Mitzvahs
Chapter Nine
by Capella
A/N: SCHOOL IS DONE! Which means more updates for you!(on a tiny side note, OMGSTARWARSHOORAY!)
""Isn't there anyone on the air? Isn't there anyone on the air? Isn't there...anyone?"
Orson Welles, 1938 "War of the Worlds" broadcast
It had been at least an hour before Harry heard footsteps coming up the stairs. He sighed and put his hands on the edge of the desk, pushing his chair back and getting up resignedly. He touched the lamp that sat on the desk and it flickered on, glowing softly.
There was a quiet knock on the door.
Harry figured that it had been unusually patient of Kelley to give him this much time to think -- usually Kelley could only restrain himself for ten minutes or so before chasing Harry up the stairs to his room.
Harry opened the door and blinked in surprise. Remus was framed in the doorway, looking down at him, smiling.
"Kelley left," Remus said gently. "He said he had Ministry business to attend to. He told me that he thought he would leave you alone to think." He gave Harry another smile. "May I come in?"
"Oh!" Harry stepped to the side. "Of course."
Remus stepped into the room, and after the barest hesitation, he went to Harry's desk and sat down in the smooth chair. Harry sat on the bed instead, his hand kneading the quilt nervously -- although he could not pinpoint a reason for his nervousness.
"What are you doing home from school?"
"I asked Dumbledore if he would allow me to visit you. I knew that Ron and Hermione's disappearances must be weighing on you. I had hoped a visit would at least cheer you up for a little while." A pause. "I hope I am not disturbing you."
"No -- no, you're not disturbing me, Remus," Harry said. "Is there something wrong with your voice? You sound like you have a cold."
For the slightest moment, there was an odd look in Remus's eyes, one that spoke of hatred and pain -- and then it was gone, and all Harry could see were gentle brown eyes. Remus smiled and did not answer Harry's question.
There was a long pause, in which Harry could not think of anything to say; Remus sat at the desk, staring straight at Harry unnervingly, his fingers tapping softly on the mahogany wood of the desk. Harry's eyes were drawn to the long, graceful fingers for some reason -- they were almost hypnotizing in their rhythm. There was a dark substance underneath Remus's fingernails.
"Were you gardening, Remus?"
Remus started. "Excuse me?"
Harry pointed at Remus's hand. "It looks like you've dirt beneath your fingernails."
Remus looked down at his own hand. A slow, slow smile spread across his face, showing sharp incisors. "Dirt," he said softly. "No, not exactly, Harry." He stood up and began walking to the bed, his movements boasting a strange, alien sort of gracefulness which Remus had never possessed.
"Can I get you something, Remus?" Harry asked nervously, watching Remus come closer until he stood in front of the bed, right next to Harry's knees.
"No," Remus said, and sat down next to Harry so close that their thighs touched. Harry resisted the urge to move as the mattress sunk under Remus's weight.
"Remus --"
"Quiet, Harry," Remus said, his face close to Harry's own, and kissed him.
A thousand thoughts ran through Harry's mind in panicked little circles -- ohmygodhe'skissingme combined with isitafullmoon and iwonderifhekissedsiriusthisway – and then Harry pulled back, his skin crawling in revulsion, staring at Remus with wide, confused eyes.
Remus smiled. There was a dangerous look about him.
"Why -- did you do that?" Harry choked out, scooting farther away on the bed.
Remus shrugged, a motion which Harry had rarely seen him do, and it looked unnatural. "Do you have the time?"
Startled, Harry looked at the clock sitting on the desk. "Four-forty," he said, and hated Remus's sudden smirk.
"Perfect," Remus said, and his wand was in his hand before Harry could even blink. "Petrificus totalus."
Harry stiffened where he sat, feeling as if liquid metal had suddenly been poured into his veins; the only thing he could move was his eyes, but even in his peripheral vision he could not see Remus, and he was left feeling desperately alone and frightened, still hoping somehow that this was just a joke.
Suddenly he felt the bed shift as if a weight had been lifted, and Remus came into his line of sight, bending down so his face was close to Harry's. Remus laughed.
"Let's get you more comfortable, dear boy," he said, and pushed down on Harry's shoulders. Harry's body bent obediently like putty under Remus's hands; Remus pushed him down until Harry's back hit the mattress. Remus smiled down at him and moved to the front of the bed, tugging on Harry's shoulders until he lay fully on the bed, his head resting on the pillows.
Harry tried to plead with his eyes as Remus almost lovingly unhooked his belt and drew it slowly out of the bellhops.
"Yes, this will do," he said, almost as if to himself, and laced the belt around Harry's wrists, bringing the end of the belt up to the headboard and tying it securely to one of the poles. "All right, Harry. You may struggle if you wish now. Finite Incantatem."
