have you...felt...this way?'

'Since late last year,' Draco said, more evenly now, though his shoulders were still shaking. 'After the...Tournament. While you were in the Hospital Wing. One night, I...' he paused, wrestling with himself. 'I went to the Wing. I was going to do something...I don't remember, some stupid prank to make it all worse for you. You were just lying there, sleeping, and I...couldn't.' He paused again. 'You were crying.'

Harry nodded. He knew he'd cried in his sleep a lot while he was kept in the Hospital Wing those last few weeks. He would feel the wetness of his tears on his cheek when he woke, or sometimes they had dried and he was left only with red-rimmed, bleary eyes. Then he frowned. 'That can't be right,' Harry said. 'On the Express, going back to London...'

Draco realised he was talking about that final, dreadful taunt in the train last year. He shook his head. 'I didn't mean it. I was trying to convince myself nothing was different. Four years of learning which buttons to push doesn't disappear just because I decided to be human one night.' Harry had to strain to hear what Draco said next. 'I was talking more at myself than at you.'

Harry ran a hand through his untidy hair. 'What am I going to tell the others?' he muttered. Draco's head snapped back, his eyes wide.

'Don't!' he gasped, grasping Harry's sleeves in panic. 'Don't tell anyone Harry, please! Oh God, they'd kill me!'

Harry realised, shocked, that Draco was being deadly serious. He pulled out of his grasp. 'Don't touch me,' he said gruffly. 'I won't tell. Who'd kill you? Why?'

Tears began to flow down Draco's face again. 'My father... the others.' He lay his head against the wall, eyes closed. 'I need to show you something, Harry.' He opened one eye to look at the dark-haired boy. 'Promise you won't leave. Promise me you'll let me explain.'

Harry nodded. Draco drew a deep breath and lifted his left hand, pulling the sleeve back so that Harry could see what was on his wrist. Harry went very pale. 'You... Death Eater!'

'Wait, listen to me! I swear I didn't want to Harry, but when I got home last year.... I fought them the whole way, but they dragged me into a room and they burned...' Draco's nails were scoring white trails across the back of his hand as he spoke. He watched his hands with a dull horror in his eyes. 'My father was... disappointed in me. You've heard the rumours about him beating me...'

Harry nodded.

'Well,' Draco said bitterly. 'I can honestly say that he's never laid a finger on me. He has men to do that. After they put the mark on me, he had someone put me under the Cruciatus curse for an hour.' Harry gasped, but Draco wasn't finished. He ploughed on, as though once started, he couldn't stop the words falling from his mouth. 'Then he...he decided he was tired of this little boy, this little son of his. He decided he wanted me to be a man. A...a true Malfoy.'

Harry didn't want to think about what Draco meant by that.

'He has servants for all sorts of things, Harry. He locked me up with one of his...women. For two days, with no food and no water either.' Draco broke down at that point, curling into a tight ball as the tears engulfed him. He was still scratching at his hand, harder now, and Harry reached out to stop him.

'Draco...I'm sorry,' he breathed, feeling sick to his stomach. Draco looked up at his touch, a faint, helpless hope flaring in his eyes. Harry shook his head quickly. 'Don't even think it.'

Draco's gaze retreated immediately to the grey stones of the wall. 'Sorry.' He shivered. 'I already felt...I don't know...something for you then, but after that...' Draco gulped. 'I don't want another woman to touch me again,' he whispered. 'Ever.'

Harry was silent.

'That was at the beginning of the holidays. We had two months...do you know how many times a person can cast Cruciatus in two months, Harry? Do you?'

Don't, Harry thought. Please don't say it.

Draco didn't.

Harry stared at him, shreds of his words flaring in his mind, which had otherwise been shocked into emptiness

. ..burned...never laid a finger...a true Malfoy...don't want...woman to touch...ever...Cruciatus....

He passed a hand through his hair again. He couldn't handle all of this, not now. Not in one night. He needed...time. Suddenly Harry felt very tired.

'We should get back to our dormitories,' he said quietly. 'Draco? Come on. We have to sleep.'

'I don't sleep in there any more.'

'What? Why?'

'Because I can't stand seeing those faces...knowing what I know. Knowing who is a Death Eater and who isn't, and knowing that if I told them what happened none of them would care,' Draco said. 'Not one.'

