March 1st, 1997
It had been a long day of toying around with that damned Vanishing Cabinet and Draco could hardly contain his frustration as he exited the Room of Requirement. Crabbe and Goyle were long gone, having first left for dinner – of that he was sure – and then they had likely gone to bed after stuffing themselves full. It was a regular tradition he had once tried so hard to break and now relished. As annoyed as he was that they had abandoned him again, he was excited that he would get to hunt them down and punish them for it later. He had a lot of pent-up aggression he needed to release and Crabbe and Goyle were easy targets. Besides that, it was nice to get to walk the halls alone…he didn't like answering questions. He didn't care to have to explain himself. At least the silent corridors did not judge him.
He had not made it three floors down from the Room of Requirement before he was pulled away from the stairs. He thought of shouting out, but his voice had left him – obviously some spell had been placed on him that was going to prevent him from helping himself. The joke was on the castor – he was quite apt when it came to speechless spells. He'd get the best of them without even having to try. Of course, following this line of thinking, his mind had first gone to the worst-case scenario: The Dark Lord had gotten into the school on his own, without his Vanishing Cabinet, and was punishing him for taking so long.
But no, the long, flowing black robes were none other than those of Severus Snape.
Draco didn't care enough to stop himself from rolling his eyes.
When they had gotten to a secluded enough corridor – the left wing of the third floor which he remembered well enough from the many times he and Potter had hidden here to feel each other up – Snape stopped and rounded on him. He seemed particularly furious in the dim, flickering torchlight. He seemed so angry, in fact, that Draco lost his own feelings of rage and instead settled to a stern point of frustration. He was not in the mood for another lecture.
"What have I done now?" With his voice having disappeared from whatever charm his Professor had used, Snape was forced to guess the meaning. Luckily for Draco, he seemed to understand without much prompting.
"What have you done?" Draco's thought processes stopped short at the tone. Snape's voice was more vicious than the young Slytherin had ever heard it – and Draco had known this man for far longer than his years at Hogwarts. "What did you do to her, Draco?"
To her? Now he was really confused. Could Snape possibly have caught on to the fact that Draco had Madame Rosmerta under the Imperius curse? While Draco could not see how he would have been able to figure it out, there wasn't anything else to which he was referring.
"I had to," he said simply. His voice had returned, though it didn't surprise him. Snape clearly wanted answers. "The plan wouldn't work without it."
"You said you were going after Dumbledore," Snape was nearly trembling with rage and Draco couldn't figure out how to translate it. What would have made him so angry about this? He had no care for the barmaid from Hogsmeade – Draco doubted that a stiff like Snape would even know how relaxing a simple drink at a pub could be – but still, Snape looked ready to kill. "You said you were going to spare her—"
"I never said anything of the sort," Draco scoffed. "I don't know what you're getting at…"
There was a long moment where it looked like Snape would curse him. It was a tense moment that weighed heavily in the air as if it was something present enough to be an entity of its own. By the time that moment had ended, Snape's quick, shallow breathing had seemed to slow. His eyes were burning more brightly than the torchlight seemed to glow with a new, dawning understanding.
"You don't know," he said slowly.
"Obviously not," Draco tried not to show his confusion by keeping his tone crisp. "What do you think I've done now? I can promise I haven't murdered any cats."
Snape bristled but still seemed like he was fighting to control himself and whatever emotions he was cycling through. Draco gave him the time to do it – it was not often he saw the Potion's-Master-turned-Defense-Teacher so out of sorts and he didn't want to test the limits for what was obviously a delicate situation.
Snape took a step toward him, lowering his wand and instead of taking one of his shoulders in hand. His grip was firm but not as aggressive as Draco would have guessed it might be, especially not considering the fire that was burning behind his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was so level, so lethal, that it made goosebumps blossom over his flesh.
"She's in the hospital wing, Draco," Snape told him slowly. "She has been poisoned."
At first, the blonde boy didn't understand what was being said to him. Why would Madame Rosmerta be in the hospital wing here if she had been poisoned? And more importantly, why would Snape be so upset about it? There was no reason for him to have been so angry, to accuse him of changing his task from Dumbledore to—
Audrey.
Draco felt his world spin beneath his feet and before he could have helped it, he was supporting himself against the castle wall while he tried to gasp for breath that he knew would not come. When he looked back up at Snape, he realized he was being heavily analyzed…but he couldn't bring himself to find any sort of composure. Not for this. Not when Audrey was poisoned.
"What happened?"
"I was hoping you could tell me," Snape said lowly, his tone betraying his fury but not the reassurance that Draco was seeking. "She was poisoned by mead stocked in Horace Slughorn's supply. His supply meant for gift-giving…"
Draco Malfoy was having a heart attack, he was sure of it. He didn't need anything else answered, he didn't need to ask more questions…both he and Snape knew what he had done.
That was his supply. His poison. The poison that he thought had been lost in translation on its way to Dumbledore. He didn't realize it had been lost in a place that his girlfriend would find. Well – his ex-girlfriend. But worse? It was a strong poison. A very strong poison. It had to be – he was trying to poison the great Albus Dumbledore. He had made it the strongest poison he could get his hands on…and now it had wrapped its hands around his girlfriend's throat.
"Is…is she…"
"Alive? Barely," Snape's voice was venomous. Draco couldn't bring himself to care about the sting of it. "Her brother was able to give her a bezoar just in time."
Draco Malfoy had never thought he would feel grateful to Harry Potter…and now, somehow, he felt very much in his debt.
