As soon as they apparated, Hermione pulled away from Harry and surveyed her surroundings, her hand slipping into her pocket and fingering her wand anxiously, hoping desperately that she had made the right decision in trusting Harry. She really didn't know who to trust anymore, because no one was telling her the whole truth, not even Dumbledore.
They stood in the living room of a small flat. The walls were bare, except for a brand new poster of the Chudley Cannons, and she spotted a flash of red hair zooming around that could only be Ginny Weasley. A yellow threadbare couch rested against the far wall, flanked by two mismatched armchairs, one pale blue and the other orange, in similar condition as the couch. Old copies of The Daily Prophet and various parchments covered the two chairs, as well as the coffee table.
A hallway to the right led back to the bedroom, she presumed. Through an open door behind her, she saw the kitchen, every surface covered with bowls, plates, and glasses stacked precariously. It appeared they did not employ a house elf, whether by choice or lack of funding, she did not know.
"Draco!" Harry called as he started back to the bedroom, waving for her to follow. "There you are. We have company."
Entering the room cautiously, she saw Harry help Draco sit up in bed and quickly absorbed his terrible appearance. His shoulder-length white-blonde hair was dull and lay limply on his skull, he had dark circles under his pale blue eyes, his lips were dry and cracked, and he looked extremely thin, practically emaciated. She could nearly count the ribs that appeared from under sheet that now lay in his lap.
"Hermione Granger," Draco said, his voice unsteady. "Please excuse me, I'm not feeling well today."
"Draco," she said coolly, watching as Harry fussed about him, arranging the pillows, handing him a glass of water. "I wish I could say I'm sorry about your father…."
He laughed, a forced sardonic laugh which didn't extend to his eyes. "Snape did me a favor by dispatching of him. I would have done it myself, if I had the courage," he added, his eyes dropping. After a beat, he looked up at Harry, saying, "I thought Dumbledore was the only one who knew about me."
"You know her, Draco, she couldn't pass up a bit of a mystery," Harry said as he went to sit in a chair by the bed.
He nodded. "Of course. You saw the book and put it all together."
"It took me awhile, but yes."
"And now you want answers." Draco sighed, his shoulders sagging as if the air in his lungs had been the only thing holding him upright. "Harry, would you? I really don't have the strength right now."
"I started watching Draco back in March. Dumbledore thought I might be able to turn him as a spy, thought he still had some good in him. One night in April, he disappeared -- to a Dark Revel, I think --" Draco nodded in agreement "-- and he was gone for several days. Usually he would be back in a matter of hours, so I was getting worried. Thought he might've spotted me following him and ran.
"I found him in an alley near his flat, practically dead. Lucius had been angry with him, beat him, used crucio countless times, as well as some other nasty spells, then left him to die. But somehow he managed to apparate back to Berlin. I treated his wounds as best I could, then owled Dumbledore for help. He brought a Mediwitch who nursed him back to health over a few days then was promptly obliviated.
"After that, we had to convince Lucius to take him back, which wasn't truly that difficult. That's where the book comes in -- Extending the Life of Your Potions. I let Draco give it to Lucius as a gift, as well as the story I told you back at the Burrow, to win him back. And it worked. Lucius was arrogant enough to believe that Draco would crawl back sniveling, begging to return to his father.
"Then Snape killed Malfoy back in August … that was the best thing that could have happened for us. His death left a void in the upper ranks, and Draco was able to get in further with Voldemort, since he still has most of his father's various connections, so now he's the primary potions supplier for the Death Eaters. I think that's pretty much everything," Harry said, pausing and looking to Draco to see if he had left anything out, but he shook his head.
Hermione regarded her oldest friend, and Harry stared back unflinchingly as she weighed all of the information, wondering whether he was telling her the truth. She decided that he had been, but he still held something back.
"That would explain why we never see you anymore," she said finally, breaking the long, silent moment, drawing a sliver of a smile from Harry. "So is Dumbledore the only one who really knows what you're up to?"
Harry nodded. "Not even Fudge knows what's going on for sure. He just knows I'm doing the old man's business, although he 'gives' me assignments, such as hunting down rogue vampires, to keep up appearances that I'm in exile from the Ministry. Voldemort likes to keep tabs on me, you see, and Draco assists in that. I even show up in those places from time to time, just so there are outside reports of my presence."
