I own nothing.
A/N: Hello. Remember me? I'm so, so, so, so, so, so sorry for not updating. I won't bore you with the drama - because as you've probably all realised by now, my life is full of it! - but I will try my level best to get this story completed. I did, for a time, fall out of love with it - which was more because of a culmination of things - however, I need to get it done so I can stop feeling so guilty all the time. Haha. Plus, I miss you guys xx
It's fairly shoddy, I'm feeling a little bit rusty and this chapter I found really difficult to immerse myself in. Missing my Blondie, I think lol. Still, it will hopefully serve its purpose ready for the good bits.
Reviews - Thank you so much, everyone! I love, love, love receiving reviews, they always make me smile and fill me with the great need to produce more writing, however I find it really hard to try and find the time to reply to them. I really do appreciate every single word written by a fan of this story, and I feel appallingly rude for not getting back to you - I understand that each and every one of you also have demands on your time, and you're using some of it to hang out here and read my awful story and leave me beautiful words of praise - and I'd hate for you all to think I'm being ignorant. I'm not, I just have a son who is the laziest kid in the world and doesn't give me a moments peace. I love you all.
Oh, and Hanna…thanks for the Facebook support. I think it was your fist wielding that did the trick x
***
Chapter 12 - With friends like these, who needs enemies?
Harry glanced at the glowing red letters of his alarm clock and sighed when they read stupid o'clock. It was still early dawn, practically night time, but he knew there wasn't a chance in hell he'd get anymore sleep. The image of a grey, dying Draco was etched too deeply behind his eyelids, so that every time he blinked he was presented with the horror again. Nausea swirled violently inside his stomach, giving him the feeling of sea sickness, and his pounding heartbeat did nothing to make the experience any more pleasant. He couldn't seem to calm down, his body panicking even though he knew that Draco was O.K, had pulled through and recovered and was now filling his days doing Harry's filing.
He wondered, as he climbed out of bed and headed for the shower, how long he had sub-consciously known that the man at the hospital was Draco - the man who had tried to take his own life, ultimately causing Harry to try and cling to his own - was the blonde man he was falling so desperately for.
He shuddered as he pondered why Draco would do something as drastic as trying to take his own life. What could have been so bad that the blonde man had felt the need to end it all?
Suicide. It took a strong person to actually go through with it, and though Harry had no doubt as to Draco's strength and determination, he couldn't see the blonde doing something so…extreme.
After his shower, he walked around his flat restlessly, unable to settle in one place for too long. He needed to be distracted, needed to have his thoughts diverted from the stomach churning knowledge that Draco's life had been so bad at one stage that death was his only option.
He dressed in a daze and hurried out of his flat to his car. He drove through the dark, empty streets, the tinkling rain on the roof the only sound besides the motor. Much to his annoyance, his mind drifted and he fought to keep focused on the road. Pansy's screaming voice bounced against his eardrums like a repetitive echo, the memory untarnished as her sobs of 'Please, god, help him' sounded just as desperate, just as frightened as it had been the first time he had heard it back in the hospital. He shook his head as the odd feelings that he knew her that he'd experienced at the reception finally made sense. The strange tingling of his spine and cringing when he had heard her frantically trying to get Draco away from Theo in the hotel…it affected him because he had heard it before, had heard her be that scared and sub-consciously knew that her terror had a justifiable reason…she was afraid for Draco's life. Because she had once faced the possibility that he might die, had sobbed as he was repeatedly brought back to life, and it was somehow linked to the man her husband had been restraining. It had to be.
Pulling his car into the deserted car park outside Aurors, Harry sighed with relief. At least Hermione wasn't pulling an all night-er and he'd have some peace. Walking into Aurors when it was empty always reminded Harry of the night before he and Hermione had officially opened for business; when everything had that fresh, new smell. And the two friends were excited for the grown-up journey they were about to embark on together. It was a nice memory, Aurors always held nice memories for him.
He deactivated the alarm and strode through the reception, not bothering to switch on the lights. Only when he entered the main office area did he decide that a little lighting would probably be sensible , especially considering how likely it was that he'd cause himself an injury by walking into an errant chair or something just as hazardous, and he opted to just light the back of the room where his and Hermione's offices stood side by side.
He walked slowly, contemplating the amount of cases that needed his attention, glancing around at the random pictures and personal affects at various work stations. He liked that his team felt comfortable enough to have photos of their loved ones on display, but he frowned slightly when he reasoned that the photos were more likely to be on display because his team worked so many hours that they rarely got to see their loved ones in the flesh.
He glanced at Draco's desk as he made his way through to his office and the dream that was still so vivid scratched at his attention. He was glad he had time to prepare himself before the blonde came in to work, giving him time to try and make peace with his revelation and to compose himself.
There was something different about Draco's work area that Harry couldn't quite put his finger on. It looked vacant, empty without the blonde pretending to look like he was working when he was really texting his friends beneath his desk. His personality usually enveloped the space with dazzling light and musical laughter, but now with him absent it seemed oddly vacant.
Harry shook his head and continued into his office, ignoring the morbid feeling of foreboding. It was the dream that was to blame. His nerves were jangling from the unexpected connection he had made, and it was now bleaching out around him, turning innocent, trivial things into something they were not. Still, he couldn't help but think it was ominous.
