A/N: Hello, friends! A couple of quick warnings before we begin! WARNING: PREPARE FOR A HOLY FUCKING CRAZY SHITSTORM OF DRAMA. ALSO, A TRIGGER WARNING FOR ATTEMPTED SELF-HARM.
Okay, the caps lock has officially been turned off and now we may begin!
THE LOVE THAT FOLLOWS
Chapter 5—Miles Above the Earth
The outside air was cold. Harry listened to the wind howl past the castle, shivering at the icy breeze as it whistled past him into the dark, empty room he had found himself in. He sat perched on the wide window ledge of the East Tower, the window thrown wide open as he gazed down into the distant darkness, the ground looking to be miles below him. He wasn't entirely sure why he had come to the East Tower; all he knew was that he could not sleep. His legs had felt twitchy and restless and the snores of his dormmates had been driving him mental. Without much thought, Harry had swung himself from bed and grabbed the Invisibility Cloak, jamming shoes and socks on before slipping from the dorm and through the portrait hole.
Somehow, he had ended up in the East Tower, and he shivered again as another gust of wind blew past him. He still couldn't decide why it was that he had chosen to come to a place that reminded him of nothing but Draco, but his subconscious had picked it and his feet had led him here and now here he was like some sort of sick masochist, soaking in the pain of being in a place where Draco and Harry had shared such an intensity, where Draco had first confessed his feelings and where Harry had first actively and willingly returned his advances; it was the place where Draco had whispered that he had wanted Harry for so long and the place where Harry had felt his insides melt as Draco kissed him.
And now here he was only days later, in the same empty room by himself, cold and alone and sitting in the dark. Harry had thought that he would have had at least a bit more time before everything fell apart. Why did everything in his life have to always fall apart so spectacularly?
"Harry," a soft voice whispered from the darkness behind him, and Harry jerked around, nearly losing his balance as he startled violently. A pale shape emerged from the shadows, and Harry leapt down to face it, heart pounding wildly as Draco's recognizable blond hair came into sight.
"Malfoy?" Harry asked in bewilderment, heart only pounding more frantically at the sight of him. "What are you doing here?"
"I came to speak to you," Malfoy said quietly, shuffling forward into the dim light of the window-shaped night sky flooding the Tower in a large, neat square.
"Why?" Harry asked in a voice as cold as the winter wind outside. "How the hell did you even know I was here?"
"I…erm, well, I…" Malfoy paused, appearing awkward and sheepish, "I was waiting for you. Outside the Gryffindor common room. I wasn't sure if you were already inside or not, so I decided to wait. I was pretty sure I was going to end up having to sleep there, but then you came out and I guess you didn't see me. I…I followed you here."
"Why?" Harry asked again tightly, wondering if he should reach immediately for his wand or wait. "I already told you I didn't want to see you again, so what do you want?"
At his words and his tone, Malfoy flinched, and Harry felt bad for nearly a second until he remembered that between the two of them, he was not the one in the wrong.
"I need to talk to you," Malfoy whispered, voice suspiciously thick. "I need to see you, I-I can't explain it, Harry, but I need to! I need to explain, I need to apologize!"
"You already did," Harry said in a voice like steel, "the first time this happened. Remember?"
Malfoy flinched again, nodding miserably. "Please, Harry," he pleaded, glancing up, and Harry sucked in a sharp breath.
Malfoy was crying. Actually crying. Tears were streaming down his blotchy cheeks and his eyes were red and swollen.
"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry asked weakly, voice sounding nearly as pained as Malfoy looked.
"I want you to call me Draco again," the blond whispered. "I want you to stop looking at me like you're scared of me. I want you to stop taking one step back for every step I take towards you."
Harry paused, glancing down at himself, and he realized that he was indeed much farther from where he had originally started out. He had not even been aware of backing away from the other boy.
Harry raised a trembling hand to his hair, wanting to close his eyes but afraid to remove his gaze from Malfoy. "Can you blame me for not wanting to be near you?"
At the question, Malfoy began to weep, startling Harry by falling to his knees and burying his face in his hands as he sobbed openly in the middle of the large room. "I'm sorry, Harry! I can't explain it! I didn't want to do that! I don't even know what I was doing! All I was aware of was that I needed you to reaffirm what we had; I didn't even realize until after what I had done!"
"How is that any better than being aware, though, Malfoy?" Harry's voice quivered as he watched Malfoy's entire frame shake from the force of his crying, head bowed nearly to the floor. "You still did it. Whether you were aware of it or not, it still happened. And it's the fact that it happened that has me so upset. I mean, I told you! I told you things I've never told anyone else, not even Ron and Hermione!" Harry's voice echoed around the room and he quickly cast privacy wards around them. "I told you why I couldn't handle something like that happening again, Malfoy, and you're the only person I've ever told those things to, because I wanted you to understand! I wanted you to know me! And you still…"
Malfoy was crying so hard Harry wasn't even sure if he was actually getting any oxygen to his lungs from the sobs and gasps he was making. "And I'm sorrier than I've ever been in my entire life," the blond choked out. "I know that what happened was awful and horrible and unforgivable and that I'm an awful, evil, disgusting person for what I did to you!"
Harry frowned. He had spent years thinking those very same things about Malfoy, especially over the past day, but…hearing those same words come out of Draco's mouth as he wept so bitterly on the cold hard floor…it made Harry's heart clench.
