Title: The Quandary's Hope
Author: Intrepid Aarcher
Summary: Malfoy has noticed not all seems well with his arch-nemesis, but why does he care? And where does a surly Potions master fit into the equation? HPDM
Disclaimer: I'm not making any money out of this foray into the world of fan fiction. I just like to borrow the characters.
Warnings: eventual Harry/Draco slash. So that's male/male duh. A bit of abuse here and there, and some pretty dark themes.
CHAPTER 2
The Sneak
Harry groaned as he awoke in pain. Slowly, he attempted to stretch to assess the damage and hissed each item on his inventory of injuries as he came across them. "Terrific, left collar bone; broken, right shoulder; dislocated, right arm; broken, ouch ribs!; some cracked, left hand; well that looks disgusting, jaw; dislocated, nose; possibly shoved into my brain if the pain in my head is anything to go by, legs; okay, feet; left ankle doesn't look too good." Harry sighed as he lay back down. Something was telling him that wasn't the last of it and winced as the memories of what had happened the previous day came back. "How could I forget the poison? Ssssshit!"
His insides felt like they were on fire. The pain was such that it felt so achingly bone deep, he wondered if he'd be able to stand. He could tell someone what happened, no, then Dumbledore would know everything. Since that fateful night Sirius had died, Harry couldn't forgive the old man for keeping him in the dark. The closer he looked back on past conversations with the Headmaster, the more he realized he had been shamelessly manipulated, though he supposed he must have been suspicious subconsciously or he would have revealed to the old codger who he really was.
"BOY! Get your act together!" Vernon was banging on the door. Harry maneuvered himself to get off the cot as painlessly as possible only to wince when he put weight on his ankle. He made his way to the bathroom with a change of clothes and gratefully stepped under the hot stream of water, imagining that all the pain was washing away down the drain along with the blood and grime. He gingerly dried off, not daring to look in the mirror until he had clothes on. When he finally did he grimaced at what he saw.
His face was swollen and disfigured, multiple cuts and bruises successfully trying to mask the fact that he had eyes and a mouth, his jaw and nose were off centre. Knowing that if he did nothing about those they would become permanent, he set about trying to straighten them. Without the use of Healing Spells or Pain Numbing Potions, Harry grasped hold of his jaw, tipped his head to the right and, taking a sharp breath, wrenched his jaw to the left. His vision momentarily when blank as his mind dealt with the pain. Clutching the basin, he caught his breath again before looking to his nose.
Ten minutes later Harry stepped out of the bathroom looking like the person everyone in the Wizarding World recognized. While he had straightened his nose, he had discovered that some of his reserves of magic had come back whilst unconscious, and had set about concealing his various wounds. He looked ravishing, as many witches had informed him over the years. He couldn't see it, but then he had been told he was an ugly freak for much longer.
Gathering his meager belongings in his trunk and double checking to see if the magical container that shrunk and stored his potions was secured, Harry hopped into the car. Harry didn't like it when he had time to think like this. Throughout the journey his mind kept drifting over the incident with the strange boy yesterday. He tried not to shudder as he remembered those chocolate brown eyes. He had seen them before, he just knew it, but in a different context – that's why he couldn't place him with Dudley.
Vernon left him at the entrance to the station and Harry made his way slowly to the platform. As he reached it, more and more people turned to look and greet him. Through his pain, he kept repeating a sort of mantra: left. Right. Left. Right. Smile at Ron and Hermione. Left. Right. Force laugh…
Thankful that they didn't perceive any difference in him, he chatted with them and asked amiably about their holidays. They had both been staying at Grimmauld Place with the Order, but were quick to reassure him that they weren't told anything that they could've passed on, even if they had been allowed to write to him. They were about halfway down the carriage looking for an empty compartment when the inevitable happened and the Slytherin gang showed up.
"My, my Potter, you're walking as though you've got a sword up your arse. Should we be alarmed that you're concealing weapons?" Malfoy asked snidely. Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy Parkinson sniggered behind him.
"Shove off, Malfoy! We all know your head is stuck up yours!" Ron retorted as he pushed Harry and Hermione into a compartment nearby. A little worried that the blond had noticed something his friends had not, Harry had a laugh at the shocked indignity on Malfoy's face before collapsing into a heap on the seat, his best friends opposite him.
It took him a minute, and he almost slapped himself when he finally noticed it, but Hermione and Ron were practically glued to one another. He raised his eyebrows and blinked at them waiting for them to explain.
Noticing his expression, Hermione hastened to explain. "Oh Harry, please don't be mad at us! We know we've always been the trio, but well, over summer, Ron and I got a little closer and worked out our feelings for each other, and well, we're a couple now…" she stuttered.
Harry blinked again. "Why would I be mad?" he asked.
Ron spoke up this time, "Well, mate, you look a little upset; we'll always be friends, you know."
