Chapter 10: Truth
'Right.
I'm sorry about that, but, I know it sounds rather obscene, it's for your own good. I can only imagine how having this junk connected hurts, but I would hazard a guess – much more than my spells can compensate. I won't chance having you writhe while I'm trying to put this garbage together.'
"That 'garbage' is me-"
'Sucks for you.'
Edward actually had the opinion that he was lucky he had the Automail, but refrained from saying it out aloud. Winry would pout and tell him he was a geek or something like that- Wait, Winry? There was something… important about her. But the only thing he knew was that he had forgotten what it was.
He had told Potter to phone the Rockbells, hadn't he?
"Po- uh, Harry, did you talk to my brother?"
'No,' the man responded, leaning over the desk yet again. Then he straightened and smirked back at Edward over his shoulder.
'I think I got it.'
'The Hell you-' Ed froze. Potter could have gotten it, because he had the plans for his Automail. And he had the plans because he had been to Risenbool. And…
He groaned. There was a patch of blackness over his memories – the information was there; he could virtually feel it… he just couldn't approach it. There was a something over it, something that blocked it, and he had every reason to suspect that the something had to do with the loony that was right now keeping him tied to his own bed (which, naturally, didn't resemble his own bed all that much).
'Don't move.'
Ed was about to scream, when all the sound in the room died. This was what nothing sounded like. An emptiness. Vacuum. Potter's forehead creased in a frown of all-engulfing concentration; Ed could have sworn the man was aware of every sprinkle of dust in the room In a way that was more complex than the comprehending part of Transmutation.
But no decomposition came next; the tiny parts of metal and plastic levitated from the table and hovered, suspended in the midair. Then the few in the middle joined together and one by one, the others flew to them, fitting like pieces of jigsaw held in place until a screw fell into the thread and drove in – all by itself. Edward watched the soundles dance of parts morbidly fascinated. This was so different from watching Winry working (not that she ever allowed anyone but Auntie Pinako to watch), this was like looking at part of his body growing, sped up.
Then it floated over to him and tentacles that weren't there when Winry was connecting it stretched out and touched to his shoulder and Edwards thought he was going to be sick. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think of punching Colonel Bastard to get his mind off what was happening to him, because having porridge and bile all over himself and his bed on top of everything would be too humiliating… and way too nasty to clean.
He was actually glad for the straps a moment later. This was the kind of pain he faintly remembered from the time Pinako and Winry attached the bases, only much weaker (persumably reduced by Potter's 'spells'). He was in such a bad shape back then that he didn't remember much of it now… only that it had changed him so much on the inside, that he managed to remain almost the same on the outside. It was a good thought and he clung to it for as long as his mind allowed him to before returning to the more immediate pain.
It was gone much faster than he ever remembered it to finish. Then the pull on his left arm and right leg disappeared.
There was a distant cry of "Severus" and, falling asleep, Edward decided that Potter should really find a different way of solving his problems than constantly making the people around him lose consciousness. Thought this, undoubtedly, worked.
o
They joined hands. It eased the chanelling a lot, helping Harry control the magic of both of them. He was more skilled with using it; Draco knew that were he to control it, they would be vainly loosing a lot of precious energy. He was content with the arrangments - he looked around uncertainly, then took a deep breath and gave Harry a rather chaste kiss that felt painfully like a goodbye. The stones started crumbling…
He had counted the stones and estimated the points where the wall was weakest, so that they only had to blast three bricks to get out, and most likely wouldn't make the entire building cave in on them. He soundlessly pointed at them and Harry nodded, quickly averting his eyes… but not quickly enough.
It hurt Draco to realise how much they wanted to continue, how much they both wanted to keep living; it was so unfair that they had to die now, whene there was something so undescribably good in their lives, better then they ever could imagine… now that they were in love.
The three pinpointed bricks blew up in clouds of dust. Draco took a step forwards before Harry could do it and kicked the centre of gravity of the triangle. Predictably, the section of the wall fell outside into the corridor.
He went first, because if, against the chances, a Death Eater stood there, wand aimed at the hole and an Unforgivable on the tip of his tongue, it would better be him to receive it. Harry didn't even attempt to stop him…
There was no Death Eater, just a lot of rum (their work) and an empty torch-holder. Obviously, this wasn't a frequently used corridor, and they didn't expect their prisoners to escape through that place. Of course, most of the Death Eaters were otherwise respectable citizens, so they would have no idea about the efficient ways of escaping a cell. The guard (if there even was one) must have been stationed on the other side, and now racking their brains about what might have caused the crash.
'Let them wonder…' Draco though with a smirk and set out in the direction he supposed might have led them out, because Harry's orientation sense was… well… nonexistent.