"Why did you ruin everything?" the brunet whispered in a voice as quiet as dust, but Harry could hear the loud anguish in every single syllable that fell from between his own lips. "Why did you have to—goddamnit, Malfoy, why did you have to destroy it like that? I liked you so much…I liked being with you so fucking much, and I really…I really thought that we might have had something between us, something real…but now…"
Malfoy cried even harder. "It was real!" he wept, "It is real! Please, Harry! Please say that it's not too late to earn back your trust! I need you to trust me, and I need you to look at me like you used to! I feel like I'll die if I lose you! I feel like I'll die if I can't be near you! You have no idea how much you mean to me, and I'm sorry if that makes me act crazy and irrational at times, but I just…I care about you so much, please believe me!"
"Damn it, Malfoy," Harry gasped, feeling icy tears of his own slowly streaking his face. "Damn it." He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger as he swayed on his feet, feeling torn in so many different directions; he did not even know what emotions it was that were ripping him to shreds. He wanted nothing more than to go to Malfoy and gather him in his arms; he wanted to coax the other boy's head down on Harry's shoulder and kiss every tear from his pretty face. He wanted to run from the room and sprint all the way back to the safety of his dorm and hide from the entire world. He wanted to fling himself back in time to when he and Draco were getting along so well, when the world seemed such a bright place. He wanted Draco back more than anything, but was what Draco had done too much to move past? What if Harry took the chance of forgiving him only for that fragile trust to be shattered in such a horrifying way once again?
"I don't know what to do," Harry wept, feeling nearly dizzy from the force of the questions and the doubts and the thousand nameless emotions tearing through him like a cyclone, mangling his insides into a pained blood-red pulp tasting salty and bitter on Harry's tongue, matching the taste of the icy tears falling from his burning eyes—the temperatures a sharp contrast to one another as they slithered coldly down his numb face. "Damn it, I don't know what to do!"
"I swear, Harry!" Malfoy spoke in a quiet voice, breathless from the force of his tears. "I swear, on my life, that I will never hurt you again! I promise! I'll swear on anything you want me to swear on! On my life, on my mother's life! I'll choose death before I'll ever choose hurting you! I love you, Harry!"
The words seemed to ring through the room like a bell, echoing through Harry's dazed skull and effectively freezing him in place as he stared, wide-eyed, at Draco. "What?" he whispered, certain he must have heard wrong. No, Malfoy couldn't have just confessed his love, he couldn't have! Harry had to have imagined it, that just couldn't be possible! They had only been together for a few days, Malfoy couldn't love him! Harry felt a hysteria beginning to build within him, growing more and more fierce as Draco's head snapped up to look him in the eye, and Harry could not doubt the truth as they stared at one another.
There, in Draco's eyes…there could be no doubt—he loved Harry.
Harry was barely even aware of falling to his knees, only noticing a sharp pain as they connected with the hard floor. "What?" he asked, in a voice that he did not even recognize as his own.
"I love you, Harry," Draco repeated, "I love you so much."
"No, you don't," Harry argued in a watery voice, unable to accept that Draco could look at him with so much love in his eyes and yet still do what he had done in that corridor. "You can't."
"I do," Malfoy said earnestly, in a low, somber voice, "I can."
"No, you can't."
"I have for a long time." At the confession, Harry felt his heart stop in his chest. "I've loved you for what feels like my entire life, Harry. Whatever you want me to do to prove it, I'll do it. I'll do anything you want! Just—just please, tell me there's still something, anything that I can do to get you to trust me again!"
"I don't know, Draco." The whisper slipped from Harry's mouth to hang in the air between them like its own stale presence, musty and fetid and crumbling where it had faded into silence; all it did was remind Harry of the distance between the two boys. "I want to trust you again, I really, really do, but…but I just…I…"
"But you can't." The dull resignation in Malfoy's voice made Harry's head snap up in worry. The three words had been uttered in such a flat, lifeless tone…a tone that Harry did not like. A tone that set him instantly on edge. "I understand, Harry." He offered Harry a blank, vacant smile, the kind one sees painted on cold glass dolls propped up on display, empty and fragile and wide-eyed, sending a shiver through Harry at the sight as Draco began to pick himself up off his knees. Harry climbed to his feet as well and they stared at one another for one hundred and thirty-seven hammering heartbeats; Harry counted every single one.
"I really do love you, you know," Draco whispered, tears still shining on his porcelain doll face. "I've always loved you. And I'm sorry for everything I've done, I really am."
"Draco…" Harry said slowly, unsure of where Malfoy was going with his strange, stilted statements but not liking at all the way they sounded so final.
"Being with you…" Malfoy closed his eyes and took a deep breath, "is the only time I've felt my life has ever made sense. It's the only time I can ever remember feeling truly happy."
"…Draco…"
"I love you, Harry." Draco gazed at him for several seconds, smiling a tiny, sad smile, before suddenly turning away and sprinting toward the open window.
And Harry felt his heart stop dead.
oOo
Time seemed to slow; every second felt like an eternity. Harry watched in horror as Malfoy ran, his body as graceful as a gazelle, taking one long step after another, face carved in a moue of determination as he headed right toward the window Harry had been sitting at earlier, the one that was still thrown wide open. Harry's feet finally caught up with his brain and began to move, chasing after the other boy desperately, praying that his stupid stone feet would be able to catch up to the blond in time. What the hell was Malfoy doing?!
"Draco!" he called frantically, still not close enough. "Draco, stop!"
At the sound of his name, Draco half-turned his head, slowing for nearly a second before continuing, but that single second was all Harry needed. Just as Draco reached the window ledge and started to scramble up it, Harry reached him, catching him by the collar of his robes and hearing Malfoy gasp as Harry wrenched him away from the window, the force of it slamming the blond down onto his back on the floor.
Malfoy lay there for several seconds, breathing heavily, before throwing himself to his feet and attempting to dive through the open window once more. Harry caught a handful of his robes and hauled him back, throwing him as far from the danger as he could before whipping out his wand and magically sealing every window in the large room shut.
