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: ?.?.?.?.... (Chapter is UNEDITED)
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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
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Chapter Fifteen: More Than A Memory
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I have a God-Sister
and I had a godmother.
No, she wasn't a fairy
but she was beautiful.
She was a brilliant witch
but she liked to experiment with spells.
I was ten when she died.
I don't miss her terribly
I barely knew her
I miss my god-sister though
It's been a while since I talked to her
without us reverting to our childhood stages of her ignoring my existence
and my pretending I don't exist.
I miss my childhood.
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"Have you heard?"
Draco was startled out of his thoughts and immediately looked around, a scowl plastered on his face. It faded when he realized that there was no one around and that they were not talking to him.
The blond Slytherin sat on the stairs again, outside the door into his and Severus' room. He hated being cooped up, which explained his love of flying, and the small room was definitely claustrophobic.
Or maybe it was because Severus wasn't getting any better and being in the room brought home the cold truth that without proper help, Draco wouldn't have the stern Slytherin looking after him anymore.
Either way, Draco could barely breath while inside the bedroom.
Down the stairs somewhere on the next floor down, two Weasley children were talking. He knew one was the Weaselette because of her annoyingly girly voice.
"Heard what?" she asked back and Draco resisted the urge to mock the questioning tone of her voice.
"We finally caught some of those bastards."
Weaslette gasped. "Death Eaters?"
Draco sat up straight, heart catching in his throat as he struggled to hear the next words.
"Yeah! And the order's bringing them here for interrogation since Grimauld went bust and we haven't got a headquarters anymore."
Draco had a strange feeling he knew the name Grimauld but brushed that thought aside as the Weaslette expressed her excitement with a squeal.
"Who? When? Where?" She asked in rapid fire and Draco, unwillingly, thanked the bint for asking the right questions for once.
"Some young kids at a nearby raid last night. Can you believe they were dumb enough to try and stun the order members? One even tried a JellyLegs curse on Moody." The pair roared with laughter but Draco didn't hear it.
Some young kids. Nearby raid. Stun. Jelly Legs. Oh shit.
"How young is young?" Weaslette asked after her giggles had subsided and Draco lent forward eagerly, almost desperately.
"About -"
"What are you two doing?" A shrill voice demanded and Draco wanted to run down the stairs and curse that damn mudblood for her timing. "Anyone could overhear you! At least go into a bedroom and put a silencing charm up."
Draco's hopes of finding out who they were talking about plummeted as he heard the pair obey the mublood and go into a room, laughing softly still. He groaned out loud, assuming that Granger had gone into the room with the other two.
He'd assumed wrong.
"They're our age."
Draco stared in disbelief down the stairs at Granger, who stood on the first step with a hand on the rail. Her face was grave and distressed at the same time, her heart obviously broken at the thought of someone her age killing people.
Draco wanted to sneer and deny he was listening, instead he forced out, "Slytherins?"
"I don't know," Granger responded after a moment, looking to the floor. "The order doesn't ask those things."
No, Draco conceded as he watched Granger's mouth move as she continued to speak about non related things. They wouldn't ask, would they? They wouldn't ask why they did those things or what happened to them or what did they want...they'd just shoot to kill like any other dumb, foolish, goddamn Griffendor. Then they'd cry about them as they're lying in the ground, actions unexplained.
"Malfoy?"
Draco snapped out of his thoughts and sneered. "Don't call me that," he growled without thinking.
Granger took it the wrong way and gave a friendly smile. "Okay, Draco. Then you can call m-"
"Oh no," Draco cut over her. "Don't you dare address me by me first name. You are not my friend!"
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Hermione took a deep calming breath, resisting the urge to try and strangle the boy in front of her. He was being stupid and mean without reason and it was making it hard to remember her promise to Harry.
"Why should we be nice to him, Harry? He's been nothing but cruel and bitter since he got here."
"Don't you think he has a reason to be bitter? Please, just try...for me?"
Ron had practically screamed the house down when Harry had asked him to do the same. Hermione was very thankful for silencing charms.
She'd agreed to try and Ron had reluctantly done so after screaming himself hoarse.
Hermione was regretting it now.
"What do you want me to call you then?" She asked, voice terse.
Malfoy smirked. "Your majesty."
Hermione huffed and, with one last furious glance at him, stormed away.
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Draco was left alone for the rest of the day, sitting on the stairs. He didn't' go back into the room and Severus didn't call out and make him.
Draco wasn't lonely but he didn't love his own company either.
Night fell before he heard the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. Fleur Delacour appeared at the base of the steps and gave that dazzling smile to him that had stopped his heart in fourth year.
"'ello Draco," she greeted, motioning to the plate she had in her hand. "I 'ave got 'ou some dinner if 'ou want to eat." Her accent wasn't as strong, perhaps because she was more familiar with the words.