Sinking into his chair, he sighed, cursing Murphy's Law that he should become desperately tired now that he was away from his bed. He forced himself to pick up one of the files on the edge of his desk and concentrate on work in order to keep himself awake. And it worked, for a good 3 hours he immersed himself with a random person's problems, until his brain could no longer focus. He realised he should probably eat something - his likely low blood sugar not helping towards keeping him alert - so with unseeing eyes he reached into his snack draw and grabbed the first thing his hand touched. He felt a smile pull at his lips as he gazed at the chocolate bar in front of him, feeling oddly emotional. Emotional because he knew the lengths Draco had gone to acquire the sweet. It was obviously American in origin, meaning Draco had probably searched the internet for it. He'd never charged anything to the company or Harry's account, meaning Draco had paid for it, too. Put together with the delivery, Harry wondered how much time Draco had put in just so his boss could have a half decent snack in his drawer. The answer he came up with made Harry's stomach explode with warmth.
Feeling slightly more buoyant than he had before, he unwrapped the chocolate bar and chewed thoughtfully as he shuffled through the pile of case notes on his desk. He became bored quickly, his head now a million miles away from the office. Out of reflex, he snagged the case containing his blood monitor and placed it on the desk on top of the boring notes. He unzipped it slowly and flipped it open, momentarily confused when instead of the tiny machine that usually greeted him, a white envelope lay on top.
He stared at it for a long moment, the word 'Harry' emblazoned on the front in italic cursive causing one of his eyebrows to slide upwards. It was Draco's handwriting. A thrill of fear and excitement washed through him, and with trembling hands he picked it up. A million questions spun around his head, each more demanding than the last.
Why had Draco left him a letter? When had he left it? What was it about? Why was it in his monitor case rather than on the desk?
The excitement soon lost out to the fear, and with a hard swallow Harry ripped it open. Pulling out the single sheet of paper, he took a deep breath and unfolded it. Surprise flitted across his face as he read the single line of text in the centre of the page. Stupidly, he turned the paper over, looking for any other writing, frowning when he found none. He read the sentence again, his stomach churning.
'Filing room 2, aisle 6, bottom shelf, file 18264'
Harry's frown morphed into surprise, his eyebrows rising as his eyes widened. Filing room 2? Why would Draco point out a file from filing room 2? It was the criminal law section. Harry hardly ever dealt with criminal law, he wasn't even aware that Draco had a code for that room. And aisle six was at the back, meaning the files there were closed. Archived. Forgotten about.
Curiosity and another emotion he couldn't quite define made Harry get out of his chair and go and hunt out the file, his blood monitor completely and utterly forgotten. Pacing through the empty office area, dodging chairs and desks as he navigated his way through the shadows, Harry approached the filing room. In his eagerness to get inside, he mashed his key card into the slot so forcefully that it became jammed, and it took a good deal of force and swearing until it finally un-wedged itself.
The door swung open noiselessly and Harry stepped inside, cringing as he inhaled the unstirred stale air. He flicked the switch on the wall and light flooded over the stacks of files, accompanied by a humming as the bulbs in the strip lighting warmed up.
He bypassed the first five aisles, heading straight to the back of the room, and stopped at the wall of old cases. Sinking to the ground, Harry began searching along the shelf, quickly realising how horribly out of order they were. Random files had been shoved just about anywhere, and he was sure he was going to have to search the entire room if it was all in the same state as this one shelf. Heaving an annoyed sigh he began sifting through the paperwork, being just as careless as the previous person. He rummaged through folders and pushed them aside, any loose documents that fell out he just hastily shoved back inside the folder with no patience to actually make sure it was in its proper place.
After about fifteen minutes of fruitless searching he finally had a breakthrough. He came across a simple manila folder, completely nondescript, tucked between two hefty murder cases, looking positively invisible in comparison.
When he tugged it out of its place, he noticed the text on the front, '18264 - Private and confidential' and a thrill of triumph run through him. The triumph was quickly overshadowed by anticipation, especially when he noticed the seal on the edge of the folder. Draco had obviously gone to great lengths to ensure that the file didn't end up in the wrong hands, even going so far as to rearrange an entire shelf and booby-trap the actual file itself.
With his stomach clenching nervously, Harry slipped his finger beneath the tab and broke the seal, flipping the front cover over with trepidation. He still couldn't work out why Draco hadn't just given him the file himself, and better yet, why did Draco have a file in the first place?!
A few pieces of officially headed paper were all that resided inside the folder, and Harry frowned again. The top sheet was crisp white with two creases in it where it had been folded for its envelope. The heading didn't jump out at Harry at first, instead his own name drew his eye.
"Mr Potter, We would like to extend out deepest gratitude for the sizable donation you recently made to us at 'Dursleys home for orphaned children'…"
Harry stopped reading, his eyes frozen on the name of his childhood home. A million different memories flashed before his eyes and it was all he could do not to throw up right there in the filing room. This couldn't be right, it had to be a joke, there was no way his former home had written to him; he would have remembered! And what was this about a donation, Harry had done his best to completely put Dursleys out of his mind, there was no way he'd linger on thoughts of the wretched place long enough to consider donating money. With the need to have it out of his sight, Harry stuffed the letter from the orphanage to the back of the file and found himself confronted with a different kind of document.
The paper was more expensive looking, thicker, parchment-like. Not unlike the paper his firm used. Reading the heading at the top, Harry found it was from a rival law firm 'Patronus LLP". This time it was Draco's name that drew his eye, and he read with growing confusion.
