Disclaimer: I do not own, wish I did, but I don't. Anything recognizable including all characters, places, and images are under trademark through JKR and the companies that publish the books and make the movies. I only own my plot line.
Author: ShaeLynn Teelle
Warning: Slash/yaoi/guys with guys. Mixed p.o.v.
Inspiration: I'm always here to catch him when he falls. The man with the broken smile. And he will be loved. (I do not own the song and forget whom it's by.)
If someone wants to archive, please ask first. You won't be turned down, but I would like to know where it's going. Thank you.
Polite constructive criticism is welcome; FLAMES WILL BE FED TO THE DRAGON IN MY BED.
1st person p.o.v. present tense
I am still waiting. Sitting here on the couch we shared so many times together, hands clenched so tightly my palms bleed, I wait. I wait as I study ingredients and effects of mixtures. I wait as I eat alone at the small kitchen table unless my friends are over for a chat. Sometimes I think they're more worried that I'll do something drastic, but I won't. I can't. Not when I don't know, when I have heard no news of his capture or death. I read the Prophet every day and the Quibbler. Neither press has written anything about him, anything about any of them.
Two days ago my mark burned. It burned for hours as though it was destroying itself from the inside out. Looking at the heavily scarred mark now, I think that may be what it did. That was two days ago and I have still heard no word about him. I am not panicking, yet. It will take at least another two days before I panic, but the anxiety is eating me alive.
Then, there is a knock on my door. I open it to see a weary Professor Snape standing there. He greets me with a nod, which I return. He takes me with him to St. Mungo's. My heart is pounding in my chest the entire time, afraid of the worst.
We reach the room just in time to see an orderly fly across the room from a burst of magic. I catch the vial he had held in his hand before his feet left the ground. I look around the room to see a second orderly already on the ground. The other two parts of the group are here as well, both glaring daggers at me for being there, but they say nothing and I remember that Professor Snape is still standing beside me.
He gestures me towards the bed and I see from the corner of my eye that the other three in the room, the two/thirds of the trio and the one's sister, tense, their anger almost palpable in the small enclosed area. I would smirk at them, but the majority of my attention is on the figure in the hospital bed. He twitches and moves in a fevered nightmare as I can see the sweat on his pale face.
I give no more of my attention to the Gryffindors. I hand the vial I had caught to the Professor and move with silent purpose towards my distressed lover. I enjoy for a brief moment the way that title fits on my tongue in regards to him. It seems right. It seems so right. The Gryffindors are watching me as I reach out towards him, their faces a mix between anger and amusement as they likely think I am going to elicit the same reaction as the orderlies.
If I wasn't truly worried about him I would laugh at the looks of shock on their faces that I catch from the corner of my eye when I take his hand with mine and nothing happens. At least, nothing happens to me. His restlessness slowly subsides at my touch and I reach with my other hand to brush the sweaty fringe of hair from his forehead. It is a minute or two later when he finally opens his eyes and looks up at me, a smile crossing his features. Then, it's as though he realizes where he is and what he had been doing before he awoke here. He sits up on his own, only a brief flash of pain crossing his features.
Then, he nearly falls against me, his face buried in the crook between my neck and shoulder, his unoccupied hand clutching the back of my robes tightly. I wrap my free arm about his waist, holding him securely. The hands we have clasped together I pull up between us so they rest against our hearts and I lightly rest my head against his, offering as much comfort as I can when I don't know what happened. Eventually, after I am sure that at least one of the Gryffindors has lost consciousness, he pulls away and asks me of the final battle.
Before I can make a witty comment that I'm sure would amuse him, Professor Snape answers. He defeated Voldemort. Everything about the Dark Lord was completely destroyed, soul and all. He smiles at the Professor, an action I am sure he has never bestowed on that particular teacher. Then, he leans his head against my shoulder once again and stays like that. Only minutes later do I realize he has fallen asleep, but this time a peaceful sleep.
The next day I stand from the uncomfortable chair I had spent the night in and stretch. Professor Snape enters the room along with Gryffindors, too many of them for my liking. The Professor apologizes to me in a voice so low none of the others can hear him. It seems he has to stand trial again at the Ministry and only McGonagall's help can save him, but he promises to return later. Then, he is gone from the room and I am left alone with the people I had tormented the most, the one family, plus extended, that was the closest thing to a rival my family had ever had.
I am not too surprised when his best friend comes over and grabs my left arm, the one whose hand is holding his. I hiss slightly in pain, the scarred area of the mark still tender and sore. The Gryffindor's face lights in a sort of triumph as he pulls my hand away from my lover's and holds it immobile while the other pushes my sleeve up to my elbow.
