Title: It's All My Fault
Author Name: Lying In An Angels Arms
Rating: R/M
Spoilers: Books 1-6. Written After Half-Blood Prince.
Pairing(s): Draco/Harry
Summary: Guilt is a funny thing. It makes the world seem so much...colder. Draco's guilty. Two deaths are on his conscious and the closest thing to a father he has now is hanging between life and death because of him. Guilt is a funny thing, it makes you wish you were dead. Draco's drowning in a sea of coldness and he can't grasp onto something. Can Harry Potter be that something?
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
BETA: Wrath Of The Digital Hazard
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/Warnings/
Slash! (Harry/Draco. Lucius/Severus)
Depression, Suicidal themes (no suicide depicted), Mild non-graphic self harm
strong language, Sexual scenes, mild character deaths
--Mild Potions Abuse--
Chapter Ten: Everybody's Fool
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I am weak.
I admit it.
I know it.
Magically, physically and mentally.
I get it.
I'm pathetic.
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I was premature at birth.
I was a runty child.
Practically a squib too.
My magic didn't appear until I was nine.
NINE!
Father lied about my magic, told all of his friends that I was quite talented.
That I'd done things that no one else's children had done.
Like exploding a vase...
... or levitating an Arab (the horse, not the people, though that would have been amusing)...
... or even telling them that I'd turned his hair purple...
... PURPLE?
He'd done that himself, of course.
I was seven.
I thought he was bonkers.
He thought I was pathetic.
Maybe I was.
Maybe I am.
Yes.
Pathetic.
That's me.
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After Hermione had yelled at Harry for being not only blunt, but also an idiot, and whacked him upside the head more than ten times, she finally calmed down. They sat side-by-side on the bed, Ron sitting on Ginny's, looking terrified of the still fuming Hermione. He had, unfortunately, came in half way through Harry's explanation of what had been happening since he'd arrived and in turn, Ron received a few yelled lectures and a severe slap for his actions and words.
"Er...so how was your holidays?" Ron attempted to change the subject while Hermione took a break from her angry tirade to calm her breathing. She shot him a glare that could have melted the polar icecaps.
"How was my holidays? A DAMN SIGHT BETTER THAN YOURS! RONALD WEASLEY I CANNOT BELIEVE-"
Harry tuned her out at that point, having already heard something very similar to it yelled at him earlier. He was, despite a rather painful bruise on the back of his head from Hermione's physical attacks, quite delighted she was there. He had missed her, more than Ron even. Ron was a great friend, very loyal, but Hermione was the one who would sit Harry down and gently talk until he broke down and told her everything that was worrying him. She was his confessions box. She took everything that worried him, took it from his shoulders, and placed it on her own, sharing the burden. It was a nice feeling, Harry decided, having someone who cared enough to share everything with him.
Harry let out a sigh and leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes tight. His head was throbbing lightly. It wasn't from his scar; he could feel the difference in the pain.
"Harry?" Hermione asked. Harry felt the bed next to him dip as she sat down. "Harry, are you okay? It's not your scar, is it?" She sounded panicked.
"No!" Harry was quick to reassure, eyes shooting open. He looked at Hermione with what he hoped was a reassuring look. "No, it's alright. I've just got a headache. A regular, everyday, ordinary headache."
"Oh Harry," Hermione said affectionately with a small grin. "Trust the only thing in your life that's ordinary is a headache," she teased and both the boys laughed.
"Just my luck," Harry retorted, huffing in jest. Hermione laughed lightly and placed a hand on Harry's arm, soothingly. He relaxed almost instantly, enjoying the human comfort for a few moments. Ron, getting jealous, moved from Ginny's bed to sit next to Hermione. She rolled her eyes lightly but wrapped an arm around his waist, so they all sat side-by-side on the bed. Harry moved closer so he was sitting as close as possible to Hermione and rested a head on her shoulder, seeing out of the corner of his eye that Ron did the same. Hermione blushed but gave them small smiles in return. She gave them each a motherly kiss on the forehead and they lapsed into silence.
Harry hadn't felt this at peace for a long time, he realized with a smile. Hermione had a presence that relaxed you, as if you were sitting with someone you'd known your whole life.
They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments before Ron risked breaking it.
"So...you're all lectured out?" Ron asked with a sheepish grin to Hermione. She gave him a glare and slapped his arm; not enough to hurt, just hard enough to warn. Harry groaned jokingly. Hermione had been given the permission to start up again with her yelling but instead, she just sighed.
