"A man who has been in danger,
When he comes out of it forgets his fears,
And sometimes he forgets his promises."
- Euripides
¤
The right sleeve of his robe was ripped and covered in blood. Draco sneered and stumbled on, too caught up in his flight to think much on the pain emanating from the wound on shoulder where a slashing hex had caught him.
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. His feet pounded down the floor, echoing off the high ceilings and stone walls. Draco's breath came in gasps and he knew his face was flushed and worn but he didn't care. He'd stopped caring for his appearance long ago, when staying alive started to matter more. When he thought on it, Draco couldn't help but be amazed that he'd lasted this long.
Stay close to the teachers. Be the last to bed and first to rise. Wards. Shields. Don't be noticed. Don't be seen.
Run from the Death Eater children.
In this instance, the Slytherin children came to understand that he was their enemy. The Malfoy name was disgraced with his father's imprisonment, Draco had rejected the Dark Lord's mark, and all they had to cling onto was the support of the Black family - not that anyone knew that.
Finally though, Draco had been cornered. Theodore Nott was the one chasing him, having stayed out late simply to catch him off guard as he came into the Slytherin's separate rooms.
Draco hadn't been raised for this life. He'd grown up in the lap of luxury and was reminded of it everyday during childhood, sometimes rather painfully. His body simply wasn't used to running this long or far. He rounded a corner in the hall and stopped, determining that Nott was far enough behind for him to rest a moment. Draco's heart was pounding and his breath came in ragged gasps as he fished something out of his pocket. He hadn't forgotten even for a day to keep it with him, just in case. Potter had given him the unmarked coin at the beginning of the year, promising his protection for Draco and his mother. He'd been so gobsmacked that he'd forgotten to ask Potter how to use it.
Then Potter proceeded to ignore him for months, and though Draco had been hurt by the broken promise, his Slytherin side made him focus on his own survival.
Draco stared at the coin a moment before he squeezed it tightly. Nothing happened.
"Dammit, Potter, I need your help!" he whispered in frustration. It seemed to be the right thing to do, because suddenly the coin grew hot in his hand. Just as suddenly he heard thundering footsteps in the hallway and the mocking voice of his Slytherin peer.
"Come back, traitor! You can't run forever!"
Fear flooded him and Draco was off like a shot, racing through the halls and dodging behind statues when he occasionally came into Nott's line of sight. His legs ached and his sides were in agony, but still he ran on. With each new turn Nott gained on him and he knew this was a losing battle. But it was still either run or lose his life.
Draco turned another corner into a dimly lit hallway when he collided with something fleshy and hard. He hit with such impact that he fell, though the thing he ran into hardly swayed. Gasping, Draco struggled to his feet in an attempt to take a measure of his new enemy.
He gasped louder when he met the gaze of Harry Potter, face twisted with fury and some other emotion Draco couldn't read, but still made him tremble.
Potter was leaking darkness - it was a tangible feeling in the air.
"What do you want?" he snapped.
¤
Harry couldn't bring himself to be angry. No, he was livid.
He'd never pegged Ginny as someone who could so callously and rudely dismiss an attempt at a gentle brush-off. He'd tried to convince her otherwise - she was like a sister to him after all, however uneasy she made him with her constant near-groping - but she'd pushed and pushed until Harry snapped. He didn't know what it was, but something in what she'd said struck him, urging Harry to defend what was his.
His incisors and nails grew sharper with his anger, making Harry careful not to bite his lip or clench his fists as he ran aimlessly through the halls. He had to work this fury off somehow before bed, or Ron might worry he'd done something to his little sister.
Harry skidded to a stop in the middle of the corridor and sank against a wall. He didn't notice that all the portraits surrounding him had fled their frames, fearing the angry power that rolled off him in waves.
Harry had been clueless as to what was going on at first. His subconscious mind was far too occupied with matters of Tom to even guess at what Ginny wanted with him. That might be one reason why the surprise was so galling. Harry simply couldn't stand her insults to his love. Never mind that she hadn't had any idea who'd she'd been insulting, that she had the nerve to insult Tom had affected him at a visceral level.
