Five corridors later, Harry managed to slow his walk. He stopped and faced an empty wall, his back to another empty wall. He tried to still his flow of thoughts, but found he had no reason at all for storming out of the Infirm like that.
How Draco had managed to hurt him was beyond Harry's comprehension. And yet, Harry felt he had been most disturbed by the other's indifference. Harry had seen Draco care, and Draco couldn't deny it now that he had acted. Not anyone would block an Unforgivable with their own body. Not anyone would give his trust by allowing someone to sleep by him.
Draco needed the protection, why didn't he just accept it!? Harry groaned in frustration. He knew the exact reasons. Draco was proud. He was scared, and he was just as stubborn as Harry.
He slumped against the wall, sliding down and drawing his knees to his chest. He wasn't sure if he liked the cure either. He had never been involved in something this taxing before. He wanted, almost needed, to protect Draco. Surely that wasn't love... the kind of love Dumbldedore talked about. It was just his Gryffindor blood, right?
Then why did he feel Draco's absence like an hole beside him, aching to be filled? Harry sighed. He had grown close enough to Draco to miss him when he wasn't around. Except, this wasn't ordinary. It wasn't like when Ron wasn't around. When Ron wasn't around, there was a warm kind of remembrance, a recollection of old times and past mischief. When Draco wasn't near, it almost hurt.
Harry rested his head back against the wall, closing his eyes tiredly. He couldn't think about it tonight, it was too late. Or too early... depending on how one looked at it... It was officially four in the morning, and Harry still had not gotten any sleep. It was starting to take its toll on him.
As he sat there, wondering desperately about his place in the universe, a thrill of cold struck at him, nearly taking his breath away. He jerked into a sitting position, his thick glasses sliding down on his nose. Another cold wind tugged at his chest, sending shivers down his spine. There was something ominous about this, something wasn't right.
He glanced down the hallway, left and right- nothing was there. Yet, that feeling wouldn't leave.
He heard the crash of glass echo down the corridor, and he leapt to his feet. Instantly, he knew what the cold meant. Dementors had breached the castle. It was the only explanation, and as soon as he knew, he figured out exactly where they were.
Draco.
Anxiety lending wings to his feet, he bolted back to the Infirmary about fifty yards away. He saw the door, was through the door, and froze at the site before him. The window was broken open, shards of glass glittering on the floor in the blood red moonlight. A figure was on the floor, as still as death, his silver-blonde hair sparkling amidst the glass. Above him hovered five dementors, eager for their next victim. Draco wasn't moving...
Harry pushed thoughts of panicking from his mind. He could panic later, this was not the time. Whipping his wand from his pocket, he pointed it at the monstrous beasts. "Expecto patronum!" he bellowed, thinking of the happiest thing he could at the moment- Draco being free of the curse. Draco's hot touch, not chilled by a curse; his cheeks flushed with warmth rather than anger.
This time, it worked. The brilliantly familiar white stag burst from Harry's wand tip, making for the hovering creatures. With shrieks of disappointment, the dementors hurtled out the window, disappearing into the darkness of the long morning. Elated he could still work the Patronus charm, Harry allowed himself a moment of pleasure before remembering what had brought him back to the Infirmary in the first place.
"Draco!" Harry stumbled to his knees, ignoring the glass on the ground as it cut into his skin. He lifted the boy into his arms, leaning down to hear for breath. Faint, dangerously faint. Harry suppressed the tremble that shook his body. He still couldn't panic. He would do no good at all if he panicked. But just then, Draco drew a raspy breath, followed closely by a moan of pain. "Oh god," Harry breathed, blood rushing from his face, "I can't do this..." He put a hand to Draco's forehead, brushing back the sweat-dampened hair there, "Draco, please... Wake up. The dementors are gone, I'm here. I'll protect you..." Draco's face was a horrid shade of white, and his body felt heavy in Harry's arms. A small trickle of blood had loosed itself down the side of his head from a shard of glass, and his heartbeat was perilously slow. The thin thread of Harry's voice was all that kept Draco with the living. "Draco," Harry groaned, blinking back tears, "Come on, wake up!" He grit his teeth and bent over the unconscious boy, doing his best to will some life into the other.
The door to the Infirmary swung open hard, and a short shriek burst the silence. Madame Pomfrey quickly scuttled to Harry's side and swished out her wand. "Come, come, let go, boy," she ordered Harry, who had unconsciously tightened his grip on Draco. He slowly relinquished his charge, watching anxiously as the nurse floated Draco onto a clean bed. She quickly cleaned his cuts, tuttering about how the two boys were magnets for trouble. After easing a potion through the unconscious boy's lips, she turned from the bed. "Mr. Potter, come here," she waved to him after a few minutes. He found he hadn't the strength to stand; he was too worried about Draco. Now he jerked to his feet and managed to make it to Draco's bedside. "You watch over him while I report this to the Headmaster," she turned quickly and hurried out of the room.