"Yes, Ronald. All lectured out...for now," she said with a warning look towards them. They both plastered innocent looks on their faces, but that didn't fool her. She continuned to glare at them until they finally broke and promised to be good.
"Good," Hermione said with a smile. "Now tell me, what else have you been doing?"
"Not much else," Ron admitted.
"No, not really. Just that stuff with Snape and Malfoy," Harry said, voice turning positively acidic as he spoke of the two Death Eaters upstairs.
"Oh, really, you two!" Hermione scolded. "Haven't you even researched anything about Horcruxes?"
Both flushed guiltily.
Hermione sighed. "Boys!" She fumed under her breath, before scurrying off the bed to her trunk and removing four heavy tomes. She dropped them on the bed, watching as their combined weight on the mattress made the two boys bounce.
"Bloody hell, what is all this?" Ron demanded, attempting (and failing) to lift one of the books.
"Your bedtime reading for the next week," Hermione said pleasantly.
"What? You cannot be serious!" Ron protested and as he and Hermione began to bicker, Harry scanned the titles of the tomes. 'Soul Magic by Richard Rosemary. Defying Your Destiny by Thomasine Ink. Magic, Magik, Magika by Lois Sparkle. The History of the Soul by Jared Plao.' Harry's eyebrows rose as he read each, they seemed to get more and more indepth with each book. He had no doubt that Hermione would be reading the last one. Harry and Ron would more then likely get lost in the first paragraph.
"Hermione," Harry broke into the conversation, stopping her mid-rant. "There are three of us but four books," he pointed out slowly. Hermione flushed.
"Yes, well, I wasn't actually meant to show you the last one. That one's personal reading," she explained. She slid The History of the Soul out from the pile and hurriedly placed it back into her trunk.
"That's personal reading? Merlin, Hermione, don't you ever read a magazine?" Ron asked in disbelief.
"Of course I do, Ronald," Hermione said, exasperated. "I have a subscription to Potions Weekly!"
Both boys groaned at the sheer predictability of that fact.
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"Dinner's ready!" Mrs. Weasley yelled up the stairs later that day, when the clock had just struck six-thirty. The sound of running feet thudding on floorboards was heard as the large clan that inhabited the house scurried to the kitchen like ants to a picnic.
The kitchen was soon full of chatter, laughter and joy, but that all fell silent when Harry, Hermione, and Ron entered the room. Everyone froze and stared for a moment before falling uneasily back into their conversation. Harry looked confused, Ron sympathetic and Hermione fascinated. They quickly found their seats at the table, Harry sitting in the middle with his best friends on either side.
"Hey, Harry," George (or was it Fred?) said half way through dinner, leaning across the table towards the Boy-Who-Lived. "We heard you-"
"-blew up Malfoy. Is it-"
"-true?"
Harry went red and everyone seemed to freeze again. "No, it's not!" Harry protested heatedly. "I did no such thing."
"We were just-"
"-curious, mate. No need to-"
"-bite our heads off," George said, looking faintly uncomfortable and mildly wary. He sat back in his chair and Harry felt himself flush a darker shade of red.
"I wasn't biting your heads off!" Harry snapped; without realizing, his voice came out cold.
"Calm down, mate," Fred soothed, but Harry only glared back.
"I am calm!"
"Then why are you yelling?" George demanded and Harry started. His eyes went wide as he realized he had, in fact, yelled his last statement. He paled, remembering his outbursts before he had attacked Malfoy.
"God," Harry whispered under his breath. He stood up quickly and watched in amazement as nearly everyone, save Hermione, flinched back from him. "Shit," he repeated, no longer whispering. He turned on his heel and ran from the room.
No one called after him.
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Draco laid on his stomach, wide awake but reluctant to move. He could hear Severus' steady breathing beside him and felt the warming touch of the Patronus, which refused to dissipate, despite the fact Arthur had removed his wand long ago. He had only slept for around two hours after Arthur had placed the healing salve on his back. He had woken shortly before dinner had been announced and wished, just fleetingly, that the call had included him. Hearing that call - that charming, domestic call reminded him of something he liked to forget. He didn't have a family anymore. His mother was dead, his father was as good as dead and Severus would most likely turn his back on him as soon as he woke up.