Draco nodded and reached for the plate. She allowed him to take it, and then, to his surprise, took a seat one step down from him. He practically towered over her, despite her willowy height. She looked at him, understanding the symbolism of where she sat. She was giving him the upper hand.
"They are 'ere."
Draco barely paused as he bit into a sandwich, chewing it properly before swallowing it down, then talking. "Who?"
"'our friends," she replied honestly and Draco almost choked.
"How do you know that they are my friends?" he demanded, setting aside his dinner, no longer hungry.
"Because they look just like 'ou did when 'ou came 'ere," she said somberly. Draco swallowed heavily and tried to look nonchalant. Fleur gave a small smile.
"'Ou can not fool me, little Dragon. Do 'ou wish to see them?"
Draco narrowed his eyes at her, suspicious. "Why are you doing this for me?"
She smiled again. "'ou are not evil, Mal Foi, 'ou are just lost. Perhaps your friends will 'elp 'ou find 'our way." She reached for her hair and plucked a small, shorter hair from her head and held it out to him. "A gift."
He reached for it, fingers brushing hers and her smile brightened. "They are in 'arry's bedroom. I vill keep the others away. Ten minutes, Monsieur Mal Foi, that is all I can promise." She stood, brushing off her silk skirt. She nodded to him, he nodded back and then she was gone.
Draco sat there for a moment before he was struck with the sudden thought. Why on earth would she just assume I knew where Potter's room is?
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So, Draco did know where Potter's room was but that was no reason for Fleur to assume. He reached the second floor, glad that he had been nosy and had scoped out all the rooms before hand so he knew exactly where everyone was.
Potter's door was locked, unsurprisingly. Draco coiled the Veela hair around his finger and placed that finger on the door. He whispered, "Alohamora," and watched as the door clicked open. The hair fell to the floor, useless now. It crumbled to ash and the ash seemed to fade into the floor. Veela magic was centered on the elements and after it was used, it would go back to nature, unlike Wizardry.
The silencing spell around the door was also broken and Draco could hear voices inside. Familiar ones.
Somewhere inside, Draco hadn't wanted to admit that maybe it was his friends inside the room, captured and soon to be killed or sent to Azkaban.
"Stop being such a dick, Blaise," a voice growled and Draco could no longer deny it. His friends were inside.
He took a deep, steadying breathe and pushed open the door. He stepped inside, closing it behind him with an audible click and watched those eyes turn towards him.
"Draco," Pansy Parkinson breathed, staring in disbelief.
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Harry slipped away from the group gathered in the lounge, discussing the punishments and the interrogation techniques that they would use on their prisoners. They sounded gleeful, especially Moody, as they tried to decide their torture. Harry was understandably furious. They were kids. They were his age. They were Hogwarts Students still!
He stomped up the stairs, intending to go to his and Ron's room. He froze on the stairs, hearing raised voices. The last few steps were sprinted up and he threw open the unlocked door.
The scene he saw stumped him.
Draco Malfoy, proud Slytherin Bastard, now sported a black eye, a split lip, a rather nasty bruise appearing on his cheek, and Harry was sure there were more marks hidden by the Weasley Sweater Molly had let Draco wear which sported the letter 'C'.
The other Slytherin's stood nearby, a dark skinned boy had his fist raised, about to punch Draco once again.
"What the hell is going on here?" Harry growled, drawing attention to himself. The black boy dropped his hand and Draco's face snapped to the side, staring at him.
"Potter-" Draco started but Harry didn't hesitate. He stalked forward, ignoring the way he almost tripped over a discarded t-shirt, and grabbed hold of Draco's arm. He tugged the blond boy back away from the Slytherin's, disregarding the angry noise he made as he pushed the boy behind him. Harry was actually shorter then Draco and despite them both being of slender build, Harry was slightly more bulky thanks to Molly's insistent feeding.
"What the hell do you guys think you're doing?" Harry snapped, feeling a sharp hit to the back from Draco.
"Potter, they have every right to hit me," Draco growled back, shoving him away. Harry stumbled slightly, before spinning around and glaring at the blond, who glared back.
"How do you figure that?"
Draco snarled, "I left them."
Harry felt like gaping. "You were captured, Malfoy!" Draco flinched at the name. "You didn't have a choice." He spun back around to glare at the other Slytherin's, who couldn't quite believe what they were seeing. "How could you attack him for something as stupid as that?"
"He left us!" The black boy sneered. "He deserves this!"
"He didn't have a choice," Harry repeated.
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Draco couldn't believe that Potter was standing up for him, or the trash he was saying. Of course Draco had a choice! He could have escaped earlier, taken his friends with him, then none of this would have happened. He could have overthrown the guards, left Severus, gone after his friends but he didn't. He deserved this, to be punished.
