Title: Vinculum
Date: July 16, 2004
By: NinjaBubble (L. King)
Warnings: SPOILERS (for #5 – Order of the Phoenix)
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Bunkmates
Dinner was held in discontented silence. They once again sat on the floor, each glaring fiercely at the other when they started to their respectable tables. The professors weren't there, in fact, neither were the four other students who were at Hogwarts for the holidays. Harry, having forgotten to look at the clock on the way out of the library rightly assumed that they were late. No doubt Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, and Hagrid would simply think that they didn't want to be seen in public so close to each other. As for the other four students, who could care less about what they thought?
Harry had stabbed at his food gloomily, angry at Malfoy for having to be such a prat, leading to them being in the situation, and at the fact that they were only going to get out once Dumbledore decided it was time...or Malfoy killed him. Getting out of the library had not stopped the black- haired teen from having the possibility run through his head, frankly it had killed his appetite.
Shoving his plate from him Harry rested his head on his hands and glared across the room as Malfoy took his time finishing his meal. He felt irritated, having not left the building the entire day. He wanted to do something, to go outside, to visit Hagrid and complain that he had been left alone without Ron or Hermione. The thought to ask Malfoy to do this did not even cross Harry's mind, the blond Slytherin would probably just laugh in his face until he was too weak to stand. The thought was not pleasing and almost made Harry want to hit the other even though nothing had happened yet.
It seemed like hours passed until Malfoy wiped his mouth and pushed the plate away. The contents and plate disappeared. Harry knew about the house elves underneath and the long tables there that mimicked the ones above, it made him think of S.P.E.W. and Hermione, and the of Ron, and he gave an exasperated sigh of loss for his two friends. This was so unfair. He rubbed his eyes, finding it hard to concentrate. The hours in the library had started giving him a headache, glasses or no glasses, and all he really wanted to do was go climb into his bed and fall asleep. Maybe he would wake up at the beginning of the day to find that none of it had happened yet, that he would be able to avoid everything. Maybe this whole day had been a long premonition dream, disregarding the fact that he did not have premonitions.
Turning to Malfoy, Harry found the other boy glaring over at the empty teacher's table, specifically, Dumbledore's seat. "Let's go to bed Malfoy," he said coldly, standing up impatiently. He did not want to wait around for the other all night. He was finding out that it was not a great thing after all to allow the person standing still to feel nothing. God, what if he had to go to the bathroom at one point and Malfoy just stood in the hall, not letting Harry go? The thought was childish, but Harry didn't think it would be under the Slytherin to do something of the sort.
Malfoy turned his head slowly to look at Harry and sneered. "So early Potter? You ready to go to bed and cry your little eyes out over Mommy and Daddy's murders?" A sadistic grin was pulled over Malfoy's lips and Harry stood, trembling from anger. "Need to make sure you're up in your bed under the covers before all the lights go out?"
"Shut up Malfoy."
"Mommy! Daddy! Don't go! Don't let Lord Voldermort take you! I can't believe I'm all alone now!" Malfoy mocked, voice an octave higher than normal, he had stood by then, his silver eyes glinting with their own frustrated anger. Neither boy was particularly angry at the other, but between originally not enjoying each other's presence and having to spend the entire day together, and finding out there was indeed nothing that they could do about getting free, it was enough to spin things out of proportion for both of them, neither needed another reason to fight.
Harry's hands had balled up into fists that were so tight his knuckles were turning white. "Shut up Malfoy!" He growled, green eyes glinting in the great hall's candle-light dangerously.
"Woe is me, woe is me! My life is sodding horrible! Please save me Dumbledore! Save me from my stupid nightmares about mummy and daddy. Help me stop crying like a little baby. You're the only one who could tell that I was sane, even though I'm really not!"
"Shut up!" Harry shouted, swinging his fist at Malfoy. He managed to punch him in the cheek again, but they both staggered back at the force, Harry's hand going up to his own jaw. Malfoy was already launching back and smashed his fist into Harry's stomach; the breath rushed out of both of them. They had their row and ended up panting on the floor, neither beaten up as badly as they had been before because now half of the punches they had received were from themselves and not visible.
Fifteen minutes later Malfoy pushed himself to his feet and glared down at Harry. "Where are we suppose to sleep?" He asked grudgingly. "Because I'm not sleeping in that fowl place you call the Gryffindor house."
Harry growled at the other boy and shoved himself from the ground. They were almost the exact same height which made it perfect for them to glare menacingly at each other. "I'm sure as hell not sleeping in those dungeons you call home. From where you live it's no wonder you have the mentality of a troll," he shot back. Somewhere in the back of his mind he warned himself to calm down and tried to tell himself he was being more mean than Malfoy was, but he didn't listen to it. The day had gone on far too long.