"But she's…is she okay?"
"No," Snape said simply. Snape had always been oddly fond of Potter – at least the Slytherin one. Draco had never understood it, not until he had gotten close to Potter himself. Now he couldn't bring himself to understand how others didn't defend her, support her, care for her…Clearly, Severus Snape felt similarly. "Whoever poisoned the mead used something formidable…but you know that, don't you?"
Draco didn't say anything; he couldn't bear to. He moved to walk in the opposite direction, to go to the hospital wing and be with her, but Snape held him back with a painful grip that he had completely forgotten had latched to his shoulder. When he was dragged back by the momentum, Snape's eyes were fiery – no longer with care, but with fury. The hold on his shoulder was harsh and meaningful while Snape held him in place with his glare.
"You nearly killed her, Draco. You should not be anywhere near her." And he knew it too, but something inside him was clawing like an animal to run there. "She will not want to see you. She will know after all of this is over – you have ruined whatever the two of you had… Stay away."
He let go of Draco forcefully, making the younger boy stumble back a step as he tried to find his equilibrium again. Snape gave him another pointed glare before he walked exactly where Draco had been planning to go – off to the hospital wing where he, apparently, could not enter.
His mind was chaos.
He couldn't believe everything that had happened within the few minutes since he had left the Vanishing Cabinet. Within moments he had discovered he'd nearly killed the person he cared about…possibly the woman he cared about most. And now she was laying in a hospital – one of her least favourite places in the world – all because of him. Without being able to see him.
Without him being able to see her…
Snape had been right. He shouldn't have been so hasty with his contingency plans. He shouldn't have tried something as foolish as poison or a cursed necklace – Dumbledore would have seen through it. And they hadn't even gotten to him! But they had gotten to Audrey.
Both times.
He found himself pacing the length of the corridors that lead toward the hospital wing. Each lap he took brought him one stride closer and the closer he was, the worse he felt…but he dared not enter. Not when he had tried to pass the door the first time and saw Snape hovering over a bed, helping take care of the occupant.
Audrey wasn't one to drink alone…so how many others had he hurt? Nott? Greengrass? Moon?
He could have gone to the common room, he could have left to get answers from the people who would have been there…but he couldn't bring himself to leave the webbing of corridors that led to the infirmary. He couldn't bring himself to leave her…even if he wasn't beside her.
In his quest to do the right thing and keep Potter safe, by instead disposing of Dumbledore, he had nearly killed her. Twice.
It was hours before Snape left the area. The stooping professor had seemed hesitant to do so until Madame Pomfrey demanded that he leave. He had stalked out, a sour look on his face, a stomp to his step that Draco was not accustomed to.
Inside, two beds were occupied – both by redheads.
She had been drinking with Weasley?
It was no matter, there were more important questions to be asked. How was she? How bad was the damage? How long would she be here? Did she know?
Between their beds, Saint Potter sat with his head bowed. He was facing his sister now and he could hear faint whispering coming from him. Draco took a step closer, just to make sure that he would be able to hear whatever he was muttering – perhaps it was words of encouragement, perhaps it was information that could be used to answer his questions.
"I'm so sorry, Dread…"
What could he have been sorry for? As much as he hated Saint Potter, he knew that he was not to blame for what had happened to his sister. Draco was the one who had poisoned her. Draco had almost cursed her with that damned necklace too. Everything horrible that had happened this year was due to him and trying to keep his distance…was that the problem? Should he have just given in like he clearly wanted to?
Just in case, he snuck closer. He tried desperately to get a glimpse of his girlfriend's – no, his ex-girlfriend's – face. She was so small at the best of times, a petite little firecracker of emotion. But now there was no spark to light her. Now there was nothing but a dangerously pale corpse in bed in front of The Chosen One. She looked so weak, so frail, so damaged…
"You were right," her brother was muttering. His voice sounded raw and tired like he had been up for hours. How long ago had this happened? How long could Draco have been here, trying to help, if he hadn't been in with the Vanishing Cabinet? When had he gone to the Cabinet today, right after breakfast? Had it happened that early? Had she been here, like this, for so long? "I don't know these things as you do. I should have known about the bezoar's disintegration…I should have been faster."
Snape had said something about Potter saving his sister with a bezoar, but Draco didn't really understand what that had to do with the disintegration of it. It was supposed to disintegrate, that's how it worked. Had it not worked properly for Audrey?
"I should have given it to you first."
He hadn't?
"Oh, you are a sorry excuse for a sibling, Potter," Draco couldn't help the anger that poured out of him. He couldn't stop the words from leaking from him like the warning hiss of a serpent – he hoped that the Gryffindork would not heed the warning. "Are you actually saying that you gave the bezoar to Weasley before your own sister?"
Harry spun around with his wand at the ready; he obviously had not known he had company. Draco was quick to draw his own wand, holding it level to that beloved scar he flaunted so openly. Harry Potter – the bastard king whom Draco had always despised – took a moment to let the adrenaline course through him before he realized who it was.
"Oh. It's you," he hissed. "Guess I should have known you'd come here since you and my sister have been snogging."
Draco held back the surprise that Potter had known at all. He was sure if he had known for a while that they hadn't already gotten into some sort of duel. No, he was sure that Potter would have said something long before a tense moment like this if he had. Did that mean that Audrey had been able to speak since this happened? Did that mean that she had been asking for him?