Draco started coughing violently and Harry jumped out of his chair, rushing over to the bed, rubbing his back as the coughs slowly abated.
"Time for your potion," Harry said when Draco was quiet again. He stood quickly and moved to the door, turning to her as he passed. "You want something to drink?"
"Water, thanks." As he left, she sat in the now vacant chair and looked at Draco. "If you don't mind me asking, what's wrong with you?"
"What's not wrong?" Draco asked with a grim smile. "To get to the point, I'm dying. My father hexed me the night Harry found me, a really dark, old curse, but we don't know what. I'm slowly dying, and the potion is the only thing keeping me alive right now, but it won't last."
"What are you taking?"
"It's a concoction that Harry and I came up with, with some help from Snape before he was found out. Chopped leeches, mandrake roots, unicorn blood."
"Unicorn blood?" Hermione gasped. "But --"
"I'm already dying," he interrupted, his voice sharp and his pale blue eyes lit up in warning. "If I'm lucky, I have six, maybe eight months. We haven't yet found a countercurse, and I don't expect we will. I'm merely delaying the inevitable." He sighed heavily, closing his eyes. "I can only take the potion once every forty-eight hours, it's so strong. I nearly overdosed four or five times during the first few months we worked on it. The effects only last about thirty-three hours, so the rest of the time, I look like this. A few hours after the it wears off, I can't get out of bed, I can't do anything, not even the simplest magic."
Hermione was about to ask what would happen if Voldemort were to summon him while he was in this condition, followed closely by what he told his father about the curse and why he hadn't died or even become ill, but Harry returned, holding a glass of water which he handed to Hermione, and a large opaque vial, roughly the size of a grapefruit. He unstoppered the vial as he went to the bed and gently placed his hand on Draco's neck, tilting his head back so he could pour the greenish-black liquid down his throat.
The change was so sudden that Hermione nearly dropped her glass in surprise. Draco's complexion glowed a healthy pink, his eyes and hair sparkled once again, and he sat upright slowly, as if his muscles has lost all will to move in the last fifteen or so hours. In fact, the only thing that belied his previous condition was his unnatural thinness. She wondered how he could ever pass as himself off, to Lucius or Voldemort or anyone as being in good health.
She suddenly felt lightheaded as she thought that he couldn't have been able to fool anyone, as sick as he was, that Harry hadn't been telling her the truth after all. She looked back up at them, her vision blurring, trying to force the two images floating before her eyes into one solid picture, but her head felt heavy and she glanced down, watching as the glass in her hands slipped through her fingers in slow motion and it tumbled to the floor, the water rushing up and out and everywhere, the drops catching sparkles of light as they flew through the air, and the carpets rushed up to meet her and she closed her eyes.
"Jesus, what took you so long?" Draco exclaimed as he threw back the covers, exposing his sickly legs, two sticks emerging from the loose boxers he wore. "Why didn't you just stun her? Then I wouldn't have had to sit here through all that drivel."
Harry set down the empty vial and kneeled by the sleeping figure on the floor, his fingers searching for a pulse at her neck. Satisfied, he straightened her body and brushed a curl back from her face.
"I know, but I wanted to at least give her something to be obliviated. Something to try to remember."
"I don't think that's wise, Harry," he warned, his voice growing serious. "If she remembers anything, she's liable to come back here."
"Then we'll move. Won't be the first time." He watched as Draco struggled with a maroon sweater, his gaunt shoulders twisting as the wool slid down his pale torso. "You need to eat more. We should get some of that weight-gain stuff Muggles use."
"I can't keep anything down, you know that. So why bother?"
He was now working on a pair of black trousers, gingerly lifting one foot and balancing on the other. He wobbled once, then again, and Harry jumped up by habit, but stopped short when Draco gave him a hard stare.
"Because there's still the possibility."
Draco continued to pull on his pants. He did not meet Harry's pleading gaze, did not want to see the false hope in his eyes. He had spoken the truth to Hermione, the truth that Harry refused to see, that there was no countercurse to be found, no miracle potion that would make him better. He was dying.
"I suppose you want me to obliviate her." He sighed as Harry nodded, then said, "I'll need a few hours before I can. Not to mention, I'll have to come up with something good for her to remember."
"Take your time. She'll be out for awhile after what I gave her." He grinned. "Too bad she can't see how far my potions skills have come since Snape's class."