"Remus," Harry said, and licked dry lips. He didn't want to struggle, because if he struggled, it meant that what Remus was doing was real. "What are you doing?"
Remus raised an eyebrow. "I don't think you fully understand the gravity of your situation, Harry." He gestured at Harry's hands. "I would have thought that you, of all people, in the danger you are constantly in, would be a bit more cautious of letting people into your house and letting yourself relax."
Harry felt fear and anger coiling in his stomach. "But -- I don't understand why --"
"Of course not," Remus snapped. "You stupid boy, how could you ever possibly understand?" He stepped closer to the bed, ran a gentle hand through Harry's hair. Harry tossed his head angrily to try and dislodge the fingers. Remus chuckled. "But don't worry, Harry. You'll understand in time."
"Please don't," Harry whispered. "Please let me go."
Remus bared his teeth in a half-grimace, half-grin.. "Where's your spirit, Harry? Will pain bring it out of you?" Remus's wand was in his hand. For some wild reason, Harry did not think it looked the same as it usually did.
"No -- Remus, please!"
"Crucio!"
Liquid fire ran suddenly up Harry's spine and he arched, writhing in pain on the bed, a whiny grunt escaping his throat as the agony burned through his body. Faintly, through the haze of pain, he heard Remus laughing. He gasped as another jolt went through his body, his eyes wide and tearing, his wrists tugging on the belt in a desperate attempt to break free.
"Remus," he gasped with all the breath he had left in his body, tears running down his face. "Please!"
"Finite Incantatem."
Harry slumped to the bed, panting, sweat and tears running down his face, his shirt plastered to his back. He clenched his hands, tugging futilely on the belt, staring up at Remus.
"You're shaking, Harry," Remus said softly and ran his hand down the side of Harry's face, cupping Harry's wet cheek.
"What are you doing?" Harry whispered hoarsely, his chest heaving with his racing breaths. "Why are you doing this?"
Remus rubbed his thumb over Harry's lip. "You really haven't changed, have you?" he said, almost sadly, staring down at Harry with an uncomfortably intense gaze.
"What?"
Shaking his head silently, Remus continued his study of Harry's face, tracing the curve of Harry's cheek with his fingertips, ghosting over his eyebrows with the pad of a thumb.
"You know, Harry, in my few years as Defense against the Dark Arts teacher --" and here Remus paused, his lips twisting into a smirk as if he'd said something clever -- "I learned quite a few interesting, interesting spells." A hand drifted down to Harry's neck, stroking the skin there absently, sending shivers up Harry's spine. Harry stared at Remus, transfixed at the look on Remus's face, terrified at the direction in which Remus was going.
And yet -- even through the fear and the anger and the pain, Harry could detect subtle changes in Remus; there was a slight lilt to his voice that had not been there before, and a little bit of a twist at the right side of his mouth; he stood with his shoulders a bit hunched over as if burdened with some internal pain.
"One spell for every year?" Remus mused, so softly that Harry could barely hear. "No, perhaps not. For every beating?"
"Remus," Harry said, desperate. Before he could even begin another plea, Remus interrupted, sounding half amused, half incredulous.
"You still don't believe me, do you?" he asked, his hand still resting on Harry's throat. "I could choke the life out of you right now, and you would still die believe that I had not truly betrayed you." The hand tightened around his neck ever so slightly, and Harry's heart jumped in his chest. "Should I disabuse you of that notion right now?" Suddenly Harry could no longer breathe, his lungs seizing in his chest; he gasped desperately for air, pulling on the belt.
"Please --"
"Apologize," Remus snarled, using both hands now, pressing Harry down into the bed. There was a frightening, hysterical look in his eyes. "Apologize!"
Harry wheezed, trying to bring air into his lungs to speak. "W-why?" he managed, staring into the face of someone who was suddenly a stranger -- a stranger with familiar brown eyes.
Remus blinked and suddenly let go of Harry's throat, drawing back his hands as if Harry's skin burned him. "Oh dear," he said, an expression Harry had never heard him use before. "I've forgotten about the spells, haven't I? I don't want you to die too early, Harry."
He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Harry's bruised throat.
Harry tried to blink away the reflexive pain-tears, his body still tingling from the Crucio, his throat feeling as if Remus's hands were still on him. Remus had just tried to kill him, had put an Unforgivable on him, had kissed him -- he felt confused, and scared, and hurt, and he wondered why he was not angry.
"Do you mind if I ask you a question, Harry?"
God. It hit Harry just then. What if Remus was a Death-Eater -- what if he'd been tricking everyone since day one, stringing them all along, stringing Sirius along --
What if he had been responsible for Sirius's death?
Was Remus going to interrogate him about Hogwarts, Dumbledore, or the Order of the Phoenix? But that was ridiculous -- Remus knew everything he knew, even more, probably. If Remus had wanted to kill them all, he could have lead the Death-Eaters right to all the members of the Order.