At that Harry realized his carefully constructed mask was slipping and the pain was starting to show through. "Oh no you two! I'm happy for you!" he said with a grin. "I'm only pissed because I lost the bet to Seamus as to how long it would take you morons to figure it out!"
"Harry!" shouted Ron and Hermione at once, but they were blushing and grinning from ear to ear. Relieved he had reassured them, he slowly stretched across the seats on his side and informed them he was going to take a nap to let them have some privacy. As he lay there, he thought back on his years with his friends and wished he could take back the decision to hide his home life from them. They knew he wasn't happy there, but they had no idea to what extent. Being friends with Harry Potter is enough of a burden, he thought, they to deal with Voldemort and his own temper on a regular basis, so he was aware of how lucky he was.
There was still some degree of innocence surrounding his friends even after all they had been through, and he didn't want to shatter that. Let them be happy in their ignorance. He also didn't know how they would react. Maybe they'd think he had brought it on himself – goodness knows he deserves it for all the suffering he caused. After a few minutes lost in thought, he eventually drifted off to sleep for real.
Harry found himself being shaken awake by a concerned looking Ron. He sat up cautiously and looked around the compartment at a shocked Hermione, Ginny – who must have come in while he slept, and to his surprise Malfoy, who was frozen in place at the door.
"H-Harry, mate?" Ron said shakily, "Are you alright?"
"Yeah, why? What happened?" he queried.
"It was awful, Harry! You were having a nightmare and clutching at your stomach, writhing in pain… and Harry…" Hermione's voice dropped to a worried hush, "you were hissing in Parseltongue!"
Harry did the only thing he could think of to divert the unwanted attention and turned to the Slytherin still standing in the doorway.
"Have you come for your usual visit? Must say the routine's getting boring. You're becoming predictable Malfoy." he sneered.
The blond glared back, "Actually I was just passing when I saw you in excruciating pain and thought I'd stop to etch such a pleasant sight in my memory."
"So that's how you get your kicks? Who'd have thought it? The Slytherin Prince is a sadistic bastard! No, really?" Harry spat back. Malfoy's face was flushed as he opened his mouth to retort when-
"Just get lost Malfoy." said Ron, closing the door in his face and effectively putting an end to the uncomfortable dialogue. The Slytherin glared at them through the glass before stalking away, not willing to show that Harry had touched a nerve. Harry pretended to drift off once again.
The train arrived at Hogwarts shortly after, and Harry, relatively well rested after his sleep despite the nightmare, was able to pull off the pretence of enjoying the feast. Or so he thought. An intense silver gaze drew his attention across the hall. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously as he held the gaze; sure that Malfoy was plotting something. He must have been right because the guilty party flushed and looked away. Harry smirked and allowed himself to become involved in the Gryffindor table's antics once more.
Benches scraped back and the volume of the student's chatter picked up as they all left the hall. This was Harry's best, if only, chance to get into Snape's potions supply while he inducted his new first years into Slytherin House. He excused himself from his housemates as they wandered up to Gryffindor tower, stating that he needed to see Dumbledore, and wandered off in the direction of the headmasters' office.
Once he was out of sight, he took his invisibility cloak out of his pocket, enlarged it to its original size and threw it over his weakening form. Quietly making his way down to the dungeons, he located the potions store room and stood before the unremarkable door. Feeling stronger since his rest and the feast, he placed his hands on the serpent handle and drew upon the well of magic coiled deep within his very being. Sensing the wards thin, enough to let him pass, he heaved open the door and entered the suffocating space.
He had discovered these stores with the help of his newly acquired Marauder's Map in third year, when he had wanted ingredients unavailable for student use. He hadn't been discovered yet, covering his tracks well by taking little and gathering what he could from the forbidden forest. Tonight however, he doubted his theft would go unnoticed, for while he required small amounts, the ingredients were extremely rare.
Quickly gathering the required amount for one batch of Yarasimos' Hope, he reset the wards and made his way to a forgotten classroom he often used and began to set up a makeshift lab. Even with limited security, it was the best place to brew potions, as the DA frequented the Room of Requirement and often stumbled across artifacts from the room's other uses.
Exercising the extreme caution required for handling these rare ingredients wasn't easy with trembling hands. More than once he had lost precious amounts of liquid from a shaky spatula, but by some miracle each drop had landed in the correct cauldron. The staple ingredients to the potion he didn't already have he obtained by hastily distilling them from the potions he foresaw to shrink and keep in his pocket.
It was about 3 am when he finally hit his pillow. He had left the potion and equipment under a Concealment Charm to simmer for a few hours. Just as he performed a Silencing Charm on the hangings around his bed, seizures began and he doubled over, clutching his knees to his chest. After what seemed like hours of intense pain but in reality only lasted fifteen minutes, the torture relented a little and he was able to drift off to sleep.
End chapter 2