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Chapter 6 – Reversed
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"Potter, you have to fuck me - fuck me now."
Harry froze. It would be an understatement to say Harry had been hoping for an opportunity to do such thing – more like dying for one – but now that Draco had offered, taking it had never been further from his mind.
"Draco, what the hell are you saying?" Harry choked out in shock.
The ragged breaths became shallower, sounding as if he was suffocating, but Draco kept speaking, forcefully grabbing onto Harry's hand. "Fuck me," Harry stared in alarm as the man doubled over, "Either – either fuck me, or give me the drugs. It hurts, I need it –"
This must be what Pye was talking about. Sexual frustration. But why would that cause… pain?
"I can't do that," Harry said uncertainly. "Combined with your weak mentality you could be permanently damaged if I take you by force –"
Draco gave a shout that was both from pain and exasperation. "Does this look –" He pulled off the cover, revealing a fully erect penis, " – like I don't want it?"
Harry had to take a moment to recover from his shock, and to pull his eyes away from Draco's irresistible cock. "Look," Harry said, shaking his head to throw off his confusion and bewilderment. "You're in pain, you're irrational. I'm going to give you a Calming Draught and then I think you should get some rest –"
"Oh you bloody idiot! How am I supposed to get some rest when I'm in fucking agony!"
Harry narrowed his eyes and snatched his hand away, realization dawning. "You're not Draco, you're… Malfoy."
"Oh well done, ten points for your excellent deduction!" Draco all but snarled. "Now just do it! You've been wanting to, anyway, here's your perfect chance!"
Harry didn't rise to the bait. The Draco he knew had disappeared, leaving the very personality of a boy he once despised in his stead. And this personality, just like before, knew just exactly how to push Harry over the edge.
"I'm not going to fuck you, Malfoy," Harry said slowly, watching Draco's expression turning into one of bewildered helplessness. "I'll give you a Sleeping Potion, so you can sleep off the pain."
"Potter," Draco said urgently, reaching for him. Harry was forced to catch him before he fell off the bed. "Are you going to torture me? Do you want me to beg before you help me? Where's your heroic save-them-all attitude?" Draco locked his gaze, and Harry found it hurt to look at him too long. Draco's pain felt like his own, except this man wasn't Draco…
Or perhaps, this was the real Draco.
"Please." The word was so agonizingly earnest, so desperate, that it shot straight to Harry's cock. Not knowing what to do was the understatement of the year. Harry could barely comprehend the situation. But before he could get any farther than that, Draco had put his hand over the bulge in his pants and squeezed.
Harry would have pulled away, he would, but that was impossible unless he wanted Draco to fall off the bed. So he did the only thing he could think of, and pushed him back into his mattress and pillows. Draco didn't relent his hold on Harry's shirt, which unavoidably resulted in Harry lying half on top of Draco.
"Fuck," Harry cursed angrily as he tried to get into some sort of appropriate position that didn't involve touching Draco in anyway. This would have been successful, of course, if Draco didn't start rubbing his palm purposefully and firmly against his erection.
"You want this." Draco's voice was soft, a whispery moan.
Harry had never heard of anyone's voice like this before, so unbelievably sensuous and seductive, better than porn or the sounds of any girl. That alone was so surprising that Harry, for a moment, forgot that he was supposed to be indignantly refusing Draco's advances.
"You like it."
Harry bit his lip to refrain the inexplicable need to answer, probably in the form of incoherent pleasure, or worse, a clear affirmation. And then Draco stopped talking, which was a good thing, except now he had taken liberty to begin moaning into his ear like some sort of sex slave, or… or… something.
Harry didn't have time to think much, not when Draco wrapped his legs around Harry's waist quite firmly and began thrusting upward, and suddenly Harry was very aware of how naked Draco was, and how hot his body felt, feverish, even, and then he came to his senses.
"Draco, you're sick," Harry said, grabbing Draco's waist to stop him from moving. "You need to sleep, and if you don't let me go right now I'll knock you out."
Draco looked at him with eyes of liquid gray, so dark and confused that it seemed like he was struggling to make sense of Harry's words through his arousal. And then he opened his mouth, and Harry nearly came undone by the words that followed.
"I'm not your Draco," he breathed, nimble fingers unzipping Harry's trousers. "Unless you want him back, but then he will feel pain worse than the Cruciatus, and you can't stop it." Harry gasped as Draco's fingers curled around his cock and pulled gently. "Except that's not true, and you can. But you won't."
And then the hand was gone, and Harry was looking into Draco's eyes, the same eyes of the boy he hated years ago. "You can fuck me now, and make the pain go away. Or I can give you back your Draco, and then he will hurt for a long time, and there will be nothing you can do, because you'll have driven him insane." The grin on his face was maddening. It said that he knew exactly where he had Harry, clutched in the palm of his hand, easy to control, easy to use.