"That's because you've had a good teacher," Draco said, his voice silky.
Harry reached out, grabbing the other's wrist and pulled him roughly. "I thought you were the best," he growled, his mouth searching and capturing Draco's lips.
"I am the best," he answered, throwing his arms around Harry and pressing against him for a longer, deeper kiss which lasted an eternity.
Severus paced the floor of Arthur Weasley's office at the Burrow, his brow furrowed as if deep in thought, though his thoughts in actuality were not deep at all. He kept coming back to the stark fact that he allowed her to see Potter alone, without any protection. He ignored Albus Dumbledore, who stood watching the snow beginning to flurry outside the window, as well as Arthur and Molly, he in his chair behind the desk and she sitting across the desk from him. Each tried to ease his worry, but he alone accepted the danger that she was in, that he had placed her in.
"Severus," Albus said, turning back to the others. "I have no doubt that they will return shortly, and with a perfectly logical explanation for this disappearance. Surely you remember how impetuous they were as students."
"But Hermione is more cautious now. She would not have left without informing me."
"Maybe she just forgot," Molly said. "She hasn't seen Harry in awhile, so perhaps she was too wrapped up to tell you."
She wouldn't have left without telling me. She wouldn't.
He whirled to face Dumbledore. "Explain to me how Draco Malfoy got that potion."
The old wizard sighed, scratching his chin through his beard, thinking. "This cannot leave this room," he began, his gaze meeting everyone present. "This past spring, while Harry was studying the potion Hermione sent, Draco attacked him and stole everything. It very likely that Harry would have been killed, had it not been for a German Auror who had been assigned to protect him."
"Is that what Harry says?" Severus growled, his eyes dark.
Albus watched him with muted interest, though inwardly surprised at the anger the younger man exuded. Perhaps he truly cared for Hermione. Minerva had hinted towards it, but Severus always made it so hard to determine his feelings on any subject.
He inclined his head, locking eyes over the rims of his glasses. "Yes, that is what he says."
Severus got the underlying message, and a glance to the faces of Molly and Arthur revealed they did too. Harry Potter is above distrust.
He drooped into a chair beside Molly and frowned. Hermione had been gone with Potter for nearly seven hours now, and his stomach churned with anxiety.
It's my fault. I shouldn't have let her go alone. I should have insisted. It's my fault. All my fault.
A heavy silence fell over the room, until Molly finally stood.
"We cannot accomplish anything by moping around," she announced brusquely. "Seeing as it's Christmas Eve, we shouldn't be cooped up in this office. How about I make a fresh pot of tea and we join everyone else?"
"What a lovely idea, Molly. I myself would not say be opposed to something stronger, however," Albus said with a twinkle, an idea which was seconded by Arthur.
"What do you think, Severus? I do have a nice bottle of scotch hidden away, as well as some Firewhisky."
Severus sat slouched, arms crossed, his chin resting on his chest, scowling at the desk. "No, thank you, Arthur. I would rather be alone right now."
"Come join us if you feel like it," Molly said, reaching over to pat his shoulder. "Would you like me to bring you tea or something else?"
He shook his head.
"Albus?" Arthur asked, standing, and he crossed to the door.
"I will join you shortly." The Weasleys left the room, the door gently clicking shut, and he moved to rest on the corner of Arthur's desk. Severus stared resolutely at the beard-covered stomach before him, refusing to meet Albus's gentle gaze. The silence lasted for nearly a minute while he considered his Potions Master. "So how are things progressing between you and Hermione?"
Severus coughed sharply and sat up, his black eyes darting to the beginnings of a smile on Dumbledore's mouth, the twinkling blue eyes. "To what are you referring, exactly?" he growled.
"To whatever you wish to tell me. Anything or everything or nothing. Long ago, you used to talk to me, Severus."
Standing, Severus crossed to the window. He watched the snow flakes drifting through the dark, and his mind leapt to her, and he shivered, pulled his robes tighter . He heard the quiet footfall behind him, and Albus's hand came to rest on his shoulder.
"I am worried for her, as well."
He rubbed his mouth with one hand, then up to his greasy hair, toying with it as he let out a long breath. "It's not just -- I let her go in there alone, knowing that she could be in danger." I let her go.