"Dear Mr Malfoy.
Re: Compensation claim made against Mr T Riddle."
Harry abruptly stopped reading. Vomit made a trail up his windpipe and he gagged as he tried to swallow it back down. What the hell was this? Did Draco find this amusing? Did he really think Harry would find it amusing?
Steeling himself, taking two deep breaths, he glanced back at the letter.
"Prior to our telephone conversation, I am writing to confirm that an agreement has been made in your compensation claim against Mr Tom Riddle.
In an attempt to avoid court proceedings, Mr Riddle has agreed to award Mr H Potter the sum of £125,000 for damages suffered from a fatal car accident on October 31st, 1981.
As requested, a cheque made payable to Dursleys home for Orphaned Children for the full sum of £125,000 will be arranged for your collection as soon as we receive payment from Mr Riddle's solicitor…"
Harry stared with wide eyes at the impossible information before him. He was faintly aware of the paper in his hands trembling, the words blurring as tears pooled in his emerald orbs. There were no thoughts in his head, his brain so utterly incoherent that it was an effort to remember to breathe.
He slumped against the shelves behind him, unaware of how uncomfortable he should be with files pressing against his back. A cold sweat washed over him and he shivered as it took hold.
Memories of the time he had seen Riddle on the anniversary of his parents' death whipped at his crumbling composure. The sound of Riddle's mocking voice assaulted his ears, the sarcastic answers he had given, the cruel laughter he had directed at Harry when he realised who he was…
The tears made their escape, falling triumphantly over his pallid cheeks. A sob wrenched itself from deep inside his body and he bowed over in an attempt to suppress it.
He didn't care if someone walked in, didn't care that he had spent so long building defences against this kind of emotion. He fell apart, right there in the middle of his firm. Fell apart as he succumbed to the bottled up, pressure cooker of feelings that he had spent a lifetime burying.
And he fell apart knowing that it was Draco who had made it possible. Draco who had gone to such lengths and trouble to ensure that Harry received just a fragment of something in return for what Riddle had done.
Blinking rapidly to try and clear the tears from his eyes, Harry pulled the final sheet of paper from the folder. Draco's elegant scrawl against the company headed paper greeted him, and he closed his eyes for a moment to try and regain a little control.
When he was sure he could handle whatever it said, he began reading.
"Harry,
I have hidden this file here, in the most abandoned part of Aurors' filing system, so that when I think you are ready, you will be able to find it. (Even if it will take a little shuffling around, sorry about that)
As you have probably already gathered, there are two official documents inside this folder. One from Patronus LLP, a law firm that specializes in compensation claims. I'm sure you can see why I didn't enlist the help from someone at Aurors…
The second document is from Durselys home for Orphaned Children.
I should now take this opportunity to explain. Please, just listen until the end.
Do you remember the day I took you home and you explained to me about Tom Riddle? Well, you were reluctant to explain something to me. I looked into your eyes (just before you managed to scold yourself with kettle water) and all I could see was this unadulterated agony. It was then I knew that I had to do something.
I visited Riddle in Azkaban prison. I may not be anyone of importance in the world of Law and Order, but I managed to secure a visit. Money, as they say, talks. It always does.
I could not ensure an apology from that wretched man, but I managed to secure something that was at great personal cost to him. I hit him where it really hurts someone like that…his pocket. Now, I know you would never accept anything from him, and I also know that it isn't enough, it will never replace or bring back what you have lost - what he took away from you! - but it is a small consolation.
Now I should apologize. I invaded your privacy, quite grossly too. I had someone find out the name and address of the children's home you were raised in. I'm sorry.
But I know you will support the decision I made to donate the money to them. I'm confident that you would have done the same thing had you been in my position. Riddle destroyed your family…I forced him to help other children who have suffered a similar fate. It is not enough, it will never be enough, but it's something.
I now know the detail you were reluctant to share, and I cannot begin to understand how degrading and heart wrenching it must have been to experience it. All I can do is make you a promise.
He will never laugh at you again, Harry. I'm sorry you had to go through that, but I swear - I'll not let it happen again.
Yours, D.
Towards the end of the letter, traitorous tears once again flooded Harry's face but he paid no attention. He climbed hastily to his feet, gripping the shelves behind him for support. His stomach roiled and his heart thudded, yet he ignored it. He stumbled blindly through the room, leaving the light on in his haste to leave. He needed to see Draco, and he needed to see him now.
Thundering through the office area, his eyes connected with the blonde man's work station. He was struck, again, by how very wrong it looked without Draco sat behind the desk singing tunelessly along with his iPod when he thought no-one could hear. It looked abandoned, desolate. It made Harry's heart hurt as the images of Draco in the hospital assaulted him, and he stumbled over his feet as they hit.
Rushing through to his office, Harry stopped so suddenly he almost fell over. He stood motionless for a few minutes, refusing to believe the connection his mind had just made but knowing that he was right. It had finally occurred to him why Draco's desk looked so empty.
Back tracking, roughly wiping the tears from his face, Harry paused at the desk, his eyes sweeping over the small area frantically.
It looked empty, because it was empty! Draco's cup that never seemed to make its way to the kitchen was missing from beside his computer. The stack of magazines that he always tried to pretend he didn't read were no longer peeking out from beneath his keyboard tray. His iPod lead was missing from the tower of his P.C. His odd collection of coloured pens and the good luck card from his friend, Pansy, were no longer visible.