Both boys stood staring at one another and panting, Draco's eyes darting several times to the window behind Harry, and the brunet felt a fierce rage begin to swell within him like a furious tidal wave, an entire tsunami of anger building and growing within him with every passing second.
"What the FUCK is wrong with you, Draco?!" he finally shouted, unable to remain quiet any longer. "What the goddamned FUCK was that?! What the fuck were you about to do?!"
"Remove myself from your life," the blond answered in a heavy voice, eyes still shining with tears and breaths still coming quickly. "And remove the misery from mine."
"Yeah, by killing yourself?!" Harry was not sure if he could remember ever feeling so angry. What did Draco think he was playing at?!
"You don't want me anyway!" the blond shouted, taking a step forward, and Harry raised his wand in warning.
"Don't you dare take one step closer to that window," he growled.
"You don't want me anyway," Malfoy whispered, voice suddenly pained and quiet, and Harry felt his eyes prickle wetly.
"So you were just going to kill yourself?" He could not keep the sound of tears from his voice as he gazed at Draco in utter incredulity. What the hell was wrong with Malfoy? Why would he do something so awful? And especially right in front of Harry like that!
"You don't get it, Harry!" Malfoy wept, turning away to hide his face. "If I can't be with you, then I'd rather be dead!"
"Goddamnit, Draco!" Harry yelled, feeling anger and remorse and frustration and upset and pain and sorrow and regret and fury course through him from head to toe. "Don't you dare put your own actions on me like that! Are you—is this you trying to guilt me into forgiving you or something? Because that's not fair! Why would you do that?!"
"No, Harry!" the blond shot back, glaring at him. "This is me telling you the truth! I'm not giving you an ultimatum, I'm just telling you how I feel! And how I feel is that life is not worth living if you hate me!"
"How the fuck is that not an ultimatum?!" Harry shouted furiously. "Either I take you back or you kill yourself! It doesn't matter how you fucking word it, that's the choice you're talking about!"
"I can't live knowing you hate me," Malfoy whispered, eyes searching Harry's face. "And I can't live knowing that I deserve that hatred."
"And I can't live knowing that you killed yourself because of me," Harry ground out. "We're going to the Hospital Wing right now. There is clearly something very wrong with you."
"No," Malfoy refused, crossing his arms.
"That wasn't a question," Harry growled, raising his wand higher, "You are a danger to yourself right now, Malfoy, and if I have to knock you out and drag you there, I will, whether it's with my wand or my own fucking fist!"
"Why do you even care?" Malfoy lifted his chin stubbornly. "You hate me! You shouldn't even care if I live or die! Nobody else does, so why can't you just go back to being one of them like you were two weeks ago!"
"I never said I hated you!" Harry cried, his head beginning to pound. "You keep saying that like it was something I've been screaming at you non-stop since the corridor the other day! I never said those words, Draco!"
At the statement, Malfoy paused, head tilted as he seemed to think back over everything that had occurred over the past two days. "All right, maybe you didn't say it in those words," he grudgingly allowed, eyes falling to the floor, "but you sure as hell were acting like it! I already told you—if I can't be with you, then I don't want to live!"
"And I told you that you can't put that decision on me! We've only been involved for a few days, for Christ's sake!"
Malfoy laughed hysterically. "It's not a decision to be made, Harry, it's not a decision I'm asking for! I'm just telling you the facts! And the fact is that if I cannot be with you, I refuse to be alive! You were the only thing that has ever given my life meaning and I will not be without it again, not after knowing what it feels like to have a purpose! You were everything I woke up for in the morning, and I refuse to face another morning without you in it!"
"Stupefy," Harry whispered.
Malfoy's eyes widened in surprise as the jet of light hit him squarely in the chest, the shock never leaving his face as he fell. Blinking rapidly for several moments, Harry took a second to collect himself before walking quietly to Malfoy's side and dropping to his knees. He reached out one shaking hand to stroke the hair from Draco's forehead, studying his unconscious porcelain features in the dim light of the moon.
"Why, Draco?" Harry asked softly, feeling the tears streaking his face. "Why do you have to keep doing these insane things? What is going on with you? What the hell is the matter with you?" A sob wrenched its way free from his throat. "I never said I hated you!"
Gathering the unconscious boy in his arms, Harry held him for long minutes, rocking him back and forth as he wept into his hair. "I don't hate you, I never said that! Damn it, Draco, why would you…" Pulling back, he pressed a kiss to Draco's forehead and buried his nose in the strands of Draco's hair, shining like silver in the cold moonlight. After an entire century of holding Draco and trying his best to collect himself, Harry sighed. A feather-light charm was cast on Malfoy, and Harry scooped him up into his arms as he rose to his feet and began to slowly make his way from the room. He supposed he could have levitated Malfoy, but Harry wanted to carry him to the Hospital Wing himself, wanted those last few minutes of holding Draco in his arms and cradling him to his chest; all Harry wanted was to keep him safe.
But how could Harry ever keep Draco safe if the danger came from Draco himself?
oOo
"Tell me again how it happened," Madam Pomfrey ordered, bending down to check Malfoy's pulse.
"We were up in the East Tower," Harry heard himself say in a faraway voice, feeling hollow and numb. When he had first shown up at the Hospital Wing, Madam Pomfrey had not been happy to be woken, but had immediately rushed to help Harry get Malfoy onto a bed the moment she spotted the unconscious boy in Harry's arms. "We were talking. He was acting…I've never seen him like that before. He was so upset, he wouldn't stop crying. And then…" Harry's voice lowered to a whisper, breath catching as he recalled the terror of watching Draco run for the open window like that, "then he just…he ran for the window and tried to jump through it. And I grabbed him and threw him back and then he tried again and I sealed all the windows and Stupefied him and brought him here."