"Harry?"
"I don't know anything," he rasped, his throat sore from the near-strangling. "I don't know what you want."
Remus smiled gently as if he knew everything Harry had been thinking. "I'm not here after vital information, Harry," he said, and there it was again -- that difference in his voice, the swing on certain words, the sort of upper-class accent that made the voice Remus usually had sound as if he'd grown up in the back alleys of Liverpool.
And then, with Remus leaning over him smiling, his hand resting comfortably on Harry's hip, Harry realized. He realized why those eyes had seemed younger, why his voice was different, why Remus used mannerisms he had never used before, why Remus had kissed him. Why Remus had hurt him.
Harry shivered in revulsion. Remus raised an eyebrow.
"You look as if you've something on your mind, Harry," he said, his thumb stroking Harry's hipbone. "Is it something you wish to share with me?"
"Yes," Harry said hoarsely, his heart beating so loudly in his chest that he was sure Remus could hear. "Who -- who are you?"
Remus laughed. "Took you long enough," he said, grinning. He spread his arms wide. "Who do you think I am?"
"I don't know," Harry said weakly. "I don't care. If you leave now, I swear I won't tell anyone about this. I assume you used Polyjuice. Your hour's got to be almost up, so you're going to change back soon. You don't want me to see who you are, because the second you leave I'm going to get every Auror from the Ministry in here. Leave now and I won't report you."
Laughing, Remus shook his head. "You impress me by finding out I'm not really your beloved Remus, and then you backtrack ten steps. Do you really think you will be escaping this encounter alive?"
Harry sucked in a breath.
"You're going to --"
"Yes," Remus -- or whoever it was -- said, suddenly solemn. "I am going to kill you." He dragged Harry's desk chair up next to the bed and sat down, leaning back in the chair with a heavy sigh. "But it is only fair that I let you see who I am first. It's five-sixteen. I have two minutes. You will die in five."
Harry's mind raced. There had to be some way out of this. The belt was tied so tightly that Harry's hands were numb, and he'd tugged on it enough to know that it would not loosen. His wand was on the desk.
Harry looked over at Remus. Remus studied Harry closely with an expression that looked very close to sadness.
"You're really very beautiful, you know," Remus said softly. "I just wish --" He stopped abruptly, shuddering, gripping the arms of the chair tightly.
Harry watched avidly as Remus's skin writhed, turning pale; he remained almost the same height, perhaps a bit shorter. His hair lengthened to his shoulders and turned a light blonde; his features grew more delicate and pointed, his lips a bit fuller, his nose upturned. A faded, jagged scar appeared on one cheek.
Harry was staring straight into Remus's eyes when they turned a cold, pale gray.
"Oh my God --" Harry whispered, his mind so blank and shocked that he could not form words.
Draco smirked with beautiful lips, shrugging his shoulders. "Surprised, Potter?" he said, and his upper-class, drawling accent was now clear. "I told you fifth year I'd be dogging your footsteps in case you ever stepped out of line. I think this is an excellent time, don't you agree?"
"Draco?" Harry said cautiously. It was Draco, but he looked so different -- his features were beautiful, but there was a hard, dangerous look about him; he was taller, and his hair brushed his shoulders now. Harry had known that Draco had escaped with the rest of the inmates a half a year ago, but he hadn't really given it a second thought -- he'd assumed he was safe. After Voldemort hadn't found him for this long, he had felt secure.
"Yes, Potter," Draco said slowly, as if talking to an unusually stupid child. "I'm Draco Malfoy. I escaped from Azkaban so I could kill you. And now you have two minutes until you die."
Harry found that his mind simply could not grasp the concept of Draco, sitting right there in front of him. "But --" he started, and found he could not even think of how to phrase his question.
"Why am I here?" Draco supplied. "Why am I going to kill you? Why am I doing this? How did I get in? What do you want to ask me, Harry? I'll even wait until you're done asking questions to kill you." His full lips stretched over white teeth in a horrible grin. "Aren't I merciful?"
Harry jumped when Draco climbed on the bed and sat astride Harry's legs, steadying himself with a hand on Harry's chest.
"Draco," Harry said, his voice hoarse. "How --" He found he could not finish; there were too many questions whirling around in his mind for him to formulate even one. Draco seemed to understand.
"I'll just start from the beginning," Draco said, sounding bored. "Voldemort freed me from Azkaban with the rest of the prisoners and sent me to a safe location so I could practice my magic. I believe he knew I wanted to kill you. With nothing else to do but eat, I caught up on my magic quickly, using the books Voldemort's followers sent me. I left the cave after a while, delivered some payback, snuck into Hogwarts to steal hairs from your beloved werewolf, and came here."