He'd fled the room before he could do anything too drastic, but little did he realize that with one key word the damage had been done.
Harry was wrenched violently from his thoughts by a sudden shooting heat on his left hand. He jumped with a cry before the burning settled into warmth and looked down to see what was wrong. The Black ring was glamour-less and glowing dimly on his left middle finger. Harry stared in shock for a moment, trying to get his infuriated mind in order.
Shock and guilt flooded him one after the other as Harry recalled exactly why the ring was acting up. At the beginning of his year in the present he'd linked a small coin to his ring before giving it to Draco. That way he wouldn't have to bother with carrying around a matching coin that he might not notice if its alarm went off.
But after giving it to Draco, Harry had promptly ignored him. Even with the occasional stab of guilt, Harry just told himself he was too busy to talk to Draco… and besides, the other hadn't called him yet.
He smacked his forehead. Damn the Slytherin's pride and his own Gryffindor stupidity! He should have known that Malfoy would only call on him if things became hopeless. Such was the Malfoy way. Help was, apparently, only for Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, not for such a proud and unsullied line such as theirs. Harry was darkly amused at his own sarcasm. He stood, wrenching from his self-pity and taking hold of a new anger, but this time at himself and whoever had driven Draco to be so desperate. Barely recalling the spell he'd used, Harry gripped the ring between two fingers and twisted, willing it to show him the way. His mind was pulled down, down to the third floor where a figure clutched shining gold desperately.
He was on the seventh floor. That was much, much too far away to reach him in time. Deciding to take a risk, Harry closed his eyes and Flicked to a nearby corridor. His body finished materializing just as a blond ran around the corner and straight into him. Harry winced as Draco fell to the floor, knowing it must have hurt to hit something solid so hard despite Harry being shorter.
Harry started to feel irritated as the other took a while scrambling upright. Selfishly, he wished this could have waited until later. He was feeling too shaken right now to deal with things well.
"What do you want?" his voice came out sharper than he'd meant it to, but it seemed to jolt the other back to reality. Malfoy held up his hands, showing that he was unarmed and still had the coin clasped in one. Harry was taken aback for a moment by the sound of Draco's heart as it reverberated loudly in his ears, faster than he'd ever heard before.
"Potter," he wheezed, getting over his shock at Harry coming so quickly, "H-help me!" He could see the desperation in Draco's eyes; it almost scared him to see the formerly proud boy outright begging. Before he could reply Harry heard the loud clapping of footsteps followed by a suspicious beam of dark-red light hurtling toward them. With a cry he shoved Draco out of the way, stepping to the side of the spell. A second later he spotted the person who sent the curse and threw himself at him, one hand going for his wand. The other tried the curse again but Harry blocked it with a strong shielding spell. He heard the incantation, "Crucio," and his suspicions were confirmed. Only a Slytherin would be throwing Unforgivables in Hogwarts.
"Expelliarmus!" the invisible curse hit the attacker, sending his wand hurtling into Harry's hand. Harry ran forward as fast as he could, grabbing the other by their throat and shoving them against the wall with both wands digging into their chest. In the dim light Harry finally made out the face of Theodore Nott, a Slytherin and a fellow sixth year, his face scrunched in pain and rage.
Harry risked a quick glance at Malfoy. The other was fine, standing and staring at them in shock. He turned back to Nott.
"Well, well, if you aren't just the most repulsive little piece of eyeball slime I ever did see," Harry sneered. He saw Nott's hand inch up toward the wands and increased his pressure on the boy's throat. "Move and I'll curse you within an inch of your life!" he snarled. Nott paled and dropped the hand. Part of him marveled at how threatening he must seem for the Slytherin to even think of obeying him.
"Listen to me, because I'm only going to say this once. The Malfoys are under my protection. That means if any of you try to touch Draco, I'll slit your throat. Understand?" Nott nodded minutely, but his eyes held the glint of defiance. The Slytherins all thought Harry was incompetent in the ways of the wizarding world. Tom had taken it upon himself to teach him about them in the past, not wanting Aspen to have to learn them the hard way like he had.