The idea hammered into his brain and shattered his grip on logic. He pushed Draco down and smiled grimly when he stared up at him in alarm.
"You want a fuck?" Harry said, his voice low as he dug his nails into Draco's leg and held both his wrists in his other hand. Something dark and satisfying rose in him, intensifying when Draco gasped out in pain.
"Then you'll get one."
It only fed his fury when Draco smiled in reply.
They fumbled for a while, trying to get Harry's clothes off. It didn't seem to matter to Draco whether Harry was naked or not, the way he kept touching Harry's cock in anyway possible. It was clear, after about two minutes, that if their genitals were touching in anyway, Draco would calm down and breathe a little easier, as if it helped his pain to be so close to another man's bits. That, and how Draco kept moaning urgently for Harry to fuck him, fuck him, let Harry know that he was only doing it to get rid of Draco's pain, that this wasn't a romantic act, or even an act of sex, really. All Harry was doing was easing Draco's suffering in the only way he could.
That reminder made his anger ebb away just a little, and he slowed down, hands pressing Draco's shoulders to the mattress to keep him from squirming. When Draco stopped doing so and opted to stare up at Harry, wide eyed and breathing hard, Harry searched for some sort of lubricant (he had never needed it before) and got his hand on the lotion Hermione bought him for his previous birthday.
The smell of sandalwood filled the air as Harry dribbled the lotion into his hand, smearing it over his fingers, and, with one last look at Draco, gently, like he had never before, pushed a finger between his buttocks to prepare him.
The first hiss that left Draco's mouth made him pause, but it quickly turned into a quiet, encouraging moan. Harry resumed his task, carefully adding another finger when Draco began pushing back restlessly. Harry growled low in his throat and jabbed in a vicious manner, making Draco scream and glare and still. Harry was glad for it, didn't think he could bear having Draco responding to him when he didn't mean it, when it was all because of a convenient side effect of a cruel and inhuman experiment.
"Okay," Draco said, so quietly that Harry almost didn't hear him. But he did hear, so with one last thrust he retreated his fingers from inside Draco.
After slicking himself generously, Harry moved between Draco's legs and pulled them up by his thighs. If Draco was uncomfortable, he didn't show it. Instead, he wound his arms around Harry's neck and pulled him closer.
I'm really doing this, was the last of Harry's thoughts before Draco pressing against him propelled him into action. With slow and deliberate movement Harry pushed inside the other man, squeezing his eyes shut at the sensation of tightness squeezing him. God, but Draco was all heat as he molded himself perfectly around him, and with every push Harry was reminded of it, the sort of burning that made it difficult for Harry to keep his control. It was barely doable, but finally, Merlin's fucking balls finally, he was completely sheathed inside Draco.
They were both breathing heavily. Harry opened his eyes and was met with the sight of Draco's face, softly flushed in the golden glow of the lamp, lips parted, brows and lashes and hair damp like he'd just run a mile. Harry didn't think he had ever seen anything or anyone, more beautiful in his life. He didn't think he had ever had these thoughts while having sex before, either, and that managed to pull him back to reality, as much as Draco's husky whisper of "Do it, do it now." in his ear.
So with a firm grip on Draco's legs, Harry pulled out and pushed back in with a quick motion, did it again when Draco urged him on, touching him everywhere, his chest, his shoulders, clawing at his back when he moved a certain way, crying out when he changed his angle a little bit. Those sounds were hot and seductive; they buried him in a sort of frenzied, repetitive movements of out, in, out, in, and it could've been like sex with all the nameless women he had had before, but it wasn't, because Draco was just so fucking beautiful and he was writhing under him, pulling him in so desperately and yet pushing him away with an almost pitiful confusion full of lust.
When Draco arched off the bed and clutched at Harry's shoulders tightly, Harry wrapped a hand around Draco's cock and stroked him until he was coming, coming and sobbing in relief. It was twisted, and horrifying, but Harry was still hard despite it all, and he kept moving inside Draco, soaked in that tight, wonderful heat, letting it consume him, burn him, squeeze and spasm around his member as if telling him to come, let it go, just –
"You're so easy, Potter." Harry opened his eyes long enough to see Draco's sneering face and watch his mouth move as those words came pouring out. He watched as that wicked face morphed and reformed into an expression of complete bewilderment and confusion, watched helplessly as Draco, his Draco stared up at him in dawning realization. All he could do was watch, because he was coming inside him, hips jerking in short, quick jabs as his orgasm was torn out of him almost violently, like how the terrifying scream was tearing out from Draco's mouth now, a sound so heartbreaking and full of betrayal that Harry could only reply with a choked sob, drowned by the sound of Draco's pain, infinitely worse than before because now, it was he who caused it.