'Where do you sleep, then?'

'Just wherever.' Draco curled even more into the corner and closed his eyes.

Harry stood slowly. He righted the desks and chairs, and collected the papers up. He placed the sheets that looked important on Professor McGonagall's desk and left the rest in her wastepaper basket. Then he left.

~~~*~~~

When Harry woke in the Gryffindor dormitory the following morning, his first thought was of Draco leaning in to kiss him. His second was of Draco hunched in a corner of a broken room, trying to sleep.

'Oh, Gods...' He pushed himself up into a sitting position. In the next bed, Ron stirred and opened one eye. He sat up quickly, grinning under his tussled red hair.

'You're still in one piece! Hermione was frantic last night, it was all I could do to get her to go to bed. She actually tried to get me to take your invisibility cloak so we could follow!' Harry stiffened at that particular thought. Ron squinted at him. 'Are you all right?'

'Mm.'

'So what happened? Did you get him?'

Harry stared at his friend and found that he had no words and no excuse. He shook his head mutely.

'Oh, come on. This has got to be better than the Bouncing Ferret! Spill!'

Harry shook his head again. 'I'll tell you later.' If I can't get out of it. 'How long until breakfast?'

Ron shrugged. 'Don't know, but it can't be too far away. My stomach's grumbling.'

Harry chuckled. 'I'd better get dressed then.' He collected a clean set of robes from his trunk and retreated into the bathroom.

Inside, Harry groaned and banged his head against the door. Of course Ron would want to know what had happened. So would Hermione.

He glared sourly at himself in the mirror as he took off his pyjamas. He couldn't tell them the truth. He had promised Draco he wouldn't for a start, and for an end...well, what was he supposed to say to them, anyway?

He slipped the robe over his head. But he couldn't lie to them either. He'd made up Divination homework with Ron too often; he could spot Harry's falsehoods a mile away on a foggy night. With no moon.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, acknowledged that it wouldn't become any tidier if he tried a comb, and went back out. Ron slipped inside to change as Harry straightened the sheets on his bed. They went down to the common room together.

Hermione was already there, sitting in one of the armchairs by the fire. She looked up pensively as they entered. 'Well?'

Harry shrugged and raised a small smile, but couldn't get much further than that. It didn't matter though; Hermione rose and threw her arms around his neck. 'Thank God. I was so worried last night!'

'Hermione, I've survived Voldemort three times,' Harry pointed out.

'Yes, but sometimes Ferret seems somehow more evil.'

'That's because you've seen him at work,' Harry said, pushing her off. 'Believe me, Voldemort's worse.'

Ron was looking extremely uncomfortable. 'Um.' His stomach rumbled. 'Yes, that's just what I was going to say,' he muttered. 'Can we go down to eat now?'

Harry knew there was a completely different reason for the twin spots of colour in Ron's cheeks, but he let it slide. 'Paddywhack,' he informed the Fat Lady, and they made for the Great Hall.

Harry watched Draco from the corner of his eye as he ate. The boy had a hunted look in his eyes and didn't seem interested in speaking to anyone around him. When the owls arrived, he saw Draco look up and flinch. A large owl that looked as though it had a bit of falcon in it dropped a letter with a red seal into his lap. Harry watched as Draco lifted the letter, stared at it for a moment and then very carefully tore it in half. Pansy Parkinson leaned over to him across Goyle, said something Harry couldn't make out, and put her hand on Draco's arm.

The reaction was immediate. Draco's chair rocketed backwards.

'DON'T TOUCH ME!' he screamed, and sprinted out of the Hall.

Harry dropped his knife and fork. 'Stay here,' he muttered to Ron and Hermione as he stood and ran after Draco.

Harry stopped outside the Hall. There was no sign of Draco. He looked about frantically. Come on, Malfoy! Smash something so I know where you are!

He spun at the sound of hurried footsteps behind him. Snape was there, the two halves of Draco's letter in his hand. 'Where is he?'

'I don't know,' Harry said in a strangled voice. Inspiration hit him at the speed of panic. 'Wait!' He took off down the passages, making for Gryffindor Tower. He could hear Snape running after him.

