heavy trigger warning for the later part of the chapter
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
[As It Was]
HARRY
"What does this all have to do with me?"
He was testing the waters here- seeing what they knew and they didn't. Their reaction was a bit different from what he expected. Snape's expression hardened more and if it was possible it looked as if Dumbledore was unsure of himself for the first time.
Remus puts a hand on his knee and Harry's first instinct is to pull away, but he stifles the urge and instead stares down at it and back up to the brown eyes searching him. "Harry there's no easy way to ask this. Where were you when Katie Bell was attacked?"
He pauses. Now that... He hadn't been expecting that. Was this an interrogation? Did they know he snuck out of Snape's office with Draco that day? Oh shit, Harry thinks. Was this what a parent-teacher conference was supposed to be and I'm just too dense to realize?
He immediately felt silly for thinking it. They had asked security questions and Remus would never be… that.
"Why? I mean- I was by the Great Lake. Madam Pomfrey forbade me from leaving the castle because of the curse at the time and I didn't want to hold Ron and Hermione back so… You should know that already." It was a bullshit lie but it was the same one he told that day on why he wasn't under the attendance.
"And what were you doing over there?" Dumbledore asks.
Harry frowns. Something was wrong, he could feel it. He had ignored his question on why completely. He stares down the headmaster with the same intensity. He didn't want to be walked all over. "Why?"
Dumbledore blinks with surprise. Snape only glares at him, no doubt snorting at his 'arrogance' in his head.
"Precautions, my boy. You can never be too careful."
"Yeah, right. That's why you're interrogating me like some kind of murderer. You don't really think I have something to do with it, do you?"
"He said nothing of a sort, calm down. You're over examining things."
"So you think it then?"
Remus gave a frustrated sigh. "You're getting the same treatment as everyone else under suspicion. You were gone from the castle. It's only in order."
Harry glared at him. "I have nothing to do with it. I saw him- I fought him. You out of all people should know that out of everyone that I'll never lay a hand on Katie. She was my friend."
Remus glares at him. "Sit down. You're being dramatic."
Harry didn't notice he'd almost risen out of his seat while being worked up. He wanted to be a bratty teenager for once and say he wasn't the boss of him but looking at the other two adults in the room he just huffed and plopped back down in his seat.
This was ridiculous. Did they really think him capable of such a thing? Snape he could handle thinking that as it was practically no different from who he already thought he was. But Remus? That's a low blow.
"I was reading. I was trying to find a way to get the ingredients for the cure Hermione found."
Snape cocks his head. "Yes, and how did you acquire such ingredients? Sneaking around other cabinets again? Though, I'd say if you managed to sneak them from an apothecary I'd be fairly impressed. You're lack of wit outstand me-"
"Severus," Dumbledore warns.
Harry wished the man would just shut the bloody fuck up already. All three of them were looking at him expectantly now and Harry was backed into a corner. He'd totally forgotten what he'd said the first time.
"You're not the only one who knows people, professor." Harry snaps before he can think that it might be giving away more information than he should be. Snape only tilts his head back at him with a loathsome smirk as if Harry had just given him a gift. Oh, what Harry would do to blow the greasy git up like a balloon and pop him right then.
"Harry," Dumbledore eyes him curiously "are you aware that Severus' office was broken into on the 23rd? Two days ago?"
Harry stops his glaring to look up at the professor. "What?"
"On expectation, nothing seemed to be taken. The floo was activated once at 10:32 PM and again at 1:32 AM. A time frame we could only guess what happened in."
"What exactly are you saying?"
"What are you thinking? What else happened on the 23rd?"
The attack on the Weasley's immediately comes to mind. His mind does a fuzzy blank trying to put the pieces together.
"So… you think I had something to do with it? That I attacked the Weasley's as well? After warning you that the attack was going to take place? You must have gone mad, honestly."
"I am simply saying this is one of the many scenarios where you are a suspect. One hidden in plain sight. Even from afar perspective, your behavior this term has not added up. One might put it as the mysterious ways of grief…"
Harry swears he's going to scream. This was ridiculous already and to bring Sirius into it was too far. He looked to his side to see Remus's reaction to this but he was pointedly looking anywhere but him.
"Of course things are going to happen around me! That tends to be a common theme in my life if you haven't noticed yet! I was the one who heard that bloody snake in the walls when I was twelve, didn't I? Everyone was wary of me then and I wasn't the heir of Slytherin, was I? None of this is new."
"You are one of the very few students who stayed back this term for reasons unknown to us other than a fight with Ronald Weasley which has never held you back before. You were gone with no proof of alibi when Katie Bell was cursed. The mysterious appearance of dark ingredients. The attack of Arabella Figg and your cousin leaving Privet Drive, your whereabouts after which are still incredibly fuzzy. Can you hardly blame us for being suspicious?"