Harry sat down on the bed and busied himself with soothing Draco's silver locks away from his eyes. The hair gently curled around his ears and eyes, catching and reflecting the moonlight coming in the recently fixed windows. It was then that Harry felt the incredible weight of the last few minutes settle on him. He had nearly lost Draco again, and he had just barely made it in time. If Madame Pomfrey hadn't been there, Draco would have died. If anything, the incident strengthened Harry's resolve. They had to lift the curse. There was no gray in this, it was either lift the curse or lose Draco.
Sometime during the morning, Harry managed to fall asleep. He was awakened by Draco stirring, and he opened his eyes to broad daylight pouring into the Infirmary. Wincing at the light, he slid his glasses onto his nose from where they had fallen and he sat up. Draco blinked his eyes a few times, scrunching his face in an attempt to remember what had happened. Gray eyes turned slowly to meet green, and the Slytherin let out a small sigh of relief.
"How are you feeling?" Harry leaned forward so Draco would not have to yell his answer.
"I've been worse," came the raspy answer. The bed shook as Draco shivered hard, effects of the curse and the dementors. The boy closed his eyes and cleared his throat, "What happened? How did...?"
"I felt the dementors, and I made a Patronus," Harry said, swallowing hard, "You were already out when I got here."
"I'm glad you got here in time," Draco said softly, "I didn't want to die with you mad at me... you stupid Gryffindor prat... You would've blamed yourself..." He opened his eyes to look at Harry, "Have you gotten any sleep at all?"
With a grin, Harry shot back, "I got sleep. A few hours, I guess." He paused, staring at the blonde, "I can't believe you did it again."
Instantly suspicious, Draco narrowed his eyes, "Did what?"
Harry leaned close, resting his chin on the mattress beside Draco's head, "You thought about me even though you were in pain."
"You would've blamed yourself..." Draco repeated, "When the real blame is elsewhere."
Harry conceded by nodding. The gold in Draco's eyes glittered even more brightly in the sunlight, and some red had returned to Draco's cheeks. Light strands of silver fell against the pillow, creating a shimmering pool against the fabric as Draco stared back at him. "Are you ready to make the cure work?" Harry asked, "Are you ready to try 'us' out?"
Draco looked as if he were considering the question. After a moment's pause, he answered, "I think so."
......
Having finally cornered Ron between classes, Harry stared him down with his best I'm-not-angry-but-you-keep-avoiding-me glares. Upon withering, Ron agreed to listen to everything Harry had to say. In a short five minutes, Harry had spilled everything about Draco's predicament, and had brought the story to the cure. "The cure is complicated..." Harry started, but Ron cut him off.
"Wait, Malfoy has this curse... but who put it on him?"
"His father," Harry said, "But that's not important. What's important is the cure." Ron had dropped several shades of color in his cheeks, but Harry chose to ignore it. "It can only be taken off by someone who is bound to protect him. I have to take that responsibility."
"What does this include?" Ron asked, his voice tinged with suspicion, "Do you have to follow him everywhere and be his bodyguard?"
"No, no, no," Harry sighed, "Ron, he just needs someone to love him. He hasn't known love at all. He has no friends, and those two lumps that follow him around don't count seeing as they can't count at all with mittens on."
"And you're sure you can do that?" Ron asked quietly, "You can be everything he's missed and more?"
With a stubborn face, Harry jutted his lower jaw out, "I can try." And then he looked at his best friend and said shakily, "I think... I think I might be falling for him."
Ron shook his head in mock exasperation and placed his hands on Harry's shoulders, "You're in this deep, aren't you?" He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, "I support you. Whatever you decide to do, I'm right behind you, mate, but if he hurts you he's as good as dead." He cast a sideways glance at Harry as they walked to return to their class, "I don't have to like him, do I?"
With a laugh, Harry replied no and gave the redhead a friendly shove into the wall.
......
The shutters had been sealed, with no light penetrating the cracks in the wood. Small candles were lit surrounding the bed in a circular pattern, ready for the ritual. Harry sat cross-legged on the bed facing Draco, who was positioned the same. The blonde looked nervous, and Harry could feel small butterflies himself but he refused to show it. He had to be strong, especially now. Draco was counting on him.
Outside the circle of sweet-smelling candles, Dumbledore, Madame Pomfrey, and Snape stood ready. The Headmaster looked directly at Harry, "Young Potter, this is very important. If this fails, I do not know what will happen." This admission startled Harry a bit, but he did not allow it to increase his worry. He was sure the cure would succeed. He was strong enough, and he could carry Draco if need be. "The only way to defeat darkness is with light. Hatred with love, neglect with protection." At this, Draco visibly flinched, perhaps remembering his father. The Headmaster had a warning before they started, and he looked at Harry, "You must not look away, do you understand? Keep eye contact at all times." Harry nodded, somewhat startled by the Headmaster's order, "Draco is the only one in the room for you. You must understand that." Again, Harry nodded. He didn't really need to be told, he would not have broken eye contact anyway. "I will recite the rites," Dumbledore spoke again, nodding to Snape.
