Without Question
By Tien Riu
tien_riu@yahoo.com
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Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all characters belong to J.K. Rowlings. Plot (what little there is of it ^_^) and depiction of characters are mine. WARNING: The future of this piece of fiction contains slash/yaoi/shonen ai/homosexual relationships.
Author's Note: Out early as I wanted to release the last of "Histrionic Henchman in a Bedroll" (chapter sixteen of "Lust") on my 21st (gosh I feel old) this Sunday but wanted at the same time to do something for "Without Question" on that day too. So - here is Chapter Fifteen. ^_^ For those of you who are interested, you'll be glad to know that the next Harry and Draco 'is this a moment' moment happens in this chapter. Enjoy!
Also - [embarrased] as Blue pointed out, omega is the last letter in the Greek alphabet and not the Latin one. [coughs] Sorry!
Reviews greatly appreciated, specifically on Draco, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Dean (especially Dean as my handle on his character is the most shaky) characterisation.
Reply to reviews and author's note after chapter.
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Chapter Fifteen: Breakfast and (Maybe) a Wet Dream
The Slytherin Common Room emptied rapidly, leaving only the first years for Professor Snape's personal lecture on 'House Pride'. (He wondered if it was the same one he had heard in first year) Draco remained - Professor Snape would want to see him, and although Malfoys never waited, he felt intelligence dictated he not force his Head of House to follow him back to the fifth year dorms. Especially considering the state he, Greg and Blaise had left them that morning.
The three first years were standing by the fire, listening with rapt eyes to the potions master as he spoke quietly to them. Draco scoffed at the idealistic expressions shining from their eyes. I give them two weeks - if they don't get that there's no such thing as a fair chance for Slytherins at Hogwarts by that stage, they deserve everything the seventh years do to them for loosing house points. Only the daft or the dead remained naïve and idealistic in the Slytherin dungeons. He wondered how many second years there would be in the following year. If there is a second year for those idiots. It's no wonder the Dark Lord is holding off his attack on Hogwarts long enough to recruit if these are the sort of wizards we're getting in Slytherin. The thought was disloyal to Slytherin House of course - but he no longer cared. It was not his task, after all, to help maintain the façade of solidarity.
Not my task. His was to remain silent and hidden - to wait. To be wielded - or be kept safe. Or simply to be forgotten. But that was ridiculous - Malfoys were too important to be forgotten. Except for me evidently.
He rubbed his face imagining he could still feel the faint throb of pain. Good thing Potter was the Boy Who Fought Like A Girl. Well, any girl except for that mudblood Granger. Not that she counted as a girl. He sneered mentally and reminded himself to slip the insult into the next argument he had with Potter and the hapless cohorts.
He pressed his fingers against his cheekbone; perhaps it was because nobody had touched him since the Hogwarts Express, but he could still feel Potter's fist as it slid across his face. . .
Still feel the warmth radiating from the other's body as he was pinned to the ground by the foreign weight. . .
Unable to move. . .
He had looked up and seen the fist - Didn't move.
Draco stiffened. Why didn't I move?
Weasley had been rolling in pain on the ground while Granger threw dubious binding charms over the screaming colt. In the background, he remembered the half-giant swearing and holding onto the pegasus stallion as it reared; there had been feathers drifting to the ground as the herd took to the skies. Potter hit me from behind; I rolled - he was on top -
Hang on - attacking without notice. Hah! Some Gryffindor. Draco thought, sneering - and rubbed at his cheek again. Pomfrey must be loosing her touch if I can still feel Potter's work. His hand stilled, still pressed against the skin. Why wasn't he affected?
The Weasel had barely touched him before he was on the ground in pain. The colt's wings had burst into flame. The grass had scorched - though given the untended nature of the lawns, he doubted anybody would notice. He knew the curse effected every one who came close enough to touch him. So why not Potter?
The first time - on the train - could be explained away; after all, nothing had happened till he had got back to Pansy and Greg. But this time - Everything was burning. So why not him?
