A/N: My apologies for how long it's taken to get this chapter out. I've actually re-written the entire thing multiple times. I'm still not completely pleased with it, but it will do for now I think. This chapter is dedicated (in so much as you can actually dedicate a chapter) to wIthOUt A nAmE as Reviewer number 25. As always you all have my thanks, and I hope that I've explained how I perceive the Fidelius charm to be.
Summary: Post HBP. Draco has failed in his mission and his life is forfeit, so he goes the one place no one will look for him; Harry's. Here he sees that life is not as he expected for The-Boy-Who-Lived, and when things go to far he steps in to save the boy he once thought was his enemy.
Disclaimer: As always, Harry Potter is © J. K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, Scholastic Books, Bloomsbury Books, and all other entities involved in the Potterverse. The situations in which the characters find themselves, and the plot of this piece of fan fiction is solely the work of my twisted, slash infected mind. No money is being made and no infringement is intended. Please don't sue me. I'm merely playing in JKR's world.
Chapter Seven: Grimmauld Place
When Draco stepped out of the fireplace he was surrounded by a sea of red-hair. Within moments he was stunned, and ropes conjured to hold him in place, yet his awareness remained. Frowning Draco closed his eyes, assuming that in the end this had just been a plot to capture him. But Severus suggested it, a voice reminded him and inwardly he sneered. He was able to listen to the Weasleys discussing what they were going to do with him, and he quickly became worried. He knew that Harry would be there momentarily; he also knew they wouldn't be expecting that based on what they were saying.
"He killed Harry's uncle, and I'm sure he brought Harry to You-Know-Who. Probably a regular old Death Eater, isn't he?" Ron sneered, stepping towards the blond, blue eyes glittering dangerously. His wand in hand, Ron was about to throw a curse his way, with no one stopping him or holding him back, when the fireplace flared green again and Harry tumbled out. At the sound of the floo being used once more Ron dropped his wand, turning to smile at Harry, the malice disguised in his blue eyes.
"Harry!" Hermione called, launching herself at Harry, distracting him from the scene of his best friend about to curse his... What? His saviour? His friend? Neither of the two were quite sure what they were to the other; after everything Draco had done for him he knew that he wanted to see just what they could be to each other.
"What are you guys doing here?" Harry looked around the room, worry filled those green depths before they finally landed on Draco and was replaced with anger. Draco flinched at the anger he saw boiling in those emerald depths, glad that for once it seemed that anger wasn't intended for him. "And why is Dr- Malfoy tied up?" He frowned, looking at the Weasleys and waiting for an answer.
"Professor Lupin asked us to come here. He wanted to surprise you for your birthday by making the house ready for you. He thought that since you would be legal age you would want to move in here; it is your house now after all. So we've been coming by to get it ready for you." Hermione paused before continuing on in a soft voice. "He also thought that you wouldn't want the reminder of Sirius so everything had to be changed. We finished the mas—your room if you want to go look."
"And how did you get here? I thought with a new secret keeper no one would know where to find the house." Harry frowned, stalking across the room to stand between Draco and the rest of the room, his body acting like a human shield. Draco almost smirked at the surprise and anger he was in Ron's eyes. He could almost hear the other boy's inner thoughts: how Harry was supposed to join them in cursing him, how he couldn't believe that Harry was defending the ferret, even though Harry hadn't said anything just yet to defend him.
"Oh honestly, Harry!" Hermione frowned, her foot tapping against the floor as she slipped into lecture mode. "With a new secret keeper it doesn't change anything. You need to cast the full spell over again instead of a simple transfer. If a new secret keeper needed to tell people again how to find a place protected by the Fidelius charm then Dumbledore would have known that Sirius hadn't been the secret keeper for your parents."
Harry nodded, one hand touching the ropes on Draco's body and with a small surge of magic, causing them to drop to the floor. "And what about Malfoy here? Care to explain to me why he's being treated like this?" His eyes darted to Ron, silently acknowledging that he had indeed seen what his best mate had been about to do when he arrived, and that he was not impressed by it in the slightest. With a quiet ennervate the stiffness from Draco's limbs melted away and he stepped back slightly, his eyes on Harry's back, waiting for the inevitable.
Molly Weasley stepped up, one hand wrapping around Harry's upper arm in a bid to move him away from Draco and Harry allowed her to pull him away slightly before refusing to move any further. "He used an unforgivable at your family's home. The ministry is currently searching for him, as is The Order. We were under the impression that you had been kidnapped after the death of your uncle, and were brought to the Dark Lord." She wrapped her arms around Harry, pulling him in for a tight hug, not noticing that Harry stiffened in her arms, wincing in pain. While Severus and Draco had healed him somewhat, he was still injured as neither Severus nor Draco were medi-witches and did not have the experience needed for injuries such as his.
"He… my uncle…" Harry shook his head and looked over his shoulder. Silver eyes met green, and Harry searched his eyes for a moment before nodding slightly. "Then he has my thanks." He ignored the shocked exclamations as he turned to look at the others once more. "When Dumbledore died he had offered Malfoy protection with The Order. I've offered the same—"
"But, Harry—"
"Why would you offer the ferret—?"