A lead weight dropped into Harry's stomach and he rushed around the desk for a closer inspection. Maybe the cleaner had moved all of Draco's possessions; maybe the blonde had decided to tidy his work space. He ignored the fact that he had seen all of these things scattered around before he had left for the wedding, and that Draco shouldn't have been in the office since.
Pulling open random drawers, he found nothing remotely personal. Draco's in-tray was still full of work, but the projects he had been working on the day before the wedding were now missing from in front of the computer. In a last ditch attempt to quell his panic, Harry tugged the keyboard tray open and an envelope similar to the one he had found in his blood monitor case fell on to his lap.
His name splashed across the front in Draco's cursive was messy, looking as though it had been hurried. With sickening fear crashing over him, he ripped the envelope open and pulled out two crisp pieces of Aurors-headed paper. The first of the two was like a knife being stabbed viciously through his stomach.
"I, Draco Malfoy, hereby resign as Personal Assistant from Aurors LLP, to be brought into affect immediately…" Harry literally dropped Draco's resignation in an attempt to have it out of his sight. It fluttered out if his hand and to the ground noiselessly, followed by a pained gasp that ripped its way through his body. He didn't want to read it, just like he hadn't wanted to read the letter from his Childhood home. He didn't want to know, he didn't want it to be true. Why? Why would Draco resign, why now?! Why was he leaving, why did Harry always have to lose everyone?!
The second letter seemed to be the unofficial explanation for his departure, something he obviously could not put in an official document, and it quivered in Harry's trembling hand. He didn't want to read it…but he had to. How could he not? Though he soon found his vision quickly obscured with tears, needing to pause as each point was given. The stabbing in his stomach became more intense, more frenzied, increasing ten-fold with every line he read.
"Dearest Harry,
I will try and keep this as short as possible; no doubt you're going to feel the pressure now that I have deserted you as P.A. The first thing you ever said to me was that you were a busy man…I apologize for leaving you in the lurch.
The reason I've written you a letter is, as you've already gathered by now, I will not be returning to Aurors, and I simply could not just leave things unsaid. However, I couldn't face meeting with you, either. That last moment with you in your car, no matter how terrible I felt before and after, was…perfect. (And that's not a word I use lightly.) I'll not forget it in a hurry; I can assure you of that.
I digress. I'll get to the point now.
First of all, thank you. Thank you for everything - the trust and the risk you took in giving me a job, the patience to let me keep it. I appreciate it more than you could possibly comprehend, and I am indebted to you for the confidence and self-worth you have steadily helped me to re-build since our first meeting. Curiosity brought me to Aurors…you, well, you kept me coming back.
I have tried, in my own way, to repay you for your generosity, even though my attempt is fairly meagre in comparison. You will know by now what I did concerning Riddle, and I hope you will not hate me for it. I know that going behind your back like I did was unforgivable, but I couldn't do nothing. I could not stand back and watch you suffer whilst he…! I had to ensure that he would never hurt you again. I would never have been able to walk away from you if I were not absolutely certain. Please forgive me, Harry, I never meant to hurt you, and I hate myself because I have done it anyway.
I must apologize for this afternoon. Kissing you was a bad idea - I only made an already difficult situation impossible - and I should never have done it. How well I know that I don't deserve to breathe the same air as you - let alone deserve to be with you - and I have made things that much more painful for the both of us. Though, maybe I'm being slightly egotistical in that assumption.
Most of all, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for entering your life, but even more so for exiting it. You'll never know how much I regret leaving, but you are a far, far better man than I am, Harry, and I was foolish to ever believe that I could be good enough to be around someone like you. You are good. Completely and utterly. I, am not. I never will be.
Finally, and most importantly…Please, I beg you, do not contact me. I cannot stand knowing that you despise me, for whatever reason. That thought is almost as unbearable as knowing I will never see you again. Almost.
Please, do not judge me on hearsay. Things are never what they seem, stories always have two sides, and like you once said…sometimes, desperate times call for desperate measures - People do crazy things when they are under pressure, Harry, and even crazier things when the pressure is on their heart - I hope one day you will realise how true your statement was.
So, I guess this is it. Take care and live life how you want to, not how Hermione tells you to. She will never, ever be able to see past what she thinks she knows, everything will always be black and white to her - with the shades of grey being a myth - but still, she loves you. And for that…well, I cannot blame her - I don't blame her - she's looking out for you, eradicating the bad from your life and keeping you as safe as possible. As much as it pains me to admit, ignoring her obvious faults…she's good too. I only wish I were, as well.
Goodbye, Harry.
Yours most sincerely, Draco.
***
If asked later, Harry wouldn't have been able to say how long he sat at Draco's desk, staring at the letter through tear-filled eyes. The text on the page blurred and became distorted as each wave of agony washed over him, as each word of Draco's farewell sunk in. He was gone. He had left, and he wasn't coming back.
"Harry," A surprised voice called as the rest of the strip lighting was switched on, washing light over the sea of cubicles ahead of him, and causing him to blink painfully as his eyes tried to adjust to the glaring brightness.
Ducking down behind Draco's computer monitor, he roughly removed his glasses and wiped his eyes with the balls of his hands as Hermione made her journey across the office space. Her footfalls were loud after the long silence, and as her sensible shoes thudded against the carpet, he cringed as his head throbbed to the beat.
