Recap: "Harry," He whispered in his cold voice, looking down to the boy. "You will choose whom is to die first this time."
Mad About You
Chapter Five - Forbidden Doors
Grimmauld Place
"Harry… Harry…" A voice whispered fiercely close to his head. An ice-cold hand was clamped around his bare shoulder, shaking him awake. It wasn't the only thing to wake him though: searing hot pain bursting from the scar on his sweating forehead also brought him into consciousness. Harry stopped thrashing around, ending up curled in a fetal position towards the other presence in the room. It felt familiar to him, as if he could sense knowing the person and that calmed him down a little.
"Siri-?" Harry whispered, fighting to regain his bearings.
Harry winced as another wave shot through his body, resonating in the gaping hole in his heart. The latest dream had been much worse than reliving his memories, freshly tearing at his frantically beating heart with sharpened claws.
The cold hand on his shoulder pressed against his cheek before moving to his forehead. Harry instantly drew in a shaky breath at the touch, keeping his eyes shut. Not only did the pain and burning drop down to an ache he could function with, but it was also the first time he willingly let someone touch his scar from Voldemort. The person also took a sharp intake of air.
The hand made to withdraw when he took another breath. Hurriedly, Harry covered it with his own, clutching the coolness to his forehead. "P-Please…" He loosened his grip when he felt the bed shift as a weight settled next to him. The person leaned over Harry, pressing their other hand against his cheek again. The burning was completely gone now as the coldness of the hands cooled his skin Harry opened his eyes to stare into the concerned, grey eyes of Draco Malfoy. He opened his mouth to speak.
"Har – "
"Harry?" Ron's voice came from outside, muffled by the door.
Draco's eyes widened as a look of panic crossed his face. Harry quickly imagined what he knew would happen if the door opened and Ron found Draco Malfoy leaning over him. Harry wound his arm around Malfoy's slender waist and hauled him over his body into the space next to him on the bed, away from the door. From there, Draco rolled over the edge, falling onto the floor with a thump.
The door handle jiggled as Ron went to open it, after hearing the sound. Harry lied frozen on the bed, feeling Draco slide underneath it.
As the door swung open, Harry pushed the blanket more over the edge closest to the door, making sure it touched the floor and hid Draco.
A bleary-eyed Ron stared at Harry from the doorway. Adopting a sleepy look, Harry met his gaze, though his heart was pounding.
"Ron? What do you want?"
"Oh, no–othing." Ron yawned. "Breakfast is ready though. What was that noise before?"
"You startled me and I hit the dresser with my hand." Harry came up with. Ron didn't look convinced, but he started talking about breakfast again.
Draco slumped under the bed, thankful that Ron didn't seem to notice him in the least as he prattled on about glorious food to Harry, above him. Thoughts whirled in his head about what happened seconds before. He'd been sneaking out of the bathroom when he'd first heard it – murmurs and low moans coming from Harry's room. Curious, he'd come in to check what was going on. Merlin was he relieved seeing Harry alone in bed. Draco didn't have time to dwell on that feeling for long, since Harry started thrashing around. Harry had said something before Draco touched him, then covered his hand with his own. 'Damn that Weasel for interrupting us.'
Above, Harry was thinking similar thoughts, not paying attention to the redhead speaking. Ron had to come barging in his room, at that exact moment before Draco could even say a word. Draco, who had leaned over him and touched his face carefully, concerned. At least, Harry thought he was concerned. Why else would he do that? And his hands were so cold and soothing… his skin was soft, too. Harry wondered for a split second how much more of Draco's skin was just as soft. 'The fuck? Why am I thinking about this?' Harry thought.
"Harry?" A voice broke in.
"Whaat did you say?" Harry bit his lip. "Sorry, I'm still sleepy." He'd forgotten Ron was still in the doorway.
"Oh, I asked if you were coming.."
"What??" Harry asked, his eyes widening.
"To breakfast, mate. Is something wrong? You look a little off." Fully concerned now, Ron narrowed his light blue eyes at Harry's face, studying him. "Have you.. eh.. Have you been crying…?"
Harry brought his hand up to his face, feeling his wet lashes. Damn… he had been. He didn't even notice. Had Draco seen it? Shit.. Draco was underneath him right now, hearing the whole thing.
"No.. I'm fine. You go on to breakfast without me, I think I'm gonna sleep a bit more, Ron." Harry said. He felt a little guilty, but enough was enough and Ron needed to go away.