"I don't think you heard me, Potter," his voice was rough with stress. He gripped his wand tightly, nearly worried it would snap from his grip. "I'll ask it again. Did you not give your sister the first bezoar?"
Potter paled, his eyes flickering down to his sister in the bed. Draco could see her even more clearly now. Audrey Potter was paler than he had ever seen her and because of the contrast, her freckles looked more like scars against her skin than the constellations he had always compared them to. Her lips no longer looked red, her presence no longer felt fierce…everything about her looked like death.
And if it wasn't his fault, it was Potter's.
"You didn't," Draco shook his head, knowing the truth from how despondent the Gryffindor was. "That's low, Potter. Even for you. Oh, what she would think if she knew—"
"You don't know anything, Malfoy!" Harry grumbled, pointing his wand right between Draco's eyes with a renewed anger. Even in his anger, he was stuttering, trying to come up with a decent justification for his actions. "As if you could have done better! Ron was closer – I thought that I could use the same bezoar twice, but…but they disintegrate and…well then I couldn't find a second one fast enough and get it to her and Slughorn wasn't moving, I—"
"That sounds like a lot of excuses," Draco hissed, his eyes narrowing. He circled a little closer to Audrey, just to take another long look at her. She looked so tiny and shrivelled in that bed – innocent as a child, yet sick as an old maid. It was disturbing how much her mess of hair pooled around her like blood, how little her chest moved with her breath. It was like she was already almost gone. "You're lucky she's not awake to hear them."
"I'll tell her as soon as she's awake," Harry growled.
"Good, I hope you do!" Draco couldn't stop himself from laughing. It was a low, angry laugh that sounded bitter even to his own ears. "You're a fine line away from being written out of her life for good – I can't wait for the day she drops you like the shit you are."
"For who, someone like you?" Harry asked just as darkly. "You think she'd care for someone like you?"
"Not someone like me," Draco retorted spitefully, his eyes sparkling with maliciousness. Harry made a face of disgust that twisted into something foul.
"You can't have her, Malfoy! You can think you've gotten away with whatever it is you're doing, but Drea would never get messed up with a DeathEater…" Potter spat out the words as he had cursed. His words were so pointed that the truth of them sliced through Draco like knives. "And if I find out you had anything to do with this – anything at all – you'll wish you had Nott's treatment."
Draco would never have been able to admit why he felt so scared there. Was it actually Harry Potter's threat itself, or the fact that it held some breadth behind it? For this was all his fault. And worse, Audrey wouldn't let herself get messed up with a Death Eater…
Merlin, what had he done?
"Leave, or I'll tell her myself," Malfoy hissed, his hand trembling with fury. He tried to keep it trained on his enemy, but his emotions were beginning to get the better of him. "Leave or I will tell her exactly what you did, exactly how it happened, exactly how much you forgot about her again…"
The twin looked resolute as if he would fight and argue until the sun came up without question. There was a long moment, a deep breath before he lowered his wand. Potter didn't look ashamed like he had hoped but frustrated as he took a step back from the bed. "I need to go update Hermione anyway. Have your time with her now, Malfoy. Once I prove you're a Death Eater, she'll never want you near her again."
Both boys took a moment, eyeing each other up and comparing the truth between their threats. It didn't matter, though…they both knew the truth:
Audrey Potter would never forgive either of them.
Audrey was still screaming and thrashing in the bed when Draco came back, towing Madame Pomfrey – still in her nightgown – back to Audrey's bedside. She wouldn't stop convulsing and the words she was saying barely sounded like they were English, nevertheless human.
"Hold her down!" The old nurse demanded. Draco had barely been there for half an hour before the fit had started – at first he had thought it was a nightmare, but the twitches turned into convulsions, the moans turning into screams – screams that seemed to tear at her vocal cords and make her sound inhuman.
When Draco went to hold her arms down, he instinctively pulled away again. Her skin was hot – more than a fever 'hot' and closer to the idea that she was burning from the inside out.
What had he done?
Madame Pomfrey poured some luminous blue liquid in her mouth – missing thanks to Audrey's seizure – and spilling it all over her face. It took a beat – two beats – four – before she finally started to still. Her screams turning into pathetic whimpers…above him, dust rained down from the stone she had cracked above the window with her Magnuse.
"How long was she like that, Mr. Malfoy?"
"I don't know…two minutes? No less than five – well, maybe—"
She placed a hand on his shoulder, sensing his panic. "I'm sure you came quickly. Thank you. Why don't you go back to the Dormitory for the night? I'll stand watch."
"No," he said immediately. "I'd like to stay."
"Of course, would you like—"
"To your dormitory, Mr. Malfoy," Draco closed his eyes at the voice behind him. Snape had returned, likely in time to see the display that had just finished. "You are to go to bed and not come back."
"Severus, that seems—"
"And you have a weeks detention," Snape added. Draco turned around to glare, only to find the intensity matched perfectly. Draco didn't move. "Would you like to make it a month?"
Draco looked back to the girl in the bed. She was whimpering still, covered in sweat. While her fit had stopped, whatever nightmares she was having obviously hadn't. He moved toward her, gripping her hand in his own – it was still fiery to the touch.
"I'll be back," he promised. "I'll never be gone long. I'll never leave you alone again."
It was over a week of torment. Draco barely ate, he barely slept, he barely attended his classes. He had changed his own schedule now that Audrey was still unconscious in the hospital wing. The time that he had spent fixing the Vanishing Cabinet was now reserved for visiting her in the dark hours of the night when no one else was allowed in the wing. He suspected Madame Pomfrey knew that he was there, but couldn't bring himself to care when the woman never addressed him.
