Warning: Violence, language, slash, everything your mother warned you about...
A/N: I do not, nor will I EVER claim to own © Harry Potter. That's J.K. Rowling's job.
Author's note: I don't even know how to say how sorry I am for taking so long. I hope you all still enjoy it, those of you who forgive me and keep reading. :)
P.S. As the fifth (and now sixth) book have come out – some of you might have questions. 1) Sirius is still alive. (I adore that man, and he will live on in this story!) 2) Harry is NOT taking any lessons from Snape. 3) Basically everyone who has been killed off is still alive. I've twisted this world around so it fits my personal taste...so...yes. I hope you all still enjoy it. On with the show! (...finally...)
"Hello, father..."
Draco's departing words did little to ease the tension from the absurdly horrific scene that had just played out. If anything, they only solidified everyone's fear: Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father, was inside the Great Hall, a curious and cruel smile on his face...
"Hello, children..."
...and he had seen everything.
The aristocratic blonde briefly acknowledged the crumpled heap that lay just beneath him, before returning his attentions to the terrified students before him. The cold smile grew wider.
"I wasn't aware that my son was on the menu, this evening. Pity..." His eyes flitted over to Pansy, "...I would've brought a plate."
The entire Slytherin House took a step back and lowered their gaze, much to the surprise of the rest of the school.
It was then that Severus found his footing, and his voice.
"Move."
The waves parted.
Lucius smiled, tight-lipped, as he watched Severus approach. The distaste both felt for the other was clearly visible, almost tangible, and it grew in potency as their distance closed. Severus nodded. "Lucius."
"Impeccable timing, Professor..." He wasted no time, "Though a bit too late for Draco,wouldn't you think?"
Civility was such a curse at times.
He regarded Malfoy Senior with deadly subtle squint, a silent promise for a later time. After a nod of approval from Dumbledore, Severus muttered... "Mobilicorpus!"...and Draco, still unconscious, rose from the floor and hovered – awaiting direction. Severus moved in to guide the comatose boy towards the Infirmary, but his outstretched hand was slapped aside. Furious, his head whipped back and he found himself nose to nose with an equally furious Lucius Malfoy.
"Don't...touch him." Lucius' words spat out, saturated and dripping with contempt; it took all the strength Severus could will not to lash out.
Fire flashed behind the Potion Master's eyes. Raising his hands in a calculated motion, before clasping them together, he stepped aside.
Lucius muttered a low incantation, and both his hand and Draco began to glow a faint crimson. The two senior death eaters' gaze locked for a moment, a silent promise that more was to be said. And in a quick turn, Lucius whipped back his cloak and left the silent Hall, Draco following in tow...pulled by an invisible chain.
Severus didn't bother waiting for Dumbledore's approval before following after them.
The battle over patriarchal claim to young Draco was danced out in a matter of moments, too quick for most of Hogwarts to catch. Only the stillness of the air, laced with bitter resentment, would be proof enough that the battle had even occurred.
For a solid moment, the Hall remained silent after Draco's departure...only after the two sets of footsteps were out of range, did anyone dare breathe. A collective sigh of relief reverberated off the walls of the Great Hall, followed quickly by a few nervous chuckles.
They were short lived.
"Dinner...is over." McGonagall's icy words cut through the air like a knife. "Prefects, lead your Houses back to their dormitories. You will await further instruction as to your punishment there." Her eyes narrowed.
"NOW."
Harry trailed back, away from the mass of Gryffindors that were making their way back to the Portrait. He had searched briefly for Ron and Hermione when everyone was leaving the Great Hall, but his redheaded friend had made it quite clear that he did not want to be found. Ron was heading the troop, blue eyes blazing – pulling what appeared to be a concerned and confused Hermione behind him...obviously not too eager to talk to Harry.
It was for the best, he figured. As he wasn't quite sure as to what to tell them, even if they were willing to talk to him long enough to ask questions.
Harry was still in a state of shock; everything had happened so fast, he hadn't had time to think. Not that he was one to think in a crisis anyway. Following his gut reaction had kept him alive thus far, even though it wasn't always fail-safe. So why, exactly, had his gut told him to go against his friends for a boy that had never been anything but horrible to him? And why had that same gut prevented him from helping said boy when he obviously needed it?