"I wasn't expecting you to be in so early." Hermione commented, glancing towards the windows as though pointing out the early morning grey clouds. "How was the wedding yesterday?" She asked, her voice sounding wary.
Harry glanced up to find her gazing at him cautiously. The laptop bag on her shoulder slid down her arm, and she sighed as she heaved it back into place, her whole demeanour screaming stress and exhaustion. Harry, however, found it difficult to care at that moment. He let his eyes fall back onto Draco's letter, and raised one of his shoulders in a lop-sided shrug in answer to her question.
Hermione shifted her weight from one foot to the other, seemingly debating whether to continue questioning him or let him work things out on his own. Apparently, her eternal nosiness won out in the end, because she hefted the laptop onto the desk and settled against it, perching on the edge of the desk and arranging her skirt so that it sat right against her knees without revealing too much flesh.
"Is everything alright?" She asked softly, leaning forward in an attempt to see Harry's eyes behind his glasses. She was thankful that he'd had his hair cut the day before, leaving his face clear of the unruly fringe he sometimes used to hide behind. She found herself appreciating the change, even if she disapproved of the cause. Of course, she already knew just by looking at him that everything was the opposite of alright, and she cringed at the likely reasoning for it.
"Why are you sat here?" She asked when Harry didn't respond to her, his eyes remaining fixed on a piece of paper in his hand. She noted with trepidation that his hand was trembling, and a cold, icy dread washed over her.
Harry was fighting an internal battle with his emotions. He didn't want to speak with Hermione, he didn't trust his voice not to betray him, but he knew that if he were to flee it would raise more questions from the bushy haired woman. Summoning as much control as he could and failing miserably, he replied.
"Draco's left. He's quit." he whispered, traitorous tears pooling in his eyes, once again. He stared hard at the letter, willing himself not to cry in front of Hermione.
"Oh." Hermione said softly, "Why?"
Harry didn't notice the discomfort in her tone; neither did he notice how she squirmed slightly where she sat. He was beyond noticing anything. Hermione could've been sat there naked and he wouldn't have had the foggiest. All he could see were Draco's knife shaped words, all he could feel were the individual wounds they had made in his heart, piercing it through so it resembled little more than Swiss cheese.
"Because that's what happens to me, isn't it? Anyone important to me just…" He paused, his throat constricting around the words. He couldn't say it, couldn't have the truth laid bare for him to see. Because the end of that sentence was horrifying and agonising, and so completely accurate. The people he cared for always left him, and he was destined to be alone.
Hermione's mouth opened and closed a few times, guilt crashing down on her like a filing cabinet full of murder cases. "I'm sure it was nothing you did, Harry…"
Harry wasn't listening, the last 24 hours whipping at his mind in a frenzied attack. He wished he could turn back time, go back to the previous day and refuse to leave Draco when he taken him home. He wished he had stayed with him, and been there when this decision to leave Aurors had been made so he could unmake it again in the same instance. He wished he had slept beside Draco, with the blonde man safe in his arms, so that when that terrible dream had occurred he could have woken and assured himself that Draco was fine, and that perhaps it was all just an awful, fictitious nightmare.
But it wasn't a nightmare. It was real, and he was still gone.
Pansy's voice echoed inside his brain, adding another knife to Draco's battalion of daggers. The desperate words she had uttered about Harry being the one, the words that had whispered Harry to sleep now sounded like a cruel joke; a vicious, merciless prank manufactured to break him when Draco walked away. He couldn't help the murmur that slipped past his numb lips
"I believed her…" he breathed, barely audible, even to himself.
Hermione began fidgeting; Harry's prolonged silence and blank expression causing the full filing cabinet to crush her even more. She was more than aware of how still he was and it disconcerted her; Harry rarely did still. He had this habit of making himself as busy as possible when he was stressed, to bury his head in the sand until it passed. This new, lifeless Harry was a frightening sight. "I understand why you're upset, Harry. I know you were fond of him. Look, I'll have Dolores run an ad for a new P.A when she gets in…" she said, hoping to get a response.
Harry didn't disappoint. Hermione considered later on that it was probably the first time she'd ever witnessed Harry lose his temper like he did, and she reasoned that it was probably then that she should have realised the extent of his feelings.
"That's not the fucking point, Mione! I don't give a flying fuck about not having a sodding P.A; I don't give a fucking shit about fucking work!" Harry cried, slamming his fists against the desk for emphasis, causing the computer monitor to wobble dangerously on its stand. The letter in his hand crumpled slightly as his fingers closed around it.
Hermione jumped at the suddenness of his outburst, even gasping a little, though she knew there was nothing to be scared of. This was Harry, after all. "Calm down, Harry." She murmured, trying to placate him.
Harry, however, didn't calm down. He couldn't. He'd wrenched open a door deep within himself, one that had been rattling since he'd read Draco's resignation, the one that hid all the ugly, selfish, angry parts of his soul. He needed to vent, needed to let himself hurt, unfortunately, Hermione was in the firing line and was being forced to witness it.
"Don't tell me to calm down, just fucking don't! I'm tired of you always trying to run my fucking life for me. He's right-" He bellowed, waving Draco's letter in Hermione's face frantically, for some unknown reason his life-long friend becoming the enemy "-I should take control and stop letting you fucking boss me around!"