The Potions professor moved forward, breaking through the circle of candles to approach the bed, "Give me your left hand." Curious, Harry held up his left as Draco held his up. Snape took both their hands and lay Harry's over Draco's, Harry holding the blonde's wrist. Then, with a wide-eyed Harry watching, the man took a piece of rope and tied the two wrists together tightly.
Snape then handed them each a glass. A yellowish potion swirled at the bottom of each, and Harry closed his eyes and scrunched up his nose to drink it. Draco tipped his glass back quickly, and they both handed the glasses back to Snape. Wordlessly, the professor stepped back out of the circle.
Dumbledore spoke, his deep voice resonating in the privacy curtains, "Look into his eyes." Harry caught his breath as he turned his gaze on Draco. In the dim candlelight, the boy was nearly glowing. His white-blonde hair framed his face in an ethereal halo, contrasted only by stone gray eyes. Harry had been told to remove his glasses, but he could see Draco in perfect clarity while the background blurred into a mix of colors. As if time had stilled, they sat and stared at each other, wrists locked together. "Harry Potter," both boys jumped as Dumbledore spoke again, "Do you mean to protect the one before you?"
"Yes. I will protect him," Harry intoned, as was ritual.
"Draco Malfoy," Dumbledore continued, "Do you renounce the evil placed upon you, unwillingly and in duress?"
"I renounce it," Draco's voice lifted through the air lazily, as if he wasn't putting his future on the line, as if this was just another class where he could retake the test if it failed. Yet Harry could feel the chill of his hand and know that Draco was nervous.
"Harry, will you help defeat it?"
"I will."
"Draco, will you fight it?"
"I will."
Harry repressed the urge to roll his eyes. He had no respect for ceremonies, and this was no exception. It sounded eerily like a Muggle marriage, a bond meant to last for eternity and a day. With this thought, he barely had time to breathe before Dumbledore uttered the word for the cure, "Inseperos."
Instantly, Draco's hand tightened on his own and Harry gasped at the chill. Heeding Dumbledore's warning, Harry maintained eye contact, willing Draco to look at him. They were not allowed to speak now; it was a pure battle of will that Draco was clearly losing. His grip was painfully tight, and Harry continued to stare at him, urging him silently to fight it.
Draco was in pain, that much was obvious. He tried to block out the sounds of the three teachers shifting nervously near them, and focus solely on Draco. If only he could take some of the boy's pain, to help him ride it through.
The instant he thought it, a wave of aching cold hit his chest, drawing a gasp from his lungs. His fingers felt as if they were going to freeze, the cold sweat that covered his body did not make matters any better. If this kept up, both he and Draco would freeze to death. Harry felt sure that if he looked down, he would see his breath form clouds in the air.
Just as Harry felt he could not take anymore cold, it stopped as suddenly as it had come, leaving both boys gasping in the sudden warmth of the Infirmary. The candlelight seemed brighter, multiple rays shedding more light and warmth around the bed. A collective sigh escaped all three teachers as Draco fell back against the bed to sleep, followed closely by Harry.
......
When Harry became aware of the world again, he found he was lying on top of something alternately soft and hard. He shifted, and drew a moan from whatever he lay on. Harry shot up, trying not to move any more than necessary. Draco was still asleep, his breathing even and his cheeks flushed. Gingerly, Harry reached forward and touched the red cheeks. A smile crept across his face as he realized they were warm. So were Draco's hands. So was his forehead, his neck, his arms. They had done it. Draco wasn't cursed anymore.
Night had fallen, and all the candles were still lit around the bed, casting that hauntingly beautiful scene across Harry's eyes. Draco slept soundly, silver hair splayed across the pillow carelessly. Harry found himself missing the stone gray of his eyes, and it was all he could do to stop himself from waking the boy.
It was in vain, however, as Draco came almost awake of his own power. His eyes opened slowly with heavy lids, and he looked for Harry. When his sleep-laden eyes rested on the Gryffindor's face, a tiny smile lifted his lips. "Thank you..." the words were whispered, but Harry heard them as clear as a bell in the small space behind the Infirmary curtains. Then, to Harry's great shock and elation, Draco reached up to grasp the collar of his shirt, and jerked him down. Soft lips pressed against his as Draco lazily worked his mouth under Harry's. Harry pulled back for breath and looked at Draco. The boy still had sleep in his eyes, but he was smiling radiantly- albeit slightly.
"I should be thanking you..." Harry whispered to the semi-unconscious boy as he stretched himself next to the Slytherin. Draco murmured something incoherent in reply and fell back asleep, his breathing easy. Harry looked out the window of the Infirmary, into the darkness of the night. If he could beat one trial that stank of Voldemort, maybe the wizard himself wasn't so dangerous. Harry's victory that afternoon had strengthened his courage, and he felt like he could take the whole world. The darkness wasn't so frightening, he would defend Draco from it and they would both be happy.