"He attempted to jump through the window just like that?" Madam Pomfrey frowned. "Did he say why?"
At the question, Harry felt himself blush as he dropped his gaze down to the floor. "Er, yes, actually. He was…I wouldn't…he had said that…" Harry took a deep breath, trying to force down both his shame and his embarrassment; it was important that he was honest with Madam Pomfrey about everything, for Draco's sake. "He—he told me that if he couldn't be with me, then he didn't want to be alive. And then he just…" Harry heard himself gasp, "he just tried to jump. Just like that, without any warning. He almost…" The words trailed off into a sob. "He—he almost…"
Madam Pomfrey appeared surprised, but she patted Harry's shoulder in comfort as she steered him into the nearest chair. "It's okay, Harry," she said soothingly, turning to rummage through a large cabinet and coming back with a vial of liquid. "It's a Calming Draught," she explained, handing it to him. "Drink it."
Nodding jerkily, Harry threw the contents into his mouth and swallowed, shutting his eyes as he felt the hammering of his heart gradually beginning to slow.
"Now," she said kindly, pulling up a chair of her own and facing Harry with a serious expression. "I need you to be honest with me, Harry, about everything, all right? Even if it's difficult to speak about. I need to know exactly what happened."
Harry nodded again, resting his elbows on his knees and staring down at the floor.
"Now, when you say that he said he did not want to live if he could not be with you, in what way do you mean, exactly?"
"Er…" a blush spread across Harry's face, and he kept it ducked out of sight, "in—in a romantic way, I s'pose."
"And was this the first time he had approached you about something like this?"
"No," Harry whispered, shaking his head. "No, by this point we were already involved."
Glancing up, he saw Madam Pomfrey nod her head in understanding, and Harry was relieved to see not a single ounce of judgement on her matronly face. "All right," she said softly, keeping her voice low. "That's perfectly all right, Harry. I take it, however, that you were no longer together at the time of the incident?"
Another sob tore itself from his throat as he shook his head.
"Shh," Pomfrey comforted, rubbing his shoulder as he cried. "It's okay, none of this was your fault. And I know this is difficult, but just keep telling yourself that it was not your fault, all right?"
"All right," Harry said quietly, not sure if he would ever really be able to believe that. Maybe if he had just been more willing to listen to Malfoy, or more forgiving with the blond, maybe none of it would have happened. Maybe Draco wouldn't be lying in a bed in the Hospital Wing and maybe Harry wouldn't be feeling as though he would never be able to close his eyes without seeing the final look on Malfoy's face before he suddenly turned and ran for the window, determined to throw himself through it.
"It's not your fault, Harry," she repeated, and Harry was glad that she was using his first name, something not too many people outside of his friends did. It was always either 'Harry Potter', or 'Mr Potter' or one of his million stupid titles that people always insisted on referring to him as, and Harry was glad to think of himself being comforted as Harry and not as Harry Potter; it made him feel as though she was comforting him simply because he was a human being and not because he was the Chosen One or the Boy Who Lived or the Saviour of the wizarding world.
"I want you to say those words," she continued, and he glanced up in confusion, wondering what she meant. "I want you to say out loud that it was not your fault."
"But—"
"No," she interrupted, holding up a finger. "No buts. It is not your fault that this happened, and I feel that it would do you some good to hear yourself actually say it."
"It—" Harry hesitated, forcing himself to say the words and praying for himself to believe them, "it wasn't my fault."
"There now," she said kindly, offering him a motherly smile, "that wasn't so hard, was it?"
Harry said nothing.
Madam Pomfrey simply sat in silence with him, allowing him to collect himself and occasionally patting him on the arm.
"What's going to happen to him?" Harry finally asked, voice soft and unsure. Harry had known that bringing him to the Hospital Wing had been the best thing for Malfoy, but what would happen to the blond now that he was there? Would he be punished for it? Sent to St. Mungo's? Given detention? Harry had no idea what to expect.
Madam Pomfrey sighed, glancing back at the dark shape lying several meters away in a narrow hospital bed. "Well, I've given him a potion to help him sleep through the night, but I'm afraid that I have no choice but to report this to the Headmistress. I do have a basic bit of training in Mind Healing, but I am by no means an expert. I'll speak to him at length in the morning, but if I feel as though he needs more help than I am able to give him, he may have to be transferred to St. Mungo's temporarily to begin seeing a professional there, at least until it's decided that he is no longer a danger to himself. If I feel like this is something that I can help him with myself, then he will begin undergoing mind healing sessions with me at least twice a week, possibly more, depending on what state I determine him to be in and how stable I believe him to be.
"Don't worry, Mr Potter," she continued softly, offering Draco another sad glance, "we won't allow any harm to come to him, not even from himself. You did the right thing in bringing him here."
Harry nodded, trying to ignore the tears still rolling down his cheeks. The Calming Draught had worked in keeping the best of the panic away, but it did not seem able to stop the tears from welling up. How had things come to this so quickly? Harry and Draco still barely knew one another, had only been involved for days, and yet…yet Malfoy had been so prepared to take his own life simply because he had thought that Harry hated him.
Stupid idiot, Harry thought angrily, swiping at his cheeks.
A steaming cup of tea was suddenly being pressed into his hands and he glanced up in surprise to find Pomfrey leaning over him, offering him a kind smile. "Drink this," she said softly. "You'll feel better."
Nodding, Harry accepted it and took a sip, noting that it was rather sweeter than he preferred, but it was hot and soothing and really did make him feel better as he drank more deeply, suddenly feeling parched.