The gut in question lurched, and a wave of nausea swept through his lean frame. Knees wobbling, Harry leaned against the wall and tried to force down the bile that was rising in the back of his throat. The evening's events had finally caught up with him, it would seem. He clenched his fists, furious, and willed away the cold sweat that was threatening to overtake.
'It wasn't supposed to be like this.'
He wasn't supposed to be like this. Shaking, confused, unable to make sense of his own actions. Not exactly appropriate behavior for one destined to save the wizarding world. Harry began to laugh at the thought, but quickly stopped due to the churning in his stomach.
'You're falling apart, old boy...'
The corridor had emptied by that point, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts. Though, in reality, he had been alone with them for far longer than that. By choice, even. Ron and Hermione had been there; of course...the hurt look on Ron's face crept into his mind, and another knot pulled tight in his stomach. Harry had a feeling that particular image would be burned behind his eyes for quite some time. Betrayal on the purest level. It was odd, really...that expression on Ron's face...because of him. Because of what he did...rather, what he didn't do. Is that what the rest of his life was going to be like? Deceiving some to save others?
Instantly, another picture appeared in Harry's mind...one of silver blonde and deathly fear. He closed his eyes. Why did this have to be so complicated? There shouldn't be any question as to where his loyalties lie, and yet...there's Draco. Smarmy, evil, egocentric, selfish, malicious and all around not nice boy Draco Malfoy. Who, up until a few hours ago, had been his enemy. So, if he wasn't an enemy now...and he wasn't an ally...what in Merlin's name was he?
"He's a pain in my arse, that's what he is." Harry rubbed his temples in a slow, calculated fashion.
This had to be one of the least funny moments in his short history, so of course it made perfect sense for him to be laughing. Hoarse, rough laugher seeped from him as he airily began to speak to no one in particular.
"I, Harry Potter, am beginning to sympathize with the ONE person I despise more than myself. Hope you can understand." He chuckled at his own rantings, "Yes, you heard me correctly. Draco Malfoy, you've heard of him? The smug, selfish bastard who's made my life a living hell since first year? Yes, that's him. One and the same."
Harry leaned away from the wall, making his way back to the Portal, laughing.
Severus lingered behind Draco a few steps, silent in appearance...but if one was apt in reading body language, they could sense the rage that seeped from him. His steps were quick and precise, as if stepping on the wrong crack in the floor would mean his demise. His gaze remained fixated upon the unconscious boy; a cold, uncaring blanket, masking a deep-seeded and heartfelt concern.
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
Draco was supposed to be conscious for this meeting. He was supposed to have all five senses alert and responding. He was supposed to have his wits about him...not in a catatonic state. Not just having dealt with probably one of the most traumatic events of his young life. Not...like this. The Potions Master closed his eyes, briefly. How many times could he fail the boy before Draco finally lost all faith in him...?
"Draco always thought highly of you, Severus." Lucius' voice was always smooth and calculated...especially around those he despised. "Almost as if you were...a father figure to him." He chuckled quietly. "And after tonight's performance, I can almost see why."
The Potion Master's eyes narrowed slightly, never breaking from Draco's unconscious form. "To become a father figure, especially to one who has no father, is hardly a note-worthy feat."
Lucius kept his pace, amusement in his tone. "I believe you've been misinformed, Severus. After all, it was Draco himself who announced his undying respect for me this evening. One cannot respect something that does not exist."
"I wasn't aware fear and respect were one and the same."
"Oh, they are..." The aristocratic blonde rounded a corner. "...after all, both produce the same outcome..."
"A god complex?" Severus deadpanned.
"...Loyalty, actually." Lucius turned slowly, a well-worn smirk plastered on his face. "Not that you'd know anything about that particular trait."
Severus slowed to a stop, his stoic mask of indifference still in place. "If there's something you feel the need to say..."
"...I've said all I need to say..."
Severus chuckled darkly at that. "You've never been one of few words, Lucius. Don't start playing modest, now." He quirked an agitated eyebrow. "It doesn't suit you."
"And dancing doesn't suit you, Severus. Stop skirting the issue." A fire danced behind his gray eyes, turning them silver. "I know what you're doing."