Draco let out a loud sigh and buried his face in the ratty, white-brown pillowcase beneath him.
He could hear thundering footsteps racing up the stairs again and frowned into the fabric, enjoying the feeling of not being able to breathe though wondering why someone was walking back up the stairs so shortly after dinner had been called. They can't be finished yet, he thought, turning his face towards the door just in time to see it slam open. An enraged Potter stood there, breathing heavily and glaring directly at Draco. The blond winced. Goody, he's back for another round, he thought bitterly. He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, turning to face Potter and at the same time protecting Severus from another violent attack.
"B-because of you!" Potter snarled suddenly, making Draco raise his eyebrows in question.
"What is because of me, Potter? I'm afraid-"
"Exactly!" Potter snapped. "You're afraid! They're afraid! All because of you! It's all your bloody fault!"
Draco blanched at those words. Words he'd been repeating over and over to himself. Hearing them aloud, however, made them all the more real. He barely heard Potter's next words.
"They're afraid I'll hurt them like I did you! They think I wanted to hurt you," Potter sounded distraught. "I didn't! I don't. I-I-"
Draco stared unseeing at Potter as he fumbled and stumbled over his words. It's all my fault. It's all my fault. The words repeated themselves again and again in his mind.
"It's all your fault, Malfoy. You pathetic snake," Potter spat and stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him. Draco sat on the bed, head still reeling from the short but bittersweet one-sided confrontation.
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You shouldn't have said that, a little voice in Harry's head scolded lightly as he stormed to his (and Ron's) room. It wasn't all his fault. You were the one who lost control, the one who hurt him.
I know, Harry thought, wincing. But it's easier to blame him. It's not like he cares what I think.
You accused him, the voice pointed out, accused him of something he didn't do.
So?
The Weasley twins did the same and you got angry at them. How do you think Draco feels now?
Harry frowned. Nothing. That little rat doesn't feel a damn thing. I mean, he just sat there, staring at me with those stupid grey eyes!
That's all you saw of how he felt, Harry. You should know better then anyone what emotions lurk beneath what we can see, the voice said quietly, and Harry winced, quickening his pace. He reached his room quickly, without further incidents.
He opened the door and hurried inside, stopping dead when he saw Hermione Granger sitting on his bed, looking completely at home.
"Hermione," Harry greeted, stunned. He closed the door behind him.
She smiled. "Hi Harry. Quite an exit you made. Getting into the dramatic thing, are you?"
"Why are you here?" Harry demanded, before he could stop himself.
Hermione looked bemused. "Why wouldn't I be, Harry?"
"Because you're meant to be scared of me!" Harry bursted quickly, unable to hold back the words.
"Why?"
"Becuase everyone else is!" Harry's voice went from bitterly angry to small and childish. "Everyone's angry with me."
"Oh Harry," Hermione looked horrified. "They're not." She got to her feet and gently led him over to his bed, sitting him down and wrapping an arm around his shoulder as she sat beside him. "They're just...cautious, because you're so much more than what they expected."
"I'm a freak."
"No, you're not!" Hermione said firmly, turning him so they sat face to face. She grabbed his chin and forced his eyes to meet hers. "You are not a freak, Harry Potter. You are one of the most powerful wizards alive. You are special. I never, ever, want to hear you say that you're a freak again! You understand?"
Harry nodded, though he didn't really believe her words. He dropped his eyes to stare at his hands. "Hermione...If I'm one of the most powerful wizards, why do I keep hurting people? Does that make me a bad person?" His voice was soft and childish, seeking reassurance he'd never gotten as a child.
Hermione's face softened and she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close for a hug. "You are not a bad person, Harry. You're one of the best people I know. You're sweet and caring and gentle and you want to help. You are not a bad person."
"Then why do I feel bad?" Harry asked, sounding almost pitiful.
"Even good people do bad things, Harry," Hermione said softly, remembering the curse he'd placed on Malfoy in his anger.
Harry's eyes went wide and in his head, he heard Malfoy and his conversation earlier.
"You're lying. Dumbledore was a kind, caring man and you're just pathetic to try and lie about him."
"Just because he was nice to you, Potty," Malfoy snarled, "does not mean he was nice to everyone else."
"Hermione?" Harry asked softly.
"Yes, Harry?"
"Do you think Dumbledore made mistakes?" It hurt to speak of him, but he needed to know.