Hermione's eyes fixed themselves on the paper in Harry's hand, the cold, icy dread she felt earlier once again making an appearance. She realised that she probably should have scolded him for using the 'F' word so much - more times than she had ever heard him say - but she couldn't tear her thoughts away from the paper before her. "What is that?" She whispered, making the connection between Harry's yelling of 'He's right' along with the paper, "He wrote you a letter? When?"
Harry visibly run out of steam, the door inside him that had been wide open swung closed with an unnerving crash, and he was left with the aftermath of his temper tantrum. He slumped in Draco's chair, bringing the letter that was still enclosed in his fisted hand back down to the table, laying it silently in front of him. He couldn't think straight, his emotions continuously jumping around leaving him unable to keep up. He wanted to cry again, and he wanted to move but he couldn't bring himself to leave Draco's work space.
"I don't know…before he left…maybe…" He shrugged, unconcerned with the small details and focusing on the bigger picture. The picture that looked desperately desolate without Draco standing in the front.
"May I read it?" Hermione asked, he tone inexplicably anxious.
Harry didn't look at her; however, his fingers gently pushed the letter towards her. His expression was still disconcertingly blank, and Hermione found herself genuinely worrying for her friend. She had never, in all the years she had known him, seen Harry in this kind of state, and it truly frightened her. Frightened her because she was to blame for it, but she was, in no way, prepared to change it.
She read the letter quickly, her eyes skimming over Draco's ostentatious handwriting, and paused when a particular name jumped out at her. "What's this about Riddle?" She asked, her tone stricken. How did Draco know about Riddle?
"Just read it, I'll explain after." Harry replied, sounding as though explaining was the last thing he wanted to do. Hermione continued reading, the guilt she felt increasing the further she moved down the page. When she finished, she silently handed the letter back to Harry. When he failed to begin his explanation, she prompted him. "What was he talking about, when he mentioned Riddle?"
Harry shifted in his seat. He didn't want to explain that particular part to Hermione, knowing she would turn into her control-freak alter-ego, but he found himself mumbling anyway, his tone horridly monotonous. "I visited Riddle on Halloween…"
As predicted, Hermione's gasp was full of self-righteousness, and the following rant was likely to be full of the same, however Harry swiftly cut her off. "I don't care how self-destructive you think I am. I had to meet him; I don't expect you to understand that.
Hermione visibly bristled, her expression predictably indignant, but she didn't rise to his comment. "You told Draco?" She asked, unable to keep the sullenness out of her tone. When had Harry decided to replace her as confidant?
Harry's responding nod was pitiful; he barely even bobbed his head.
"What did he mean 'What he did concerning Riddle?'" Hermione pressed, that particular detail of Draco's letter concerning her more than anything. She swallowed back the demand for Harry to speak to her when his eyes fell closed, tightening at the edges as though he were in physical pain. She reasoned that she probably wasn't far off the mark. The subject of Tom Riddle had always been agonising for her best friend.
Harry took a deep breath to try and calm himself, and when that didn't work, he tried another. His lungs felt as though they were made of lead, incapable of drawing in oxygen.
"Draco sued him." He muttered, brushing his hand through his hair, a nervous habit he had picked up from the blonde man. "He donated the money to…the children's home…He hid a file in filing room 2, with the paperwork inside. There were directions for the folder left in my blood monitoring case."
Well, if one thing was a relief, Hermione thought, it was that Harry had used his blood monitor recently, and she wouldn't have to raise the subject of his blood sugar. She had a feeling it would more than likely cause Harry's head to explode if she mentioned his diabetes now. The more important revelation of what Draco had done was slightly harder to ignore. "He did what?!" she choked, horrified.
"Unbelievable, isn't it." Harry whispered softly, mistaking her tone for disbelief. He was still reeling himself, trying to figure out why Draco would do something so amazing and then leave without warning, "That's what makes it so hard to believe that he's just left…" He murmured, continuing his thought out loud. Nothing made sense.
Silence descended over them as both lost themselves in their own thoughts. Harry's confusion, and Hermione's unravelling guilt. Abruptly, Harry stood, no longer able to just sit there and do nothing, "I have to see him." He breathed, the idea of actually seeing Draco face to face spurring him into action.
He was around Draco's desk and heading towards his office door before Hermione even had a chance to comprehend what he had said. When it sank in, panic smashed into her and she leapt off the desk to follow him.
"He said he doesn't want you to contact him, Harry. I think you should just leave it." She cried, tripping over the metal rod that held down the carpet beneath the door frame and having to grip the jamb to steady herself, twisting her ankle in the process.
Harry was unaware, focused on his coat that was on a stand behind his desk. "I can't leave it, I need to speak to him myself-" he argued. He'd drive over to Draco's flat and knock the door down until he answered, "I need to know what's really going on!"
"He's left, end of story. Just forget about him, like he asked you to do." Hermione panted, limping toward him as her ankle gave a twinge in protest.
"I can't!" Harry yelled, spinning round to face her and slamming his fist down on the desk again, causing Hermione to leap back with surprise. She frowned in annoyance as he, once again, noisily lost his temper. Her frown melted away when she saw how pale his face had become. "I can't do that, 'Mione!" he added in a desperate whisper, willing her to understand.