He reluctantly raised his eyes to Dumbledore's gaze, and suddenly the kindness there flooded him and he could no longer pretend, allowing the old man to see everything, every sadness and hurt and fear, let Albus pull him into a strong embrace that belied his old frame, and he even brought his own arms up to return the embrace, if only for a moment. He pulled away from Albus's grasp, his eyes clouding, turning back to the window.
"Everything will be fine, Severus, everything. You'll see." He heard Dumbledore move away from him, and the creak of the door. "Shall I have Molly bring you a scotch?" There was no answer, no signal that he had been heard. "I will take that as a yes," he said, then closed the door behind him.
Severus slouched into the nearest chair and lay his head back, closing his eyes. He opened them only when, a little later, Molly knocked and entered with a glass of scotch, which he took gratefully.
"Let me know if you need something, dear," Molly said, patting his arm and leaving.
It wasn't until her footsteps retreated down the hall that he noticed Molly had left the entire bottle on the desk, and he gulped the drink in his hand before reaching for the bottle, feeling the warmth grow in his stomach and slowly spread through his bloodstream. He nursed the second drink, losing himself in dark thoughts.
He was halfway through the third when the commotion began in the front hall. He could hear voices, loud and boisterous, and he burst from the office and went towards the sound, his heart leaping when he saw Hermione standing near the front door, talking animatedly with Molly and Ginny. His eyes traveled further and he saw Harry holding a pastry and laughing with Ron and Fred and George; Arthur, Charlie, Bill and Albus behind them, talking in low voices. Dumbledore caught his eyes, nodded slightly, as if to say, See.
He scowled, feeling quite out of place among the joyous extended family before him. Hermione glanced over at him as Ron talked, and she half-smiled, an apologetic sort of smile, but he glared at her and moved past all of them to the door.
"Since it appears everything is in order, I shall return to Hogwarts," he announced, his cold voice slicing through the different conversations, then he slipped out the door before anyone could respond.
Confused, Hermione looked to Albus, who nodded to her, and she excused herself, followed him outside.
"Professor, wait," she called to his retreating figure. She dashed after him. "Severus!"
He slowed, let her catch up to him. The yellow lights from the Burrow lit up Hermione's face, but leaving his own in shadow, and he stared at some point just the left of her head, refusing to make eye contact.
"I made a mistake," she murmured and he struggled to hear, "and I'm sorry. I should have told you I was going."
It was more or less what he expected, though perhaps with less emotion than he might have wished for. The cold slipped in through his cloak, which he had not fastened, his skin prickling, but he did not move, did not speak. He pushed all the anger and emotion away, keeping his expression cold and disinterested.
"I also found out what happened to the potion." His eyes darted to hers briefly, saw the concern and looked away. "Draco attacked Harry, stole it from him, then published it."
Finally he spoke, his eyes distant as he looked at her, through her. "And what of sending letters to M. Faldco?"
"He was trying to trap Draco by sending mail to his alias."
"This is what you discovered in your seven hours away?" he asked, his voice dripping with venom, and his eyes bored into her. Her eyes widened, her mouth worked to form words, but nothing came out. "I have wasted enough time here today."
He shouldered past her, oblivious to her hand reaching after him, pulling on his robes, pulling him back to her, and as he turned to face her, he grew inches before her, so that he stood, staring down his nose at her, causing her insides to quaver and she timidly released him.
"Severus, I'm sorry, I really am." Her eyes pleaded with him.
But he was past reasoning, and he glared at her, this time she could see everything, could read his eyes finally, and she cringed as she saw the hurt and betrayal, the anger and a touch of sadness.
"Merry Christmas," he snarled, and he watched her face crumble at his cold words before he turned on his heel, walked a few meters before he disappeared.
Hermione watched the snow swirling where Severus had last stood, and she held back the tears, wanting to go after him, to try to comfort him. She stood there until her toes tingled from the cold, and she returned to the house and the burgeoning Christmas Eve party going on inside.
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A/N:
Sorry for the delay on this chapter. Went to Vegas and gambled and drank and smoked and lived like a true heathen for four days. It was incredible!
So what the hell is up with Harry? Keep reading! It will all be explained, eventually.
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To all my reviewers, thank you, thank you, thank you!!! This fic now has over 100 reviews! (And I thought I'd never get 50!) You guys really do make my day.