"It wasn't your fault, Harry," she reminded him, pulling out her wand to cast some sort of diagnostic spell over Harry. She took the empty cup back from him when he finished and set it aside. "Now," she said, fixing him with a stern look, "I would like you to come back sometime tomorrow to see me. I think it best that you head up to bed and get some sleep now, but I would like to check how you're doing tomorrow, all right?"
"Can I stay with him?" Harry asked in a low voice, gesturing toward Draco.
"No," she said kindly, offering him a sad smile. "I think it would be best for you to get some sleep in your own bed. And I also think it best that he be given some time alone when he wakes up to process what happened."
"Okay," Harry whispered, closing his eyes against the new tears welling up.
"I would like to speak to him first and determine what sort of mental state he is in before you have the chance to speak with him, okay?" she said in a sympathetic voice, rising from her chair and crossing to the large cabinet to rustle through the glass bottles until she found the one she was looking for. She walked back to Harry and held out a tiny opaque vial. "If you need any help sleeping tonight," she explained, and he pocketed it with a grateful nod, knowing he would most likely need it. He was not looking forward to closing his eyes, that was for sure.
He rose to his feet and slowly crossed to Draco's bed, wanting to begin weeping once more at the sight of Draco lying there so still and pale and unconscious, and knowing that the blond was lucky to even still be alive; he almost had not made it out of that tower alive, and the thought was enough to twist Harry's gut with a white-hot heat, like he had been stabbed with a sharp dagger.
Draco had almost died.
A warm hand settled on Harry's shoulder. "It's not your fault, Harry," Pomfrey said in a soft voice, turning him away from Malfoy's bed and leading him to the door at the far side of the room. "It's not your fault. Just keep telling yourself that, all right? It is not your fault."
"Right," Harry whispered with a nod.
"Drink the potion tonight," she reminded him, gesturing toward the bottle he had slipped into his pocket. "If you feel as though you are not up to attending class tomorrow, I'm sure the Headmistress will understand. But if you do feel as though you aren't up for classes, I want you to come back here and see me immediately, all right? I don't want you sitting up in your dorm all by yourself spending the entire day replaying everything that happened over and over in your mind, do you understand me?"
"Yes," Harry whispered, shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath. "Thank you, Madam Pomfrey."
"Of course, dear," she murmured, patting him once more on the shoulder. "Now off to bed with you. Go get some sleep. I promise you'll feel better in the morning."
"I hope so," he mumbled, giving her a watery, forced smile before turning and exiting the Hospital Wing. Once the door had been shut softly behind him, he began to slowly make his way back to the Tower, shivering at the heavy quilt of darkness surrounding him from every side. The entire world seemed to be made up of nothing but shadows and dark, threatening shapes, and Harry could not shake the feeling that something was creeping up on him in the blackness.
It was with a sigh of relief that he finally made it to the portrait of the Fat Lady, who gave him a disgruntled look at being awoken. At the password, she swung open to reveal the dimly-lit common room, fire burning low in the grate. But it wasn't until Harry had taken two steps into the room that he glanced up and stopped short at the sight of Hermione pacing back and forth in obvious agitation, appearing upset and sounding as though she was breathing far too quickly. Ron sat in the chair nearest her, face expressionless as he watched her pace, but Harry could see definite worry in his blue eyes, even in the darkness.
"Harry!" Hermione cried, finally glancing up and noticing him. "There you are! Where were you? We were worried!" Crossing the room, she threw her arms around him in a tight hug, and he surprised himself by instantly clinging back, not even knowing how much he had needed the comfort of an embrace until he was given one. "Who were you with?" she demanded, pulling back but not really moving away. "Just now, where were you? Who were you with?"
"Why?" he asked in surprise. "What are the two of you even doing up? How did you know I was gone?"
"Erm…" Ron began uncomfortably, standing and walking over to the two of them. "We have something to tell you, Harry. Something that…" he sighed heavily, "something that you're not going to like."
Harry laughed hollowly. "Something that I won't like…" he murmured, laughing again and trying to ignore the edge of hysteria to his laughter. He had already seen and heard so many things that night that he had not liked; what else could the universe possibly now hit him with?
"Come sit down, mate," Ron said in a low voice, and it was his absolute utter seriousness that snapped Harry straight from hysteria into fear. Oh god, what had happened?
Feeling blank, he walked on numb legs to the armchair Ron had been sitting in and dropped heavily down into the seat, gazing up at them in hollow-eyed expectation. Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance before taking matching deep breaths and sitting on the small sofa across from him.
"Who were you with tonight, Harry?" Hermione asked cautiously, sounding just as somber and humorless as Ron looked.
"Does it matter?" Harry asked, still trying his hardest to process everything that had happened in the last few days. Would anything ever again make sense?
"Yes," Ron answered, staring at Harry without blinking. "Were you with Malfoy?"
Harry said nothing, giving them a small shrug in response, and they both turned to one another with the same worried look.
"We have something to tell you about Malfoy," Hermione said quietly, and Harry stared at her in blank surprise. What about Malfoy? "Earlier tonight…" she hesitated, appearing unsure how to say what she needed to say. "Earlier tonight, I was in the girls' bathroom in the dorm…" she trailed off again and Harry stared at her in confusion, wondering where the hell she was going with that. "And I…these two fourth-year girls came in and they…they thought the bathroom was empty. And they were talking, not even knowing that I was in there and could hear everything they were saying…"
"Hermione," Harry interrupted, feeling exhausted and worn out and not wanting to sit there listening to her odd stilted sentences all night. "What are you trying to say?"
"They were talking about you, Harry," Ron cut in, drawing Harry's attention to him. "The two girls were in there talking about you and about…" he paused to sigh, "they were talking about ways they could slip you a love potion."
"The most ridiculous ways I've ever heard," Hermione scoffed, shaking her head angrily. "They were discussing how to somehow get a love potion to you without you realizing it."