Hermione tensed. "I think...I think that you can't get that far in life to have not made a few," she said vaguely. Harry, if possible, felt even more confused.
"Why?" Hermione queried. "Why do you ask?"
"No reason," Harry lied, burying his face in her bushy hair. She frowned but continued to hold him tight.
After a few moments, she asked, "Are you going to be okay?"
No. "Yes."
"Do you want me to stay with you?"
Yes. "No. I'll be okay." No I won't. Don't go.
"Alright Harry, you get some rest. I'll tell the others not to bother you," Hermione said, moving off the bed. Harry's arms fell down limply and he watched as she walked to the door. "Good night, Harry. Sleep well."
Don't leave me. Not you too. "Good night Hermione."
She gave a reassuring smile before slipping from the room, leaving Harry alone. He closed his eyes tight and fell to his side, curling into himself like a child.
Why are you all leaving me?
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Hermione thought of going back downstairs, talking to the Weasleys but she didn't want to answer all their probing questions. They hadn't even looked ashamed at their reactions to Harry. Ron had even tried to validate himself, telling Hermione she should be scared of him too.
"What on earth are you talking about? This is Harry, we've known him since he was a scrawny eleven year old. He won't hurt us!"
Hermione hadn't seen the display of raw power and she didn't need to. She trusted Harry.
She turned towards the staircase leading up and, with a sigh, mounted the stairs. It took her less then a minute and she was standing outside the door that confined the Death Eaters. She should have felt afraid, but she didn't. One was unconscious and the other without a wand. The only thing he could hurt her with was words and she wasn't afraid of them.
She pushed open the door and stepped inside. Draco Malfoy laid on his stomach, head turned away from the door.
"Piss off, Potter. I don't have the patience to deal with another of your hissy fits right now," Malfoy sneered without turning over. Hermione looked confused. Did Harry come up here before? Of course he did! Her eyes went wide.
"Does that make me a bad person?" His voice had been insecure.
Oh Harry, what have you done?
"It's not Harry," Hermione admitted finally, breaking the tense silence that had fallen after his statement. Malfoy's head swung around, staring at her with open disbelief.
"Granger?" He gaped. At least he didn't call me mudblood. I would hate to punch an injured man...actually, for Malfoy, I could make an exception.
"Hello, Malfoy," Hermione greeted, surprised when she saw him flinch at his last name.
"What the fuck are you doing here?"
"I'm staying with the Weasleys," she said. She waved her wand and transfigured a chair from a book. She took a seat and crossed one ankle over the other, placing her hands on her lap and looking as poised as possible. She watched as Malfoy struggled to sit up, wincing as he pulled some wound or another that obviously still caused pain. "What? Your family doesn't want you any more?" Malfoy sneered but Hermione found the words lacked their usual sting. True, the words struck home but he was too weak, too injured to be any other then a mere copy of the disgusting Malfoy who had made her life hell.
"At least I have one," Hermione heard herself retort and blanched, unable to believe what she had just uttered. Malfoy went from already pasty white to near transparent. He dropped himself down on the bed again, not even trying to look graceful. He laid on his stomach and turned his face away from her again, hiding his distraught face, but she had already seen his expression and felt horrible.
"Malfoy, I-"
"Save it, Granger. Just fuck off," he snarled, trying to sound threatening and failing.
"I'm sorry, Malfoy. I don't know why I said that," she hurried to say before he could cut her off again. "It's been a long week."
"Oh, really?" Malfoy swung back around, getting up on his hands and knees. He sat on his knees, hands fisted on his thighs. He glared at Hermione. "What have you done? I've been attacked three times by a raving lunatic, discovered that the bloody savior of the world can't kill, been taken in by Weasleys, discovered that the closest thing I have left to a father is going to die and now I'm stuck talking to you. What could be worse than that, Granger? Tell me, how was your bloody week?"
Hermione stared in shock. His rant had come quickly and she hadn't been prepared.
"Well?" Malfoy snarled. "I'm waiting, oh mudblood queen. What happened in your week?"
"I...I," she stammered, looking away. "I oblivated my parents." Malfoy gaped. "For their safety, they no longer have a daughter. I never existed."
"So what?" Malfoy snapped, after regaining his cool. "They're just muggles."
"Just muggles! Just muggles? They were my parents, you self-centered arsehole!" Hermione cried out, glaring at him with as much fire as she could muster. "I loved them and they don't even remember me! They're out partying in France celebrating their twentieth anniversary without kids! I don't have a family anymore!"