Harry knew that if the Slytherins knew he was the Head of the Black family or connected to Voldemort they would do as he said. Unfortunately, that would mean Dumbledore finding out, and Harry couldn't have that. He sighed, "You're as stubborn as your grandfather," and without further ado bound and silenced him. The elder Nott had greatly annoyed Tom with his headstrong ways.
He let Nott slide to the floor, turning to Malfoy, who was still staring dumbly.
"Where's your wand?" Harry asked, taking note of his disarmed state. Draco pointed at Nott, who was struggling against his bonds and shouting silent obscenities. He sighed and turned, fishing through the male's pockets before he pulled out a hawthorn wand. He passed it to Draco, who took it with a calculating gaze. Harry shrugged off the inquiring eyes to stare at Nott.
'What am I going to do with him?' Certainly, Harry wouldn't kill him. Neither did he know any secrecy spells that would stop Nott from passing on what had happened. He didn't want the entire school knowing of his physical capabilities. Some people might start guessing; Hermione, for one. Harry simply didn't have the knowledge or experience to handle this situation. Sure, Tom did, but he-
Harry could have smacked himself. Of course! Tom would know what to do, and it would be easy enough to take Nott to him. Satisfied with his decision, he turned to Draco.
"What the bloody hell is going on with you, Potter?!"
Harry raised an eyebrow at the outburst, too emotionally exhausted to respond in kind, "What do you mean, Malfoy?"
Malfoy looked frustrated and waved an arm at Nott, "That! That with the spells and the dodging and pinning him against the wall and the threats! That's what! What's the matter with you? I've never seen you act so…so…"
"Dark?" Harry supplied tiredly but with a dangerous look toward the blond, "Look, Draco, I promised to protect you and your mum. I'm just making good on that promise. Now, if you'll excuse me I'll take care of Nott. You should go to your dorm before it gets past curfew."
Draco's face grew angry, "I'm not a child, Potter, so stop treating me like one! I want answers."
Harry sighed, blowing a wisp of hair out of his eyes. Couldn't the world just leave him alone? All he wanted to do was sleep.
"Do you know where the Room of Requirement is?"
Draco nodded warily, "Yes."
"Good. Meet me there…tomorrow, and we'll talk," Harry waited for agreement, and when none came he spoke again, "It's either tomorrow or not at all."
Malfoy finally nodded, albeit reluctantly. At Harry's final wave off he walked away slowly, caution already creeping back into his steps as he headed back to Slytherin territory.
Harry looked down at Nott, who at length had stopped struggling and chose to stare at Harry as though he were a Dementor dancing the hula.
"All of this is way more trouble than it's worth," he muttered as he Flicked them both away.
¤
Voldemort took one look at Aspen and knew something was wrong.
Of course, that fact was easily given away by the struggling form Aspen was so easily dragging along and the magic he could sense roiling around uncontrolled beneath the man's skin. Voldemort stood smoothly, leaving ink to dry on the parchment he was attending. It seemed that if the younger had his way, Voldemort would never finish his paperwork.
He let Aspen come forward to his side of the room, where he promptly dropped his cumbersome bundle. When the figure finally righted itself, Voldemort couldn't have been more shocked to see Theodore Nott, a recently marked Death Eater. The boy appeared even more surprised to see him, paling and nearly fainting dead away. The silencing charm did nothing to hide the confusion and fear in his eyes as Nott glanced from Harry back to the Dark Lord.
Aspen dropped bonelessly in an armchair, "Tom, the children of your minions are pissing me off," he said, shooting an angry glance at Nott.
Voldemort raised a brow, nonplussed at the situation and why Aspen would bring the brat here instead of dealing with it himself. But then, he might have thought that Voldemort would be upset with him for possibly offing Nott. He smirked - how little he knew.
"And what, exactly, do you want to do about it?" Voldemort asked, but when he turned to face the other, all sense of amusement fell away. Aspen's nails were punching holes in his favorite chair. He immediately changed tact.