Harry shut his eyes with a heavy exhale, feeling unsteady and weak. "Please tell me they're expelled now," he said feebly, not wanting to deal with thinking about such things when his mind was already such a pained mess.
"No, but I'm not actually sure what's going to happen to them," Hermione said darkly, and Harry glanced up in surprise.
"What does that mean?"
"It means that they're still with McGonagall," she said, clasping her hands in her lap as she eyed Harry carefully. "I took them immediately to see her before they could actually go through with any of their awful plans, but before I did…"
"What?" Harry prodded, feeling sudden anxiety course through his entire body. What had happened? Why did Hermione sound like that?
"Well, after I came out and confronted them," she inhaled deeply, "I demanded that they hand the potions over to me immediately, which they did. And I made them sit there while I summoned the potion I kept from the Hufflepuff girl the other day and tested them against each other. And, Harry…"
"What?" he asked, feeling numb. What was Hermione saying?
"They were the same," Ron answered, reaching over to rub Hermione's back with one hand. "They really were from the same batch, Harry, somebody really is selling all of them to the younger students."
"Who is it?" Harry felt cold and blank; terrified and empty and desolate and alone.
"Well, after I demanded to know where they had gotten it," Hermione said, every word sounding regretful, "they refused to tell me but did say that it was from an older student. A girl. They said she had been brewing the potions all year and had supposedly finally perfected her very own form of love potion. And then I asked how they could be so sure that she really had perfected it or if she was simply saying that to convince them to buy it, but they said that they had thought the same thing and had also demanded proof because of how expensive it was to purchase, so she told them that she had already tested it on another student. A male student."
"Are you telling me again that you think I'm under the influence of a love potion for Malfoy?" Harry demanded, ready to begin arguing immediately, but the sad look on Hermione's face silenced his protests.
"No, Harry," she said softly, "no, I know that you're not under a love potion."
"Then who was the student?" Harry wondered, face scrunched up in confusion and mind whirling in a million different directions at once and trying to focus on a million different thoughts.
"They didn't know," she said, clasping Ron's hand tightly and seeming to prepare herself to deliver bad news; Harry's stomach tightened. "But I took them to McGonagall and as soon as McGonagall asked them who they had bought the potions from, they broke down and told her."
"Who was it?" Harry repeated, stomach churning. Who the hell was the one selling all these damned potions to the younger students?
Hermione and Ron exchanged a sad glance. "Astoria Greengrass."
"What?" Harry asked, feeling shock course through him. "Astoria Greengrass? How? How was she brewing her own brand-new type of love potion?!"
"Well," Hermione began, sounding reluctant to explain, "she's the top potions student in the entire seventh-year, and she's supposedly been working on perfecting it since the start of term."
"But," Harry still felt numb with shock, "what the fuck though, why? I don't even know her! What the hell did I ever do to her to make her want to start a sodding business built solely on the idea of drugging me?!"
"Well," Hermione said slowly, and Harry grimaced as he realized that the worst of the news was still to come, "that's exactly what McGonagall wanted to know. So she sent a message to the Slytherin Head asking her to bring Astoria up to McGonagall's office, and about five minutes later Gladstone shows up with Astoria in tow. And the second she saw those two fourth-year girls, she started looking terrified. Between McGonagall and Gladstone, it really didn't take too much to get her to confess to everything, and it…she…"
"What, Hermione?" Harry asked through rubbery lips, unable to do anything but sit there in cold dread and wait for her to deliver whatever final blow her bad news was sure to impart. "What did she say?"
"Well, she told us the name," Hermione whispered. "The name of the student she had tested the potion on. And it was…oh, Harry, it was…"
Harry suddenly laughed, a loud laugh ringing with pain and disbelief. "I know exactly who it was, Hermione," he said in a dead voice, feeling his insides twist themselves into crippling knots of agony. Oh my god. "I know exactly who it was; I know exactly what you're trying to say. It was Draco. Draco was the one she tested it on."
"I'm so sorry, Harry," Hermione said, tears shining in her brown eyes. "I'm so sorry."
"None of it was real…" Harry felt the disbelief coursing through him weigh him down like a heavy stone, a thousand pounds of stunned disbelief that he could feel himself being crushed under, suffocating beneath, unable to breathe or move or think or feel. "None of it was even real…oh, god." He suddenly felt sick as he recalled everything that had happened over the past few days, everything that had happened between them—he had let Malfoy suck him off, he had sucked off Malfoy! More than once! Harry had assaulted him! He had raped him! Malfoy hadn't really been willing at all, and Harry had been too stupid to see the signs. Harry had raped the boy that he had been falling so hard for, he had assaulted the person that Harry cared about more than he had even been comfortable admitting to himself! "Oh my god." Harry jumped to his feet and stumbled away from the two of them, feeling nausea churning his stomach. "Oh my god." His breaths started to come faster and faster, until he was gasping and dizzy and his entire field of vision was covered in dancing black spots. "Oh my god, oh god," he choked, feeling as though he was a second away from passing out, from sicking up, from breaking down completely. What had he done? What had he allowed himself to do to Draco? And how much would Draco hate him for it when he was himself again?
After all, Harry had known! He had known that there was no way in hell Draco Malfoy would ever have been romantically interested in him! He had known there was no chance that Draco could ever have been attracted to him! And Harry had ignored it! He had ignored the gut certainty and all the reasons why it simply could not be possible; he had ignored everything in favor of his own selfish feelings and his own selfish pleasure. Harry was no better than any of the students whom he had accused of being deranged and soulless; he was just as awful and immoral as every person who had ever given someone a love potion in the past.
Harry had raped Draco.
And that thought, on top of everything else that had happened that very night, was too much. It was all just too much.