Though his pulse had risen significantly, it didn't show.
"Do be good enough to enlighten me."
Lucius cocked his head in mock-thought. "And give away my edge?" He chuckled. "I'm not so new to this game, though you appear to hope so. Nor as blind..."
"The only thing I'd accuse you of being blind to, Lucius is your son."
"Don't presume to know MY son." Lucius took a step forward. "Being his Head of House does not give you leeway into his mind."
Their distance closed. "And you, being the ever-present father, of course know his every thought."
"Of course I do." A smug smile appeared. "I made them."
"Is that why I couldn't go through with the prank, you ask? Why, yes...I think that's partly it. See, dear ol' Draco and I have more in common than I first gave him credit for." He paused, allowing the air around him a moment to look confused. "We do! We really, truly do. Don't you see it? No? Well, let me explain..."
Harry rounded the corner, explaining his neurosis to himself.
"We both come from broken homes, from families who are, for all intents and purposes, dead to us. From those families, we both have fallen into a life that neither of us had chosen for ourselves." He paused, "Voldemort. We both have Voldemort at our heels, though – for different reasons." He counted his reasoning's on his fingers, half-paying attention to where he was walking.
"Expectations, birthright, horrid childhoods, loads of angst, father issues, fame..." He slowed to a stop.
"We...have a lot in common."
Harry hadn't counted on actually convincing himself of anything.
He sobered, the amusement gone from his face. All the similarities, there were too many to overlook as just a coincidence. Though, could he say that they meant anything more than just that? Similarities. Was that what was keeping him up at night? Was that why his stomach was turning itself into knots? Harry unconsciously began fiddling with the Amulet that lay within his cloak pocket.
He continued the rest of his journey in contemplative silence.
"Tell me, Lucius, what is YOUR son thinking at this very moment?"
"Not much, I would imagine...as he's currently lacking the capability for conscious thought." He paused, "I suppose I have you to thank for that."
The Potion's master inwardly winced at the words.
As though he could read Severus' thoughts, Lucius smiled coolly. "But, if he were conscious, I've no doubt in my mind he'd be concocting his retribution." The smile grew wider. "One that involves a great deal of pain and mental anguish, I expect."
"No doubt." Severus blinked from Draco back to Lucius. "You must be proud."
The trademark Malfoy smirk faltered for a moment, before reinstating itself. "I will be." He turned to Draco, a seemingly tender moment, had Severus not known his true motivations. "Very soon, I will be."
"Then perhaps it would be prudent if we continued our journey." Severus rolled his shoulders back, unconsciously shrugging of the tension that had started to collect. "I would hate to keep your pride waiting."
Lucius sneered as he regarded Severus through squinted eyes. There was another moment of silence. And then he turned away, resuming their original path.
Severus followed. "The Dark Lord would be most displeased if you were to overlook this meeting once more." An unseen smile graced his lips. "And if that happens, all the pride in the world won't save you." He paused, musing aloud. "I wonder what young Draco would think of that..."
Lucius was slightly less graceful in his walk at Severus' words, causing the Potion Master's posture to straighten significantly.
They continued in silence for the remainder of the trip.
Nothing was any clearer by the time he arrived at the Portrait, other than the fact that he really and truly was crazy, and it took a few inquiries from the Fat Lady before Harry was rousted out of his contemplations long enough to mutter the password.
"...Pixie Sticks."
The portal door swung open and Harry stepped in, not really sure what to expect on the other side, though not really thinking about it, either. His mind was still wrapped up in the day and all the realizations he'd unexpectedly come across.
Had he really been that dense as to not pick up on them before? Or maybe he had been so absorbed in hating the idea of Malfoy he never gave himself the chance to realize...and were his thoughts really that loud? Or was the common room just that quiet?
Harry lifted his head, coming eye to eye with the entire Gryffindor House...staring at him.
"..." He blinked. They were still there. "...Uh..." Harry looked around the room, not really sure if he wanted to make eye contact with anyone. Though, when his green gaze met piercing blue, his breath caught in his already dry throat...
"Ron..."
"If I could have your attention for a moment, please." Harry blinked again, turning towards the stern voice that had called out behind him. It was McGonagall, and if it were possible for her lips to thin out even more, she wouldn't have had any left. "Now."
