Draco came slowly to awareness. The first thing he felt was a dull, throbbing pain through his entire body, coming to a point in the middle of his back where the pain increased tenfold. The next thing he because aware of was that he was in a hard bed, his head supported by a thin pillow and some kind of blanket pulled up over his chest. The third thing was the warm, large, slightly roughened hand folded around his own, and an unmistakeable presence lurking behind it.
"Neville . . ." he sighed, opening his eyes, slitting them against the sudden light, and smiling up at the worried face looming above him.
Neville smiled softly in return. "Draco."
There was a grunt from somewhere to his left, and then the sound of heavy footsteps alternating with a loud thump, as if the walked were carrying a can or staff -
"So, the boy's awake," a familiar voice growled.
or had a wooden leg. Draco rolled his head slowly and painfully to look at the old Auror. "Mad-Eye."
Moody grunted again, and looked at Neville. "Go tell the others Malfoy's awake."
"Do it yourself," Neville replied, ruthlessly suppressing the quaver in his voice. "I don't trust you alone with him."
Moody scowled, looking as if he might debate the point, but backed down. "Get him up," was all he said, and turned and stumped out of the room.
Neville relaxed, then turned back to the pale blond boy. "Can you sit up?" he asked gently. Draco didn't reply, but tried to get his hands under himself, reluctantly letting go of Neville's hand and trying to ignore the pain. He raised himself up, but his arms were trembling almost immediately and with a little cry of pain he collapsed back to the bed. Immediately Neville was there, a strong arm slipping behind his shoulders, lifting him up, and another acorss his stomach, moving him gently back against the headboard as soon as he was upright. Draco winced and hissed as his back touched the rough bars. Still supporting him with one arm, Neville flicked his wand around the room. "Accio pillow! Accio! Accio! Accio!", deftly tucking the pillows behind Draco's back before slowly removing his arm.
"All right there?"
Draco nodded slightly. "Yes. Thank you." After taking a moment to settle himself, he glanced curiously around the room. "Where are we? How long was I out?" His voice cracked on the last word, and Neville wordlessly handed him a glass of water as he answered.
"Almost nine hours now. Mad-Eye was almost sure you were never going to wake up."
"Wasn't much of a curse I was hit with, the, was it?" Draco asked, a hint of a ghost of a smirk touching his lips.
Neville's voice was sober. "Draco, it was the Killing Curse."
"Oh."
There was silence for a minute. Then Neville said, "We're at the Burrow. The Weasleys' house. We've been using it as a base."
Draco nodded. "I know." He looked around the room again. It was obviously some kind of makeshift infirmary, judging by the beds and rolls of bandages. Just as obviously it had once been a living room, from the portraits on the walls and the soot-stained fireplace. A mangy ginger cat with a squashed-looking face regarded them from the top of a cabinet.
Neville had taken Draco's hand again, but released it as the door snicked open and Mad-Eye came back in, followed by an odd assortment. There was Hildebrand Patton, second-in-command of the Aurors under Moody, the Minister for Magic Rasmus Greenwood, Arther Weasley, and last came the terrible trio, none looking the worse for the wear. They approached the bed cautiously, as if Draco might suddenly attack.
"Longbottom!" Patton snapped warily. "Get that wand away."
"Draco can barely lift his arms," Neville retorted. "I serious doubt he's any kind of a threat."
"Oh, it's Draco now, is it?" Ron demanded.
Neville bristled. "Yes, Ron, Draco was the one who took down Voldemort -"
Draco straightened suddenly, his eyes wide. "Voldemort! Where is he? What happened to -"
Neville placed his hands firmly on Draco's shoulders, pushing him gently back against the pillows. "It's fine, Draco. He's in a cage, Stunned, under guard and so many wards it would take a team of Aurors twenty years to crack them all."
Draco subsided, his face even paler than usual. "Thank God."
Patton folded his arms. "Well, Malfoy, now that you're awake, we have a few questions for you." At Draco's nod, he continued. "Whydid you decide to switch sides, especially when it appeared that you were on the way to winning?"
"I decided a long time ago that I didn't like my role," Draco said, all traces of arrogance gone and sounding so like he had amidst the ruins that tears pricked at Neville's eyes, "So I decided to change my lines."
"How long ago was this change of heart?" Patton asked, his eyes intent.
"Before Voldemort came to Hogwarts."
There were varying degress of shock on the faces in the room. "Expand," was all Patton could get out.
"I had a place readied for me at the Dark Lord's right hand," Draco said, his voice neutral. "I knew how powerful he had become, how fixated on Potter. There was no way someone could get close enough to destroy him. Every undercover agent you tried to get close to him would have been put under Imperius and made to reveal his loyalties. All new recruits were. Only those already proven faithful would get by - like me. When Potter was finally captured, it was the perfect opportunity. The Dark Lord was so intent on your pain, Potter, he didn't realise anything was wrong until too late."