Falling to the floor, Harry gasped and heaved, trying his hardest to draw breaths past the tears and the panic and the rising hysteria. Oh god, he couldn't breathe! Oh god, he didn't even deserve to breathe! He had hurt Draco, probably forever! He had most likely traumatized him and now Draco would be even more broken than he had been before; he would surely hate Harry forever!
And Harry deserved it. He had done this.
"Harry!"
Suddenly, there were arms wrapped around him, holding him up, and he clutched at Hermione desperately, unable to stop himself from weeping into her shoulder.
"What have I done, Hermione?" he whispered brokenly, his sobbing only gaining in volume. "What have I done? I did everything that I had been so terrified would happen to me. I violated him! I let him violate himself! I bloody ra—"
"No, Harry!" Hermione said fiercely, pulling back to look him in the eye. "No! Stop it right now! This is different and you know it! You had no idea he was under a love potion, you thought his feelings were genuine! You did nothing wrong because you had no idea! I know you and I know that you would never ever have gotten involved with him if you had known! You would never have even considered it, even if you had been aware of your feelings for him at the time! You did not violate him, you did not rape him! He can't hold you responsible because you didn't know! It was Astoria who did this to him, it was Astoria who violated him, even if it wasn't done at her own hand! She is the only one responsible here, not him, and certainly not you! Neither of you can be blamed!" Her voice softened as she gazed at him, tears streaming down her face. "I'm so sorry, Harry," she whispered, pulling him back into a gentle hug and holding him tightly. "I'm so sorry. When I thought that you were the one under a love potion, it had never even crossed my mind to consider that it might not actually be you who was under the influence of magic. I wish I had thought to suspect before it had gone any further. I wish I had thought to suspect before any of it had really been allowed to start between the two of you."
"Tonight, Hermione…" Harry wept, refusing to allow himself to be comforted. He was guilty. He was guilty and he was sick and he was the one who should never have allowed things to progress that far. "Tonight, he…oh god, h-he…fuck, no wonder! He kept saying that he refused to live without me, that he bloody l-l-loved me, and I never even…I never—I should have—but…but I d-didn't….I should have but I didn't…"
"Didn't what?" Hermione asked softly, stroking his hair in comfort. "What happened tonight, Harry?"
Swallowing noisily, Harry tried to slow his tears, knowing that his confession was only sure to increase the force of them. "He…Hermione, he…" he pulled back to give her a tortured look, feeling his stomach churn hotly with a thousand different emotions. "Hermione, he…he tried to kill himself!" The words were accompanied by a sob, one wrenched straight from Harry's throat so hard it hurt. "He tried to kill himself, Hermione, all because I wouldn't forgive him! He had attacked me in a goddamn c-corridor, and then…I-I said…I—I—he said that he wouldn't live in a world where I h-hated him, in a world where he couldn't be with me! He—he tried to throw himself out of a goddamn window! R-right in front of me! Hermione, he—he tried—oh god, he tried—" Harry gasped wildly, unable to continue. His breaths were once more frantic and racing, his heart pounding painfully as his vision swam.
"Calm down, Harry!" Hermione said sharply, weeping as she held him tightly. "Please," she whispered, "please, just calm down. None of this is your fault. Love potions are dangerous, they make people do dangerous things."
At the remembrance of all the dangerous things Draco had done, Harry felt his breathing increase, and he knew that even if he wanted to, he could not calm down; he could not even breathe. He was surely only a moment away from passing out, surely only a moment away from fainting dead in Hermione's arms. Some distant part of his mind felt the tip of a wand pressing into his back and the whisper of a spell, and air was suddenly filling his lungs as his chest expanded. His vision slowly began to clear as Hermione whispered the same spell, filling his lungs once more with air, and he began to gradually relearn how to breathe, his inhalations slowly evening out as she rubbed his back and held him tightly.
"Please, Harry," she said in a quiet, heartbroken voice, "please, just breathe. I know that tonight was horrible, but it's all going to be all right, I promise, you'll see. It's going to be okay, none of this was your fault."
Madam Pomfrey's voice was suddenly in Harry's head, echoing through his mind—None of this was your fault. Just keep telling yourself that, none of this was your fault.
"He's going to hate me so much," Harry whispered, unable to release Hermione as she rocked him back and forth, stroking his hair and murmuring gentle words to him. "He's going to hate me even more than he did before any of this happened. What if he hates me enough to press charges? What if that's the way it all comes out? What if that's how everyone finds out that I—that I-I raped—"
"You didn't rape anybody, Harry!" Hermione said in a firm voice, continuing to rock him. "You didn't!"
"She's right, Harry," Ron said quietly, and Harry glanced up to see him kneeling behind Hermione, gazing at him with pity and concern, compassion and sorrow shining out from his blues eyes. "You didn't know, none of this is your fault. And you certainly didn't rape anybody, so stop telling yourself you did. And anyway, he couldn't press charges against you even if he wanted to. You're not the one that gave him the potion and you had absolutely no knowledge of it the entire time you two were involved. It was Greengrass who's responsible and she's the only one he has a real shot at pressing charges against, especially if the potion nearly resulted in the loss of his life."
At the reminder, Harry cried even harder. Draco had almost died, and all for a fucking potion; it had never actually been about love. He had never loved Harry; he had only thought he did, he had only been made to think he did, forced to think he did, and he had nearly ended his own life for that false belief.
"It's not your fault," Ron said, patting his shoulder somewhat awkwardly. "It's really not, so stop blaming yourself."
"What's going to happen to Greengrass?" Harry asked wetly, sniffing as he sat up to peer at Hermione and Ron with watery eyes.