-
December 28…
The Ministry of Magic was renovated the year after Voldemort was defeated. The Department of Mystery was moved to another Level, this one entirely hidden from Ministry officials saved for the Minister and the Unspeakables. All the records from level nine were destroyed, since it was penetrated by Death Eaters and certain people with a hero complex in 1996, and subsequently Death Eaters. As it was, all of Level Nine was destroyed for the protection of the wizarding world's secrets, amongst other things.
The new and improved Dept. of Mystery was where Hermione Granger was heading right now, five hours off the plane. Ron and the kids were at home, sleeping. She had slipped away from their bed at six in the morning and five minutes later, she was dialing the code from the phone booth that would take her directly to the hall of the Dept. of Mystery.
The golden lights reflected against the glassy, blue walls and floor as she walked through an archway and stopped at a dead end. Taking out her wand, Hermione tapped the stone rhythmically and then stood back. Very suddenly, the wall melted away to reveal a room housing about a dozen people. When they saw her, they took their seat around a round, large table, growing quiet.
Once she was inside, the wall reappeared and shut them in complete seclusion.
"Glad you're back, Hermione," a dark-skinned man said with apparent relief, gesturing to the empty seat beside him.
"Glad to be back, Blaise," she replied curtly and took her seat, opening the folder that Blaise Zabini handed to her. "Any news?"
"Pye is on the move," Blaise supplied.
The man next to him nodded, saying, "We got another spy into the Institute." His shaggy, black hair fell down his shoulders as he shook his head and pushed his rectangular glasses up his nose.
"Fox?" Hermione asked. He wasn't present today.
"No, Swan. Fox's gone on vacation. The last job was a little too much for him, we're afraid."
Hermione looked at him sharply. "Swan's back? I thought he was in Bulgaria – what –" Hermione took a deep breath and straightened. "Never mind, what's he found?"
"Not much. Pye's research is still continuing. Swan's trying to find out where he keeps all his 'experiments.'"
"No luck?"
"So far, but there's some sort of commotion in their inner circle. An escapee, it seems."
"Really? Do we have a trace?"
"Not yet, but he's one of the earliest of Pye's experiments." Meaningful looks were exchanged.
Hermione nodded. "So most likely he knows many things. What's Swan proposing to do?"
"He said to give him a few days to scout out the place and find out the name of the escapee, or at least, his identification code."
" Good enough for now. Any news on his drugs and where they're going?"
"No. The last shipment was loaded for Cambodia, but the Aurors intercepted and confiscated them. We've been doing our own research on them but we still can't extract the individual ingredients."
"And since that last failed expedition, he's been lying low. Not even a hair's breath of disturbance."
Hermione rubbed her forehead tiredly. She supposed the lack of sleep was catching up with her. "I guess we should just observe at this point. The only hope we have is the person who escaped Pye. Helen, tell your team to keep trying to catalyze the drug until we find whatever the fuck that he's putting in there to make those bodies we found like that. Tyler, make sure Swan's appropriately equipped and with proper backups. I don't want the same thing to happen to him like it did our last spy. I also want another spy inside the Muggle's government. One of the higher ups is involved in a prostitution ring in London that indirectly has dealings with Pye, so he needs to be identified. Then let Kingsley know so he could arrange for the Aurors to handle his arrest."
They all nodded at her and then stood to leave. Hermione and Blaise were the last ones out. Instead of leaving like the others, they stood and waited until the wall was firmly in place, and then Blaise was tapping his wand in a new rhythm on the stone. The room that appeared this time was full of safes and documents piled up in many tall columns.
Hermione stepped inside her office and sigh, "Home, sweet home."
Blaise grinned. "How was the vacation?"
"Absolutely appalling. Ron's terribly sun burnt because he didn't like the smell of sunscreen lotion. Rose tried to hex a little boy for stealing her potions textbook. I knew it was a mistake teaching her to read too early. And then Hugo disappeared for a whole day and for some reason his Trace wasn't working. We found him later that day and discovered that Hugo can do a pretty powerful finite incantatum."
"But he's only two," Blaise said, pouring two cups of coffee. "Isn't that a bit early to do any spell?"
"Oh no. It was entirely wandless and wordless. Thanks." Hermione accepted her cup from Blaise and sipped it slowly. "Though I wasn't surprised. He is my son, after all."
Blaise was amused. "You are modest."
Hermione smiled at him, pausing in the process of pulling out another stack of paperwork. "No modesty is needed when Hugo is concerned. He just read me his first word on the plane. Unspeakable, he said. Four syllables. Can you believe it?"