As the Gryffindor House turned their attention from Harry to McGonagall, he winced, realizing how bad this looked. Harry, not participating in the prank...lingering behind...showing up just milliseconds before McGonagall...how bloody perfect. If Ron didn't kill him for betraying his trust, surely the rest of Gryffindor would have a bat at him for appearing to suck up to McGonagall. He took a few steps away from his Head of House – hoping it would convince the others that he didn't have any part of whatever what was to happen next. He would've laughed out loud again, as he'd done in the hallway minutes earlier, had McGonagall not chosen to speak just then.
"I cannot begin to disclose just how disappointed I am in this House." Her words were crisp and precise, and a handful of eyes that belonged to the first-years fluttered down. "As Gryffindors, and as students at this school, we are to set an example. Not only amongst the other Houses – but to the rest of the wizarding world. What happened tonight," her words faltered for half a second, "was a horrific display of both cowardice and ignorance – and it will not be tolerated." Her eyes scanned about the room, forcing even more gazes to lower and become suddenly engrossed in the cracks within the common room floor.
"The other Heads and I have come up with a suitable punishment, as they are undoubtedly telling their Houses right now." She paused, obviously having some difficulty with what she had to say. The room was holding its breath.
"Quidditch has been cancelled for the rest of term."
Her words were met with a roar of outrage and disbelief. Harry's voice was one of them.
"You can't do that!"
"It's Quidditch! It's our lifeblood!"
"But Professor..!"
"SILENCE!"
One could almost hear hearts breaking the room was so still.
"You have brought this upon yourselves, I'm afraid." Her words held a sadness that was only too true. "Now is not the time to be burning bridges amongst ourselves. Too much is at stake, and I can only hope that your extra time will allow you to think about what you have done." She made eye contact with the few eyes that were brave enough to remain fixed upon her. "And make sure it never, EVER happens again."
And with a final glance, she was gone.
Professor McGonagall had stepped through the portrait only moments before the murmuring began. Voices low and heated, Gryffindor house was in an uproar. Luckily for Harry, most of the eyes had fallen off of him and were redirected towards each other – lamenting in the most unexpected turn of events. Two pairs of eyes still remained, looking even more hurt and confused than before – if it were possible.
"Ron..." Harry took a step forward.
"Don't talk to me." The redhead had turned towards the stairs, leaving Hermione and the rest of his house in his wake.
"Ron, I'm sorry." He carried on behind him. "I didn't mean..."
"...To help Malfoy? To get us all into worse trouble?" Ron still hadn't turned around. "To leave me looking like a fool? Is that what you didn't mean?" His speed doubled as he winded up the stairs.
"Ron..." Hermione's voice called out behind them.
"Actually, technically I didn't help him..." He took two steps at a time
"No, you just stood there like an idiot." Ron took three.
"Ron, slow down!"
Harry raced behind him, almost nipping at his heels. "I don't know what happened, okay?" And honestly, he didn't. "Something about it just wasn't right...I should've told you sooner..."
"Bit late for that now, isn't it?" The redhead rounded the corner, making his way into the boys' dormitories.
"Now you're not being fair." Hermione had caught up, panting slightly. "If you'd just let him explain..."
"What, you're on his side now?" He rounded on her, plowing past Harry...a finger in her face. "If I recall correctly, you were just as excited about this as I was. As we all were!" Harry had to take a step back from the overly dramatic gesture.
"Stop being so dramatic. I'm not on anyone's side, Ron. I just want you to listen to what he has to say..." Remaining calm, Hermione switched her gaze from Ron to Harry. "Right then, what happened?"
Harry opened his mouth, prepared to explain everything...only to have his mouth go dry once more. "I..." He closed his eyes, daring himself to repeat the same soliloquy he'd previously rehearsed in the hallway, knowing full well they'd never understand it. Feeling both pair of eyes still on him, "It's complicated."
"Story of your life."
"Ron!" Hermione batted his arm. "We're never going to find out if you keep interrupting."
"Well, he's not saying anything, Hermione!" Another gesture towards Harry.
"Perhaps he would if only you'd shut your trap for a nanosecond!"