"But -- you sounded almost exactly like Remus. You said almost the same things he would have said. How --"
Draco's smile was delighted. "Potter, really," he drawled, in a tone that was uncannily like how he talked years ago in Hogwarts. "I have had exactly eleven years, three months, and five days to perfect my Remus Lupin impersonation. Although I thought you would have known him well enough to see that he wasn't quite himself."
Harry felt afraid to ask his next question. "Remus -- he's alive, isn't he?"
Looking almost remorseful, Draco shook his head and shrugged. "I couldn't leave him alive to tell anyone where I was going, Harry," he said softly. "You have to understand that."
"You fucker," Harry whispered, numbly.
Draco's face changed from sincere remorse to violent rage so suddenly that Harry knew, in a moment, that there was no question that he was completely mad. He leaned down and hissed,
"I killed your boy, you know,"
into Harry's ear, his breath hot on Harry's neck. Harry froze, his shudders going still.
"What?" he asked, and Draco leaned back up, the triumph on his face made not a little bit frightening by the way his lips curled back from his teeth.
"When I knocked on the door, he opened it. Thought I was Lupin, and he invited me in. Stupid. Attractive, though."
Harry's lips were numb. There was a dull roaring in his ears.
"I would have had some fun with him before I killed him, if I'd had the time. But you're my top priority, Harry, so it was the killing curse for him, I'm afraid. His body's still downstairs by the door, getting cold now, I imagine. And he thought Lupin did it, too."
Harry hissed in wordless anger, his hands curling into claws. Two dead, now. "What did he do to you?"
"He touched you."
"What --" Harry started, feeling sick and dazed, and hopelessly confused. "We weren't even -- involved. He was a friend from the Ministry, telling me about Ron's disappearance."
Draco paused, and then shrugged. "I suppose it does not matter, in the long run. I've killed ten people already."
"Ten?" Harry breathed.
"Blaise, Pansy, Brocklehurst, Weasley, Lupin, in that order, I believe. And in between Weasley and Lupin I took some time out to kill those five bastards who took me to Azkaban."
Harry felt fresh tears spill over. Ron, Kelley, Remus -- dead. He couldn't find the breath to say anything at all. The only blessing was that he knew Hermione was alive.
"Why did you -- kiss me?"
Draco smiled, almost gently. "That kiss was just to fuck with your mind, Harry," he said, smoothing Harry's hair back from his sweaty forehead. "I simply wondered what I could do to you by making you think that your dead godfather's lover wanted you. The look on your face when I kissed you was absolutely sublime. You look your best when you're stunned and hurt, Harry."
"Why are you doing this?"
"No," Draco said. Harry blinked up at him in surprise.
"What --"
"You know what you did, Potter. Think back to eleven and a half years ago. Do you remember the promise we made?"
"Promise?" Harry said slowly, and Draco made a growling noise, deep in his throat.
"Yes, a promise, you little idiot," Draco snarled, his gray eyes flashing angrily. "The reason I ended up in Azkaban was because you didn't keep it."
Harry blinked. "But -- I thought you ended up in Azkaban because you -- attacked me." He winced when Draco's fingers dug into his biceps.
"Liar," Draco said angrily. "Don't lie to me, Potter. Goddamn you, don't you lie to me." His gray eyes flashed, and Harry was caught breathless for a moment as he stared up at Draco, who had somehow grown more beautiful in the time he'd spent in Azkaban, and was reminded of the tentative hug they had shared in Harry's dorm room before --
Harry shut his eyes tightly for a moment, the beginnings of a headache growing behind his eyes. As usual, when he tried to think back to that night when he had been attacked, he could not remember a thing. His head pounded.
A finger stroking his lips made him open his eyes. Draco was bending over him, his face so close to Harry's that Harry could feel Draco's soft breath puffing on his lips. Blonde hair hung down, almost touching Harry's cheeks. "Maybe you'd like to find out what it's like to kiss me without Polyjuice, Harry?" All the rage was gone from Draco's voice.
Harry finally found he could speak. "Draco --" he started. Draco placed his thumb over Harry's lips.
"Just let me --" Draco murmured, sounding suddenly desperate, leaning down and pressing soft lips to Harry's own. Draco's hand traced the lines of Harry's face as they kissed, and Harry could almost feel Draco's sadness and anger and hate.
"No," Harry whispered into Draco's mouth. Draco froze, and Harry opened his eyes to see Draco looking as unguarded as Harry had ever seen him, emotions chasing themselves across his face. He leaned back quickly, sitting on Harry's legs. His face closed off again, becoming cold.
"Your two minutes are up, Potter." He reached into his pocket for his wand and pointed it at Harry's throat, the tip digging into Harry's skin.
"I loved you," Draco said softly. Harry's eyes widened and he tried to speak, but he could see Draco's lips forming the curse that would end his life.
He shut his eyes and waited.