Potter was no more special than any of the other students, but for his luck, he would be as mediocre in everything as Weasley. So why?
Surely there was no real truth in the whole 'Boy Who Lived' nonsense.
Because if there was - then. . . Then Potter can touch me without getting burnt. . .
Stupid curse. Can't even choose the right ones to burn.
"Draco."
The Common Room was empty; Draco swallowed mentally as he met the eyes of his Head of House, "Good evening, sir." He said evenly.
Severus nodded towards the flight of stairs that led to his private office, "Follow me."
"Yes, sir." Draco sighed; he had been lectured by Snape more in the last day and a half than he had in the past year and a half. Well, on average anyway.
*
Hermione was greeted by whispers when she arrived at the breakfast table the next morning. Having roomed with Lavender and Parvati for four years her only reaction was an inward sigh and a brief moment of justifiable paranoia. She calmly glanced up and down the Gryffindor table - noting that Parvati was giggling - and swallowed the urge to groan in disgust. Gossip, it seemed, had made its familiar appearance amongst the female members of Gryffindor House - and once more, Hermione was an item of interest. She wondered what it was this year.
No I don't. With Lavender and Parvati interested it can only be one thing: boys. The question is who. She reached for some toast, firmly ignoring the whispers as she thought quickly. Can't be about Ron - especially since he's still in the Infirmary.
"I just can't believe it - I mean I always thought -" Parvati's voice rose and fell out of the audible range, " - Harry -"
Oh no, not Harry and me - again! Hermione groaned inwardly as she glanced back towards the entrance. Sure enough, Harry - looking half asleep - was entering behind Dean, Seamus and Neville. Great. Next thing, I'll be receiving howlers from total strangers - again.
She glanced down at the food before her and felt her stomach clench in nausea-induced dislike. So much for breakfast. Not that she would have had much time to eat anyway - not after the owl's message.
"Morning Hermione." Dean called cheerfully, sliding into a seat opposite her's at the table.
Parvati burst into giggles and leaned over to whisper into Lavender's ears.
"Morning Dean." Hermione said, ignoring Parvati, "Have you finished the reading for class?" she continued as Lavender joined Parvati's peal of snickering. Honestly - it's a wonder Lavender ended up as Prefect. She thought in exasperation as the girl nearly fell off the bench.
Dean made a face, "Which class?" he stood to pour pumpkin juice into his goblet, "Juice?" he offered.
She shook her head; Parvati was whispering again, this time to a fourth year girl Hermione couldn't quite put a name to, "No thanks."
He sat, "I swear, the teachers must think we have nothing more to do than homework. Even Sprout assigned chapters!" he rolled his eyes, Lavender had fallen off the bench - Neville helped her up with a confused expression.
"The reading for 'Muggles in the Magical World'." Hermione said, "We have it again today. Remember?"
'Muggles in the Magical World' was a new class - open only to a select few of the students. Or at least that was the tale they had been told to tell. Hermione stopped herself from reaching to up to touch the time turner, tucked beneath the clothes she was wearing under her robes.
Dean paused, eyes going wide though his voice was calm, "Oh - that reading. Yeah. Took me ages though - at least an hour." He said.
"Really?" Hermione feigned an expression of shock, "It took me two."
"Two?" Dean asked, "I must have missed something -"
"Well, if you want, I can show you my notes." Hermione offered smoothly.
Dean nodded, and stood - breakfast untouched, "How about now? I can do anything I've missed during lunch then without bothering you. I'm sure you'll be wanting to visit Ron in the Infirmary." He added.
Hermione nodded, rising - and frowning as Lavender and Parvati stared, wide eyed at her, "Sure. Come on, we can talk about it on the way to Potions." She said, pausing to smile at Harry who was sleepily stirring salt into his porridge, "Morning Harry."
"Morning Hermio'e." Harry mumbled, his eyes half closed, "Where you going?"