"It felt wrong, okay?" Harry's voice echoed over the two of them. "I didn't go through with the "prank of the century" because I FELT BAD about it." He ran a hand through his hair, his fingers knotting around the ends. "Everything happened so fast...earlier, when you came to me about it, I should've...but I didn't...and I don't even know why it was different, but it was, because Draco was different...and then dinner came..." He was looking around at everything in the staircase, trying to force some sense into his words. "I didn't have time to think so I just reacted and I'm sorry that it pissed you off so much, but..." He paused. "It didn't have anything to do with you," his eyes flittered over to Ron. "Either of you."
A beat.
"Well, that clears that up." Ron clapped his hands together, earning an eye roll from Harry.
"I told you I didn't know why!" Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why are you making such a huge deal out of this? So I chickened out! Nothing changed! Draco still got humiliated in front of the entire school..."
"Malfoy."
"What?"
"Malfoy. His name is Malfoy."
"That's what I said!"
"No, Harry...you said Draco." Ron started to laugh. "What the hell happened in the infirmary that you could say that bastard's first name TWICE and not even notice?"
He shrugged off the accusation. "Nothing happened in the Infirmary."
"Did you talk to him?" Hermione rejoined the conversation.
Harry stammered a little, "We insulted each other like we normally do," He looked to the two of them. "Look, it doesn't even matter what was said."
"Why are you getting so defensive?"
"I'm not getting defensive."
"Yes, you are."
"No, I'm not."
"Methinks thou dost protest too much," quoted Ron in a sing-songy voice.
"Why does it matter that I talked with him?"
"Oh, so now it's 'with' him and not 'to' him?"
"Okay YES, I talked with him." Harry's voice raised a notch. "We bonded. We had a moment. I shared my life story with him and he shared his raspberry truffle with me. We cried and exchanged hugs at the end of it, is that what you want to hear?"
"No, but it's probably the closest thing to the truth we've heard all night."
"You know what? Fine..." Harry went right past Ron and into the boy's dormitories. "I'm wasting my breath..."
"And I'm done with this conversation." Ron followed in suit. Harry grabbed his pillow, blanket and a few of his belongings and stormed right back out of the room.
"Good."
"Good."
"Fine!"
"Fine!"
"Hey, give my best to Draco..."
SLAM!
Harry could hear Ron yelling from behind the door, "After all, we both know that's where you're going!"
Hermione finally caught up with Harry not far from the Gryffindor Portrait.
"Harry..." He showed no signs of slowing. "Harry hold on."
"Not now, Hermione. Please." Exhausted, confused and entirely too pissed at the world, now was not the time for a Hermione lecture.
She followed in suit. "Why are you boys so completely against the idea of someone trying to help you?"
"Because we're stubborn, brainless gits who won't realize anything unless it's violently beaten into us." He rounded a corner.
"Well, yes that's true, actually," she grinned. "But not the point. If you want to salvage anything from tonight then you will stop right now and listen to me." She'd stopped and he'd slowed. "Please, Harry."
Another two steps and he'd stopped, inhaled and turned. "What is it, Hermione?"
She softened. "You need to know something."
"I need to know a lot of things." Exasperated, he slumped against the nearest wall. "It's been a really long day, nothing's making any sort of sense and I've argued my way out of sleeping in my own bed so if you don't mind..." Harry slid the rest of the way down to the floor. "If you've got something to say, please just say it."
"I'm not mad at you."
A tired laugh escaped. "Thank you for that."
"But Ron is." She drew closer. "And you should know why."
"Oh, I think I've got a pretty good idea why." He looked up at her, "Didn't you hear him up there?"
Kneeling down, Hermione rested her chin on her knee. "Yes, but I don't think you did. Not entirely, anyway."
"What? The entire common room heard him!" Banging his head lightly against the wall. "He made sure of that..."
She rolled her eyes, "Honestly, you boys need to start learning how to read between the lines. I'm not always going to be there to translate for you."
He shook his head, "Mione, please...enough with the cryptics..."
"Fine." She breathed, "You made a choice tonight. Not about the prank, but more on a fundamental level." She hugged her knees to her chest.
"Yes, I know...I know. I picked Malfoy over Ron."
"No Harry, you picked your worst enemy over your best friend." She emphasized the last two words, trying to make her point in as few syllables as possible.