Hermione, however, was going to do whatever it took to make sure that that was exactly what Harry would do. She had already come this far, she had already disposed of the cause; she just needed to deal with the effect. "He's no good for you, Harry! I won't let him destroy your life!" She replied, her expression and tone completely serious.
Harry glared at her, his temper slowly heating up again until it was boiling. "You don't know what you're talking about, you don't even know him!" He spat angrily. How dare she say that about him! Draco was the best, most important part of his life - the only way the blonde could destroy Harry was by walking away. The destruction was in his absence, not his presence!
Hermione's cheeks flamed with angry colour, her hair practically crackling with static as she raised herself to her full height. "Oh, I do, Harry! I know him very well," She hissed, "I know what a low-life, spoilt, manipulative little creature he really is! It's you who is ignorant to him, you who he's targeted to be his next victim, and it was up to me to make sure that he was as far removed from you as possible!" She yelled, slightly hysterical by the end of her tirade. The very idea that Harry might have suffered through what that poor man, Theodore, had suffered turned her blood to ice.
Harry recoiled from her description of Draco, his boiling temper dropping instantly to an ice cold fury. The last part of her rant settling slowly in his brain, the words feeling unorganised, wrong in the order she had spoken them, "What?" He whispered dangerously low.
His tone didn't affect her, however. Hermione was long accustomed to standing her ground. "He didn't quit, Harry. I fired him," She said as though she were addressing a jury, completely devoid of any emotion, "I went to his place last night, after you left, and told him that if he ever came near you again I would ruin his entire family…Not that they would wish to associate themselves with the likes of him!" She finished, straightening her coat nonchalantly, like she would in court after she'd ripped a witness to shreds and was feeling particularly smug. It was clear Hermione thought she was on the winning side of the discussion.
Harry felt as though he were two steps behind her, struggling to up his pace and catch up. Her words weren't making sense "You did what?" He breathed, his fury simmering away, waiting for him to fix the pieces together.
"I had to; I had to make sure he never had the chance to hurt you. I gave him a choice, quit or be fired. Quitting, apparently, was less of a blow to his ego." She replied coolly.
The door inside him, the ugly, soul revelling door, swung open with a resounding crash, "How dare you!!!"
"Yes, I dared," Hermione yelled in response, "I'd do anything to protect one of my friends-" She slammed her hand down on the desk, much the same as Harry had before but failed to produce much of thump like he had done. Her attempt was pretty feeble, especially when his enraged voice drowned out any noise it might have made.
Rage and horror smashed into Harry with such a force it was a wonder he didn't crash through the wall behind him. Draco had left because of Hermione? This was all her fault?! The woman who been his very best friend for longer than he cared to remember, the woman who he trusted to the very last degree… "You bitch! You call him manipulative?! You need to take a look in the mirror! You just couldn't stand the thought that there might be someone more important in my life than you, could you! You want me to be miserable, and dependant on you. Does that make you feel special, Hermione, does it give your fucking life some purpose!" He bellowed, his eyes wide with accusation. He didn't care how utterly, unforgivably rude he had been - she deserved it. It wasn't Draco ruining his life…it was Hermione!
"Harry!" Hermione gasped; horrified by the conclusion he had come to, "You don't know…"
"Save it," He cut her off, swiping his coat from the stand so violently that it crashed to the ground in a heap of wood and day jackets. "I'm not interested, I don't fucking care-"
"Harry, wait please, just listen-" Hermione begged as he stomped around his desk towards the exit.
"Fuck off!" He spat as he passed her, any resemblance of manners completely lost to the torrent of undivided fury swirling inside him.
"Harry, please-" She exclaimed again, limping after him as he began to storm through the main office area. She couldn't let him leave; she wouldn't let him follow after Draco unprepared simply because she had promised the blonde man her silence. If Draco was ashamed of his past then he shouldn't have created it in the first place. Keeping Harry in the dark, for his own peace of mind as well as Draco's, was now out of the question as he seemed hell bent on running towards such a destructive person. She'd have to tell him, even if it hurt him.
"He's a drug addict!" She yelled desperately as the distance between them increased, fear and hysteria leaking into her voice causing Harry to stop so abruptly he teetered with his balance for a few seconds.
Harry felt as though he had walked into an invisible wall. He crashed to a halt, his entire body pausing in its every action. His lungs failed to pull in air, his heart failed to pump blood, his brain failed to send a single signal of command to his frozen body.
His memory bank, however, used all the extra, left-over energy to bombard him with a succession of images. One after the other, like the flickering images of slide show. Snap, snap, snap: Draco's C.V full of holes and unexplained gaps, his reluctance to speak of his past or his family. The moment he had been rushed into hospital and placed beside Harry, with nurses shouting about an overdose and Methadone…! His odd fear of needles, his weird reaction when Harry had tried to touch his arm in the hotel gardens. Draco's determination that Lavender had been on drugs, and the words he had whispered by mistake 'Even if I hadn't seen her snorting it, I'd be able to tell…I'd know. You learn to read the signs when -' God, how Harry had wished that Draco had completed that sentence…now, he wasn't so sure he wanted to know.
It couldn't be true. Draco couldn't be a drug addict, it was impossible; he was too…too…! His mind faltered. He had no idea how to finish that thought, because he didn't really know Draco at all.