"Yeah, well," Malfoy muttered, lying back down. "Join the club."
Hermione stared. "Malfoy...I-"
"You know what Granger?" He cut over her. "Just fuck off before you piss off both of us to the point where I might kill you. Don't think I won't."
Hermione stood, realizing a good chance to leave when it was handed to her. She transfigured the book back and walked to the door. She paused, hand on the handle.
"You wouldn't kill me, Malfoy," she said without looking at him. "You're an arsehole...but you're not evil. You never were, even though you liked pretending it. You're not your father."
She left quietly, never seeing the utter disbelief and amazement which worked its way across Malfoy's face as he turned to watch her leave.
.
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"You're not your father."
Oh, how long he'd been waiting for someone to say that to him. He wasn't his father. He wasn't. No one else saw that, not even Severus. Severus liked believing that Draco was Lucius, not his own person.
Draco hated Granger even more now. She wasn't meant to see who he was. She was meant to think he was a bastard, an evil, self-centered bastard!
Well, two out of three isn't bad, he mused inwardly with a faint smirk. He sighed and buried his face in his pillow.
"Sev, I've got to get out of here. They're turning me into a bloody Gryffindor."
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"Lucius," a voice hissed and, like the loyal servant he was, he raised his head–but not his eyes–to show that he had heard the voice. "Lucius, you have killed your friend for me. Are you loyal now?"
Lucius nodded slowly, not speaking. He hadn't been given permission yet.
"You will do anything for me, correct?"
Again, Lucius nodded slowly.
"Good," Lord Voldemort smirked, a nasty sight to see. "Then this will be like a present for you. Bring her out," he called, not loudly, but in a low hiss. Many people strained to hear what he was saying. The Dark Lord did not yell when he required something. He hissed.
Lucius kept his eyes on the floor, even as he heard crying and stumbling footsteps getting closer.
"Look Lucius, my loyal one," Voldemort hissed. "Look at your new wife."
Lucius froze.
He raised his eyes and met a pair of bloodshot black ones. The woman-no, girl was barely older than his son. She had dirty red hair, pale unblemished skin, dressed only in a black robe that fell off her shoulders. She was thrown to the floor, still sobbing.
"She is pureblood," Voldemort said with a wave of his hand. "We found her with gypsies," he sneered the word, a word worse then muggleborns or muggles in his eyes. "Since your last heir has failed and has been removed, you will need another. Sadly, your dear wife will no longer be able to help." He glanced pointedly to the pile of dead bodies still lying nearby, pale blond hair peeking out from beneath it.
Lucius did not look at Narcissa; he couldn't. Instead, he stared at the child who would bear him another heir. I don't want another heir, Lucius thought bitterly. I want Draco back.
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Draco left his room cautiously the next morning, sitting down outside the room by the door. He leaned on the wall and drew his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and sliding his head back. He took a deep breath and waited. Just...waited.
Mr. Weasley would arrive soon with a breakfast tray and then Draco would tell him.
So Draco waited.
He didn't have a watch and the hallway didn't possess a clock, so he didn't know how long he sat there, but soon he heard soft footsteps walking up the stairs. He scrambled to his feet, bracing one hand on the wall to keep his balance.
The familiar balding, red head of Aurthur Weasley soon appeared, followed by the rest of him as he reached the top of the stairs.
"Ah!" Mr. Weasley spotted Draco and gave him a smile. "Good morning, Draco! Out and about, I see. Are you feeling better?"
Draco nodded and took the tray from the aging man. "Much. Thank you."
"That's good! Molly cooked up a real treat this morning. Waffles, fruit and some homemade biscuits for afterwards. I put on a cup of chocolate milk too, just in case you're thirsty."
Draco nodded again. He couldn't begin to understand this man–the man who insisted on acting like Draco was one of his sons and not some interloping murderer who happened to drop unconscious in his backyard.
"Did you need anything, Draco?" Mr. Weasley asked, leaning on the wall opposite the younger wizard.
"No. I just wanted to inform you that until I come and find you next, you are not to enter the room," Draco said. "I will be attempting Legilimency on Severus and any interruptions may be fatal to one or both of us."
"Ah, I see." Mr. Weasley nodded, trying to hide his concerned look. "Do you need me to get you anything before you go?"