"You had this plan in mind when you witnessed the deaths of five of your former classmates and put Neville under Cruciatus?" Mr. Weasley demanded.
"Yes to the first," Draco replied, stone-faced. "But as to the second -"
"He never put me under Cruciatus," Neville broke in, unwilling to reveal what had happened on the hill that night. "I was acting."
"Looked real to me," Ron muttered, glaring at Draco.
"And you did not put Longbottom under Imperius for the second part of your . . . plan?" Patton continued.
Draco shook his head emphatically. "No. Nor would I have. I'm just glad he twigged on to it." For the first time in the crossexamination he smiled, glancing sideways at Neville. "But I dare say, did you have to make it a ferret?"
Neville grinned in reply. "You did kind of get the mental image stuck in my head."
Harry, Ron, and Hermione snickered briefly, subsiding under the glares shot at them by the adults. "Now," Moody said, folding his arms. "How did you know that wouldn't kill the Royal Git?"
"I studied him," Draco said, his face sober once more. "His body is constructed of magic. You can't kill him - no one can, not even Potter. He's immune to everything - including a knife to the heart. The only spell that had the slightest effect on him is Avada Kedavra, and even that only stunned him. Once he's Stunned, all his wards collapse, which is why Neville could transfigure him. Only the wards in his body itself are left - thanks to Potter's blood, here."
"What do you suggest we do, then?" Patton asked with a trace of sarcasm. "I suppose you've got that figured out, as well."
Draco nodded. "Water. Transfigure him into massive amounts of water, then spread it across everyocean on the planet. Boil some. Spread it as thin as you can. If you destroy his body, you'd only release his spirit. By turning him into water, his spirit will spread thin, too. There won't be enough cohesion to formulate even a thought."
Moody scratched his chin. "It would work. But water's tricky. I'll get some people on it." He turned and stumped out of the room, gesturing for Patton to follow in his wake.
The Minister, who hadn't spoken yet, cleared his throat. "Well, Mr. Malfoy, your help has been greatly appreciated in helping with young Harry's defeat of V-Voldemort." Harry's face went red and Neville opened his mouth to protest, but the slight pressure of Draco's fingers on his hand stilled him. Greenwood continued, oblibious. "However, you have committed crimes of your own, including use of the Unforgivable Curses. You will be tried before a panel of judges, as all the captured Death Eaters. Don't worry, your recent actions will be taken into account.
Draco nodded. "Yes, sir, I understand. I will face the consequences of my actions."
Greenwood looked as if he had been expecting a bit more of a fight. "Well, uh, very good. I'll leave you in the hand of Harry, who will decide if you will be imprisoned or not until your trial. Well, goodbye gentlemen, lady." And with that he left. Arthur Weasley followed a moment later, after ruffling Ron's hair in a fatherly sort of way. The three teenagers at the foot of the bed stood there awkwardly as silence descended.
"Look, Malfoy," Harry blurted finally. "I tried to tell them I didn't do anything, it was all you and Neville and Hermione, but they wouldn't -"
"It's alright, Potter," Draco said quietly, a trace of bitterness in his voice and a twisted half-smile of self-loating on his face. "The people need a hero. I'm the Bad Guy, remember?"
"Draco . . ." Neville sighed reproachfully.
"Don't 'Draco' me," the blond boy snapped. "You know it's true. Potter is the hero they want, not me. Never me." He closed his eyes and leant his head back against the pillows. Neville threw a reproachful look at the three Griffindors, who left silently.
When they had gone, Neville took hold of Draco's hand again, almost unthinkingly. "Harry isn't the hero I want," he murmured.
Draco's eyes snapped open, twisting to look over at Neville. His voice was very pained and dry. "He isn't?"
They both kne there was more riding on this answer than what appeared. A little smile on his face, Neville shook his head. "No, he isn't." You are. The words hovered between them, unsaid but very tangible.
After an infinitely long short pause, Draco returned the smile and dropped his head back against the pillow. "Good to know," he murmured, and laughed.
No one came to bother them. Draco slept in fitful bursts, but whenever he woke, Neville was at his side, holding his hand or smoothing his hair down or with a glass of water if he needed it. At some point, Neville must have left or someone came in, because there were two steaming bowls of beef stew at Neville's elbow the next time he woke. They didn't speak much, but it was okay. They had hit a strange kind of calm. The war was over, yes, but soon the real world would intrude again.
As Draco drifted out of sleep again, he noticed that the pain had receded almost entirely, leaving just an ache in his back. Neville's head was resting on his folded arms on the edge of Draco's bed. Thinking him asleep - finally - Draco lifted his hand and ran his fingers through Neville's short, scruffy hair, caressing his temple with his thumb.