Harry looked at her, a small recognition in his eyes. "Well, yeah...I mean, I did. But I didn't." He paused. "He's not my worst enemy."
Neither Harry nor Hermione could believe the words had come out of his mouth.
She stared at him. "What?"
"He's...not my worst enemy. I don't know." Harry got to his feet. "Things changed."
She stood, disbelief in her eyes. "Harry, do you hear yourself?"
"He's not my friend, either. I don't...know what he is."
"He's the same horrible person that's made Ron's family's life a living hell. The Weasley's, Harry. Your surrogate family. The people who've taken you in every summer and who treat you like one of their own."
"I know who they are, Hermione."
"The same boy who calls me a mudblood. Whose father has all but made blatant threats about my family." A quiet anger flowed from her. "The boy who wouldn't blink an eye if I wound up dead in a Death Eater ceremony, Harry. This is who we're talking about!"
"Don't you think I know what he's done, Hermione?"
"Then why are you defending him?"
"I'm not! I'm just saying..." He paced the hallway, his head in his hands. "I'm finding more and more of myself in him, that's all. I'm starting to relate..." His words died out quietly.
She stood there, a dumbfounded expression upon her face. "I see."
"Hermione." Harry closed his eyes, mentally punching himself in the gut. "Hermione, I didn't mean it the way it sounded..." But she had already turned to leave.
"I need to go."
"I'm sorry..."
"I'll talk to you tomorrow, Harry."
She was already halfway down the hall and Harry still couldn't think of anything to say.
"Hermione..."
But she was gone. He stood there staring into the empty hallway, her footsteps echoing in the distance. Minutes passed, he wasn't sure how many. After what seemed like an eternity, Harry balled up his fists, collected his things, and did the only thing that made any sort of sense.
He went to the infirmary.
It was 8:30
The only light illuminating the infirmary sat on Draco's bedside table, casting a soft glow upon the still unconscious boy. Though the back of his head would still be sore from earlier in the day, he showed no other sign of physical injury. However, the mental injury, which was what she was more concerned about, would only be evident when he regained consciousness. And even then...her aged lips pursed with pity at the thought. They might never know just how much damage was done tonight.
Madam Pomfrey glanced towards the two men that lingered near the doorway, still quiet in their heated discussion, taking sure steps to guarantee she didn't hear a word of it. Never having particularly liked the Malfoy family, it still pained her to see one of the students go through so much in one day. This was one of the few times Lucius Malfoy was entitled to carry on in furious tones, she could only wonder just what he had in store for the school...and young Draco for that matter. Another swell of pity directed her hand to his bandaged forehead once more, lightly dabbing the sweat from his brow.
Feeling pity for a Malfoy. Would wonders never cease?
With a soft huff, she quietly removed her supplies and her presence from his side.The soft click clacking of shoes broke the sterile silence that had overtaken the infirmary. The hushed conversation slowed to a halt as Madam Pomfrey made her way towards the two wizards – both looking equally tired.
"You may see him how." The aged medi-witch gestured towards Draco, "But I must insist that you do not attempt to wake him."
Lucius' impatience was finally showing. "Though your recommendations are appreciated, Madam Pomfrey," as his well worn smile was finally waning, "I hardly think they are necessary. Draco is my son and I shall speak to him as I wish."
Her gaze matched his own. "I really must insist, Mr. Malfoy. For the good of your son..."
"I will ask you once more not to assume you know what's best for my son," he spoke through slitted teeth. "I have been through enough grief tonight trying to simply talk to my own offspring without the likes of you interfering this far into the evening. You've done your job." He brushed past her. "Good night to you."
Severus stopped her in her tracks. "Poppy," he whispered. She looked up at the professor, appearing more worn than she'd ever seen him. She nodded.
"Promise me you..."
"I'm not leaving." His hand squeezed lightly on her shoulder, and it was all that she needed. The medi witch took one final look as she left the room, and a small shudder ran down her spine.
Lucius Malfoy was hunched over his son, not unlike a vulture ready to feed.
Fiddling with her apron, Madam Pomfrey left the infirmary...a feeling of dread fresh in her belly. It would be a while before she found sleep that night.