"Leaving early for Potions. I'll see you there." Hermione called over her shoulder as she left.
Harry blinked as he took in what Hermione had said. What the -? He dropped his spoon, calling: "Wait up, I'll go with - " and realised Hermione had already left the Great Hall with Dean.
"Don't go, Harry!" Lavender blurted out from down the table.
"Huh?" Harry paused, already half standing, "Why not?"
Lavender rolled her eyes, "Mum said you boys take longer to grow up but this is ridiculous!"
"What?"
"Can't you tell? Hermione and Dean want some -" Lavender glanced at Parvati and the two burst into giggles again, " - privacy."
"Privacy?" Harry parroted, "Why would they want privacy -" he went red, "I thought Hermione and Ron were -" he trailed off, went a brighter shade of red and sat back down, confused.
Parvati leaned over to pat him on the shoulder, "Don't worry Harry - the rest of us are just as shocked." She said sympathetically, "We thought Dean would end up with Seamus."
Harry, who had just been about to half-heartedly swallow some porridge, coughed, "Seamus?!"
Across the table, Seamus - who had been eating his way calmly through a stack of pancakes - looked up, "Yes?"
Parvati fell off the bench again.
*
He was on the train again; darting out of the carriage away from Greg's stumbling explanation of Vincent's absence.
Malfoys do not run.
The admonition - expressed throughout his childhood but never spoken - echoed. He glanced at the windows, expecting the glass to shatter, so loud did the words sound. The rain fell, obscuring the platform. He could see his reflection in the glass - skin untouched by the summer sun, and hair so pale as to be white. Father.
He resembled his father - had all his life. Before his eyes the reflection changed - lengthening, thickening, aging - till Lucius Malfoy stared back at him from the Hogwarts Express window. Father.
And suddenly he was running - not knowing why, just. . . Running.
He knew what came - this was a dream; this was the past. He stumbled; Malfoys are always composed. And fell - tumbling - into warmth -
Not this again -! Once had been enough humiliation; This is a dream. And I'm going to wake up now -
The ground gave beneath his back; Grass.
On the train? I know Hogwarts' standards have gone downhill but really - this is ridiculous -
And his vision obscured by tendrils of hair in his eyes; then - Potter.
Something warm against his hand. The tickle of breath against his skin. And the thought - the memory of the thought - forbidden, forgotten till this instance: Touch me. Touch me - please - somebody touch me. Malfoys did not plead.
He shook hair from his eyes - and found himself in the fields outside the half-giant's hut. Oh no - not this -!
The pegasus colt was screaming in pain, its shrill, too-human shrieks echoed by the Weasel's cursing in the background. Sound overwhelmed him after the silence: Hagrid's roar at the shocked students to run back from the castle, the thunderous clap as twenty pegasuses lifted from the ground -
- and Potter. Knees trapping his arms to his side; so close he could feel the other's warmth seeping through the thin silk of his summer robes -
He knew what would happen next - the sudden shock of flesh against flesh, the flare of pain. The anger that would take away the strange sensation of intimacy -
Silence.
"You want me to hit you - don't you?" Potter sounded as he had the day he had demanded Longbottom's rememberall be returned.
He looked up - and could only see green. Green eyes. The story was that Potter had his mother's green eyes.
"You want me to smash my fist into your face - to hit you until you're bleeding. Bruised. Hurting." And his voice changed; deepened - became - intimidating.
Frightening. Malfoys are never frightened - they are the source of fear. But he was on his back, and Potter - the Boy Who Lived, the Boy Who Had Defeated the Dark Lord - was staring down at him.
This is a dream. This did not happen.
"You want it - you want this." Potter whispered, leaning down till his vision was curtailed by flickers of black.
The world had vanished -
"Why - Draco?" Potter's voice, "Why do you want this?"
- there was only Potter, leaning on him, pressed against him -
"Why don't you make me stop?" a hiss - a whisper, he was not scared - he was -
Draco jerked upright, chest heaving. The room was empty, silent but for the sound of his harsh panting. Merlin.