"So you were working on the plane then?"
"Don't worry. Everyone was sleeping and I just wanted to review what you sent me."
Blaise's expression turned serious. "Did you also look over the recent developments?"
Hermione nodded. "I must say that's one of the reasons why I came back early. And I'm glad you kept it a secret from the others, Blaise."
"I thought you might want to assess the situation first… Talk to Potter, see if he knows anything."
Hermione sighed, giving Blaise an exasperated look. "Look, Harry's not like that. He wouldn't be involved with Pye."
"It's not like he's keeping with the law, either." Blaise crossed his arms, staring back at her with equal stubbornness. "He's proven in the past few years that a few underhanded transactions aren't above his level, so forgive me if I'm a little reluctant to jump to his defense."
"I didn't say –" Hermione began, and shut her mouth. She didn't want to get into another argument about Harry. Blaise had always been up front about what he thought of him, especially with Harry's less than legal business, and she just didn't mean his financial firm. Harry kept open a few nightclubs in London that were decoys serving instead as a safe ground for criminals to discuss and handle their businesses. The only reason why Blaise hadn't been able to open a case file on Harry was because none of those dealings broke the Statue of Secrecy. Or rather, Hermione had made sure to erase all of Harry's magical traces even if he did use magic unwisely.
She was only his friend, after all.
"Either way, I'd appreciate it if you keep this a secret a while longer, just until I've made sure Harry's innocent."
Blaise shrugged. "You're the boss."
"Thanks. You're a good friend," Hermione said, smiling when Blaise gave a surly huff. "Now tell me, why didn't anyone let me know Swan was back in England?"
-
The water poured down his body in a cascade of scalding heat. Harry scrubbed his face hard, trying to clean away the things he'd done, mere moments ago. His skin burned but that was nothing compared to how he was feeling, a pain that scorched him so violently it made him sick. The image wouldn't leave his head, of Draco's wide, horror-filled eyes looking up at him in disbelief and betrayal – oh gods, he betrayed Draco – and his voice heartbreaking as he screamed in pain. All he had been able to do was stare back, incapable of stopping when he was coming inside him, and it was disgusting and vile but it had felt so good, Draco beneath him and his skin lily-white and warm and gods he was sick sick sick –
Harry turned off the faucet and stepped out of the shower, forcing his mind away from the memories or the nausea really made him sick. Grabbing a towel and pulling it around his waist, Harry decided to go into his office today. It was established that he stayed home around the holidays, especially after the last stressful Christmas, but he didn't think he could bear to be around Draco now. He wasn't even sure if Draco wanted to see him, ever again.
No, best to stay away until this problem simmered down. Or rather, Harry simmered down. He was bombarded with multiple emotions, none of which he quite knew how to handle at the moment, and didn't want to, either. Therefore, the best plan was to ignore it.
Harry entered the bedroom and dressed quickly into a black suit and green tie. Once he was done, Harry did something he rarely did, nowadays, and Disapparated.
-
It was oddly unsettling; work had always had a way of calming him down, what with all the new accounts to bring in and the debts to call in, and that was only when Harry was handling the big bosses.
Even today, when he was out to oversee an important transaction with the Italian don, with the taste and smell of danger surrounding him like a safety blanket, Harry still couldn't be distracted. The memory of Draco kept gnawing at his mind like some sort of leech, sucking away his concentration, his sanity, his barriers. In a horrifying, brief moment, as he stood behind the warehouse watching the cargoes being loaded, Harry felt vulnerable, as if he was twelve again and everything he knew was quickly falling apart around him. That feeling of loss, of helplessness, scared him so bad he had nearly fallen to his knees.
He had pulled himself together, of course he would, because he knew that was silly. He was no longer helpless, no longer vulnerable. Here was the man who rose from being a boy manipulated by everyone he knew to a man who was so powerful that even Massimiliano, the one of the greatest mafia bosses to have ever been inducted into the lawless world, got cautious when dealing with him. No, Harry was different now. With the banishment of Voldemort came the painful realization that trust was superfluous — stupid to have in this world, a world that abandoned him, used him and spat him back out when it was done.
He had been betrayed by the magical world, the world that saved him and then showed him just exactly why. Their reason was his decision to leave the wizarding life for good.
He was nineteen when he learned that being a Gryffindor had done nothing but made him a perfect puppy in a manipulative game of politics and power. He had decided then, to hell with Gryffindor, it was high time he got in touch with his other side, the one that he tried so hard to suppress since the moment the Sorting Hat told him just who he was.
You'd do great in Slytherin.
Well, he wasn't Slytherin, but that didn't mean he couldn't be one.
And fuck yes, he would be a great one.