'Paddywhack!' He gasped breathlessly at the Fat Lady, and he leaped past the portrait as it swung aside. Harry raced up to the boys' dormitory, threw his trunk open and rummaged through it. He snatched his wand and the Marauders' Map from the depths and ran back down. Only when he was back past the portrait did he pause for breath.

'I solemnly swear--I solemnly swear--' Harry, holding his wand to the blank parchment, fought to control his voice between panting. Snape frowned.

'What is that?'

Harry gulped more air. 'Not the time, sir! I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good!' The map materialised, and Harry's eyes roved over it, searching for the dot marked 'Draco Malfoy'. He found it, and began to run.

'Where is he?' Snape shouted, racing to catch up.

'Potions classroom! He's not moving but the dot--'

'What about it?'

'It keeps wavering in and out of focus. What does that mean? Professor?'

Snape swore and moved faster, pulling ahead of Harry. He stopped abruptly at the doorway of the Potions classroom. Harry nearly ploughed into him. He heard Snape mutter, 'Oh no...'

Several empty crucibles had smashed on the floor. Blood was splattered everywhere; over the floor, on the walls. In the middle of the room, Draco lay in a crumpled heap. Blood seeped from his wrists and his throat onto the floor. In his right hand he clutched a shard of crimson-smeared glass.

Snape pocketed the torn letter and walked to him, bending down to check his pulse. 'Still alive,' he muttered, an odd catch to his voice. Harry saw that he'd gone a very strange, pale shade.

Snape gathered Draco up and began to walk quickly to the hospital wing. Harry followed him. He could feel a prickling in the corners of his eyes, and fought it. He wouldn't. Draco wasn't dead, so there was no reason to cry. He hated Draco Malfoy!

Beside him, Snape made a strange sound that just might have translated as a sob if Harry hadn't known the man was incapable of caring about another person. It was still enough to set him off.

Harry dashed his hands against the tears as they entered the Wing. Madam Pomfrey looked up at the sound of the door swinging shut and paled at the sight of Draco's bloodied form.

'Get him to a bed,' she said softly. 'Hurry.'

Snape laid Draco on a mattress and stood back. Madam Pomfrey took the boy's left hand to prise the glass from his fingers. She gasped when she saw what was burned into his wrist. 'Severus!'

'The Mark. I know. Help him anyway.' She nodded. 'Is there anything I can do?' Snape asked softly. 'Any potions you need?'

'No. It's my art that will help here, not yours. But I would be grateful if you could send Mundungus Fletcher here when you go to Dumbledore.'

'I will. Potter, come with me.'

Harry followed the Potions Master with a sinking feeling. As they walked back to the Potions room he noticed pools and trails of blood in the corridors where Snape had carried Draco. The Professor was also smeared with the red fluid.

They reached the Potions room, but Snape walked on to his office and held the door open, looking pointedly at Harry. He went inside with a growing sense of being trapped. Snape stepped in behind him and closed the door. 'What happened, Potter?'

Harry flinched. 'What?'

'Don't play games with me.' Snape's voice reminded Harry of a fuse burning down. 'You ran out before anyone else knew what was happening. You know something about this. Tell me.'

Harry paled. 'I can't,' he said. 'I promised him I wouldn't.'

Snape stared at him. Harry waited for the explosion. At last the man let out a low, hissing breath. 'I almost forgot,' he sneered in the fashion that Harry knew so well. 'You're a noble Gryffindor, aren't you?' He crossed to his desk, opened a drawer and fished out a piece of parchment and a quill. 'Write a diary entry,' he said curtly. 'You can't help absent-mindedly leaving pieces of valuable information lying around, can you, and I can't help being an inquisitive prat.'

In other circumstances, Harry might have laughed. But Snape was being very serious, and he took the parchment silently. Uncomfortably aware of Snape's gaze on him, Harry began to write. The only sound in the room for a few minutes was the scratching of the quill against parchment. When he was done, Harry handed the parchment to his teacher. Snape's face moved through several expressions as he read; none of them particularly nice. Finally he put the parchment down. He was frowning.