The silence hurt his ears - he had gotten used (it had only been one night - how had he gotten used to it so soon?) to Greg's snoring and Blaise's snuffling. An outstretched hand grasped his wand; his fingers slipped down the smooth wood. Will this burn if I hold it too long?
"Lumos."
The pale light cast shadows against the stone walls; the room was smaller than his wardrobe at Malfoy Manor. He took in the bare stone walls and floors - except for his trunk and bed. Empty.
He found his eyes searching for a sign of silver and green; disorientating to discover only grey and black. At least it isn't cold. The light reflecting from his wand caught the pale patches on the wall where the tapestries had once hung, the lighter shade of grey on the floor marking the boundaries of the rug. I should re-decorate in Malfoy colours. They can call it the Chamber of Draco Malfoy - something to put into 'Hogwarts, a History'. Mark my territory here in the Slytherin dungeons. Draco grinned.
Just like a dog. He grimaced; whatever slant he wanted to put on what had happened, the humiliation was clear. Even remembering made him flinch.
Professor Snape had barely glared at Draco on discovering the ruins of the fifth year dorm room.
The older wizard was rubbing the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache as he spoke, "Goyle. Zabini. You will room with the first year boys until -" he gestured sharply at the crumbling ruins of the fifth year dorm room, " - this is fixed. Go."
"Sir." The two boys had echoed together before scurrying away; leaving Draco standing alone - wishing he was anywhere else.
Snape remained silent for a long time before he shook his head and gestured for Draco to follow him out and up a flight of stairs to another door.
"Had you been a prefect in your seventh year, you would have been assigned one of these rooms." Snape said quietly as he opened the door.
The lamps and fire burst to life automatically as Snape entered, as did the fire. There was a familiar silver and green tapestry hanging above the fireplace, and a dark green rug. This isn't too bad. Maybe there were some parts of the curse that were enjoyable. Draco stopped himself from grinning - privacy was a valuable commodity. Especially during exams.
Snape turned away from Draco, pulled out his wand and began stripping the walls of the tapestries and other ornamentation. Draco watched in shocked silence as the large forest-green rug on the floor rolled itself up and floated out the door.
"Sir?"
"Too flammable." Snape said in a flat voice, "If you have any personal items suitable for wall hangings, see me tomorrow and I will cast anti-incendiary charms for you. Get your trunk, I will recast the charm on it after I have protected the bed."
Draco had tried for sullen - it did not do for a Malfoy to sleep in a room that resembled a cell after all - but only achieved obedience.
"Nox." Draco whispered; the darkness that followed was all-encompassing, hiding the cell - and without that distraction, the dream returned. What in Merlin's name was that?
He slowly lay back down onto the bed. Potty Potter's insanity must be contagious - as if any normal person would want to get beaten up. The blankets were heavy and he drifted back to sleep.
*
"What happened?" Dean asked, rather breathlessly, as he and Hermione hurried to the foot of the last flight of stairs, "Why do they want us - for two hours -" he paused and added, as they started up the stairs , "Before breakfast?" the last in a whimper of realisation.
"I don't know. The owl didn't say much more than this." Hermione made a face, "It did wake Lavender and Parvati up however. I don't want to know what they thought."
They grabbed at the banisters as the stone stairs groaned and began to shift. They waited till the stone shuddered beneath their fingertips - long practise (it was only the second day of school - why was it so familiar already?) warning that running up the last few steps before then would lead to stumbled grasps and parchment floating down over the edge and past the flights of stairs criss-crossing the air below.
"Do you think there'll be food up there?" Dean asked plaintively.