Three years later, everything he worked for to achieve became more than he had ever imagined. He understood, now, how Voldemort must have felt like, holding power in his hands, craving it so desperately, the fear, the respect, the control – they were so addictive. They gave him a sense of self, reassurance that he was himself, his own person to do as he pleased and not as others wished. The power belonged to him, and as long as he had that, he would be safe from the feelings that had once permeated his entire existence. He would be his own.
So when Harry found himself standing in the darkness watching his men labor, it terrified him to feel all those things again. It was even more terrifying to know that no matter how much power he had, there was no possible, conceivable way for him to rise to the surface again. This time, he had encountered a power so monstrous and inexplicable that he was helpless against its grip, trapped in its rippling presence and he knew this for certain because he, in all his glorifying and dazzling dominance, did not want to break its grip. It was scary, and foolish, but Harry knew that there was no way he could break free when the person caging him in with a power he so obliviously possessed was Draco Malfoy.
Draco Malfoy, the man who was so fucked up he might as well die and save himself from his own torments.
Draco Malfoy, who might only be playing with the strings of Harry's heart for an entirely more clandestine purpose that was most likely had nothing to do with love.
-
When Harry got back home later that night, his mood still hadn't lifted one bit. With all the willpower he had, Harry pulled himself together and entered Draco's bedroom.
For a moment the silence confused him, but with a horrible sinking feeling in his guts, Harry realized the room was empty.
A thousand scenarios crossed his mind as he searched the entire house for any trace of Draco. There didn't seem to be signs of struggling, so it was possible that Draco wasn't kidnapped. Another bout of gut-clenching feeling hit him and Harry wondered if Draco had run away. It wasn't so far fetched; anyone would've done it after what Harry'd done.
The feeling of loss overwhelmed Harry so utterly that it was minutes until Harry heard running water coming from the kitchen. Hesitantly and with trepidation, Harry moved toward the sound until he saw the light flickering in the room, expelling a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding until he saw Draco pouring himself a glass of water.
Draco's still here. Not gone yet, oh Merlin –
"Draco," Harry said gently, taking a step into the kitchen.
Draco's reaction to his voice was like a rabbit cornered by some sort of vicious predator. The glass in his hand dropped to the floor as he jerked around in panic. Harry thought it was his heart shattering and not the glass on the floor when he saw the way Draco was looking as him, with every muscle in his face frozen in a perfect expression of fear and his body taut with tension, ready to spring at first sign of attack.
If Harry had any doubts about what he had become to Draco before, that face confirmed them all. He was a monster in Draco's eyes.
The moment of heavy silence was broken when Draco spoke, his lips trembling from the effort, "Sorry. I'll clean this up –"
Harry moved then. "Leave it, Draco. I'll take care of –" The words died on his lips when his hand accidentally brushed against Draco, and for a moment Harry thought he had died because Draco's entire body snapped backward away from him so fast the man nearly banged his head against the sink.
"S-sorry," Draco said, the word so broken and full of tears it tore something fundamental in Harry's heart.
"Draco," Harry began, wanting to say a million things to him and yet there were no words. There was nothing he could say to explain why he'd done what he'd done. There was no turning back, no way to apologize to make things right.
"Draco," Harry said again, reaching out a hand to press against Draco's forehead and ignoring the way Draco flinched. "You're burning up." This revelation was like the final crack on the lock that had held all his emotions at bay. Harry exploded. "Fuck, why the hell didn't you call me? Have you been like this since last night?" Without waiting for Draco to answer Harry bodily lifted him up and carried him all the way into his bedroom.
"Lie down," Harry said. "I – I'll get you something to eat and then you can take a pill or something."
Draco only stared at him wide-eyed. Well, it was better than that "you're-a-monster" face he was directing at Harry earlier.
It wasn't until Harry got into the kitchen that he realized he had no bloody clue what to do. He hadn't cooked for himself in years, and since he always worked late and ate out, had never bothered to buy groceries. In the past week that Draco had been here, they'd always eaten out so it wasn't like Harry had any reason to shop for food. Gods, he was such a mess.
Eventually, Harry took a deep breath and swallowed his pride. He had promised himself he would never let himself voluntarily touch anything that'd got to do with his past, but Draco's health was on the line, and unfortunately it seemed like there was nothing else he could do. So Harry closed his eyes and shouted, "Kreacher!"
The house-elf appeared instantly, looking slightly confused but extremely hopeful. "Master Harry!" Kreacher said in a hoarse, dreamy voice, falling on his knees in front of Harry and looking for all the world so grateful it was heartbreaking. "It is no dream. Master Harry is need his servant once more. Kreacher is so glad, so grateful –"
"Kreacher," Harry said impatiently, ignoring the conflicting memories that surfaced in his mind at the sight of his house-elf, whom he hadn't seen in three long years. "I need you to do something for me."