Malfoy sniffed indignantly, jaw clenched. "Fine Potter, if you can't deal with the pressure, we'll sleep in that deserted hole your friends left you in. Let's go get my things." With that the blond swept by Harry angrily, crossing the border of six feet, but he didn't stop. A small twinge of shock went through Harry and he jumped to his senses and followed, quickly closing the distance between them back to safety.
They walked briskly and in silence, each almost twitching with anger, but neither so much as looking at the other. The halls grew darker and colder, the only other time Harry had been ear the Slytherin entrance was when he and Ron had turned into Crabbe and Goyle in order to try to find out who the Slytherin heir was from Malfoy. Harry tried to remember the turns and they went along, his anger fading the more he concentrated on remembering how they had gotten to where they were. Soon enough they were standing in front of the Slytherin entrance. Malfoy gave Harry and viscous look and bent forward to whisper the password into the portrait's ear. The painting swung forward and revealed the entrance to both boys.
It had not changed any from when Harry had last been there, not that he had much time to look around as it was. Malfoy stormed straight up to his room and Harry was quick to follow, wanting to get in, grab Malfoy's things, and get out as quickly as possible. The room that they entered was large, with numerous four-poster beds like the Gryffindor's rooms. The colors, of course, were green and silver instead of red and gold; and the room was far darker than that of the Gryffindor's. There was no warm feeling of fun and love, but instead it was rather brooding, and damp. There was a fireplace that the only light for the room came from, except that of two windows, enchanted to look outside, currently the drapes were pulled.
Harry followed Malfoy to one of the beds in the back corner and stopped dead when Malfoy simply threw himself on top of the bed and stared at the ceiling. He waited, but the blond boy did nothing other than shift slightly to get into a more comfortable position. Somewhere in the back of his mind he had know that this was going to happen. How would Malfoy have come all the way down here, get to his room, and then actually go back up to the Gryffindor common? There had never been a chance. "Where the hell am I suppose to sleep?" Harry asked roughly. The closest bed was about seven feet away, and though that probably wouldn't be that painful, it sure as hell might give him a heart attack if he kept it up all night.
"The floor. Like a good dog Potter," Malfoy sneered in response before getting out of bed and going over to the table about a foot away. When he stood in front of it a sink appeared, as did a small cupboard with a mirror. He pulled open the cupboard door and took out a took brush and took paste, completely ignoring Harry.
Tensed for another fight, but too tired and still too achy to get involved in one Harry eyed the closest bed and brandished his wand. Muttering a spell lowly under his breath the bed moved towards Malfoy's a few feet, enough so that he would be able to sleep on it. Taking in account rolling around...the beds ended up only being about two feet apart. Not bothering to look at Malfoy, Harry undressed down to his pants. As an eleven year old when Harry had come to Hogwarts he had been scrawny, thin, and a good runner, but his body had no signs of muscle. Though still thinner than a boy his height probably should be, five and a half years of Quidditch had treated him well. Muscles were pronounce in his arms and back, his abdomen had etches of muscle, and he still knew he had the power of a runner in his legs. Quickly he folded up the rest of his clothes and placed them at the foot of the bed on the floor, slightly underneath. Standing, he ran a hand through his unruly hair and climbed up onto the bed, sliding under the thick green, silver, and black blankets. He rolled over, back to the blond who was still brushing his teeth and getting ready for bed.
Sleep was as bad as staying awake. Learning Occlumency meant that he was saved from people entering his mind, meant that Voldermort couldn't send him any more manipulative dreams, but it did not stop his own mind from conjuring dreams. Sirius plagued him. Plagued him in his sleep like he had every night since the man had died. Since Harry had killed him. He didn't care what Dumbledore told him, it had still been his stupidity, his refusal to practice Occlumency that ended up leading to Sirius's death. He woke up in the middle of the night, cold and shivering, not know where he was. Looking around hastily he suddenly remembered what had happened and where he was. Green eyes flickered over to eye Malfoy in the bed next to him. The blond teen had his back to Harry, breathing steady, deep in sleep. Harry sighed in relief and sank back into the bed. The last thing he needed happening was Malfoy learning that he actually did have nightmares, that his scar really did hurt, and that he really did wake up crying sometimes. Throwing his arms over his eyes, he tried to fall back asleep.
The days passed agonizingly slowly. Whatever Dumbledore had hoped the spell would do, Harry doubted that it was working how it had been planned out. With each passing day Harry and Malfoy became increasingly agitated with each other. It only took a single misplaced word that set one or the other off into shouts. They had rows, despite the special addition Dumbledore had added; but Snape was right, it kept them from killing each other.
The nights became progressively worse. Harry often woke up in the middle of the night from nightmares, but often meant possibly two or three times a week; he had days of peace. Harry had consented to stay in the Slytherin dungeons after getting some clothes to keep down there, it had been decided after a rather rough row, they had been closer to the Slytherin common than Gryffindor and crawled there to lay down and ache for the rest of the day. The dungeons and stress caused by being with Malfoy constantly seemed to have made his dreams worse, make them more prominent. He woke up each night, skin slick with sweat, blankets in disarray. It was only a thankful wonder that Malfoy never woke up, he was a heavy sleeper.