"What's the matter, Aspen?" he put a soothing tone in his voice, barely noticing Theodore fall over from where he'd managed to prop himself against a table. Aspen's gaze now burned holes in the floor.
"What's wrong?…Not only did I have to put up with the lecherous advances of my best mate's little sister, but then this jackass decided he was going to further mess up my night!" another glare at Nott, "Do something about it. Now," Aspen covered his face and sighed, "please," he added at last.
Voldemort froze at his first sentence, his mind rushing to figure out who Aspen meant. As far as he knew, Aspen's best friend at Hogwarts was Ron Weasley, who he'd been so ecstatic about making up with. That would mean that the girl Aspen had implied as coming on to him was the girl who'd gotten his diary, daughter of a blood traitor that she was.
"Ginerva Weassssley," he hissed, "what did she do to you?"
"Nothing, Tom, so you don't have to go killing her!" Aspen said, recognizing the look on Voldemort's face, "…yet. Er, I'm actually more upset about Nott."
The Dark Lord turned crimson eyes on Theodore, who'd given up struggling in favor of watching them both with uncomprehending horror. Voldemort didn't need Legillimency to see that this conversation was going far above Nott's head.
He knew that Aspen was trying to divert his attention from the girl, but Voldemort could help being infuriated and maybe even jealous - over a schoolgirl, nonetheless. Still, Voldemort fought down the sudden possessiveness that welled within him. He could deal with it later in an appropriate way.
"What did Nott do to irk you this badly?" he asked. Voldemort's fingers itched for his wand. He could just deal with the little pissant and be done with it. Aspen leaned his head against the cushioning on the chair.
"Do you remember the vow I made to Draco Malfoy? It should have been in the memories you viewed."
Voldemort paused, his mind flipping through the information he had received upon his barging into Aspen's mind the first night. Damn, there it was, vow and all.
"Naïve boy," Voldemort finally growled. There would be great pain to one who broke that kind of promise, possibly a loss of magic. Aspen nodded, causing the firelight to glint off his hair and silver earring.
"Yeah, I was. But today Nott attacked Draco, forcing me to keep it. It seems that the other Slytherins have been tormenting and trying to kill him as well, on your orders," Aspen's eyes flickered to gold in a show of emotion that Nott would not catch, "I figured that you ordering them to stop would be much more effective than the 'Golden Boy' trying to intimidate them."
He was asking for Voldemort to revoke the orders to kill Draco Malfoy. It took Voldemort but a moment to decide. The Malfoy boy was a spoiled brat with few skills. It was his father, not him that was a loss to the Dark Lord's cause. There was no point in continuing, especially with Aspen brought into matters.
Voldemort nodded, "Very well. I will take care of it."
Aspen reward him with a small smile, finally prying himself from the chair and striding forward to give Voldemort one searing, deep kiss. They pulled away when there was a crash. Nott had made his way over to the desk in search of a penknife, but lost his balance in sudden shock at the sudden spectacle, knocking the inkwell all over the stacks of parchment. Aspen sighed and pressed his face into Voldemort's chest as the Dark Lord's face contorted in rage.
"Thanks," he whispered before he disappeared.
Free of distraction, Voldemort turned on Nott. The boy didn't move, frozen in fear as he saw the terrible fury in the man's eyes. All his hard work, ruined!
With a wave, Voldemort dispelled the ink, leaving his precious paperwork blank. With another wave he dispelled the silencer that would keep him from hearing the boy's screams.
"Don't worry," Voldemort hissed as he raised his trusted yew wand, "I'm not going to kill you."
It was no consolation and wasn't intended to be. Voldemort was starting to remember there were much worse things than death, after all.
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A/N: Thank Empy again for smacking me around! At the request of one of my readers I had some sweetness in this chapter. XD More plot next chapter - some Draco and a lot of Ron developments, plus the Daily Prophet! Because we all know what's going to happen next. ;D Review and tell me what you think! I love questions.