"Probably - Professor Dumbledore never forgets things like that." Hermione said, "I just wish I knew what they want us to do." She paused, then whispered, "It's just - everything they're teaching us. . . It seems so useless." They reached the top of the stairs, and stood there, briefly to catch their breath, both already reaching beneath their robes for the gold time turners, "It shouldn't be us learning half these things." Hermione said, "It should be everybody - they don't know how to survive out there. All of them - except maybe some like Seamus and Harry. They don't know what it's like out there, with the muggles. They won't know anything - but we're the ones frantically preparing. Wasting all this time playing James Bond with knowledge like we're special secret agents or -"
"Hermione!"
Hermione blinked and stared at Dean, "What?"
"You're babbling." Dean said, grinning.
Hermione glared, "No I'm not -" she said heatedly then paused, "I am aren't I?"
"Only took you two and a half months." Dean said, "We took bets. Some lucky Ravenclaw is probably twelve galleons richer."
"Ravenclaw?"
"Colin Creevey held out the longest - he said you'd break before school started again."
"Well." Hermione paused, then added disgustedly, "Really. Beaten by Ravenclaws - in betting. Honestly Dean - has four years with Fred and George taught you nothing?"
Dean laughed, and they flipped the time turners together.
*
He was in the train. On Potter. Hand pressed up between the other boy's legs.
He knew what would follow - this was another dream; Potter would yell at him, he would yell back - and then Pansy would be burned and -
Fingers, gently brushing against his face, "You want this because it's the only way left."
"What?" he gathered breath to blast Potter with satirical anger and the world blurred.
He was staring up at green eyes - listening to Weasley's shouts of pain and the screaming colt.
Potter reaching to hit him; he braced himself -
The train; wood against his back - and Potter's hands between his legs.
"Will you ask me to get off you?" the whisper, a brush of hair against his forehead, "Will you ask me to stay?" breath that tickled his ear, the hand shifted - "What do you want, Draco?"
Draco's eyes opened as he stared at the top of his bed in shock. What - what was that?
He realised something else as he lay there, staring blindly up into the darkness. No - no - no - that's just wrong - !
Gingerly, Draco Malfoy reached down under the blankets - between his legs. Morgen-cursed. He was hard. Curse. Definitely the curse.
Merlin - please let it be some strange side-effect of the curse.
"Draco!"
The sound of Greg's voice made him jerk his hand away even as he cursed.
"What?"
"We're late for breakfast!"
He sat up; the windowless room had turned his internal timepiece upside down. Bloody freaking Merlin's-nuts-on-a-sword hell.
"Draco?"
He sighed, "Lumos!" the flare of light hurt his eyes.
"You all right in there, Draco?" this in the softer tones that marked Blaise's voice.
"Yes. I'm fine." Draco snarled.
"You want us to wait for you?" Greg - sounding impatient, probably worrying about missing out on breakfast.
Draco stared down at his lap and shuddered, "No. I'm not hungry." He called back. At least the bathrooms will be empty by now.
*
"Hey Ron."
Ron rolled out of sleep, "Harry." He greeted as he glanced quickly down at his arms and sighed in relief, "Got to give that greasy git a hand - at least his potions work quickly." The black and red flash of burned flesh that had stretched down one arm and leg was completely gone - although the skin was a fresh pink. Ron scratched at his arm idly as he blinked up at his friend.
"Yeah." Harry said; the other boy remained silent for several seconds before speaking again, "I didn't have any chocolate frogs - the twins offered but I figured it'd be a bad idea to eat anything they're willing to sell."
Ron nodded in quick (and glad) agreement, "Make's a change, doesn't it?" he laughed as he shoved back the blankets and sat up, "Usually it's me and Hermione visiting you here." Ron paused, glancing around, "Where's Hermione?" he paused, "Hey - did you bring me anything from breakfast? Is Hermione still eating?"
Harry went bright red, "Ah -" and stopped; Ron stared, "She left for potions early." Harry said finally.
"Oh." Ron frowned - slightly hurt, "I guess I'll see her at lunch - or maybe Madam Pomfrey will let me out in time for dinner -"
"With Dean." Harry added quietly.