"No. I can't take anything except myself in."
"Alright. Well, I'll tell the kids. Good luck, Draco. Come back to us in one piece," Mr. Weasley said with a small smile. He turned to walk down the stairs.
"Mr. Weasley?" Draco called out, stopping the man.
"Yes?" He turned back around.
Thank you. "Make sure you tell Potter too. He has a habit of bursting in when I don't want him to," Draco said instead, calling himself a coward but still unable to thank the man.
Mr. Weasley smiled, as if he knew what Draco meant to say. "I will. Good luck."
He left.
Draco sighed and picked up the tray.
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"Is he alright now?" Bill asked from the kitchen table. Fleur was feeding him pieces of fruit with an adoring look on her face.
"Yes, he is now." Arthur nodded. "But we mustn't go into his room anymore until he comes and tells us we can."
"Why not?" Ron sneered around a mouthful of waffles.
"Iz 'e goi'g to try ze mind mouldi'g?" Fleur asked in broken English.
"Yes," Arthur said, nodding again. "He'll be Legilimencing Severus Snape and attempting to draw him out from his mind. If we go in, there might be complications."
"Good," Ron muttered under his breath. Hermione elbowed him in the side, causing him to choke on a bite of waffle.
"Ron! Legilimency is a very serious study. If something goes wrong, it could be disastrous!" she scolded. "They are human beings; right prats but they're still humans!"
Harry, who had been silent the whole morning and all of the night before, finally spoke. "Malfoy knows Legilimency?" he asked, blanching at the thought that the prat might have been reading his thoughts all along.
"No," Arthur admitted. "But he's read up on the subject so he can help Severus. He doesn't know it perfectly but without an attempt, Severus may die." Seeing Ron's look, Arthur quickly added, "-and that isn't a good thing."
"Depends on who you ask," Ron muttered.
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Draco sat on the bed next to Severus, having already eaten all of the food supplied by the Weasleys. He was going to need his strength, if nothing else. This would be so much easier with a wand, Draco mused as he leaned over Severus.
"Severus," Draco whispered. "Open your eyes Severus." He made his voice low and keening, as hypnotic as possible. Severus shifted slightly on the bed but his eyes didn't even twitch.
"Severus," Draco practically sung under his breath. "Open your eyes Severus. Look at me. That's it." The eyelids flickered but didn't open. Draco sighed and began again.
It took twenty minutes to coax the stubborn lids to open but soon Draco was staring into the black, unseeing eyes of Severus Snape.
"That's it, Severus. Look at me. Directly at me," Draco said softly. "Look at me. Yes, that's it. Good, now relax for me, Severus. That's it. You're doing so well." In normal circumstances, Draco would be laughing his arse off at the tone and the words he was using to talk to Severus, but this was too serious to joke about.
"Look at me," Draco breathed and Severus' eyes stayed locked with his. "That's it. Legilimens!" He hissed suddenly and felt the described drawing sensation, as if he was being sucked into Severus' soul through his eyes. He blanked out, collapsing onto Severus' chest, limp.
.
.
Well. This isn't creepy at all, Draco thought sarcastically, glancing around the would-be-world inside of Severus' mind. It was dark and creepy, with gangly, bonelike trees looming above him. The ground was cracked dirt with no life or shrubs on it's surface. Draco shuddered. Merlin, Severus really owes me for this.
Draco sighed and began to walk in a random direction, searching the barren landscape for Severus. However, he was nowhere to be seen. Draco growled. Okay, this is really annoying. He scanned the horizon and saw nothing except endless desert and creepy trees.
In the distance, a wolf howled.
Draco froze. Life meant mental movement and that meant wherever that wolf was, Severus was as well. I'm coming, Draco thought, running towards where he'd heard the noise. He had to change directions several times, listening as the wolf continued to howl in the distance.
After what seemed like an eternity of running, Draco finally saw a shape. A wolf, bent over a figure, biting...hard. The figure was undeniably Severus; even broken and bloody, Draco could recognize him.
"Severus!" Draco yelled, his voice echoing in the landscape. The wolf did not raise its head from where its jaws were clamped. Draco threw himself at the wolf, trying to dislodge it from Severus, but Draco merely ended up walking through the beast. Draco paused, spun around, and glared at the wolf. The wolf stared back, golden eyes glowing as blood dripped from its fangs.