There was a room at the end of the corridor, a vast, unused space furnished with only an old, ragged sofa and a rug in front of the hearth that had not seen fire (but for the torches on the walls) in decades. And, most importantly, there was a man sitting on that sofa.
Or, rather, had been sitting on the sofa, because he abruptly stood up as soon as Draco barged in – but, to both his and Harry's surprise overlooked the blonde's presence and looked at the dark-haired man.
"Potter… and I already thought that you were too idiotic to manage leaving that room on your own."
Draco shivered. He knew that Professor Snape was a very powerful man, he also knew that he was a spy and thus very brave, and, above all, he was used to intimidate…
But this wasn't a way to talk to Harry.
He stopped in his tracks and looked back, just in time to see Harry lower his eyes to his feet… This was bad. Very, very, very catastrophically bad… because Severus was used to Harry looking down when he was ashamed or scared, not when he was barely containing his anger, which otherwise had the tendency to result in unexpected surges of power that burnt whatever stood in their way…
"Now that you have finally deigned, Tiberius asked me to deliver this to-"
Draco peripherally noticed Severus pulling something out of the inner pocket of his robes, but his attention was focused mainly on seething Harry, who was trying his best to keep his powers in check. He was drawing deep uneven breaths and clutching his fists so hard that it would result in another set of scars. His palms had already looked as if he had pressed them against a Muggle grater.
"Give me your wand," Harry whispered, but the sound eerily resounded between the bare walls. Severus scowled.
"And what makes you, Potter, think that I would listed to your silly requests-"
"That wasn't a request. That was an order."
Severus almost lost it; he had his wand pointed at Harry's face and just barely restraining himself from casting a hex.
Draco swallowed, because there was no way to avoid the confrontation now. Even if all Severus wanted was to give them the Portkey to get them into safety, but he just had to provoke Harry. Harry had gone through so much in the past few days that he deserved to be coddled and fussed over, or at least left alone, definitely not people who were rude to him.
"Come on, Snape. I am not in a patient mood and I need that wand."
"You don't need a wand, Potter. You will now take this piece of garbage and deliver yourself to the-"
Harry lifted his hand in the air. The wand abandoned Severus's hand and flew through the air to him. He clasped it and fingered the tip. It let out a few content sparks. Harry smirked.
He and the wand were compatible. It didn't really surprise either him or Draco. Though it shocked Severus.
"Re-"
"This is a good wand, Snape. I think I'll keep it."
Draco stepped forwards, aiming for Harry's hand, because if he decided that this was the right moment to forget his conscience and act on his instincts – not that they weren't always right – but this was Severus…
"You little sonofab-"
"Shut up," Harry said completely calm, and Draco knew it was too late. He tried pleading, but his tongue wouldn't obey him; he was paralysed with shock and dread and maybe a bit of magic, too…
"I've let you slander my father for years, but don't you dare say a word about my mother."
Severus, shaking with silent rage, snapped, thrust away the Portkey and advanced at Harry-
Who cast.
"Severus!" Draco screamed. Everything was a blur; the guard from the prison barging in and having their head chopped off with an offhand hex and Draco taking their wand and-
'Wake up! Wake up, Draco, it isn't real, it's just a dream…'
His eyes opened. He was staring at the ceiling. The ceiling was blurred as his memories… he wiped his eyes. They had been… wet.
'Is not real…'
"Harry, you wouldn't kill Severus…" he said quietly. A pair of strong arms embraced him and pulled him up to sit. A soft kiss was pressed to his eyebrow.
'No, Draco.'
He looked into Harry's eyes. Big eyes, green eyes, eyes like two emeralds, but he had seen emeralds and Harry's eyes were so much more beautiful and alive and sad and cruel and lying.
"You lie."
He didn't smile, but Draco didn't want him to. He didn't want the eyes to be any different that they were, because the eyes were Harry's and Harry was everything.
'Yes.'
"I love you," Draco said and kissed Harry, sliding his hands into his hair like he used to do it while they were still at Hogwarts or in the Grimmauld place when nobody was watching. Because they were happy then and he so desperately wanted Harry to be happy now.
'I love you too.'
"Now you're telling truth. I like it when you're telling truth. Tell me more truth."
'Voldemort is still allive. He is here.'
'It will work out, love, it always will work out, because Voldemort is the bastard and you are the hero and even though you killed Severus you are the good one, who will rescue the princess and kill the Dragon-'
Harry chuckled.
'I love you, Draco. I wouldn't kill you… and, while we're at it, what would I do with a princess?'
Draco pondered it. He didn't quite get the first part, but he knew what to do with princesses.
'You would make her buy us a house and we would live in it. And eat a lot and lot of apples. Nice ones, not those wrinkled you always fed me.'
Harry was laughing and it was good. Because Draco wanted Harry to be happy.
o
A/N: Uh… creepy. Review, please?