Harry ignored his friends and continued, "And he has accepted. Now, if you don't mind, it's been a long night for Malfoy and me." He reached behind him for Draco, and caught his hand. Draco's other hand wrapped around his upper arm, helping him to stand steady. "I know you all want an explanation, but I can't do it. Not right now." A haunted look crossed his eyes before he closed them, fighting back tears. "Malfoy knows what happened. Perhaps he'd explain, but for now… I need to get to bed." Swaying, Harry pitched forward, only to be caught in Draco's arms as he slipped once more from consciousness.
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The Weasleys exploded into movement, Molly fire-calling to Hogwarts for Madam Pompfrey, Ron and Hermione showing Draco up the stairs to the master bed-room where Draco settled Harry onto the bed carefully, Fred and George bringing up some drinks for everyone shortly afterwards. It was a frantic environment, but Bill and Charlie never once took their eyes off of Draco, and as they were the only ones watching him, they alone saw the worry threatening to tear Draco apart. Frowning slightly, Charlie cupped Draco's elbow in his hand and drew him away from the group, into one of the spare bedrooms, Bill following behind. "Explain."
"Did you ever meet his uncle?" Draco looked at the floor while he was speaking, eyes flashing silver fire. "Why the bloody hell did no one notice what was going on?" His head lifted and he pinned the two brothers with his gaze. "You want an explanation?" He sneered. "You want to know why your precious saviour would thank me for killing his uncle? It's because I did what he couldn't do, what he wanted to do. Bloody hell, did no one even notice that Potter was depressed? That he wanted to kill himself? That he felt he bloody well deserved what that fat muggle was doing to him?" His voice had lifted to a shout, and Draco sighed, struggling to restrain his anger.
"What was he doing?" Bill's soft voice filled the room, and Draco looked up, flinching at the sight of the scars that he knew were his fault.
"He was," Draco swallowed, unable to look the other two in the eyes, "raping him. And Potter just let it happen. Every bloody night, and then he would drink afterwards. He would drink until he passed out, and I would put him to bed, and I would make certain his family wouldn't come in the room. They didn't feed him, they worked him to the bone, and he was beaten so bad that he had broken bones. He still does actually." Draco sank onto a bed, and buried his head in his hands. "I never really meant to kill him, you know? But he was going to rape him, really rape him, not just his mouth… and Harry was— is—a virgin. And I couldn't let that happen to him. Not bloody Saint Potter." His shoulders slowly stilled their shaking, and Draco looked up at the Weasley brothers, noting their shock and disgust at the picture he had painted for them.
"He never said anything," Charlie whispered, his voice breaking harshly into the silence.
"He didn't want anyone to know. He thought he deserved it, thought—thinks it's the only thing he's good for." Sighing softly, Draco stood, stalking towards the others. "So what are you going to do with me? Cart me off to Azkaban? I'm sure the Dark Lord would be thrilled to get his hands on me after I failed him so spectacularly. And I'm sure Potter doesn't need me anymore, not now that he has all of you around again."
Bill shook his head, "No, Malfoy. He talked to you, and you were there. Maybe you can understand him, help him through this. I don't think we'll tell the others what you told us though. If Harry wants them to know he'll tell them."
Nodding, Draco walked past them, back towards the room that housed Harry. Worry clouded his eyes, and he felt a lance of pain thrust through his chest as he watched Madam Pompfrey move around the small boy. If he had only acted sooner… Merlin, this was all his fault.
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When Harry awoke again it was with a low groan; he would really have to stop doing this so much. Sighing, he sat up in bed, only noticing afterwards that his ribs no longer ached dully, and he could breathe freely. He took a moment to look around the room, noting with surprise the soothing atmosphere of the place. It no longer seemed dark, and depressing, and it certainly didn't remind him overly of Sirius. Still, he knew that this was once Sirius' room.
The sheets were soft cotton, and instead of being the Gryffindor red he had half expected to see they were a cool emerald green and Harry choked off a laugh as he thought what Draco would have to say. Draco! He sat straight up in the bed and surged to his feet, stumbling towards the door, only to jump when it opened and Draco himself walked into the room. Harry grabbed Draco's arm and heaved a silent sigh of relief. "How long was it this time?" The words were uttered, while inside Harry knew that what he most wanted to know had nothing to do with how long he had been out for; instead he wanted to know if the others had tried anything without him there to protect Draco. He understood Draco didn't really need his protection, but after what he had sacrificed for him Harry wanted to make sure he didn't deeply regret his actions.
"You were out all day and night. Madam Pompfrey was here though so you should feel much better." Harry nodded at Draco, and smiled marginally; acknowledging that he did, indeed, feel much better.
"So what happened then? I'm going to assume they all know now. I can't imagine Hermione not asking."
Draco shook his head. "Only the two oldest Weasleys know, unless they told the rest. It didn't seem right, and besides, Potter, you spent so bloody well hiding it all you may as well go on hiding it, right?" Draco sneered at him, silver eyes glinting dangerously. "Since they still all believe that I killed your uncle for no other reason that he's a bloody muggle."