Because of all his extra hours sitting at Audrey's bedside, his classes had taken a hit being the only other time he had free to attempt to save his own life. He was surprised he was able to run on such little sleep – but the demons were efficient at keeping him awake. Knowing that the Dark Lord was waiting for results, that the Dark Lord would be pleased that Audrey was hurt, that the Dark Lord would be proud that he was the one who had done it…
Beside him, Audrey stirred. He worried that it would be another fit – he was never prepared for them. They had begun to slow in frequency and intensity with each day, but it was still something that Draco never would have been able to prepare himself for. The way her eyes rolled in her head, the way her body seized…there was nothing more painful than holding her down so that she didn't hurt herself as the poison wreaked havoc on her system.
His poison.
He stood up, ready to hold her down and fight back what litter dinner he'd had…but instead, she let out a small groan and a tiny cough. She squeezed her eyes together tightly and began to stir a little more…
Was she awake?
"Audrey?" He dared to ask, keeping his voice quiet. Ron Weasley was still in bed beside her and Draco would have been loathing to wake him. "Are you awake?"
There was a moment where she didn't respond to him and he realized that there was no chance, after the particularly violent episode that morning, that she would be awake so soon. But still, more quietly than he even knew could be whispered she said, "it's too bright."
He looked around, shocked at the idea. It was pitch dark in the room save for the slices of moonlight flitting in from the windows behind her head. Even then, the moon was only at half its size and not exceptionally clear – was that a side effect of the poison or her medications? Was such sensitivity a side effect he had caused?
"It's moonlight…" he said slowly, trying to control his voice. "Try again."
"I can't," her voice came out something between a whine and a whimper. It made his stomach clench to hear it – he had never heard her so vulnerable. Her next words only created a tumult within him as he tried to sort out what was being said. "It hurts…everything hurts…"
It hurt him to think about her hurting at all and even though he couldn't understand the type of pain she was in, he mumbled an incantation and closed the curtains, blocking out the moonlight. It was perfectly dark now, but his eyes were quickly adjusting – he had looked upon her so much since she'd ingested the poison that he didn't need to be able to see her to know her state.
"I closed the curtains around your bed. This is the darkest I can make it," he said when he realized she was waiting. Or perhaps she had fallen back asleep? Part of him hoped so – if she was really in that much pain, he wanted to spare her from as much of it as possible. But instead, she surprised him by opening her eyes. For the life of him, he couldn't bear to look into them. There was a long pause where he wanted to give her moments to get her bearings – then she finally spoke.
"Draco?" Her name came out as a whisper, he doubted she could speak any louder considering the rasp to her words.
"Hm?" He didn't dare to answer automatically – his own words would have been marred by his horror…and guilt.
"What happened?"
Of course, he would have to be the one to explain it. And as soon as he did, she would know what it meant – that this was all his doing. This pain she felt was all because of him. Every ache, every groan, all blood on his hands…
"You and Weasley drank a laced drink," he said slowly, wondering just how much he could say before she would remember the incident. He also couldn't tell if she would know that he had been the cause of it. "And…"
"Laced drink?" She repeated, her brow furrowing as she tried to remember. It took her a moment before her whole body seemed to jolt in surprise – recognition, maybe? "Oh, Salazar's spit…"
"Hm?" He asked, ready for the blow. Ready for her to realize what part he had played in this whole mess. But instead, she looked aghast down at her tiny, shaky hands while her words came out in a rush.
"Oh, Draco, please believe me – I didn't mean it. It was all Ron's fault! We had been drugged by some love potion a girl sent my brother – both Ron and I were. And then we went to the Potions lab and I started making the antidote, but Ron...Ron, he took it from me before it was finished. It was only Armadillo blood, Jabberknoll feathers, lemon and pomegranate, Draco! Feathers and pomegranate!" She, of course, said this as if he would know exactly what that meant, but he didn't. She was speaking so fast that he was having trouble keeping up. And besides the fact that the other boy had been given the first bezoar, what did that strange concoction have anything to do with Weasley, anyway? "There was nothing I could have – and he...he kissed me. I didn't kiss him back! But he kissed me – oh Draco, I didn't like it, it was horrible – he was horrible. I swear to you..."
Draco felt his whole body stiffen. She felt guilty? As if she was at fault for any of this?
It was so ridiculous he almost found it within him to laugh.
"I believe you."
"No, I mean I really didn't like it." She was vehement, her face was screwed up in displeasure as she thought about it. "He called me a drop-skirt slag and I called him-"
"He said what?" Weasley was lucky he was already in the hospital wing because Draco would kill him for saying such a thing. Sure, the bastard was ignorant and prejudiced, but he had never been so transparent about it. The change spurred a very deep boiling sensation deep in his core.
She sounded so worried and she continued to speak at a mile a minute – it was surprising considering it sounded like every word hurt her to say. "And I – I think I told Harry. About you."
"That's the least of your problems right now, Audrey," after all he already knew that Potter knew about them and did not approve. He would deal with that and continue to do so – Potter couldn't hurt him if he tried. He moved his hand onto her forehead, her skin held such a chill that it actually made him shiver at the contact. "You're as cold as death."