He frowned instead. "You really shouldn't skive off breakfast Harry. You need to eat – you're skin and bones! You can't go around like that for long or you'd disappear. Come down and eat."
The comment got under Harry's skin before Ron had even finished saying it. 'How dare you… you have no idea what went on at the Dursleys'. What goes on.' The unchecked anger rose quickly and his hand balled into a fist, clenching around the blanket.
"I'll get something when I go downstairs, alright mother?" Harry said sardonically, his voice low as he tried to reign in his anger. Ron looked like he'd been slapped in the face, his ears turning red the same way as when he was mad, embarrassed or being made fun of. It gave Harry a small amount of satisfaction, seeing it, but on the other hand, he felt guilty because it brought up a brief image of his parents from his dream. Remembering the dream, he thought briefly of Ron's face as Voldemort had cast the Killing Curse.
"What – Harry?" Ron asked, as if he couldn't believe Harry would say such a thing. Oh, but you did… Good job. The unfavorable voice from before chuckled. It was gone just as soon as it had emerged, but it left Harry feeling more satisfaction.
"Said what I said. Hurry up now, those dreamy sausages must be getting cold."
Ron turned to go, hearing his words. Before closing the door, he opened his mouth. "…Fine, be this way, Harry. I know Hermione said I shouldn't say anything, but it's done with. Nothing's bringing him back, and pushing us away won't help one fucking bit." With that, the door clicked firmly shut.
"How fricking insightful of you both." Harry whispered, turning over onto his back and staring mournfully at the ceiling. His and Ron's words brought back more images from the dream of the last person to be killed. The hole in his chest flooded with sadness at thoughts of Sirius, adding to the aching of his forehead.
He quietly untangled himself from the sheets and sat up, angrily rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand to get rid of the tears. He touched his throbbing forehead and breathed deeply for a second to calm down.
"You could have fooled me as an actual Slytherin just then, Harry."
Harry leaned over the edge of the bed, staring as Draco's head appeared from under it. "Sorry about that." He said, ignoring the blond's comment.
"What for? I love hearing the Weasel being told off, especially by you. It should happen more often. I just wish I could have seen the look on his face as he heard it. Of course, unless you're apologizing for tossing me over your bed…" Draco glared up at him.
"Okay.. I was apologizing for that, but I didn't toss you over the bed. I tossed you next to me. You're the one who crawled over." Harry explained. Draco noticed any anger he heard or felt from the boy while the other had been present was gone, for the most part.
"What, you would have rather he found us both on the bed, or would you have kicked me off?" Draco's glare turned into a playful smirk as he imagined what the Weasel would have done, finding Harry with him in bed.
"Actually, I was going to hide you under the covers. But I like your way just fine." Harry smirked back.
Draco paused, thinking about being under Harry's blanket, close to his body. He knew as a fact from earlier Harry slept shirtless, so what else did Harry sleep in? Draco hoped he didn't wear pajama bottoms. 'Hmm..nice..' He'd have to save those thoughts for later.
Draco slid out from underneath the bed, not saying a word. Harry leaned back over the edge so he pulled himself up onto the bed next to the Gryffindor. Harry gingerly pressed his forehead into his hands again, causing the blond to somber somewhat. He remembered why he was in Harry's room in the first place. Motioning to Harry's forehead, he asked, "Are you… Does it still hurt?"
Harry glanced at Draco again, but once again, there was no mocking in his eyes. Only concern. Why the hell was Malfoy so concerned all of a sudden?
"Yeah, but it's not anything I've not dealt with before – "
Draco tentatively pulled Harry's hands away from his head, his eyes trained on what he was doing rather than looking directly at Harry. He then touched the lightning scar, so softly Harry might not have known he was doing it if he hadn't been watching.
The blond's fingers ghosted across his skin, sending tingles spreading out in their wake. Harry closed his eyes, taking the time given to think about the dream that had caused the pain, as Malfoy's soft fingers eased everything away. That effing dream. He'd expected an onslaught of memories, but the new sick game had his stomach turning. Voldemort had tortured them before killing them off one by one, choosing the next when Harry refused to. As he refused, each torture gave Harry a small taste of the pain separately, growing stronger with his silence. And as hard as he'd tried, he could not move or look away. Seeing all of them die and hearing their last cries had been worse than the longest Cruciatus Voldemort had performed. Harry remembered that when Ron and Hermione's turns had come up the cold voice in his head had been present.
Jeez, what was he thinking, snapping at Ron after that dream? He knew Ron was right. He was pushing them away. But he was also wrong: Pushing them away would help by keeping them alive, because all the people around him died.