Ron frowned, "Oh - why'd she do that -" and jerked forward as realisation struck, "What?! That's just plain wrong!"
Harry flinched as Madam Pomfrey came running out of her office, attracted by the shouting, "What is the matter here?" she demanded, hands on her hips as she glared at Harry, "Really, Harry - you should know better." She admonished, "And Mr Weasley - this is an Infirmary not a -"
Ron however ignored Madam Pomfrey as he continued, "I mean, you - I can understand - but Dean? When did Hermione start liking Dean?!" he demanded before suddenly stopping, "Hold on - did I just say that?" he blinked, and collapsed back onto the bed, pulling the pillow over his head, "Merlin."
Harry stared blankly at the pillow now covering the head of his best friend. Madam Pomfrey, after a brief confused expression, chuckled and walked back to her office, shaking her head, "Teenagers -!" she laughed and closed the door.
"Ron?" Harry finally managed.
"What?" Ron demanded, voice muffled.
"Does this mean you're asking Hermione out - or beating Dean up?" Harry asked as he began to grin; the pillow caught him upside the head with a rather satisfying 'thump'.
*
Severus Snape was eating breakfast and reading Granger's scroll - wondering how many points he could deduct for uninspired repetition - when he found what he was looking for.
"Figures." He muttered, "It would have to be the Gryffindor Swot." When Minerva found out she would expect him to encourage the girl's attempts at literature with house points, "Bloody hell."
On his right, Sinistra looked up in surprise, "Is everything all right, Severus?"
Severus clenched his fist around the scroll as he glanced across the Great Hall, "Where is Hermione Granger?"
Sinistra, frowning in surprise, turned to look at the Gryffindor table, "It is not like Miss Granger to miss breakfast." She said, then nodded, "Ah - I believe she and Mr Thomas have left for -" she paused, and lowered her voice, "An early class."
Severus cursed mentally and stalked out of the Great Hall. It would have to be after the Gryffindor and Slytherin fifth year potions class then.
"Whatever is the matter with him now?" Xiomara Hooch asked out loud.
Sinistra shrugged, "With Severus - it could be anything." She said, then grinned, "Remember two years ago when he was so regular it was almost like - a time of month?"
Albus Dumbledore looked down the table in confusion as Sinistra, Xiomara and Minerva all burst into laughter.
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Author's Note: For those of you who are interested, Morgen was a druidic goddess from Welsh Celtic mythology. Morgen was believed to have powers of flight (through artificial wings), shapeshifting and great powers of healing. By saying 'Morgen-curse', Draco is implying that he has been cursed by a goddess of healing (ie. that he cannot be healed, or that because he causes physical harm to those around him, Morgen has turned from him, or has cursed him to suffer). For those who are really interested, Morgen was usually associated with Modron (a mother-goddess) and believed to be the original version of Morgan le Fay (of 'Morte D'Arthur' and 'The Sword in the Stone' fame).
Now, on to answers to the reviews. ^_^
AshFarley - this means of course that Chapter Sixteen will be almost completely about plot (plot plot plot). So I guess you'll get to decorate your skyscraper then. ^_^
Blue - 0_0 Oh wow. . . I fell in love with "Just This?" (in fact it was one of the first H/D stories I ever read). Thank you for reviewing - and when will the last chapter of "Just This?" be out? ~grins~
Candledot, Adrithor, Mystic Sorcerer and MistyKasumi: thank you for reviewing - specifically: Candledot - you might be surprised; MistyKasumi - hope the wait was worth it; and Adrithor - the chapters should be up but I'm working on finding a site to store my stories on so that this isn't such a problem. ^_^
Oando - thanks once more for pointing out the problem with the chapters (embarrased).
A/N: Review? Please? If only to point out plot holes? Or out-of-characterisation? Or if not tell me how much you loved it (this last because Sildtsr told me to stop asking for 'it sucks' messages ^_^)
- edited 28th September for various formating, story and plot-related errors