But that was a good thing, he tried to convince himself. Her being cold was better than being feverish. He had been there when her fever had gotten bad enough that they decided to artificially lower her body temperature to fight off the damage the fever might cause. Sure, being too cold also had its dangers, but it was easier to warm someone up with blankets than cool them down with ice in their veins.
"I feel like death. I thought it was death," he tried not to show just how much the thought tormented him, even if he doubted that the expression hadn't darkened his features. "I took the antidote, so why am I still here? Slughorn made it for us..."
"This has nothing to do with the love potion," he explained, his voice as taut as the muscles of his shoulders – he was so tense after days of staying in this chair at her bedside, but he still refused to move. "This has to do with when you were...it's from the laced drink."
"Laced drink?" She repeated, her confusion must have been caused by her fever because she was not catching on to his tone as she normally would have. Normally, she already would have known what he was trying to hide from her. He placed his hand on her head again, just to make sure that she hadn't warmed in the last few seconds. She was still icy and clammy. "Is that why I drank the acid – it was in the drink?"
"Acid?" A shiver ran down the length of his spine and settled deep in the pit of his stomach, sitting there like a heavy stone. He instantly recoiled from her, moving his hand away. She let out an odd sound at the back of her throat, like a whine that caused to much pain to make properly.
Against his better instincts, he reached forward again when she forced him to, and pulled his hand against her face. She closed her eyes against the sensation – it almost reminded him of a drunk person. Though he was afraid of what she had said, part of him wanted to hold her nearer to make sure he never caused her pain again. "There was no acid, Audrey. It was...it was poison."
"Poison?" She shook her head as if he wouldn't know. "It didn't taste like poison."
"You weren't really conscious long enough to know," his jaw clenched as his mind flashed through seeing her in this bed for the past who-knew-how-many-days. How many times had he been in this hospital wing visiting her? Too often. Usually, he could blame her brother, but now… "You have even worse luck than your damned brother, do you realize that? How are you feeling now?"
"Like I drank acid," at least her dry humour was still intact. She gave a shiver but he couldn't tell if it was from her temperature or her thoughts. "I don't understand...I thought poison just killed you. It shouldn't have eaten through every part of me."
His hand began to shake, so he moved it from her face and began to use his fingers to comb over her hair. At least doing this she wouldn't feel the physical signs of his guilt. He had used magic to help her hair stay tidy enough, but he still feared to hurt her by pulling on her matted locks, so he avoided the mess.
But he couldn't stop himself – he didn't want to stop touching her. It was amazing that she was awake and a part of him was touching her just to make sure this was all real. He'd spent so many nights here, waiting for any sign of this moment, that he was wondering if maybe he had just fallen asleep. But she was here, she was breathing, she was okay – well…not quite.
"I'm so sorry, Audrey."
"No, I'm sorry," she sounded dazed, if not like she was already sleeping. He tried not to snap an insult at her – he wished that she would just accept his apology instead of continuing to minimize it. "I didn't mean to tell Harry and I really didn't mean to let Ron kiss me – if it makes you feel comforted it was the most disgusting thing to ever happen to me. And I've slipped in dragon dung."
It did make him feel comforted, slightly. He knew that it was much more realistic that she ended up with someone like a Weasley compared to someone like him. Particularly after hurting her. And after everything he had done, she still continued to apologize.
His stomach continued to churn.
"Never say you're sorry again," the sound that came from him barely sounded like the voice he knew. His throat was starting to close and there was a traitorous sting at the back of his eyes. He cleared his throat to try and help distract from it. "You need to rest...your temperature is still cool, but you aren't cold anymore. I can't tell if that's good, Snape's the one who's supposed to be monitoring you. I can't, I won't run to get him and I don't want to have to get Madame Pomfrey – no one is supposed to know I'm here."
"Just stay here until I fall asleep," she mall but nuzzled into his hand and winced at whatever new pain disturbed her. "It won't be too long if you keep doing that."
He had stopped his movements for a quick second, just in case her pain was because of him, but she settled into him even more deeply when he continued to touch her. Part of him felt selfish by how much he loved this; he didn't want her to sleep because if she did, maybe she wouldn't wake up again. Maybe he wouldn't be able to remember she'd been awake at all. Maybe he would wake up, knowing that it really was all a hopeful dream and she had already died when this whole mess began…
"Do you...like that?" He was confused, having half forgotten what she had said to him, then confused by the fact she couldn't possibly have ever said it. That was much too vulnerable to be something Audrey Potter would admit to. Still, she smiled a strange, sweet smile that he was not used to seeing. There wasn't any maliciousness or mischief to it at all – it was bizarre.
"I understand why Circe liked it so much," she mumbled, her eyes closing. "It's soothing. You're soothing."
"I shouldn't be," he whispered to himself. She didn't seem to hear him and he was glad…he wasn't stupid. He knew she would eventually need to know – and would likely work out – what he had done. But she was so happy with him right now…and he wanted to have this moment while it lasted. This last moment. He just wished she wasn't in pain for it. "I'm sorry, Audrey."
"Don't be, I like it," all at once it was like the potion was wearing thin. Her skin was starting to warm as if she was stealing the very heat from his own skin. Maybe that was why she sounded so delirious. "You should do this tomorrow night too."
"I'll be here," he promised. He watched her shiver and cast a glance over his shoulder. He knew the old nurse wouldn't be there, but it was instinct to search for her. If her potion was wearing thin he either would need to fetch her or she would have appeared soon.
"You swear?"
"I swear," he said distractedly. When she nuzzled into his hand again, he tore his sights from looking for the nurse and back to her. The smile on her face was so sweet it made him blanch.