Dumbledore had never been this confrontational with him. He pulled strings from the background as he smiled and offered you a lemon drop. At least then he at least put up a front of kindness even if there was something to gain from it. This Dumbledore- he really must think Harry was a threat if he was like this. It only went to show how people treated him, dropping him despite everything he's done the second any of them had a pinch of doubt.
"I already told you the answers to all of that. I couldn't take it there anymore, and you said it yourself, that even the blood wards had dropped because it was safer if I left. Sorry for not asking you before my uncle strangled me to death." He glares at the headmaster then Remus, hoping they got the hint of his fuming anger still lingering on that subject. "Not that you would have cared anyway. I left- I went to Diagon Alley and got a room at that inn. Someone must have spotted me, I don't know. I got out of there alive, didn't I?"
Snape scoffed. "Yes, a feat which is quite impressive. How did you manage to fight off dozens of grown death eaters all by yourself?"
The implication left him fuming. "I'm not in league with Voldemort! Are you even listening to yourselves? Have you learned nothing?"
The porcelain cup on the desk cracked slightly, leaking tea all over the scattered papers. Harry ignored it. There was blood rushing in his ears. He didn't know whether he was hurt or furious at their accusations. Hell, they didn't make sense. He thought they were suspicious of Draco, not him. But as he thinks about it, perhaps it was better Harry than him. He could cover his tracks better than Draco. That calms him down fractionally.
Dumbledore leaned back in his seat and watched the scene with interest. "Harry, we are not, as you think, saying these actions are directly your fault. We're simply saying you may have a closer hand in them than you think."
Harry gives him a crazed look.
Remus shifted in his seat. "Albus, he clearly doesn't know. He would have said something already."
"Not unless he can't. It's a tricky thing."
"Tell you what?" Harry cuts in. "I'm right here, you know. There's no point talking like I can't hear you!"
Surprisingly, Snape is the only one who listens. He reaches into his pocket and places a small, clear vital on the desk in front of Harry but not without returning his glower. "Hopefully, as a sixth-year N.E.W.T student, you are adept to a point you know what this particular substance is?"
Harry stared down at it and a chill went down his spine contrasting with the fiery heat. Veritaserum. Images flash of Snape threatening to dose him with it to Dumbledore forcing it down Barty Crouch's throat. Umbridge had tried also tried to force it on him.
Harry's fist clenched. They could find out much more than Harry wanted them to. There was no way in hell he was going to drink that. He couldn't betray Draco like that not to mention his own trouble he'll be getting into.
"I told you already, I'm not evil."
"I know you aren't." Says Dumbledore without a smile. It's strangely eerie.
"Then why don't you believe me?"
"Really, I think this is taking it too far," Remus finally defends him. "You said just a few questions. It's Christmas, Albus."
"Always a sentimental," mocks Snape. "Do you really think the Dark Lord would care for the day of the year? No, if anything he'll see it as a perfect time to attack as you've already seen. He doesn't care."
Harry desperately wants Remus to jump in to defend him again but instead he simply glares at the git and shifts back into his seat more comfortably.
"I thought," Harry says testing the waters, "that you thought it was Malfoy? You told us such. He was gone as well and spotted at the inn."
He needed to know exactly what they knew he didn't and how much he knew they didn't. Perhaps the question was too direct and they would catch him in it in an instant, but it had to be worth it. He didn't want to be played like some game of chess.
Instead, the three men look at each other wordlessly. "There's a lot of speculation. We are, as the muggles say, putting all our eggs in the same basket. We're either right, and we have proved our… theory, or we are wrong and we owe you a deep apology. Let's just say we're taking the risk."
"And what exactly is the theory? What does it have to deal with Malfoy?"
Dumbledore's gaze is piercing. "Not so fast. If we are correct, giving you the information could be fatal to the Order. Would you consent to veritaserum afterward for everyone's safety?"
He was treading on still water. Either he yes and have a potential chance of outing Draco and him, but get exactly what the Order was manipulating him with and why they were doing it. He could find out exactly what they knew and cover his tracks with it. But if he said no, he'll never know what they were thinking, have them thinking he was some kind of devil's heir, and never find out what they knew about Draco. But they would be safe- well if they didn't know anything about them already.
'Putting all our eggs in the same basket'
What was he supposed to do? Draco would know. He would find some brilliant way to force the conversation back to what he wanted with a smile and get it without ever having to lift a finger. But Harry had never been that smart, so he tried again but more demanding this time.