He shook his head to clear it, knocking Draco's cool hand off his forehead.
"What are you thinking?" Draco asked, looking into Harry's eyes.
"Uhm.. Nothing really."
Draco raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Right."
"Just.. about what Ron said, and my dream. Are you always so cold?" Harry answered, quickly changing subjects, not meeting Draco's eyes. What was it about Draco Malfoy that made him share everything?
Draco gazed at him thoughtfully. "You're hot."
Harry's eyes snapped to his. "What??"
Draco smirked. "You're hot, Harry… as in warm. You're so innocent – don't think I didn't catch it when the Weasel asked if you were going down to breakfast."
Harry's cheeks heated up and he glanced at Draco's hands, lying in his lap. The blush caused Draco's smirk to deepen. Harry didn't respond, he just moved off the bed, hastily grabbing a pair of jeans and struggled to put them on with his back turned.
Draco let his eyes roam over Harry's backside. He was right at least – Harry slept in boxers, navy blue ones to be exact. Cotton. It was a rather delicious sight, seeing Harry's pale, lightly muscled back… disappearing under the low-riding dark blue material. Any color, Draco expected, would complement well with the pitch black of Harry's hair. Draco imagined running his hands through that same inky hair and touching every inch of his smooth skin. He could see Harry shiver and gasp in his mind, just for him, arching his back into Draco's touch. He thought about Harry's green eyes, how they'd widen, glinting with arousal and desire, his soft pink lips opening into a silent "O" just as he…
"Draaaco… What the heck are you looking at?" Those same green eyes, full of curiosity, appeared right in front of him, the dark haired boy waving a hand at his face, still shirtless. Jeans now covered his boxers, but it didn't make it any less alluring.
Draco visibly jumped, not only at being startled from Harry appearing in front of him, but because it really sounded almost as if Harry had moaned his name. Had he imagined that also?
"Nothing." Draco looked coolly into his eyes, Harry not looking convinced. He actually seemed amused. Draco pushed away the Gryffindor's waving hand and ran his own through his perfect blond hair, mussing it slightly. 'I'm going soft or something.'
Harry spoke, making Draco realize he'd spoken aloud. "Soft about what? You don't always have to play a pompous git y'know. This side's much more interesting anyway."
Draco quickly covered his embarrassment at being caught and at Harry's unconscious innuendo. "Only you, Harry Potter." He said, speaking softly.
Harry, taken aback by the use of his full name, raised an eyebrow to Draco. "Only me?"
Draco flopped back on the bed, accomplishing even this while looking graceful. "Yes only you. Only you would find that interesting. Only you can get under my skin and infuriate me within a heartbeat. Only you can beat me at Quidditch. Only you can do all the things you've done. Only you…" 'Only you can make my heart beat faster, take my breath away, and break down all my walls with just one glance. Yes, Harry, only you.'
Harry didn't quite know what to say. "Huh. If it helps, you've always presented a challenge." He turned, automatically pulling a random t-shirt out of the armoire, yanking it over his head. The shirt, Draco noticed, was one of the many plus sizes Harry had, and also a dark blue.
He wondered for a moment about that before opening his mouth. "Why the plus sizes, Harry?"
Harry glanced down at his shirt then back to Draco. "Cousin's hand-me-downs. It's what I get." He shrugged, walking back to the bed Draco was on, taking his glasses up from the nightstand and sliding them onto his nose.
Draco made a face at the glasses.
"I can actually see you now when you do that, I'll have you know."
Draco's face slacked into its normal mask. Harry looked at him strangely. Draco's eyes moved past him to the doorway. Harry whirled and saw what Draco put the mask on for: the door was opening.
Ginny poked her head in.
"Oi, Malfoy? Sorry Harry." He motioned her into his room.
"Hey Ginny." Next to him, Draco sat up and nodded. She slipped in holding a small tray of food, which she set on Draco's lap.
"Ah, I can't stay. Mum's asked me to… er… uhm…" Ginny trailed off, glancing nervously at Harry. He sat down on the bed, his stomach twisting at the smell of food.
"Asked you to what?" Draco pressed on, eyeing the tray.
She looked away from Harry before answering him. "Help Kreacher clean the kitchen. She's busy talking to Tonks."
Harry looked at the young Gryffindor avoiding his eyes. Kreacher. That… goddamned House-elf. Instead of flying down the stairs to see the demented old thing himself and cause it lots of pain, he willed his face to show no emotion. Ginny didn't need his crap anyway as she was just the messenger.