"Draco?"
The sound of his name made something in his chest constrict. He would have assumed it was his heart if it hadn't have stolen all the air from his lungs and made that sting rage at the back of his eyes again. "Hm?"
"You aren't...you don't hate me, do you?" Sweat was starting to bead on her brow, the fever was starting to rage again, he just knew it. He would have to go find the old hospital woman on his own then. He didn't want to see her having any more fits – he didn't know if he'd be able to take it.
"I never have hated you, Potter," he fought to keep the waver out of his voice that threatened to return. "And I never will. No matter how adamantly you may try to make me."
"It just doesn't make sense," she yawned out her words and cringed as she did it. "Why would the voices say you did? And why would anyone want to poison Ron and I? Why would anyone target me?"
He closed his eyes against the guilt that bubbled up in his stomach. "They didn't."
She hummed into his hand again, as if she was going to argue or ask more questions. He felt her drift off before he could see it on her. Her whole body melted into his hand and there was a moment that he was afraid to move and wake her – but after a moment he leaned forward, to place her back on the pillow. He kissed her forehead, feeling his lips tingle from the heat of her brow.
He was off to find Madame Pomfrey. And since he wouldn't be going to sleep with this guilt eating at him, he may as well go back and work on that damned Vanishing Cabinet. Then he would be too busy to make any stupid mistakes like sending poison in its stead.
Draco hadn't slept. Well, that was a lie – he had drifted off for a moment earlier in class and had woken up with a start as his sleep-deprived mind had wandered to the memory of Audrey convulsing in the hospital bed.
Since then he hadn't been able to even blink for too long.
He had snuck up to the hospital wing to see her as soon as he had been able to. The vision of her convulsing in the bed had seemed like such a bad omen that it felt like a compulsion, a need, to see her sooner rather than later.
"Muffliato," he whispered as he entered the hospital wing. He had to make sure that no one would be bothered if he had the chance to speak to her again and he hadn't been able to keep tabs on where Pomfrey was this evening. It was better safe than sorry. Unfortunately, him trying to protect her from sound and judgement only scared her further, making her bolt up in bed and then groan from the pain of it. She looked at him with wide, terrified eyes as she tried to find her bearings.
"I didn't mean to scare you," he found himself whispering, moving slowly as her eyes adjusted so he wouldn't frighten her more. She laid back down in the bed when she heard his voice and he felt warmth and dread blossom in his stomach – she was comforted by him. It was ironic that she suddenly looked uncomfortable as she moved to face him in the bed.
He touched her face then pulled his hand away when there was a sting to the skin. "You're warm again."
"They say I'll be in here another week," her voice was coarse, but she sounded much better than the night before. At least she was making full, coherent sentences now. "I hate it here."
She clenched and unclenched her hands as if testing her strength. The face she made at them hinted that it was not the result she wanted.
"You spend a lot of time here, I don't know why you're suddenly so concerned," he muttered, eyes shifting to see if Madame Pomfrey would notice that he was here. There was still no movement from her station. "How are you feeling now that you've been awake a day?"
"Awful," she groaned, her voice cracking with the effort of her frustration. "It hurts everywhere."
He closed his eyes against the wave of nausea that hit him – the guilt had played with his mind long enough and it had started to move back to his stomach again. He ran his hands through his hair and looked away from her to take a big breath, hoping she wouldn't hear how it rattled in his lungs. He hadn't eaten since yesterday and now he was glad.
But still, he knew she was lucky. That poison had not been meant to cause pain, it had been meant to kill. She should have been dead…he was so glad she wasn't dead.
"Say it, Draco," her voice was barely a whisper and yet it was so strong. So sure. "Say it."
She knew. He knew she knew. There was no point holding off and pretending they didn't…but still, he couldn't bring himself to form the words. How did he apologize for something like this? How did he take credit for something so horrible?
"I did this," his voice barely escaped him. "This is my fault."
"I know."
He looked down to the hand that had gripped his own tightly, as if to comfort him. What a disgrace. He couldn't bring himself to look at her, he couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes…especially while his own had such a sting to them. "I am so sorry…"
"I know," her voice was even gentler this time.
"Look what I did to you. Look what I fucking did to you," he took a long look at her, still withered under the blanket. She fidgeted under his gaze – her first sign of discomfort. "It wasn't supposed to be you."
"I know," she repeated patiently. "I forgive you."
What?
"You shouldn't!" He burst out, his voice was loud and humiliated. He was glad he had put the charm around the area so that Weasley wouldn't wake and join him in condemning himself. Still, he moved to walk away from her, suddenly too overwhelmed to stay in one place. She held his hand ever-tighter so that he couldn't leave. He was not emotionally strong enough to pull away from her if she showed him anything besides distain. "I almost killed you, Potter."
"Don't address me like that," her nose scrunched.
"By what, your name?"
"By the name you hate?" She asked with a roll of her eyes, as if comparing herself to her brother. She would never believe it that she was the one who did that most often, even if that was what Draco believed. Still, she was probably right and he likely said the name with at least a little spite after so much practice... "And I know what happened to me, Draco. I was there, thank you very much."
"You couldn't see it, what it did to you," his mind flashed back to her seizing, cracking the wall above her bed as she lost control of herself. He tried to close his eyes against the image but it didn't stop from his efforts. "I watched you when you were in here – the things you couldn't do, the things you had to hear…"
"The things I heard?" She asked, looking at him innocently. She clearly didn't know what her brother had done, but no – he wasn't going to blame Potter. Not this time.