Harry hid behind the desk as the Death Eater made the slashing motion with his wand, it killed Hermione, she lay bleeding everywhere, her blood all over Harry as he ran forward, trying to do something. Neville told him that it was hopeless, tugging at his robe, telling him she was dead. Ron, in his high, wandered to the brains and picked one up. The tentacles wrapped around him and he fell to the floor; within moments he lost the battle with the brain and lay on the stone floor twitching as it took over his mind and tried to move his body around. Neville was running with Harry and slipped on the blood from his own broken nose, he fell back and his head crashed into the ground, cracking his head with a sickening smack; blood formed a grotesque halo around his head and he did not move, his chest not even motioning breath. Luna Lovegood went through the wrong door and an ax fell suddenly from the ceiling and cut her straight in half. Sirius died. The fall was slow, slow enough for Harry to catch him, but he was grounded, unable to do anything but scream. The Death Eaters came back to life and slaughtered the rest of them, Lupin, Mad Eye, Arthur, all dead. Harry ran upstairs and, Dumbledore lost to Voldermort, his crushed, twisted, mangled body lay half-in half-out of the fountain, blood turning the floor and the water red. Voldermort walked toward Harry who was held down by his statue guardian who had fallen stiffly on his leg when Dumbledore died. The snake faced man smirked down at Harry and pulled out his wand. "Crucio."
Christmas Eve found Harry screaming himself awake, face wet with tears, flesh drenched in sweat, sheets sticky and twisted around him so tight he was about to choke, his body ached as though in memory of the endless curse Voldermort had been performing. Despite the fact that his skin was no doubt burning to the touch, his shivered as he clawed out of his sheets. He wanted to walk over to the window and look out, let the breeze wash over his face and look out over the grounds, but there were no breezes in dungeons, and the window was too far away for him to go. Harry instead turned his head to sneak a look at Malfoy who was asleep. He would have wondered how the other could have slept through his scream of bloody murder had he been able to think straight.
There were no clocks around, but Harry would have the guess that it was early morning, near three or so. Pulling the blankets up around his shoulders he brought his knees to his chest, hung his head down so that his forehead rested on his knees, and sat awake, not daring to fall asleep again. Harry spent the hours trying to free his mind of all thought, as Professor Snape taught him to do in Occlumency lessons. Whenever he was almost there another image of a dead friend appeared in his mind. It made him remember Mrs. Weasley's account with the bogart, seeing all of her family members dead. The shivering didn't stop until the window behind the drapes started to lighten slowly with the coming dawn.
"What the bloody hell are you already doing up Potter? The kiddy ready to start opening his presents, couldn't wait any longer?" Malfoy asked, sneer in his voice even despite the fact that he had just woken up. The sun was now almost, if not fully out.
Harry lifted his head slowly from his knees. "Shut the hell up Malfoy," he responded with welling viciousness in his voice as he turned to look at the Slytherin. Malfoy had looked as though he were going to toss out another rude retort, but he didn't. I must look that horrible. Harry mused to himself, not amused by the fact. He felt like he had a run in with a giant without his wand with him. He did turn his gaze to the foot of his bed however and had to say that he was surprised to see presents at the foot of his bed, a large pile sat waiting for Malfoy as well.
Malfoy seemed to hesitate almost before diving into the first of his presents, ignoring Harry. Said Gryffindor slowly, almost laboriously, pulled a present forward. It was from Hermione. A Hawaiian shirt and flip flops along with a letter that said she was enjoying herself and was sorry that he couldn't come with her. The next was from Ron; it was a miniature clock like the one Mrs. Weasley had, it had all of the Weasleys on it (excluding Percy) as well as Hermione, Hagrid, and Dumbledore; he got a letter from Ron as well that explained that he had wanted to ask him to come to the Burrow, but his mother had told him that it wouldn't be possible. Pig had gotten a little lost sending a letter to Mr. Weasley and so he hadn't been able to send any letters until now, he wanted to know what had happened that stopped him from coming. Mrs. Weasley gave him the standard Weasley sweater as well as a variety of pastries and a card that wish him luck, apparently Dumbledore had told her that he was in detention at the least. Hagrid gave him a new Magical Creatures book, it was pretty thin, and a letter that told him to come and visit as soon as he could (and he understood if it wasn't until after the holidays).
Throughout the whole of unwrapping presents Harry didn't hear one peep from Malfoy. No sniggering, or under-breath whispered insults regarding his presents. Opening his gifts had managed to pull Harry out of the stupor of his dreams to an extent and he looked over at his bunkmate who was just finishing unwrapping as well. He looked up when he was finished and they stared at each other.
It was probably just the Christmas spirit, but they didn't start glaring until halfway through breakfast.