'Don't kill the messenger.' Harry thought to himself wryly. "Okay."
The redhead in the room seemed surprised by the response. "Uhm… Ron's downstairs with Hermione, Harry. Are you gonna go down and eat with them?"
"No." He shook his head twice, emphasizing his point. He didn't want to face them right now, nor be in the same vicinity as Kreacher. Not yet.
"Want me to bring you something?"
Again he shook his head, "No thanks, Gin." The use of his nickname for her seemed to relieve her somewhat, telling her he wasn't angry. She backed off, shutting the door behind her.
A jam-covered piece of toast dropped into his lap as the door clicked. Harry looked to the blond next to him in question.
"Eat." He commanded in answer, already digging into his eggs now that Ginny was gone. He'd been quiet through their whole conversation.
Harry frowned at the toast. The blond placed a sausage on top of it, causing his frown to deepen further. "I'll continue." He threatened lightheartedly.
Harry picked up the meat and tore a bite out of it, glaring at Draco. Draco smirked in response, "Good boy."
The Slytherin shared his breakfast with the Gryffindor, neither speaking until the food was gone.
"Feel better, Savior?" Draco asked. "You've got quite the explaining to do."
"A bit, Princess." Harry shot back, using the twins' new nickname for Draco. "Explaining for?"
"All of it. Don't call me that." Draco began ticking off fingers. "Your nightmare, the scar, you, Granger and the Weasel, your reaction to Ginny and Kreacher cleaning, and eating. And this place if you don't mind. It's annoying me not knowing what the hell this place is. Start from the top." He looked at Harry expectantly.
Inside as well as out, Harry groaned. "All of it?"
"Indulge me, Harry." He purred. Sadly, for Draco, Harry's mind was too occupied to catch his double meaning.
"Fine… but remember you asked for it. My nightmare and scar are tied together. The scar linked me to Voldemort. It's why I can speak Parseltongue. Occasionally, I can also see through him – visions of some sort. Last year, he realized he could use the link to send me fake visions," He stalled, seeing Sirius being Crucio-ed in the Hall of Prophecies, row 97… Draco was watching his face now with the strange concerned look in his eyes, though the blank expression was in place. Harry continued. "Which is where the nightmare comes in. Voldemort sends me dreams, or I'll have a vision about what he's doing. The scar burns when he's doing something or when something happens in a dream. This dream he.. killed everyone in front of me like a fucking game, and I felt it all."
Now concern was written all over Draco's face. Harry pushed on. "I don't really know where to start about Hermione and Ron. All their letters this summer and now being here… they're hiding something from me. And you probably think it's all childish, but it still sucks. Before I was thinking y'know, maybe they'd be better off if we just weren't friends. They wouldn't be dragged into all of this Voldemort stuff, they wouldn't have to worry about me, and they… it would just be easier for them. And it's started I guess. They're ignoring me. They didn't sit with me for dinner last night. It might all be because every time I'm near them, I explode, but they say such… all they're doing right now is pissing me off. And the funny thing? My best friends nag about how I look and I get angry, but when my ex-enemy does the same, I don't. Some weird fricking world, right?" Harry sighed. Draco took all this in.
"You know… I'm a bit flattered about that." Draco really was. The Golden Boy was sharing his feelings and thoughts with him – while a bit scary – it made him feel a little closer to being Harry's friend. After all, Granger and Weasel were the ones he usually shared with. 'And now it's like he's all mine.' Draco thought, a little gleeful. 'What I've always wanted.' Draco pressed on. "And Ginny, the eating and the house?"
Harry shut his eyes and answered, halting every other word. "I have a bad history with Kreacher, it's nothing against Ginny, she's like a sister."
"She said the same about you." Draco cut in. "But continue about Kreacher."
"Kreacher's a House-elf here. Last year… I got a fake vision from Voldemort, about the Department of Mysteries. Hermione made me check before rushing off to save the day. Kreacher, on orders from.. someone else, made it seem like he was the only one here. He lied to me, I went off, and the person I loved the most ended up dead because I have a 'saving-people thing' as Hermione would say. Voldemort called it a hero complex. He died because I was bloody stupid. On top of that, everyone who went with me was injured." Harry smiled sadly, looking away as a tear slid down his cheek. "That's what Ron was saying, about how 'he' couldn't be saved."
The person Harry loved most? A frown crossed Draco's face. He'd have to think about that later. "It's… not your fault. You couldn't have known the vision was fake. And Weasel's a git for mentioning it anyway, Harry."