'I think you left something out, Potter.' Harry started. 'What happened to make Draco so upset in the first place?'

Harry stared at him defiantly. 'What do you mean?'

Snape held his gaze. 'Potter, I'm the Potions Master. I know all about catalysts. What happened to him?'

Harry felt himself flush. 'He...he kissed me.'

'He kissed you.'

'Yes.' Harry's mouth felt very dry.

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. 'You rejected him, didn't you?' he muttered.

'What? Yes, of course!'

Snape's head snapped up. Harry flinched. He wasn't glaring at him exactly, but something deeply malevolent had stirred in the man's black eyes. 'What do you mean, of course?'

Harry didn't answer. Snape raised his eyes to the ceiling. His breath hissed through his teeth, sounding very much like 'Bloody homophobes.'. He turned to a basin built into the wall and washed his hands and his face of Draco's blood. Without those more visible clues, it was difficult to see the bloodstains on his black robes.

Snape turned back to his desk and reached into the bottom drawer. He drew out a small bottle filled with a dark liquid, opened the bottle and took a long gulp from it.

'Why did you do that?'

'I need something warm in me.' Snape recapped the bottle and put it away. 'Because when I tell Dumbledore about this, Hell's going to start freezing over.'

Several minutes later five tables of subdued teachers and students looked up at the sound of them entering the Great Hall. Snape wasted no time.

'Professor Dumbledore, we need to talk. Fletcher, I suggest you get to the Hospital Wing as quickly as possible. Find Argus Filch on your way; there's a mess in several of the corridors and in the Potions room. There's been an...accident.'

Fletcher nodded and hurried out. Snape advanced towards Dumbledore, who was looking at them both very gravely, but he spoke to the entire school. 'Anyone who has Potions today will no doubt rejoice in the knowledge that they now have a free session. The Potions, Hippogriff, Charms and Healing corridors are completely out of bounds, as are the Potions classroom and the Hospital Wing themselves. If the Boggart, Twisted or Manticore stairways change to lead to those areas, wait until they change back. I suggest that you find some way to use your spare time other than venting your curiosity. If I hear a single word breathed about a student going into those areas I will personally hunt that person down and make certain that they regret it.' He nodded at Dumbledore. 'I'm done.'

Dumbledore rose, his eyes sweeping the room. 'I believe that it is high time you all began your classes. Those of you who had Potions this morning should take note of Professor Snape's words. I have seldom heard him make an empty threat.'

Everyone stood and the room emptied silently. Ron and Hermione glanced at Harry questioningly, but he shook his head. 'Go,' he mouthed. 'I'll tell you later.'

'What happened?' Dumbledore asked Snape when they were alone.

'Draco Malfoy attempted suicide.' He handed Dumbledore the piece of parchment on which Harry had written. 'This is why.'

As the Headmaster read the passage, Harry watched the normal, tenacious twinkle in his eyes dull, and slowly die. Harry began to feel very cold inside. He wished Snape had given him some of that drink, whatever it was. Dumbledore's hand was actually shaking when he put the parchment down on the table beside him. 'I see,' he said softly. 'And what about the letter?'

Snape pulled the letter Draco had torn from his pocket. They placed the two halves together on the table. The silver words gleamed, asking Draco how his lessons were going, was he enjoying Quidditch, his mother missed him terribly; please remember to owl back soon.

'Charmed,' Snape muttered, sounding disgusted.

'We'll need to get Draco to read it when he wakes,' Dumbledore sighed.

'If he wakes,' Snape corrected. Dumbledore glanced up sharply, and the Potions Master gave a shrug with one shoulder. His face had gone that odd colour again. 'Poppy was very worried. She actually acknowledged that she might need the help of Mundungus, Albus.'

'Severus, I think you had better sit down.' Snape did so, very quickly. He steepled his fingers and stared ahead in a way that reminded Harry of the way Draco had looked as he'd entered the Healing room.