A drug addict. It just seemed too seedy and dirty to be associated with Draco, a man who was the epitome of all things good and clean and safe. And he was afraid of needles. It made no sense, nothing was adding up. But then, Harry had always been a master of denial, trying not to see things that were blatantly there when it became too much. Maybe he was to blame, his eternal need to see good in everyone finally biting him in the arse.
After a stretch of agonisingly silent minutes, Hermione finally broke Harry's reverie. "I'm sorry, Harry, but it's true. When you left yesterday, I did a background check on him, just to be sure." She said to his back, "His name came up on the database…he was accused of possession, supplying and administering Methadone to his then partner, Theodore Nott, for at least 6 months." She cringed as Harry swayed where he stood. "He was dismissed from St. Mungo's training hospital for theft. He was found with high quantities of Methadone in his system. He was flagged on the database because I represented Mr Nott."
Harry's brain stuttered to halt. He whipped around so fast that Hermione visibly started, but he didn't care. "Why didn't you tell me about this? Why have you waited til now, when you knew that things were changing…?!" He demanded, his breathing so laboured he feared he'd pass out. Theo's name caused an ice cube of fury to drop heavily into his stomach, freezing everything it touched. The argument between Theo and Blaise had sounded as though Theo was the one who had destroyed Draco, not the other way around. And Draco's fear was completely unjustified; it should have been Theo fearing the big bad drug dealer. Nothing added up. "I have to see him"
"Look, Harry, I know you're angry with me, and I know all of this is bound to be difficult for you to get your head around…but-" Hermione began, stepping forward with her hand extended as though desperate to comfort him…or restrain him. Harry couldn't be sure.
"No," He interjected, shaking his head in an attempt to think clearly, "You don't know him like I do. I don't believe it, it doesn't make sense" he said forcefully.
Hermione literally stamped her foot in frustration, and Harry received a stab of satisfaction when she winced and gingerly tilted to keep her weight of her ankle. He hoped it hurt her. "Harry, the evidence is in my office, I can show you now!" she practically growled.
But his mind was made up, the words from Draco's letter choosing that moment to present themselves to him, "There are two sides to every story, he said so himself. He knew you'd say something like this, he asked me not to believe hearsay. And he was right, you'll never be able to see past what you think you know…" he murmured, shocked when he realised how true the statement was. Hermione saw things with such tunnel vision…there was every possibility that she had this completely wrong.
"Oh, Harry, open your eyes!" She all but screeched back at him, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation. "He manipulated you! He found your weakness, and he exploited it. Though I must say, he was very thorough, even going so far as to visit Riddle!" She spat nastily.
Harry staggered backwards, recoiling as though she had reached across and punched him in the face. Red-hot, acidic bile climbed up from his stomach and scorched throat, and it was all he could do to swallow it back down, enduring the agony on its return trip. It took every ounce of his strength not to fall to his knees, because he hadn't looked at it from that angle; hadn't once thought that Draco had gone through the process of getting revenge on Riddle purely to score points with Harry, to wheedle his way in. He'd only felt completely enamoured by the blonde man's loyalty and was utterly thankful. Now it seemed dirty, Hermione had tarnished it beyond recognition.
Hermione noted Harry's crumbling will with bittersweet relief, and used his silence to her advantage. "I'm so sorry, Harry." She murmured, taking a cautious step towards him, "I didn't want to hurt you -"
She paused as Harry visibly cringed, Draco's similar words echoing loudly in his ear "I know you were fond of him, but you have to see the truth. He's rotten, and you're better off without him."
Harry finally broke. His walls crashed down around him with sickening finality as his heart fractured straight down the middle. How could she not see? Why wasn't she calling an ambulance? Surely it was visible, his pain oozing out of him like congealed blood. He looked Hermione square in the eye, the tears he now had no control over pooling against his emerald irises, waiting for the blink that would send them cascading over his cheeks. "You don't know anything." He croaked, his voice breaking twice.
Hermione stared at him as though he had grown another head, she shifted awkwardly as though trying not to acknowledge his display of emotion - as though she hoped she was imagining it. "I know that I did the right thing. I've gotten rid of him, you'll find a new P.A and things will go back to normal." She said with a confident nod, though her expression was uncertain.
A thin, almost invisible drop of pity dripped into Harry's consciousness as he stared at the woman before him. She really was completely ignorant, and grossly misinformed. Did she really think that things were that simple? "No they won't." he breathed with a tiny shake of his head.
"They will, Harry. Trust me, this is for the best." Hermione soothed, taking another step towards him until she was within reaching distance.
Harry shook his head more determinedly, his eyelids falling closed for a fraction of a second sending a torrent of tears to wash a trail down his face "Hermione, you don't understand…you've got no idea what you've…" He whispered, a sob escaping him on the last word. She had no idea!
Hermione gasped. It sounded pained; as though Harry's obvious sorrow was her own, "Harry! Oh, Harry, what is it?" She whispered, reaching out to comfort him only for him to take a step back. She held her hand out, as though his rebuff had frozen her. Her expression horrified, agonised, and it only became worse as the minutes stretched on and more tears fell from Harry's dull, lifeless eyes.
"I'm in love with him." he finally whispered, and it was then that Hermione realised that if she lived to be a thousand years old…Harry would never forgive her for what she had done.
To Be Continued…
***
Thank you for reading xxx
Oh, P.S, My little dude has got his Nativity today - he's the Inn Keeper! Hurrah, my son - the businessman, I'm so proud!