It was his fault she was in here.
"I did this to you," he reminded himself while he bit back any words on what her brother had done. That could be saved for another time, another time when he wasn't taking all the blame that he deserved. Potter would have his time in the sun – he always did – but for now, he needed to own up to the pain he had caused his gir—ex-girlfriend. "I nearly killed you and it wasn't meant to be you – what happens when…when I do have orders I have to follow and they involve you?"
He was furious with himself. His voice was cracking and letting loose the truth that she wasn't supposed to know – he had almost followed those exact orders. By killing her, the Dark Lord may have very well labelled him a hero. He had refused, he had worked so hard to refuse and had made it clear that Dumbledore was his target…but this was his second time when targeting that old man that Audrey had paid the price.
How much longer would she have the ability to pay the consequences for his actions?
"What the hell will I do then, follow them?" He asked himself, his mind picturing back to just hours before when she laid cold and silent, looking dead beneath the covers. "Or just follow them by fucking accident?"
She paused. "You could say no."
"Don't be daft," he hissed, rolling his eyes. "You don't just say no to him, Audrey. You can't say no to someone like him!"
"I did. I said no to him," she said simply. He was ready to scoff at her until he watched her try to sit up and right herself in her bed. The pain that coated her features made that guilt roil in his stomach some more.
He shook his head. "And you're a fool."
"No," she looked at him carefully, as if she were afraid of what he was feeling. "I don't like being told what to do. And I don't like it when people take advantage of me or anyone I care about…and that includes you."
He looked at her levelly, trying to understand what was being said. His eyes grew cold as tears welled within them – he didn't want her to see him like this. He didn't want her to know how weak and helpless he felt. While he moved his face away to hide the reaction, she moved forward. She reached her hand out carefully as if he would not take it – but he gripped it tightly like a lifeline. Like it was what was still anchoring him to this crazed world.
"I care about you, Draco," she whispered, her voice so sincere that it pained him. He rested her hand against his jaw, kissing it every few seconds as if she would pull it away when she realized what she was saying. "And you are so much better than him – than this. A Death Eater? You don't like taking orders, you don't like being below someone, you don't like being used; that's not who you want to be. That's not who you are."
If only she knew. If only she knew who he'd had to become this summer – not just giving in to the very things she was saying, but why. He had done it for her, to protect her…and ended up being the very thing keeping her in danger.
"It's who I have to be. You don't understand."
"I do, I understand a lot more than you know," she said quietly, giving a light squeeze to his fingers. "He's offered it all to me, Draco; I know what Voldemort threatens, what he promises…rewards and grandeur and rank or else you'll suffer curses and punishment and death. I know what he is, what he does – I can only imagine what he threatened and promised to reward you with…"
Her, he reminded himself. His reward for killing Dumbledore was her being left alive.
Only one threat needed to dealt with netween the two and he thought he had made his choice…until his actions had backfired and nearly made him the murderer or his own girlfriend – damnit, ex-girlfriend – twice.
"You can't imagine. You don't know." He opened his eyes, catching her leafy gaze in his own.
"It was your Mum, wasn't it?" Her voice was quiet and her eyes searched his for an answer. He tried not to give her one. "I could tell – what you said to Snape at Christmas, the way she defended you in Diagon Alley right before you made sure she didn't follow you to Borgin and Burkes…"
He scoffed and sniffed, realizing that his nose was starting to run. How humiliating.
"You followed me. Bloody typical…"
"I almost found out what it was you were hiding in there too," she smirked to herself, gazing off as if she was remembering it fondly. "I would have if Hermione hadn't ruined it. You should consider yourself lucky that I couldn't find out what it was."
"Why did you want to?" He asked, shuffling closer.
"Well, little had I know that my brother's unhealthy obsession with you had already started…I'd wager that you invade his mind as often as you do mine. Hopefully in a much more platonic way, on his part." Her voice was starting to hold that usual mischievousness he knew and loved so well. He couldn't believe how much he'd missed it, particularly considering how it usually spelt trouble for him. "But I followed you because I couldn't bear to think I didn't know what you were up to after...after what I'd done."
He smirked, but it felt as fake as it probably looked. She had just admitted that she thought about him all the time – but he couldn't rejoice as he'd always thought he would. Now, he wished she had just stayed away…stayed safe. Still, despite his best efforts, he couldn't make himself let go of her hand. He didn't want to. Instead, it wasn't enough, so he began touching her own jaw now…the skin was smooth, but still too warm. The heat bit at his fingers.
"It was a good thing you chucked me," he said. Though the feeling wasn't quite as serious as his words were. "It helped this year."
"I think the opposite," she whispered, rolling on her back so that she faced the ceiling. Still, she held his hand firmly against her cheek. "I needed you this year more than you can even think. I was so alone. I thought you hated me…and Theodore…well, he has right to. You have the right to—"
As if he had any right to be mad after what he had done to her this year. "Not now. Not that I did anyway."
She let out a loud mix between a groan and a whine. "It would just be so easy."
"What would be so easy?" He asked, frowning as she hissed when she moved. It seemed her pain was getting worse and with her feverish skin, he knew he should have gone to get Madame Pomfrey…but he wasn't ready to leave yet – he'd already done so much damage, what was two more minutes of the last minutes he might ever have with her?
She'd hate him by tomorrow when she was in her right mind.