'Are you all right, Harry?' Dumbledore asked him gently.

Harry nodded. 'I'll be fine sir, only...' For some reason Harry found it easier to tell Dumbledore than Snape. 'I'm the real reason he did this. When I went to the Healing room last night, I was expecting a duel, but Draco...he kissed me. And when he stopped--well, I was pretty clear on what I thought about it. About him.'

Dumbledore shook his head. 'Don't believe that, Harry. Not for a second. You're not the reason this has happened. Don't blame yourself.'

'But I am,' Harry insisted. 'It is my fault.'

'Don't fool yourself, Potter,' Snape said harshly. 'This has been brewing for a long while. The catalyst has no effect on the reaction itself. If it's anyone's fault, it's mine.' He gave a miserable shake of his head. 'I'm his Head of House. I knew he'd become a Death Eater, I knew he was unhappy, but I had no idea how much. I should have done something anyway.'

'Enough,' Dumbledore said sharply. 'No one is to blame for what has happened. Do you understand me, Harry? Severus?'

Harry nodded. Snape held Dumbledore's gaze much longer before giving in. He nodded very slightly. Dumbledore passed a hand over his eyes.

'All right. I need to go to my office now to sort things out. Then...I'll be in the Hospital Wing. Harry, it would probably be best if you didn't attend any classes for the rest of the day. Severus, have one for me.' He left the room looking older than Harry had ever seen him.

Snape stood as well and paced out. Harry followed automatically.

'What are you going to do now?'

'I intend to do what any sane wizard would do at this point.'

'What's that?'

'I'm going to get drunk. You're welcome to join me if you wish.'

Harry glanced at him incredulously. 'I'm three years under-age, sir.'

Snape snorted. 'If the Muggle police raid us you can tell them you were under my supervision. However dubious that may seem.'

Harry decided to take Snape up on his offer.

Afterwards, Harry considered that the Potion Master's bottom drawer must have housed several pocketed dimensions within its apparently small boundaries. He retrieved a much larger bottle from its depths than before, and took two tumblers from a rack beside the basin. Snape poured the liquor carefully; Harry noticed that the glass handed to him held much less than Snape's.

'Sip, don't gulp. That requires experience and a certain lack of intelligence.' Snape demonstrated by draining his glass in three draughts.

Harry sipped tentatively at his drink as Snape poured himself another. He choked a little as the bitter liquid sloshed down his throat. 'What is this?'

Snape shrugged, sitting in the corner. 'Alcohol. You get used to it.' He drank deeply.

'There is a chair here, Professor.'

'You sit in it then. When I'm drinking, I prefer corners.' Snape's black eyes became unfocused, watching something only he could see.

Harry glanced at the chair and decided quickly against it. It was an almost perfect imitation of its owner: tattered, dirty and extremely uncomfortable. He opted instead for leaning against the desk. Harry sipped experimentally, and found that Snape was right: after you got over the initial bitterness, it was bearable. In fact, it was quite good...

Harry blinked as a random thought lodged itself into his head and refused to be shaken off. He looked at Snape, remembering the way Draco had clung to the corner of the Transfiguration classroom.

'Professor, can I ask you a question?'

'Can I stop you?' Snape said dryly.

'You said you knew about Draco being a Death Eater. Why didn't you do anything about it?'

Snape groaned. 'Potter, I'm a spy. If I'd intervened it would have blown my cover completely.' He took another gulp. 'Voldemort's already mistrustful of me. It took some very smooth lying to keep him from killing me when I returned to him last year. If I'd helped Draco, I would have been no use to Dumbledore any more. A spy's task is to watch, not to act.' He shook his head. 'It's what I hate most about the job. While we're asking difficult questions, what was the kiss like?'

Harry choked on a mouthful of liquor, feeling his face flame. 'Professor!'

'I'm only asking. It's what you're supposed to do when you get drunk, and the beauty of it is that you can claim amnesia and a god-awful headache in the morning.'

Harry merely stared at him. Snape shrugged.

'I suppose homophobia is something that doesn't change regardless of which side you're on,' he muttered.