Harry sighed again. "Thanks, Draco."
"I meant it. And don't get used to it either – besides the Weasel's a git thing. I'll never tire of saying that."
Harry grinned. "One day maybe."
"No way." Draco looked scandalized. "I'm surprised you haven't told me off for calling him Weasel."
"He calls you Ferret." He shrugged causing Draco to grimace at the name.
"Anyway… eating? I don't know. I skipped meals the beginning of summer I guess. I was hung up about.. him. Then I was punished, came here, and the whole frickin' place reminds me of him, it's just hard to. Facing all those people down there, looking at me, sharing looks, watching what they say… I hate it. I just… I don't know. I haven't thought all that much about it. As for what this place is," Harry wrung his hands in his lap. "This is the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix. The house is… was my godfather's; also known as Black Manor, home to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. And it's getting blacker every day." Harry smiled, remembering how Sirius had said that in response to Kreacher last year, before showing him the tapestry of the family tree.
"Black… Sirius Black?" Draco asked, connecting name to person, from what little he'd heard from his father. "Black is your godfather?"
Harry nodded mutely.
"Shit, Harry… I'm sorry." Draco apologized sincerely. He'd known Harry was in contact with the convict – Merlin knows why though – but he had not expected that.
Harry shook his head. "'Salright." He recognized the full meaning of Draco apologizing – Malfoys never did such… trivial things that were beneath them. If Draco was apologizing, he meant it. Harry stood in the middle of his room, lost in thought.
Harry's eyes moved to the closed door. "Do you want to get out of here?"
Draco's confidence dropped and his heart quickly began putting up its icy defense. "Alright, if you want to be alone." He stood and made his way to the door, past Harry.
Harry's hand on his arm halted any further movement. 'Let go, let go, let me just get out of here before I do anything stupid.' Draco thought.
"I meant with me." Harry let go of Draco's arm.
Draco stood unsure for a second, watching Harry bite his lip. It was adorable really, with his hair all mussed and his bright eyes.
"Where's there to go? I'm under the impression you can't really go anywhere."
"Not outside, but I'm sure this house has some interesting rooms." Harry shrugged. "Come on, explore with me. I never had much chance to last time, and I doubt you'll find Ron snooping in the rooms if there's spiders."
How could he refuse?
When Draco nodded Harry grinned and ducked out of the room, leaving the Slytherin alone. He stood, waiting for Harry to enter the room again. Why'd he leave?
Draco sighed while looking around the room. It was furnished similar to his, but it had no real personal touches of he boy he'd fought for five years. His trunk was near the bed and clothes were sitting on top from when he'd seen Harry change, and a few books were set out on the desk, but no pictures were out. Harry had to have pictures of some sort – that Creevey kid had taken enough pictures of Hero Boy to last everyone lifetimes.
A scowl crossed Draco's face at the thought of the young Gryffindor fan. The stupid kid grated his nerved every time he even opened his mouth to say "Hiya Harry!" And that was the face Harry saw when he peeked his head back in.
"It's a room, Draco. Come on, they're still in the kitchen."
Draco followed Harry out of the room and they both snuck up another stairway. They walked by a few closed doors, simply trying to get farther from the kitchen.
The first room past the girls' bedroom held nothing of interest. It looked like a spare room, with no portraits. Harry dismissed it quickly, continuing down the hall. 'Where is he taking me?' Draco idly thought, before moving on also. It was only a few seconds before he noticed Harry had walked right past a wooden black door with strange symbols around the frames. A door he could have sworn he'd seen before. Had they somehow gotten turned around?
"Harry," Draco got his attention and waited until he looked back at him. He motioned to the door. "What's in this room?"
Harry looked where he was pointing to the door, confusion and surprise registering in his eyes. He took a step towards the door, cautiously.
"I don't know. Did it just appear?"
"You walked right by it, then I noticed." Draco answered. "Should we open it?"
Harry looked uncertain.. Images of all the forbidden doors he'd opened in the past circled around his mind as he stared at the mysterious door. There was no visible door handle.
"How?" He wondered if the Order knew about the door. Maybe it was like the Room of Requirement, appearing to those in need?
Draco reached out a hand and, before Harry could stop him, touched the door with his outstretched fingertips.
A/N: Yes! Fifth Chapter! I apologize for it taking so long to post (I did say ten reviews for ch4)... The next one might take even longer to get out though, since I don't have so much pre-written. -Ducks the flying books and sharp objects- Thank you muchly for the reviews you guys! They brighten my sad days.