"Anything, Master Harry," Kreacher's face was bright with excitement even if his voice held nothing but the propriety of a well behaved elf from an ancient, rich family. "Kreacher is at your service, always, always –"
"Draco's sick," Harry said, ignoring the elf's confused squeak of "Draco Malfoy?" and pointing to his kitchen. "I need you to make him something to eat so he can take his medicine. Can you do that?"
Kreacher nodded, his head bobbing so fast that for a moment Harry was afraid it would fall off his neck. He squashed down the guilt that bubbled up inside him from years of neglecting Kreacher. That seemed to be a recurring emotion in his life lately. Harry didn't like it one bit. Guilt seemed to imply that he had come to be uncertain, or worse, regretful of his past choices.
He wasn't. He had made them and he stood by them, even now. It didn't matter if he abandoned a few people in the process. It wasn't as if he hadn't been abandoned before, and if he could live with it, so could they.
While Kreacher prepared a meal, Harry went to the fireplace in his living room, planning to summon Severus. It took him a moment to remember where he'd put the Floo powder. It had been so long since he'd used it, and he only had it because Hermione insisted he kept some in the house. Sometimes, he loved that girl so fucking much.
The fire rushed around him and when he opened his eyes, Harry saw Severus's lab, in Hogwarts. "Severus!" Harry shouted. It was hardly a second later when Severus appeared, looking surprised to see whose face was in the hearth of his fireplace.
"Potter, what are you doing here?" Something akin to worry flashed in his eyes. "Is it Draco? Has his condition exacerbated?"
"He's having a fever," Harry said, not wanting to elaborate. "Did you manage to come up with anything to stop the onslaught of those side-effects?"
Severus frowned. "Not completely." Harry didn't have a chance to ask because Severus was walking away, toward his working table. He grabbed three bottles of potions and returned to the fireplace. "Move aside. I'm coming."
Harry was hardly a foot away from his own fireplace when Severus came out through the green flame, brushing an invisible speck of ash off his black robe. Harry would never know how he was capable of Floo traveling without being covered in soot.
"That fireplace's never been used for Floo, has it?" Severus commented. Harry shrugged.
"Master Harry, dinner is prepared," Kreacher announced, looking very pleased with himself as he held up a tray full of food. They smelled delicious.
"Thank you, Kreacher," Harry said, ignoring Severus's raised eyebrow and taking the tray from the house-elf. "You can go now."
Kreacher looked absolutely crushed. That guilty feeling was making Harry's insides squirmed. "Or you can hang around. Help me clean the house?"
The elf's eyes brightened considerably before he bowed. "Of course, Master Harry." And then, for an uncharacteristic moment, Kreacher came forward and hugged Harry's leg.
"Okay, Kreacher. You're dismissed," Harry said sternly, feeling very uncomfortable with this public display of emotions, especially in front of Severus.
Once Kreacher was gone, Harry said before Severus could speak, "Not a word." Severus smirked knowingly and followed him into Draco's room.
Severus began speaking as they walked. "I did some tests on his blood sample from yesterday and compared it with the one I took earlier this week. The levels of hormones from the two samples vary in their results, leading me to chart out multiple diagrams of possibilities." Severus looked at Harry's face and sneered. "Knowing your inadequate knowledge in the art of science, I will only say that I shall be here often to observe Draco and perform tests on him to narrow down my predictions. Once I've done that, then I shall be able to begin my search for a cure."
"What are your predictions?" Harry said, standing outside Draco's bedroom.
"They're rather complicated, but it involves much of his ability, or lack thereof, to cope with stress. I just need to find out what the origin of these erratic levels of hormones. They're completely out of normal physiological thresholds, and even more so at the amount presented during time of high distress and otherwise. They also seem to be the reason for Draco's stunted growth, oddly enough…"
"Okay Severus, you're talking to yourself," Harry interrupted, halting Severus in his musing. "I'll just leave this in your hands, alright?"
Severus raised an eyebrow. That was perhaps the closest Harry had ever come to say that he trusted him. An extraordinary compliment, if Severus did say so himself. "I'm flattered," Severus drawled. "Let's go inside. Draco's waiting."
Harry nodded, but hesitated. He wanted to tell Severus what had happened last night after the man left, but he was afraid. It had been all so surreal, something intangible, a hazy memory, and putting it into words would be like creating its existence, and Harry really didn't want to go through the horrible emotions he'd felt right after he … used Draco like that.
But it was important that Severus knew there were two Dracos in that body, and Harry didn't want to leave anything that might help speed up the blonde's healing process in the shadow just for his own peace of mind. With a sigh Harry began, "Severus, you need to know, when you left yesterday, Draco began acting really strange."