'Why does it bother you so much?' Harry's eyes narrowed with sudden suspicion. 'You're not--'

'No,' Snape growled. 'As a matter of fact I'm not. But some of my friends used to be.'

Harry raised an eyebrow. 'Used to be?' he echoed.

Snape glared at him. Finally he said, 'Pass me the bottle. I should be fearless enough to tell the story by the time it's empty.'

Harry handed the bottle over obediently and waited in silence. Snape emptied it quickly and he leaned back against the wall, his eyes closed, before he spoke.

'When I was in my sixth year, two of my closest friends fell in love with each other. They'd been great friends for years, so it would have seemed acceptable, inevitable even, that they would grow even closer into adolescence...would have, that is, if they weren't both male. They were David Harrow and Morgan Peters

'Knowing that their feelings wouldn't be considered...normal, they kept it a secret even from me for a long while. Finally they decided they needed to talk to someone. They went to our Head of House, and he denounced them immediately. Within a week, the entire school knew about David and Morgan, and they were shunned like stray dogs.'

'How did you react?' Harry interrupted. Snape shrugged.

'I was shocked more than anything, and I did withdraw from them for a while. But we'd been friends too long and I knew them too well to look at them as the hideous, abnormal monsters other people seemed to see. I had my share of insults for staying with them. '

Harry was silent for a while, thinking. 'Professor...do you think it would be much different now?'

Snape looked at him. 'Why, Potter? Have a confession to make?'

'No!' Harry snapped. 'I'm worried about Draco, that's all.'

Snape continued to stare at him for a moment longer than Harry felt was necessary before he answered. 'The school need not know.' He waved a hand irritably as Harry opened his mouth to speak. 'Oh, they'll find out about the suicide attempt soon enough, but I think it should be up to Draco how much he tells about the rest, don't you?'

'Meaning it probably wouldn't be much better.'

'No. Especially with the Dark Lord on the rise again.'

'Another question, sir?'

'Cheers.' Snape said gloomily. He blinked, slowly. 'You'd better make it quick, though. I think this stuff's beginning to take effect.'

'Why did you join with Voldemort?'

Snape's dark eyes became brooding. 'My two dear friends again,' he muttered. 'Do you know what Voldemort was offering to wizards who joined him in those days?'

'Power.'

'That was part of it, yes, but it's not what appealed to my friends and I. He offered a purely magical world. I don't know whether you've noticed, but we have to work very hard to make sure Muggles don't find out about our world. Voldemort was offering freedom from that. Freedom, Potter. Morgan and David were convinced they would be freed as well. The fact that we would have to torture and kill Muggles and even other wizards wasn't mentioned until after we had become Death Eaters.

'When we joined, Morgan and David decided to keep themselves a secret, knowing that others who mightn't look on them so kindly would become Death Eaters as well. They intended to plead their case to the Dark Lord once the utopia was achieved. However, they were discovered, and Voldemort was furious to know that such...such scum had joined his ranks.' A cocktail of anger and self-hatred smouldered in the coals of Snape's eyes. 'He ordered that they be killed. I happened to be the chosen executioner.'

'You didn't.' Harry said in a small, shocked voice. 'Tell me you didn't do it.'

Snape stared at him, pale and despairing. 'I rejoined Dumbledore soon afterward,' he croaked. Harry looked away. The pain in Snape's eyes told him that there had been no choice.

When Harry ventured to look back at his teacher again, Snape had passed out. Harry looked down at his own tumbler. It was empty. He couldn't remember finishing the glass, though he judged that it was probably a while ago. He hadn't drunk nearly as much as Snape, but he was a lot younger and not used to the alcohol. What exactly was in it, anyway?

'I'd better leave,' he muttered to himself, and staggered out of the office, feeling dizzy.

By the time he reached the Fat Lady, Harry was fighting to stay on his feet.

'Are you all right, dear?'

'Hmm? I think so. Paddywhack...'

Harry collapsed halfway into the common room.