Frowning, Harry reached out to touch Draco's shoulder, his hand stopped before doing so and dropped. "They don't need to know. They never needed to know that their bloody saviour, the bloody Boy-Who-Lived was fucking raped by his muggle uncle. I should have been able to defend myself Malfoy. And I never could, could I? That will give them so much bloody faith in me." While Harry had been speaking he paced, back and forth in front of the bed before finally throwing himself down onto it. At the sound of the door opening and slamming shut Harry let out a soft sob, tears sliding down his cheeks as he relived the memories over and over again.
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Remus Lupin paced the Library floor of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, his thoughts lost in what had come over his best friends' son. Why on earth had Harry agreed to allow Draco Malfoy here, of all people? Sighing, he ran his fingers through sandy hair, and sank into a chair, frowning thoughtfully. Molly had told him what Harry had said before collapsing, and yet it still didn't make sense. If he understood correctly he owed Draco not quite a life-debt for his actions, but a debt all the same. It would explain the need to protect Draco, and Harry's willingness to bring him to the Order's headquarters. So what had Draco saved Harry from..?
"Bloody hell, 'Mione! I don't care what Harry says. Malfoy is bad news. We should take him out tonight. Just get rid of him, tie him up and leave him somewhere for You-Know-Who to find. It's not like he can tell him where to find us, and if he's gone we'll be safe." Remus could hear the sneer in Ron's voice and the frown he wore deepened.
"I don't like this any more than you do, Ronald, but we have to trust Harry. He wouldn't have let Malfoy stay here if he didn't have a reason to trust him. Why don't we find out what was happening at his house to cause Harry to let this happen?" Hermione's voice was determined, an edge of the soft happiness she reserved for researching and revising. It was almost enough to cause Remus to smile as the voices faded away, Hermione scolding Ron for wanting to hurt someone, and Ron agreeing to do what she had said.
There were very few debts that could cause a wizard to behave the way Harry had been, and fewer still that Harry could possibly know of. A life-debt was one, and an honour-debt was another. He hadn't heard of one in years, but in ages past it was fairly common, and abused a great deal. When a wizard or witch saved someone's honour they were compelled to do something in return. Of course, it was only a virgin witch or wizard who would ever owe a debt of that magnitude, but Remus had been certain that Harry had been involved with at least one person. Sighing he rubbed his temples. He would need to ask either Draco or Harry himself. But he would try for Draco first. Standing up, Remus went in search of Draco.
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Draco crossed the hall to the small room that had been offered—if you could call being informed that this was to be his room, and he was not to leave it without a bloody good reason to him, being offered—wishing he had his wand, had anything to take his anger out on. He threw the door open and stalked into the room, his eyes not even taking in the bed with its shabby hangings in gaudy red and gold. He stopped in front of the desk, still muttering under his breath, his fingers idly tracing the carvings from a bored witch or wizard. There were words, cusses actually, and crude drawings. The initials he could only assume belonged to the desk's owner: R.B.
Bloody Potter, he's damn well letting me take the fall, letting his friends take this out on me. All so he doesn't have to tell them what happened. I should just bloody well tell them all about their bloody saviour. Growling low in his throat, Draco slammed his fist down on the desk, causing one of the drawers to shake loose, a thump sounding through the room. Snarling, he reached down to push the drawer back into place, not bothering to look carefully. He felt a pinch as he lifted the drawer up some and swore under his breath, yanking his finger into his mouth, tasting the copper of his blood. A low hum thrummed through his body sending ripples of tingling magic down his spine before fading.
What the bloody hell was that? Grimacing slightly Draco bent over to see a smaller drawer become visible underneath the first drawer, and his eyes widened slightly. Blood magic must have been hiding this drawer, but what could be so important that someone would bother with it? He reached out and tentatively pulled open the drawer, allowing a small gasp of shock to cross his parted lips as he did so. Looking over the contents of the drawer he allowed a small smile to cross his lips, lighting his face. There was a letter, and a small black velvet bag with the initials R.A.B. Written in silver. He lifted the bag and spilled a small gold necklace out onto his palm before he unfolded the letter, and read it twice. Laughing softly, he lightly traced the simple 'S', and lifted the locket around his neck, allowing it to slide under his clothes to press against the bare skin of his chest. A slight tremor wracked his thin frame, but Draco left the room without once noticing it, a slight glaze hanging in his silver-grey eyes.
Behind him the letter fluttered to the ground:
Sirius,
If you're reading this I failed. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, not after everything I've done, nor do I deserve your trust. But please, my brother, do this last thing for me... This locket once belonged to Salazar Slytherin himself! And, more importantly, it must be given to Albus Dumbledore. I know, you see. About the Order, about it all. Only you, my brother, the last male Black other than myself, will be able to open this drawer, and so... I have faith in you. Bring this locket to Dumbledore; he'll know what to do with it. Do not wear it, under any circumstances.
My eternal thanks,
Regulus Alastair Black