Severus raised an eyebrow. "Elaborate."
Harry winced and took a deep breath. "He told me to fuck him." Severus's eyes widened, looking as if he were about to speak, so Harry continued quickly before he lost his nerves. "And he wasn't himself. It was like there was another person speaking, like the Malfoy I knew back at Hogwarts."
"You're telling me that there might be a chance that Draco has multiple personalities?"
"Yes, because," Harry braced himself and said through his teeth, "Because while I was fucking him he changed into another person, the one he is now."
When the silence that stretched out between them became long enough to be considered awkward, Harry took a peek at Severus. And fervently wished he hadn't. The man looked about on the verge of implosion. It was clear the Severus knew the implied consequences of Harry's actions. "Severus –"
"Do not," Severus said, his voice trembling with barely restrained rage. "Say a word. You did a very, very stupid thing, Potter, and I don't want to speak to you until I've made certain Draco has survived your inexplicable foolishness." With those words, Severus turned the knob and pushed the door open. Harry winced and followed him inside.
Draco was lying on the white bed, eyes closed and hair fanned out on his pillow like a golden crown. Harry's heart tightened at the sight, Severus momentarily forgotten. How could he ever have thought Draco ugly before? The man was practically an angel, or something equally lovely but less cliché. Was it because of the experiments? Had he always been this way? Harry found it mattered little what the reasons were. The Draco right now, right here, lying in a large bed that was practically overrun by pillows, was someone Harry could look at forever and never get tired. That was a true yet entirely unsettling thought, Harry realized with no less apprehension. To distract himself, Harry shook Draco gently, rousing him from his sleep.
"Draco, wake up. Your food's here."
Draco gave a little moan, and the sound brought back Harry's memories of the previous night as though he were drowning in a Pensieve. The noises Draco had made, his touches, his arousal – they all came rushing back like shadows wrapping around him. Harry was ashamed to discover that despite whatever regrets he held for taking advantage of Draco when he was most vulnerable, there was still a smaller, more insistent part of him that would give anything to have Draco writhing in his arms once again. You're a fucking monster, Harry Potter, an immoral, heartless monster, Harry told himself, but it did nothing to ease his desire for Draco.
However, the way Draco inched back from Harry did wither his lust a bit. Harry swallowed the lump in his throat and stepped back after placing the tray of food in front of Draco. "Eat, and then you can take some medicine. Severus is here to check up on you."
As if on cue, Severus stepped forward and pushed Harry roughly away. "How are you feeling, Draco?" Severus asked and handed Draco a spoon, ignoring the withering look Harry was sending him.
"I'm fine," Draco said. Severus had to bite back a sarcastic remark at the obvious lie. Draco's face was flushed and his hair was damp with sweat, both of which were clear signs of a high fever. He pulled out his wand and saw Draco's face morphed into a cautious expression. "I'm just going to perform some spells on your body to check your vital signs. Rest assured, it will not hurt."
Draco glanced at Harry for a second, and then, very slowly, nodded. Severus tried to give him an encouraging smile, but from the way Draco looked, he was most certainly unsuccessful. He was not surprised, however disappointed that he was in his inability to reassure his own godson. Encouragement was, clearly, not his forte.
Draco began eating while Severus cast one spell after another over him, muttering to himself and charting whatever it was he felt was important on an airborne parchment. When he saw that Draco was finished eating, he ended his examination and retrieved from his robes three vials filled with different colored potions. "This is for your fever," Severus said, uncorking the blue vial and handing it to Draco. "Drink this and you'll be fine after a nap." As Draco carried out his command, Severus placed the other bottles, one blue and one clear colored, on the nightstand. "This is a Calming Draught, reserved for when you are inflicted with pain or uneasiness. If it doesn't work, then I want you take this Dreamless Sleeping Potion. I added a heavy dosage of sopohorous beans so it should knock you out instantly. This way, you will not be compelled to do anything reckless." Here he threw Harry a nasty glare. Harry could only return the look wordlessly, not wanting to argue his case while Draco was gazing at him with those wide, cautious eyes like he was about to spontaneously attack him.
"Now," Severus said, returning his full attention to Draco. "Do you remember anything about last night, starting from the moment when you collapsed in the bathroom?"
Draco frowned for a moment. "I was taking a shower, and accidentally scratched my foot on the shower drain, and then I was in a lot of pain." Draco looked up at Severus. "I think that's when you and Harry came into the bathroom. Everything was a little hazy after that."
"Did you remember," Severus cleared his throat and told himself he was not embarrassed, and most certainly not turning red. Harry coughed lightly behind him. Oh for Merlin's sake. "Did you remember what you said to Harry after I left?"