"We don't know yet," Hermione answered, rubbing his arm. "McGonagall and Gladstone were still speaking to her when I left; I wanted to find you right away. I seriously doubt, however, that she is going to be getting off as lightly as all the others have, especially in the new face of the most recent events."
Harry nodded hollowly, brain still struggling to make sense of any of what he had been told. How could Malfoy have been under the effects of a love potion the entire time and Harry had not noticed? How could he have been so fucking blind? How could he have overlooked and ignored all the little signs that had been right in front of his face?
"I have to go," Harry said in a numb voice, pulling away completely. "I—I have to go."
"No, you don't!" Hermione said immediately, sounding concerned. "No, Harry, you're not going anywhere! We're going to get you into bed, okay? Let's just get you into bed, and after you get some sleep and some distance from everything that's overwhelming you so much right now, you'll start feeling better, all right?"
"No, Hermione," he said calmly, voice still sounding blank. "No, I don't need sleep. I don't want sleep. I need to go sit with him; I need to make sure he's okay. I need to—" he choked back a sudden sob, "I need to be the one to tell him. He needs to hear it from me and I need to be the one to tell him."
"You're not going to tell him tonight, are you?" Ron asked in a worried voice. "I don't think now's really the best time for him to hear it, Harry."
"No," Harry shook his head. "No, not tonight. He's asleep anyway, Pomfrey gave him a potion to help him sleep through the night. But…but I want to be there when he wakes up. I want to be the one to tell him. I have to be. It has to be me."
Hermione sighed heavily, exchanging a long and complicated look with Ron before finally turning to Harry. "Do you want us to come with you? We can come sit with you and wait."
"No," he shook his head. "No, you two go to bed and get some sleep. I'm not going to be able to sleep tonight anyway." He ignored the feel of the tiny glass vial in his pocket, knowing that he did not want to close his eyes and he did not want to sleep when he had so much to think about. "I'll be fine, I'm just going to sit beside him. And I'll be in my Invisibility Cloak, so we won't all fit anyway."
"I don't know, Harry," Hermione said, biting her lip. "I really don't think that's a good idea, I really don't think you should be alone right now."
"I'm not going to do anything drastic, Hermione, I promise. I promise that I'll be fine, I just…" he shut his eyes in an attempt at holding back the tears, "I just want to sit with him. Just for this one last night, before he goes back to hating me in the morning. Please."
Opening his eyes, he was met with the sight of Hermione's anguished face, tears shining in her eyes and streaming down her cheeks. "Okay," she whispered, leaning forward to wrap Harry in a tight embrace. "Okay, Harry, if that's what you need. I'm so sorry, I really am."
"Did she ever say why?" Harry wondered, unsure if Hermione would know what he meant, but she pulled back with an even sadder expression and Harry knew that she had understood.
"Yes," she nodded, looking reluctant to continue. "She said that…she chose the two of you because…" she sniffed, dropping her gaze to the floor, "she chose the two of you because she needed the potion to be tested on—on two people who would never, ever have feelings for one another, who would never normally have a chance at falling in love. She wanted two people who had always hated one another. And she wasn't able to slip you the potion, because you've been so wary of looking out for any attempts, but she was able to slip it to Malfoy without him ever knowing."
At the words, Harry nodded, feeling his insides freeze over completely, and he had to fight the urge to laugh hysterically. "No chance at ever falling in love…" he echoed softly, feeling as though all the blood in his body had somehow been replaced with snow. He could not remember ever feeling colder in his entire life, not even that time as a child when Uncle Vernon had locked him out of the house in a snowstorm for speaking back to Aunt Petunia, refusing to allow Harry back inside until he was sobbing his apologies through blue lips the color of ice.
But this was so much worse.
This was all of Harry's worst fears being met in one night; everything he had been so terrified would happen to him happening in the reverse. He had been so afraid of becoming just some sort of mindless love slave for another person, only to realize that he had somehow become the unknowing owner of a mindless love slave, one he had started to develop real, genuine feelings for, only to then realize that they had never once felt the same way toward him—it had all been a lie, nothing but masked make-believe. Draco had never loved him, had never wanted him, and would most likely never even be willing to look at him again after Harry told him everything.
"I'm going to go sit with him now," Harry said, in a voice as blank as air.
Something soft and silken was being pressed into his hands, and Harry glanced up to find Ron handing him the Invisibility Cloak, leaving Harry blinking in surprise. He had not even heard the redhead leave to go grab it from the dorm.
"Thanks," he said hollowly, climbing to his feet and staring down at the Cloak for long moments.
"It's not your fault, Harry," Hermione whispered, hugging him again. "I know that everything hurts now and it all seems so awful and hopeless, but things will get better again, I promise. Everything will sort itself out, you'll see. Just keep telling yourself that you were as much an innocent victim in this as Malfoy was; neither of you is to blame for any of it. Neither of you is at fault."
"Thanks, Hermione," he whispered back, clinging to her until he felt the world steady itself beneath his feet and he was able to let go.
"Don't be afraid to send me a Patronus if you need me," she said, wiping her eyes. "I don't care if it wakes up the entire dorm. If you need someone else to come sit with you, no matter how short of a time you want someone at your side, send me a Patronus, okay? Even if all you need is for someone to come tell you again that everything will be okay and remind you that none of it was your fault."
"Thank you, Hermione," Harry nodded, swallowing past the lump in his throat. Ron clapped him sympathetically on the shoulder, slipping his hand into Hermione's as they stepped back and watched Harry head for the portrait hole. Turning back, he eyed them in silence for several seconds, feeling his chest tighten painfully at the sight of them holding hands.
The sight hurt too much to see and Harry quickly turned away.
TBC
A/N: Aaand with drama comes truth. I know a lot of you had already called it from the first chapter, you clever little badgers :) Prepare for even more drama next chapter!