"If you thought it was me, why would you make us suspicious of Malfoy? There had to be a reason. You- you were trying to get us to do something. What?"
Despite having a never-ending grudge for him, he feels slightly proud when Dumbledore raises a brow at his realization from earlier. "In all due time," he says, "if you consent."
Harry's stomach turns painfully looking down at the potion. They're all watching him carefully now as if they're expecting him to turn around and start hexing them all. He could imagine it - him taking the stupid thing and watching their faces turn into scarlet embarrassment when they realize they were wrong and how easily they were able to turn on him. But… he was also curious and he didn't have much of a history resisting that urge. He supposed that was one of the many reasons the hat wanted to put him in Slytherin. And he didn't want to be played in some game, either. It was risky, but if he played his cards right...
"Only if questions remain on topic," Harry glared at Snape. "And Remus asks them. Alone."
Dumbledore laces his fingers together and sucks on a lemon drop as he contemplates the demand.
"Albus, you know fair well that's an enormous security risk. You're not going to succumb to the brat's wishes, are you?"
"It's a rather reasonable request. If he leaves his wand I see no reason why we couldn't comply. Remus?"
Remus nods, still refusing to meet Harry's eye.
"And," Harry adds on, "you promise to tell me what you're trying to do exactly and what it has to do with Malfoy."
"Harry, I know you dislike him but this isn't something you can learn just to get leverage over him. It's important Order information-"
"Merlin, you really always think the worst of me don't you? I know that. If anything I'm tied into this war than you. Stop treating me as if I'm some child."
"You are-"
"Don't."
The room goes silent. This was the difference between Remus and his godfather. Sometimes it seemed Remus cared more about the war than he did him. Sirius had understood.
"I think we can manage with those requests," the old man says at last. "Shall we say deal?"
Harry gulped. He could almost resist the Imperius and that was an unforgivable. Surely he could manure his answers to exclude Draco? This was partly for him after all. They knew something about the blonde and Harry was sure Draco would hate that leverage over him.
"Fine."
DRACO
The centuries-old door gives a faint screech as he pushes it open. The dorm is empty as he expected but doesn't help the weight slowly making it into his chest. He shouldn't feel like this, not after the practical heaven of a day he's had, but it's there and seems to be crashing down onto him. It was there when he woke up and he thought if he'd just ignored it it would eventually go away he'd only escaped the pull of it briefly. Now that he was alone, it seemed to be taking its revenge.
It had to be that dinner that triggered it. It was different from the Christmas ones at the Manor but also exactly the same and he didn't understand it. Rationally, he knew he was fine and nothing could get him inside the halls of Hogwarts but he couldn't help the deepening panic that settled inside him looking up at the distasteful face of his godfather. And looking down at the table to the other smiling faces of the few students staying, he felt isolated just as he always did with his father growing up. And the Salazar-forsaken dress robes. What the bloody hell had been thinking?
He looks around the dorm for something to ground him. His messy bed, the dress shirt, and shoes were thrown about the floor, Harry's present on the bed. He came up empty-handed on every one. His hands start to shake as the panic starts to set in. It starts out as thin cellophane, something his fingers can pierce breathing holes in.
The room spins as he slides down the back of the door and to the ground, trying to make everything slow to something my brain and body can cope with. Draco's limbs tingle and his brain races in the most unhelpful way. The panic is like a cluster of spark plugs in his abdomen. Tension grew in his face and limbs, his mind replaying the last attack he had when he first got his mark. At that, his breathing became more rapid, more shallow.
It's not a surprise when the only thing his mind can semi-focus on is his father. It was always him when he boiled down into a pathetic heap like this. They weren't in vivid clarity like every other time but fought each other in soaring little snippets of the suffocating expectations and times when he'd been cursed so badly so could hardly pick himself off the parlor floor.
Why does he suddenly care about what his father thinks? He hates him, hates him, so why does it matter so bloody much? He wishes his father was ten feet in the ground but every single one of his insults and beliefs lived on. It was suffocating.
In, out. In, out. He tries to tell himself but it's pointless. It feels as if he's too far gone for it to help so what's the point? In another minute the panic is a deluge of ice water surrounding every limb, creeping higher until it passes his mouth and nose.
The thoughts accelerate inside his head. He wants them to slow so he can breathe but they won't. They come in gasps and he feels as if he's going to blackout. His heart is hammering inside his chest like it belongs to a blast-ended skrewt running for its skin.
He reached feverishly up to his neck and scratched at it until it came in contact with the tightening cloth around his neck. The comes off quickly with his pulling yet it'll still not enough to fight the constricting in his chest. The robes come off next, then the top few buttons of his shirt.