Draco glanced at Harry again and looked away just as quickly. "No," he answered. "I think I passed out after you left, until…" Draco's silence settled among them uncomfortably, as they all understood exactly what the unspoken words were.
"Well," Severus said, deciding that a change of subject was in order. "If you could hold out your hand, I'd like to take a small sample of your blood." Draco complied. Severus tapped his arm with his wand and let the drops of blood fall into a bottle. He corked it and stood up. "I'll be back tomorrow to see you again. If you are better by then, I shall take you to Diagon Alley."
At those words Harry's eyes narrowed. "Severus, what did you just say?"
Severus turned to him and spoke coolly, "We'll discuss this outside." To Draco, he said in a softer voice, "I'll see you tomorrow."
Draco nodded. "Bye, Severus."
When the door closed behind them, Harry turned to Severus furiously. "I never gave you permission to take Draco to Diagon Alley!"
"Draco is not yours to give permission to," Severus said coldly. "He is his own person, and you have no right to keep him from knowing his heritage just because you don't want anything to do with yours."
Harry staggered back as if he was struck in the face. Not once in their relationship had they ever mentioned the reason for Harry's alienation from the wizarding world, though Severus knew it as well as the palm of his hand. Harry always figured he could count on Severus to understand his reasons, to know why Harry had to keep away from the world that had taken so much from him. But from the way he had just sniped at him, it was clear that Severus never knew him at all. The thought cut right through his heart like an open, unwavering blade. If Severus aimed to hurt, then he had succeeded.
Severus shook his head, knowing that he had overstepped his boundary. He wanted to say something to take that look off Harry's face, but he had meant every word and to say anything more would be superfluous. "I'll be here tomorrow in the afternoon to pick Draco up. Good night." Without waiting for an answer, Severus Disapparated.
Harry stood in the hallway, overwhelmed by an onslaught of warring emotions. It seemed that lately everything from the past – from the life that he had walked away – was coming back to haunt him. He hardly ever performed magic anymore, and most certainly not for the sake of another person, but ever since Draco had stumbled into his life, nothing was the same. For god's sake he summoned Kreacher, of all things!
Turning to the door, Harry put his hand on the knob and paused. Thinking about Draco made him both angry and guilty. Angry because it was Draco who came into his life and turned it up side down in his oblivious, irresistible and un-fucking-believably messed up way. Angry because it was Draco who broke down the walls around his battered heart and made him love it despite his inability to trust anything Draco said because of his suspicious, forgotten past.
But he felt so fucking guilty because he'd hurt the one person who made him feel like he was anything but a lonely, bitter bastard in years.
Taking a deep breath, Harry turned the knob and entered the room, having absolutely no idea what the hell he was going to say – could say to make Draco look at him in any other ways than as if he was a monster ready to beat the crap out of him.
-
Otter,
I'm in. Situation here is fucking weird. Hardly sees anyone, except for the receptionist, who is so robotic she might as well be Imperius-ed. Turns out that's just the way she is. Have not seen the target. The place is heavily warded, especially around the elevator. It reminds me of the office's phone booth. Will give you a detailed report in our usual spot. You know when.
I miss you.
Swan
Hermione crumbled the note and incinerated it. She sat in her seat for a long time, staring at the pile of paperwork on her desk as the last three words danced before her eyes. The unbidden memories she'd tried so hard to suppress resurfaced in her mind like the rush of a tidal wave. Swan's been gone for three years, since before she became head of the Department of Mysteries. Hermione had almost hoped he'd be away forever on that mission, but sadly enough luck was not on her side.
Hermione took a deep breath and pulled out a folder. She could do this. She could face him without allowing her emotions – or his – to get in the way. She was his boss. Their relationship was a purely professional one.
It hadn't been anything else since he left England three years ago without a word.
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To Be Continued…
Chapter 7 – Mistrust
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A/N: As always, many thanks to CuriousDreamWeaver for being such an awesome beta *HUGS*
And thank you to my readers. Your comments are much appreciated and loved :)
There is something I do want to bring attention to: some of you have mentioned that my fic resembles a manga called Okane ga Nai. You guys are correct. I started this fic originally with Okane ga Nai in mind (I was addicted to it ^_^), and I thought I'd mentioned somewhere, but when I looked back I shamefully realized that I didn't. Therefore I will do it here: some of the scenes are based off of the manga Okane ga Nai (if the kitchen scene in this chapter is any indication). However, the fic is nothing like the manga, and from this point onward, will have nothing to do with that manga. I'm sorry if I caused any confusion.
In the next chapter: Draco suffers some more, Hermione reveals a shocking secret, Swan makes an appearance, Harry and Hermione meet, and new characters with ambivalent intentions are introduced.