They must have seen the destroyed mark before for one of the older ones, I don't know whom, runs out the door calling for Aurors. I meet each of the remaining Gryffindors' eyes, hoping that one of them might say something; anything to stop what I know is going to happen. As I see the emotions they cannot conceal in their eyes, I know that not one of them will move to help me.
I break away from the one still holding my arm and lean over my lover. I breathe my love and my good-byes within that resting ear, knowing I will not have the chance to do so ever again. Then, Aurors grab me from behind and pull me away from the bed. The only struggle I make is when I turn for one last look at the sleeping form I have known for so short a time. Then, I am outside of the room and I struggle no more as I am escorted from St. Mungo's to whatever fate the Ministry decrees.
3rd person p.o.v.
Dumbledore had died in the war, Lucius Malfoy literally stabbing him in the back. Snape went on trial and it was only through multiple character witnesses, some of Dumbledore's last wishes, and McGonagall's efforts that he was not sent to Azkaban. Harry would have been used as the main witness, but he had only woken the day before and the Ministry refused to delay the trial.
Then, a rat was found. In the Ministry's folly, they believed it a miracle that one of the infamous Sirius Black's victims had managed to escape with his life and they awarded him the Black holdings. Two days after Draco Malfoy was taken to Azkaban without trial or evidence beyond the scarring of the Dark Mark on his arm, a representative from the Ministry went to St. Mungo's to inform Harry Potter of the good news. The news of Black's victim was met with shouting from all areas and an investigation was immediately initiated and Aurors were sent out to fetch him back for questioning. They were too late. Peter Pettigrew had taken as many galleons as he could carry and fled the country, leaving nothing behind to trace him. The rat had escaped again.
Then, Harry was informed of the fate of the last Malfoy. The Ministry representative barely made it out of the room intact. Harry's magic blew out of control at the knowledge that his lover had been wrongfully imprisoned and he could only remember the state his godfather had been in coming out of Azkaban prison. Not long after the outburst of magic had occurred, Harry relapsed into the nightmare and stress filled sleep he had been in before. This time the medics gave him very little hope of coming out of the nightmares on his own. No one could get nearer than the edge of his bed before they were thrown across the room, even his best friends.
From the day he had returned to the nightmares and the Ministry had been informed of the reason why, Professor Minerva McGonagall and Headmaster Severus Snape, a unanimous decision by the Board of Governors, spent every spare moment they could going through department after department to get Draco Malfoy released from Azkaban Prison. A week later the paperwork had finally been finished, the two Professors constantly having dogged its steps until it was completed and Headmaster Snape left to retrieve an innocent soul.
3rd person p.o.v.
The door to the private room opened slowly, causing everyone's attention towards it and away from the restless man on the bed. The man that had still not awoken in eight days of nightmares. Gasps echoed through the suddenly silent room, some of shock and some of rage, as Snape entered the room. It wasn't the Headmaster that caused the mixed effect, but rather the blonde he helped into the room. He was trembling slightly, there were dark circles under his eyes, and smudges of dirt on his face. They were the only signs that he had been anywhere unpleasant. Ron could be heard grumbling about why he needed help into the room if he looked just fine after spending ten days in Azkaban.
At that Draco pulled away from Snape's helping hands and, as proudly as he could, made slow progress to Harry's side. His unhindered progress was halted when, in the midst of one step and the next, the room tilted sideways and spun. Swaying on one foot, he stumbled and would have fallen if Minerva hadn't been right there to catch him. She helped him right himself and offered her support the rest of the way to the bed as his stubbornness at Ron's comment had sapped much of what was left of his strength.
The trembling that he couldn't control went from simply noticeable to glaringly obvious and much of the color that had been in his pale skin fled. It took the two much longer than it should have to reach Harry's side. The Gryffindor Head of House helped Draco perch shakily on the edge of the bed with no ill effects to either and stayed nearby in case he needed additional assistance. No one noticed the two Aurors that entered the room as well as the Minister of Magic to verify that Draco was innocent except for Snape, but he refused to allow the Minister anywhere closer than inside the doorway.
The blonde reached out severely trembling hands, placing one on Harry's shoulder and the other brushing the black hair away from his forehead. "Harry… Harry, you need to wake up, now."
The normally arrogant voice was soft, gentle, and ragged as though from disuse or overuse. Long moments passed and Draco stayed where he was, carefully brushing the Gryffindor's hair from his eyes. The others in the room around him, those that didn't trust him and wanted him back in Azkaban, including the Minister, grew restless. The majority of them had been glaring at him the entire time he had been in the room. Draco took no notice; all his concentration lay on the now still figure in the bed that very slowly began to stir.