~~~*~~~

'He's waking up.'

'Harry? Are you okay?'

'What happened to him?'

'Don't know...'

Harry was being shaken awake, none too gently. He opened his eyes and shut them again quickly, confronted with a mass of faces that swam in and out of focus, flickering in the midst of night shadows and the light from the fireplace. He was surrounded by the squashy warmth of a Gryffindor armchair. Harry lifted his eyelids cautiously and waited for the nearest two faces to become clear. Ron and Hermione peered at him worriedly. A little behind Ron he could see the blur of red hair that was Ginny Weasley. She looked very pale and was making odd sniffling noises.

'Calm down Ginny, he's all right,' Ron muttered.

'What happened, Harry?' Hermione said quietly.

Harry's gaze shifted from them to the mass of faces a few feet away, still moving in and out of focus. Too many people. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, and the room swam.

'Urgh. Ron, Hermione--dormitory--now.' He stood carefully. 'Everyone else, keep away. Or I may be forced to kill you.'

A few people laughed at that, but they shut up quickly. Harry wasn't smiling. He trudged up the stairs to the boys' dormitory with his friends in tow. Hermione closed the door behind her.

'I reiterate: what happened?'

Harry sat on his bed. 'Too much.' They stared at him blankly and he waved a hand. 'All right, all right, I'm telling. You know the duel I had with Malfoy?'

'You mean the one I spent half the night chewing my lip off with worry over? Or some other duel?'

'Hermione, please. This is going to get embarrassing.' Harry fidgeted. 'We didn't duel. Exactly. Er.'

'What do you mean?' Ron interrupted.

'Draco didn't bring his wand.'

Hermione snorted. 'You mean he forgot it?'

'No.' Harry could feel himself going red. For God's sake, how many times can one person blush in a day? 'Draco had something different in mind...'

'Did you fight?' Ron asked eagerly.

'No. Um. He kissed me.' The refrain was beginning to repeat itself in Harry's mind.

Ron laughed. 'You're kidding,' he said.

'I'm not.' He didn't dare look them in the eye.

There was complete silence. Harry looked up very slowly.

The contrast between his friends' faces was almost comical. Hermione had frozen, stunned. Ron had gone very red and was shaking. Suddenly he snatched his wand up.

'I'll kill him,' he breathed. 'I'm going to kill him...' He stood up quickly and headed for the door.

'Ron, stop! Ron!' Harry had to leap in front and shove the door shut to stop him. 'There's...there's a lot more to it than Draco just being a pervert. I pushed him off...'

'Good!'

'He sort of broke down, and...I think it brought back a lot of bad memories, all in a rush. He couldn't handle it...when he ran out this morning--Ron, it's no good you going after him. He's already tried to kill himself.'

He heard Hermione gasp behind him. Ron stared. 'Ferret?' he whispered. 'Tried to...to kill himself?' He sat back heavily on the bed. His mouth opened and closed until he managed to squeeze one word out. 'Why?'

Haltingly, Harry repeated what Draco had told him. By the end of it, Ron looked as though he might throw up. Hermione was in tears. Harry watched as Ron slowly drew her into his arms and she buried her face in his shoulder.

'I can't believe...oh God, we've been so horrible to him!' she moaned. Ron met Harry's eyes over her shoulder, grimacing helplessly.

'We've only ever thrown back what he dished out, Hermione,' he said slowly. 'We weren't to know.' He looked about to continue, but hesitated. 'Look, you're both going to hate me for saying this, but this couldn't all be some...some Death Eater trick, could it?'

'What,' Harry said distantly. 'You mean like some sort of Kamikaze mission?'

'Harry, don't look at me like that. He could be under Imperius, couldn't he? Hermione? Could they do that?'

Hermione sat up, brushing her eyes. 'It would take a very powerful wizard to keep it up the whole time,' she said.

'You-Know-Who,' Ron said pointedly.

'Yes, but...' Hermione shook her head. 'I don't think it would work. If someone wants to do the Imperius curse properly, they need to know the other person's normal mannerisms, speech; that sort of thing, so no one can tell. I don't think two months' holidays would be enough to learn Draco Malfoy by heart.'

'I don't know,' Ron mumbled. 'I'd figured out that he was a slimy, arrogant little snob within the first ten minutes I knew him.'

'I think you're talking a more about the Malfoy part than the Draco,' Harry murmured. Ron frowned at him.

'What do you mean?'

'Well, you've seen his father, haven't you? They're both slimy and arrogant, but there are differences there as well. Hermione's right. No one could have used Imperius on Draco and still kept him so...Draco. Not since the beginning of school. And...'

'What?'

'Well, it's a pretty elaborate scheme, isn't it? I mean, what's the point? Just to shock me? Voldemort's after more than that.'

Ron winced. 'I wish you'd stop saying his name,' he muttered. 'All right, sorry. I just can't help trying to find a way to hate him still.' He shrugged ruefully. 'I guess it's built-in.'

There was a soft knock at the door.

'Who is it?' they called.

'Neville,' said a slightly muffled voice on the other side. 'Seamus and Dean are here too. McGonagall's going nuts in the common room. She says if you don't open up right now so we can get to bed, we're to break the door down.'

'It's not that late, is it?' Ron said.

'I don't know. I lost track of time around the same point I fainted.'