Wait a minute, Draco thought, pausing. He's too big to be a wolf. Draco examined the canine curiously, ignoring the mangled body for a moment. Holy Merlin, only your nightmares could be educational, Draco thought bitterly as he noticed the little differences between what he thought he saw and what exactly it was that he'd seen. Severus, I really appreciate you for that project on werewolves. Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He searched the pockets of his robe (when did he get those? he wondered) and found the strand of Veela hair he had slipped into his pocket before entering Severus' mind. He clenched his fist around the hair. He tilted back the hair and felt it wrap around his wrist. He placed his palm just above the werewolf's back and hissed out a command. A single bolt of silver went through the wolf. The canine howled pitifully and, although it could not see Draco, ran away from the danger, limping heavily.
Draco dropped to his knees beside the broken figure and ran his hand about one inch above Severus' body, down his entire length. He found many wounds and, with the help of the Veela hair and the fact that none of it was actually real, the wounds slowly knitted back together under his command. He pushed the robe out of Severus' face and cupped his cheek softly.
"Severus," Draco whispered. "Wake up, Severus."
"I...don't remember...giving you permi...permission to call me...Severus...brat," Severus murmured with a low growl that hurt his chest and throat. His eyes slowly slid open and he frowned. "Where...are you?"
"Here, Severus," Draco prompted, leaning over him, but noticed there was no recognition in the man's eyes. "Oh..." Draco hummed, "it seems I am invisible."
"No...shit."
Draco grinned. "You're just saying that 'cause it's a dream."
"Night...mare."
"Yeah, yeah," Draco waved away that input. "It's better now. No more werewolf gnawing on your leg."
Severus glared at the nothingness where he assumed Draco was, which was actually several inches to the right of his head. Draco snorted at the sight of Severus glaring into empty space.
"Over here," he supplied helpfully and finally Severus began glaring in the right direction...sort of.
"Why...are you...here?" Severus demanded roughly.
"You were hit with a few mind curses," Draco said seriously. "The Weasleys saw my wand sparks and have taken us in."
"...and...we're not...dead...yet?" Severus asked, faintly bemused at the thought that the Weasleys would take in two Death Eater fugitives and not kill them.
"Not yet," Draco said, somewhat bitterly. "Hasn't stopped Potter from trying, though," Draco muttered under his breath, unaware Severus could hear him. He raised his voice to speak to Severus, therefore effectively cutting off whatever the man was about to say. "Fleur–you know, the big Weasley's fiancée–gave me a hair. It's not as strong since she's only part Veela, but it got rid of the wolf."
"Where...is...it?"
Draco held out his wrist stupidly before wincing, remembering Severus couldn't see him. "It's around my wrist. It's giving me some extra energy focus. I don't have my wand with me."
"YOU USED LEGILIMENCY ON ME WITHOUT A WAND?" Severus bellowed, despite his sore chest.
Draco winced. "Yes?"
"YOU FOOL! YOU COULD HAVE KILLED US BOTH!"
Draco was sure Severus would have continued ranting if he hadn't pratically expelled a lung as he began coughing. Draco placed the hand with the Veela hair on Severus' chest, above his heart, trying to sooth the discomfort.
"I know it's slightly creepy being touched by something you can't feel," Draco said, seeing Severus' disgruntled look. "But this will help and then I can get you out of here."
"Us," Severus corrected, closing his eyes and allowing Draco's touch. "I will not have you strutting around my mind for all eternity. No telling what havoc you'd cause on my defenseless skull."
Draco snickered, pressing down a little harder on the man's chest. They stayed silent while Draco fixed the congestion and tears in Severus' lungs.
"Why aren't I in another nightmare now that the werewolf is gone?" Severus asked as Draco helped him stand, supporting one arm around his shoulder, even though Draco was still quite a bit shorter, making it awkward.
"I cast a Patronus on you yesterday," Draco explained. "It's keeping the next one away but couldn't stop the one already in progress."
Severus cast a suspicious look at the air where Draco stood. "Wandless?"
"No," Draco hurried to say. "With Mr. Weasley's wand. You were screaming aloud from your nightmares; I needed to make you stop."
"I was screaming?" he asked, wincing when Draco made a affirmative noise. "Brilliant. No dignity left, hm?"
"Don't need it right now," Draco perked up. "Just need to get out."
"Gryffindor," Severus accused under his breath.
"Prick," Draco responded in turn with a smirk.