"Draco?" Harry asked carefully after opening his eyes and blinking them several times to the sound of relieved sighs from all around him.
"Hey," Draco answered just as quietly as before, his one hand still brushing the hair from Harry's forehead. "You really got to stop with this saving everyone kick. It's going to get us both killed."
Draco smiled slightly at his lover, hoping that he was still too disorientated to start asking questions, but that hope was cut short when Harry opened his mouth again.
"What happened?" Harry asked, bringing one hand up to caress the side of Draco's face, causing the blonde to wince.
Draco answered, knowing what the other was asking him, "Harry, we both know that even without Dementors, Azkaban is not a nice place."
"But you weren't a Death Eater. You didn't want it."
"There are few trials, now. If you have the scar from the mark they send you to Azkaban. No questions asked."
"Take them off, 'Co," Harry said in a strained voice, confusing everyone else in the room except Draco, but they had never needed many words between them.
Draco nodded briefly and hung his head. As everyone watched, many expressions turned to shock and outrage, though no longer against the blonde Slytherin, but in reaction to his state. The Minister, seeing the reaction, tried to back out of the room, but Snape and the two Aurors, Kingsley and Tonks, blocked his retreat.
Draco's robes became dirtier and shabbier, the left sleeve missing completely. The Dark Mark stood out in the scar, but it, and the rest of Draco's left arm, was covered in open scratches and dirt. His hair, once the silvery blonde they had all known, was dirtied to a dark blonde, stringy and obviously unwashed for far too many days. His feet also drew everyone else's attention as the 'shoes' he was wearing disappeared, leaving him barefoot. Dirt and dried blood was ground into the soles, which were cut from rocks and other debris.
His slightly harsh breaths became shallower and choppy. The trembling which had been obvious before had become outright shaking, the severe movements almost enough to move him from his tentative perch on the edge of the bed. Harry didn't take notice of this by more than a perfunctory glance. He was looking intently at Draco's face, waiting to see his eyes. When the Slytherin finally looked up, Harry sat up as well in surprise, despite his friend's protests.
"Co!" the Gryffindor exclaimed, turning the other's face gently so he could see the eyes more clearly in the light.
Those that were on the right side of the room to see gasped or backed away a step. Not only was Draco's face dirty and dried blood ran from his lip to his chin, but his eyes were unlike any they had ever seen before. They were glassy and bright from fever, but inside there was nothing there. They were empty, almost like his hope or his will to live had been taken from him. Harry leaned his forehead against Draco's watching as the gray eyes were hidden behind lids bruised from lack of sleep. He muttered a strong cleaning charm, still holding Draco's face with one hand.
When the spell finished its cleaning Draco was free of dirt, though he didn't look much better from the bruises. Then, he opened his eyes and those that had seen them before noticed that there was a spark, very tiny, that showed there was spirit still left in the blonde Slytherin. Harry leaned away with a soft smile, one hand still caressing the other's cheek.
Draco leaned forward suddenly, one hand clapped over his mouth. His head rested against Harry's chest as he coughed violently. The coughing seemed to go on for a long time and Tonks left quickly at Snape's command, calling for a medi-witch when she was outside the door. Harry held his lover securely the entire time and when the coughing finally subsided he eased the blonde Slytherin back until he was lying on the bed.
There was fresh blood in a sparkling line from the corner of his mouth following the path of dried blood the cleaning spell had removed. Draco's breathing had grown more ragged and thick, the rough sound of liquid barely heard. Draco's face was pinched slightly in pain as Harry looked at him in concern. Gently, the Gryffindor brushed the spell-cleaned hair from his lover's forehead. Leaning down Harry brushed his lips against Draco's ignoring the blood at the corner of his mouth and the shocked cries from around him.
Harry spoke as he finally pulled back, "Don't worry, Draco. You'll be okay. You'll get better and we'll go home and the Ministry will issue an apology to you and to me for letting Wormtail escape and we'll have so many wards on the flat that no one can enter unless we say they can and no one will hurt you again and—" Harry's words were cut off by Draco's fingers briefly touching his lips.
There was still a smile on the blonde's lips from the kiss, though a small one. Draco shook his head slightly, "Harry, you're talking too much. Just don't leave me. That's all I need. That's all I've needed for months now. Just don't leave me, please."
"Never. I'll never leave you, 'Co. No matter what anyone says, I'll never leave."
"I love you," Draco sighed and closed his eyes, the tiny smile still present on his face.
Even when Tonks returned with a team of medi-wizards just as another coughing fit overtook him, Draco was content just for the fact that Harry was beside him, soothingly rubbing his back through the entire fit. They would settle things with the Ministry and the Weasleys later. He would be happy just to be left alone as long as he was with Harry.