"For you to just…change," she dropped her arms as she sighed. She began to pick at her blanket. "For you to just tell Dumbledore what's happening and ask to be protected by the Order. He would do it, in a heartbeat. I would do it. I would put down everything and be your own bodyguard if I had to."
Ha. Tell Dumbledore of all people. What a ridiculous notion. Still, he didn't want to give too much away with his cynicism, so he spoke. "You hate changing people. You once fancied me because I refused to do it for anyone – including you."
"And now lives are at risk," she said just as simply. "Apparently including ours. Protecting you would be a lot easier if I didn't have to commute to do it."
He chuckled darkly. "I don't think I fit in very well with your Gryffindor chums, Potter."
Nor did he want to.
"That makes two of us," she snorted just as derisively. "That's not what it's about. I wouldn't need you to be friends with them – hell, I'm not friends with most of them. The Order isn't a faculty or even family...it's freedom."
Draco couldn't believe how appealing that word sounded: freedom. Sure, he would have to put up with the people he hated most…but would it be worth it to be with the person he cared for the most?
Maybe.
Still, he would never be accepted. They would never trust him if they knew all that he had done. And even if he was able to smuggle his mother out to save her too, the Dark Lord would find them – like he found Potter's own parents when they had wronged him. And they would all die…including Potter. Sooner, even! Because even if Draco would have a giant target on his back, he couldn't imagine himself ever being able to leave her again. And the Dark Lord would hunt him like a rat.
"I can't. The Dark Lord..."
"He couldn't do anything if you told Dumbledore and stayed quiet." Her deal sounded too appealing, so he cast away his glance. It was like she was hypnotising him with the possibilities. "If you sent him a bag of burning thestral dung then yes, he may very well catch on – but he wouldn't have to. You could leave, Draco. It would be so easy..."
Easy? She didn't know the first thing about what he'd done this summer. The first thing about how ease would never be in his vocabulary again.
"For what?" His tone was lethal. "So that I could have a shared room with Saint Potter, the Weasel and your Godfather? I'm so sure they'd welcome me with open arms."
"They'd welcome you a lot warmer if you came to them willing than if they met you on the battlefield," her tone was just as deadly. He swallowed. When she saw that she had his attention again, she continued. "This is turning into a war, Draco. Don't be a moron; don't tell me you really believe in the things Voldemort says!"
"He makes good arguments," he looked away, unable to meet her eyes. "The Dark Lord-"
"Would not only kill me because I'm a Halfblood, but he plans to kill me because I'm a threat."
If only she knew how true her words were. A cold sweat settled on his brow and he tried to shake away the nausea that again threatened to overwhelm him.
"You're not a threat, Audrey," his voice wavered, it felt like he hadn't taken a drink in weeks – perhaps he hadn't. He was having trouble remembering anything that had happened outside of this room. "You're a weakness. The Dark Lord knows that."
"He has them too, weaknesses. And I would find them. I will find them. If you came to the Order I'd make sure you were safe, even if I was the one who had to do it. There'd be no more secrets, Draco. Can you imagine living honestly? Can you imagine not having sent Katie Bell to St Mungo's, or having me almost being cursed by the necklace? Can you imagine not having to have put me in this bed? Because it's not fantasy – the Order doesn't do that." His head had dropped into his hands. Everything was pulsating angrily now; his head, his eyes, his stomach…nothing felt still and stable.
"What, you've picked your side then?" He asked, his tone cold. "You pick them?"
"I pick living, Draco," her voice was calm again – he wished she were yelling. He wished that she was raging at him as she should – but instead, she just continued to reason…upsetting well, at that. "I don't agree with everything the Order does – but I do know they aren't going to kill me if I do something wrong. And don't for one second tell me that you don't know what your Lord is planning if you fail."
His eyes watered of their own volition and he stood up so she wouldn't watch. "You don't know anything."
"I know I care for you," she whispered, reaching out for his hand and recoiling when she realized he would not give it to her. "And I want you to be safe."
"I will be safe," he tried not to laugh. "I'm the safest one in this entire bloody castle!"
"I want us to be safe," her voice almost failed her and she looked down at her hands. It made the nausea rise like a tidal wave. "And with those secrets, you can't do that – can you? Don't you understand? I need to keep you safe, Draco...because you're my weakness."
He left. He couldn't stay there any more, not if he wanted to keep his sanity. He was sick of hearing this from her – he would have rather she screamed, not try to make him switch sides like some filthy Blood Traitor. She didn't know what she was asking, she didn't know what she was doing…
She was only proving the Dark Lord right, making these promises to him.
Audrey Potter was a threat. After all, if he hadn't known better, he'd have almost felt convinced.
Thank you to all the wonderful reviewers of the last APP updates xXMizz Alec VolturiXx, meowzac, Shannon, Tweety, RedScorpion1999, UzumakiNarutoLover, blouwoods, harvesthands, SwiftAlice, Abbyc983, quest92, Sofia592, HopefulSlytherinDemigod, corazon11heart11, theeejupiter, Annette, Pancakestack, jenni12121, Leia1998, Erysima, kuppcake, Excited person, Stephanie, katiejeanrose, Littlecosma001, and Sunflower Dreams for all the wonderful support from my return to writing and the last APP chapter. I hope that everyone likes the two new additional chapters to this Prelude as well as the new chapter of Green Eyed Monster and the new story I've posted, "Frost Bitten" which is an MCU Loki romance. Happy Holidays!