Neville gave a little mew of pleasure and Draco hastily removed his hand, knee-jerk reaction to finding him awake. Neville raised his head, brown eyes sleeping, a questioning look in them. "Why did you stop?" he asked quietly, pushing himself upright.
Draco didn't answer, but grabbed Neville's bicep, tugging him onto the bed. The other boy went willingly, settling sideways between Draco's parted legs, on top of the covers with his legs dangling over the side. They gazed at each other, Draco's hand still resting on Neville's arm. Slowly, as if in a dream, Draco reached up and ran a hand down the side of Neville's face, brushing a stray hair off his forehead with his thumb. The hand slipped around to the back of his neck, and Neville followed the soft pressure eagerly, his arms coming up around Draco as his head was drawn down. They bumped noses briefly, both a little awkward, then their lips found each other's, and everything was all right. Their gentle, exploratory kisses turned swiftly into rough sparring matches as their teenage hormones thundered through their bodies. The world narrowed down to a few points of contact - their lips, their hands caressing skin, their thighs pressing against each other.
Neville finally broke the kiss, pushing slightly away from Draco as he panted. He drank in the sight of those grey eyes, huge and dark, filled with emotion, pale blond hair slightly tousled, lips parted as he panted for breath. "You're so beautiful," Neville breathed, and lowered his mouth to Draco's once again. His arms slid aroun Draco tighter even as the blond boy did the same. Suddenly Draco hissed, arching away from Neville's hands. Neville swore, breaking the kiss immediately and pulling away.
"Oh god, Draco, I'm sorry, I never thought . . . you must still be so sore . . ."
Draco shook his head quickly, tightening his arms around Neville. "No, no, I'm fine, it doesn't hurt -"
But Neville was already pulling away, loosening Draco's grip. "No. We shouldn't do this. Not when you're still injured."
Draco almost whimpered with need, grabbing at his arm. "Please . . . I need this . . . I've thought of nothing but you since I left . . . please . . . at least . . ." Here his voice trailed off and the colour rose in his pale cheeks.
"At least what?" Neville asked breathlessly.
"Can you . . ." Draco swallowed, wondering why this one request was so hard, after ordering the deaths of innocent people. "Can you stay with me tonight? I mean, in bed . . . you need to sleep anyway . . ."
Neville half-surprised himself by nodding immediately. He clambered off the bed so Draco could slide sideways, rearranging the pillows and making sure the other boy was completely comfortable before kicking off his shoes and socks. After a moment's deliberation, he shucked off his trousers, folding them over the chair. A flick of his wand extinguished the lights in the room, and he slid under the covers beside the blond boy. They lay there awkwardly for a moment, not touching, and both acuetly aware of their own breathing. Finally Neville sighed and rolled onto his back, letting one hand drift over to rest on Draco's. "Goodnight, Draco."
"Goodnight."
A few hours later, Hermione poked her head round the door, the shaft of light from the hallway laying square across Draco's bed. They had moved in their sleep, Neville on his back put turned slightly towards Draco, the other boy sprawled across Neville's chest with his head tucked into his shoulder. Neville's arm was draped possessively across Draco's. Ron poked his head in over Hermione's, sucking in a surprised breath as he saw them. Harry followed suit, but the sight only confirmed a suspicion that had been growing in his mind.
Firmly, Hermione closed the door and they moved a few steps down the hallway. Ron folded his arms and let out a breath explosively.
"Now there's a bit of a shocker," he said in a low voice, so as not to disturb the sleepers.
"Y'know," Hermione mused. "I've always had my suspicions about Neville, but I though Draco was, well, violently straight."
Ron shuddered. "Neville's welcome to boff whoever he wants, but did it have to be Malfoy?"
Hermione made a little mou of disgust. "I mean, honestly. Is he a masochist or something? They can't be that heavily involved -"
"They are," Harry interjected brusquely, and his friends turned to look at him in surprise.
"What? Are you off your rocker?" Ron spluttered. "It's Malfoy!"
Harry swung his head up to glare at Ron. "Look, Ron, you know as well as I do that Malfoy should be dead now. He got hit with the Killing Curse. There's no defense against it."
"But Neville threw that warding charm," Hermione protested. "It deflected the curse."
Harry shook his head. "It should have punched right through it. There's only one thing that can protect against the Killing Curse, I should know."
Ron huffed. "Fine, then, what is it?"
But Hermione had already guessed. Her eyes widened. "Love," she gasped. "Love is what saved you, Harry, so . . ."
Harry nodded, his face grim. "Only Neville didn't die, which is why Malfoy got hurt. This changes things."
Hermione nodded. "A lot of things."
"I'll say," Ron finished.
What? There's more? Part V!