Oh Merlin, he left so pathetic. It was a good day, almost everything he wanted and here he was being absolutely disgusting. His eyes squeezed with themselves shut to block out the demanding burn behind them and the cave growing inside his chest. The ball of his palms pushed painfully into his eyes causing spots to appear.
He was ruining it. All of it- He shouldn't even be here. What was he helping? What was he succeeding with being here? There was no point when all he seemed to be doing is causing grief to those around him. And those who did care (why did they?) they would be so much better without him and they just didn't know it yet.
He hadn't realized that he'd been scratching at the glamoured mark on his left arm. He didn't register that pain even with the surprisingly deep gouges in the skin. There was blood too, a lot of it, and he had to blink a couple times to understand.
It's not enough.
That's when the attack becomes absolute, shutting his body down as fast as punching a biochemical reset button. Something else is controlling him at that point but he accepts it because it has to be doing something more of use than he's ever done.
He thinks about the Imperious curse and how his father used it on him once when he was five to get him to stop throwing a tantrum. It was very similar to that. But that leads his mind down an even darker path: the Cruciatus. The pain that wasn't sharp like needlepoint or a knife, but burned around your innards better than boiling water. Everything feels scalded with it. There's more pain than you could ever imagine was possible.
He doesn't have his wand and he doesn't have time to care. He was desperate for something and quickly.
The door to the bathroom is open. He's making his way towards it before he realizes what's happening. It's clean and orderly. The bottles on the side of the tub are lined up in perfect precision before he knocks them down reaching for the shower knobs. There was a domino reaction to the bangs they created on the startling cold stone floors, so different from the burning heat of the water now falling from the faucet.
He climbs in forgoing to take off his socks and pants. He doesn't know when his shirt or trousers came off. All he cares about is the furious, burning heat getting hotter by the second raining down on him.
He's sitting on the tub's floor, his arms wrapping around his knees drawn up to his chest. The blood from his forearm is swirling in intricate patterns as they flow down the drain. The spinning is leisurely untwisting itself from around him and the pain in his chest, unaware of the anxiety overflowing from its occupant.
In, out. In, out.
He pushes his eyes into his knees and lets the humidity soak his lungs. It brings him back to a safe enough state of mind that he'll be able to finally control his mind and body, but he still doesn't move. He sits there letting the steaming water fade into the cold environment around it.
Deep breaths. One, two, three.
It's easier now to control it and force the panic down. He tries to think of things to pin him back down in reality. Slytherin quidditch wins, outstanding O.W.L. scores, chess wins against Bramble. Those were always things that helped him, yet this time it was like air slipping through his fingers. Accomplishments didn't erase the shame, hatred, cruelty, silence, ignorance, discrimination, or low self-esteem. In his experience, it only covers it up with a creative version of pride and ego.
So the first time, he let himself think of something that usually only sparked a second attack. He thinks of his mother's hugs when he was little, Brambles cookies and lemonade on a hot day and afterward how she would wipe away the sticky mess with a washcloth, Harry's unwavering loyalty and kindness. His heart aches for it all.
The throbbing pain in his head is what finally brings him out of his dissociated state. He blinks the water out of his sore eyes. Faintly he finds all of his muscles are exhausted as well. Even breathing is a chore.
He looks down at his soaked socks and pants and an obtrusive thread of embarrassment to unravel inside him. He climbs back out slowly but surely. The gross squelching of the fabric under his feet and in between his toes makes him pull a face. He dries off with one of the towels he pulled to the floor earlier the best he can, careful not to disturb the throbbing in his head.
The cupboard under the sink always carries a pair of extra pajamas bottoms and clothes that he slips on with ease sitting on the edge of the tub. The door to the bathroom had stayed open the entire time, making it easier to use the walls to support his shaky legs to his bed.
Draco swears he'd never been so dead exhausted in his entire life. His eyes droop shut on their own despite his protest and his legs threatened to give out from under him. Laying down on his bed filled with dozens of pillows feels is heaven to him at the moment.
He pulls himself towards it with relief. He's about to smile when a cool feeling of wood presses against his neck.
"Move and I'll be more than your pretty, little neck on the line for being your daddies plaything."
Merry Christmas babes! If you celebrate, that is. And if this is posted then,,, I have very bad impulse control. Anyways, what's the tea? Two cliffhangers? Merlin, I really am a garbage fire of a human being.
For everyone dealing with oppressive family members this season, that's anything from having to hide your gender identity to dealing with toxicity in general, I want you to know you 100% aren't alone! There are thousands going through the same thing you are right now and It's okay to be upset over that! You do not deserve that ever and I am here for you. I'll adopt you for the holidays if have to. Feel free to shoot me a PM if you're in the dumps :)