'Yes,' Hermione said, and there was a meaningful glint in her eyes. 'You never did get around to that part.'

'Oh. Well, after we...found Draco, I went and got drunk with Snape.'

'You what?'

'Um. It seemed like a good idea at the time.'

'Harry!' Neville sounded desperate. 'They're talking about using me as a battering ram!'

'Blast.' Ron opened the door. 'All right, come in. Hermione, you'd better go. Be careful--if McGonagall knows you've been in here she'll go ballistic.'

Hermione left quickly, blushing hotly. Dean had already begun to unbutton his robe whilst hunting under his pillow for his pyjamas.

'What did you do that for, you idiot!'

Dean winked at Ron. 'Jealous?'

Ron threw a pillow at him.

~~~*~~~

Harry chased sleep for a good few hours after the ensuing pillow fight. He even caught it once or twice, but it kept dancing away from him just as he began to settle into a dream, teasing like a mischievous imp. Eventually Harry gave up, sat up, and rubbed his eyes.

Harry slipped out from between the sheets and padded carefully to the foot of the bed. He knelt down and lifted the lid of his trunk, groping for his wand. After a moment or two he felt the familiar wood in his hand.

'Lumos,' Harry whispered, and the wand shed its light. He cupped his hand around its tip hastily to keep it from waking the others, and winced slightly as Ron turned over, mumbling something in his sleep.

Harry could see now, and he pulled his invisibility cloak from the trunk and wrapped it around him. He left the dormitory for the still common room, heading straight for the Fat Lady's painting.

'Paddywhack,' Harry whispered. Nothing happened.

Harry blinked. Had the password changed already? He tapped the wall gently.

'Mmmph? Whozzat? The Fat Lady's voice was drowsy. 'Go 'way. Was having a luvvy dream...'

'Paddywhack,' Harry said quietly.

'Are you sure? Oh, all right...' The painting swung around and Harry slipped out into the hall, muttering 'Thank you,' as he passed.

He trod through Hogwarts silently, heading directly for the Hospital wing. When he reached the Healing corridor Harry stopped. There was a white light shimmering under the hospital door. Harry pulled his cloak off and stepped forward. He pushed the door open gently, half expecting Madam Pomfrey to appear, scolding him and sending him away to bed. All that met him was the light.

It was coming from the bed in which Draco lay. Radiance played about the areas of his body at which Draco had slashed. Madam Pomfrey sat in a chair beside him, in some kind of trance. Cupped in her hands was a ball of the same brilliant light. In the next bed, Professor Fletcher slept. Dumbledore watched over them all at the foot of the bed.

Harry was certain that he'd entered silently. The old wizard looked around at him anyway.

'Harry,' Dumbledore said, and there was more than a hint of tiredness in his voice, 'What are you doing here?'

'I couldn't sleep,' Harry replied simply. 'Have you been here all night?'

'Yes.'

'You should get some rest, Professor. I'll stay here.'

Dumbledore looked for a moment as though he was about to object, but he stopped. The edges of his beard twitched and a shadow of the usual twinkle entered his eyes. 'Thank you, Harry.'

When Dumbledore had gone, Harry stood at the end of the bed. Draco's face was illuminated by the ball's incandescence and in the absence of that perpetual smirk he looked almost like an infant. His pale hair gleamed silver as it reflected the orb's light.

Harry moved around to the side of the bed, opposite Madam Pomfrey. He knelt down, his chin resting on the mattress, and stared at the back of Draco's head.

'Why did you do it?' he whispered. 'Some awful things have happened to you, but...but you've been acting so normally. If you'd kept at it, you might have been able to get over everything. Why did you break? Was it me? Is it my fault? Have I really caused you this much pain?'

Draco rolled over in his slumber. One of his hands landed on top of Harry's on the mattress. Harry stared at it for a second before drawing his hand away, slowly, so as not to disturb Draco.

It was the hand on which the Dark Mark had been burned. The Mark could now barely be seen for the light playing over the slashes in Draco's wrist. Beyond the flickering light, Harry could see the still-red cuts, not yet closed. The glow seemed to be keeping Draco from bleeding to death.

'Come back, Draco,' Harry whispered. 'Wake up. Live. Please. Come back.'

A single tear emerged from Draco's lash and slid over his cheek.