"Fifty points from Slytherin if we ever get back to Hogwarts," Severus said bitterly and Draco snorted.
"Like they're gonna let us back in."
They both slumped at that thought and allowed themselves to wallow in self-pity for a long moment.
"Alright, save the pity-party for later," Draco said after a few minutes.
"Yes, when we can do it properly with firewhiskey," Severus added with a grim smile.
"Brilliant. It's a date," Draco joked. "Now, let's get out of here."
They paused.
"Any ideas?"
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Harry walked up the stairs, listening to the laughter behind him bitterly. The room was tense when he was in it but lightened after he left. He'd told Hermione he was going to his room and he would go there...eventually. First he needed to do something. Harry entered the second floor bathroom and began to raid the cupboard above the sink. He found nothing of use, however a selection of pain potions might be useful later, so he pocketed one before continuing on. He searched the cupboard by the bath and the one by the door, finally finding what he wanted in the shower stall. A razor blade. A muggle razor, so it was only logical to assume it belonged to Arthur as he was the only one insane enough to try and shave with a muggle contraption. Harry grabbed it and went to sit on the toilet, pushing the seat down so he could sit without falling in or feeling awkward. He began to pull apart the razor, to get at the blades. It didn't take long. He did it often at home with his uncle's razors, getting a few extra chores for his trouble too. He finally worked free a blade and threw the rest in the bin nearby, to be disposed of later. He fingered the blade with a sigh and wondered if he was actually going to do it.
Yes, a voice inside his head said. You are, because it's all your fault. Everything is your fault. Do it!
So Harry did. He pulled up his shirt sleeve and gave a careless swipe towards a spot just above his elbow–no where near his wrists, of course. Harry liked the pain but he didn't want to die. Not yet. No more people would die because of him, not even himself...until the war was over.
Harry watched the blood well and, as the first drop fell to the floor, he smiled morosely.
All my fault.
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Author's note:
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An extra long chap this time! (Not by much but it's longer xP)
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I want to thank my wonderful BETA Wrath for doing this even though she had a horrible Doctors Appointment and for letting me bitch to her about my problems. You rock!
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I hope you enjoyed this chapter! So so so so so so SO sorry it took two weeks to get it out but I was late sending it and then Wrath had a busy shed and couldn't do it for a few days.
In other words...don't kill me?
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Harry's scene at the end of the chapter will most likely be the most descriptive self-harm one in the whole story. I'm sorry if it's cliche'd but if you've ever experienced Self-Injury (in passing or personally) then you'll understand that Harry's the perfect example of an emotional overload.
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.:Reviewer Responses:.
I love you all. Really I do. -gives you all cookies-
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Ali-Chan et Vani-chan: You are awesome. You are always one of the first to review. -gives you chocolate cake- Ah! I'm glad you liked the Arthur/Draco xP I always thought he'd be the more understanding of the Weasleys (at the moment at least ;3). Don't worry, The drarry is coming soon (eventually!)
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Argo: First of all, thank you so much for reviewing and taking the time to form those questions. It makes me feel very loved to know someone put that much effort into understanding my story! Secondly, in regards to your questions, many of these will be explained in the next few chapters. I'm sorry I can't be more helpful in answering them but some of those give away major spoilers for later in the story! Thank you so much for your review.
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TearsOfTheForgotten: Thank you so much for reviewing :3 I don't mind how long it takes you to review ;3 as long as you do it. Lawl. haha, I love the word Oi too, maybe cause I'm Australian and it's in our national song (Aussie, Aussie, Aussie! Oi, Oi, Oi!) XP I hope you enjoyed this chapter!
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Karaiina: Thank you for your review :3 Don't worry, I'm the same, especially with Draco and Harry -evil laugh-. Harry's a teenage boy, of course he's got a bad mouth xP and with all that supressed rage, he's just going to explode into a puff of cusses soon. :3 Actually, each boy will get a turn in the Top/Bottom system, though at the moment I'm planning Harry to be the first to Top ;3 Thanks so much, I hope you enjoyed this chapter too!
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Enigmus: Thank you! I'm so glad you like my story and my writing. I feel all warm and fuzzy now -gives another cookie-
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I love you all. You're AWESOME!
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Next chapter will be out next week, I'm going away for a week without internet so I should get some extra writing done instead of reading SlashFic in my spare time. xP
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Review M'dears!
-Liaa