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"He should have saved us," a black haired girl piped up, glaring furiously at Draco. Harry stepped in front of him again, shielding him from the girl's gaze.
"He was busy getting tortured," Harry snapped.
"We got tortured too," a large, bulky girl who Harry was fairly sure could have swallowed him whole if she wanted to, growled out.
"Because of him," the black boy added with a sneer.
Harry gave a disbelieving laugh. "So you decided to torture him?"
The Slytherin's started and began to protest.
"We weren't going to torture him," the black haired girl yelled. "Just give him what he deserves."
"Listen to yourself," Harry said loudly, speaking over the other protests. "You sound exactly like them." He reached back and grabbed Draco's arm, pulling him towards the door. Draco went without protest, in shock.
"Congratulations," Harry said with a very Slytherin sneer, "You've become exactly like the Inner Circle."
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Draco allowed himself to be led from the room, unable to protest. Potter was defending him...against his own friends. There was something wrong with this picture.
His foot hit the bottom step and he unconsciously began to follow Potter up to the next floor. He wasn't fully aware of where they were going but he knew that Potter was leading him further and further away from his friends. The hand on his arm felt like it was burning through the sweater.
"Here, Malfoy," Potter's voice broke through the haze of Draco's mind.
Draco blinked, startled to find himself outside his and Severus' rooms. Potter opened the door and ushered the blond inside. Severus was lying on his back, playing the part of being unconscious perfectly. Draco wondered if the man was actually asleep.
"Sit down, Malfoy," Potter suggested and angled him towards the bed.
"Don't order me around," Draco muttered but he sat down anyway. He winced as a particularly sore bruise on his side was twinged.
"Stay here," Potter said, this time no mistaking the order in his voice. He left the room before Draco could protest. The blond scowled, ignoring the part of him that said it was nice to be looked after.
"What happened?" Severus asked quietly, when they were sure Potter had gone down stairs.
"Nothing," Draco said, keeping his face angled away from the elder man. He felt Severus shift behind him and felt his jaw tilted to the side. Draco knew he could have yanked himself away but it would have done him no good, Severus wouldn't give up until he knew what was going on.
Severus' eyes narrowed as he took in the bruises and the split lip. He said nothing. Maybe because he had nothing to say or maybe because they could hear Potter stampeding back up the stairs. Severus brushed a finger across the bruised lip before he laid back down, slowing his breathing until it looked as if nothing had changed. Draco continued to watch him, instead of the door, even when it opened and Potter burst back into the room.
The black haired misguided savior carried an armful of potions of various colors. Draco peeked as he came closer. He was fairly sure that the boy didn't know what half of them were for.
"Got some potions," H-Potter said pointlessly. Draco gave him a look that said 'duh'.
"Ah, Right, well, here," Potter held out the potions and Draco started grabbing them so that they didn't tumble down and onto the floor. He found one that would heal most of the abrasions he'd suffered. He set the other vials onto the bed.
Potter took the green potion from his hand without permission and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. Who still carries a handkerchief? Draco wondered, despite the fact that he usually did.
Potter tipped the green potion onto a corner of the fabric, making sure there was enough on there before he turned towards Draco again.
"What are you doing?" Draco snapped, as Potter grabbed his chin, tilting his face up. He felt his cheeks heated slightly.
"Healing your face," Potter replied.
"Why?" Draco tried to tug his face away.
Potter tightened his grip, keeping his hold firm. "Because there isn't a mirror here and I don't see you going downstairs and asking Mrs. Weasley for help. So, unless Snape is going to suddenly come out of his coma and heal you, you're stuck with me."
Draco resisted the urge to tell Potter that if he just left the damn room, Severus would do exactly that and everyone would be happy.
"Magical sleep," Draco said instead.
Potter paused, cloth milimetres away from the bruise around his eye. "What?"
"Severus' is in a magical sleep, not a coma. Coma implies that his body has simply shut down. Magical sleep is just him trying to repair the damage done to both his mind and his body," Draco explained impatiently.
Potter blinked. "You know a lot about healing," Potter mentioned quietly, carefully brushing the skin around his eye with the cloth.
Draco told himself that the area he touched was tingly because of the potion. "I have to."
"Why?" Potter began to gently sooth the bruise on the blonde's cheek.
Draco gave him a disbelieving look. "Do you know who my father is Potter? I use to have to heal him after he visited that-that bastard and came back trembling because of that stupid curse."
Potter winced. "What about your mum? Did you have to - "
Draco froze and stubournly looked away, cutting over Potter, "I don't want to talk about her."
Potter nodded, as if he had expected that. Draco hated that Potter acted like he knew him. He didn't.
Potter's hand drifted from Draco's cheek, down to his split lip. My lip is tingling already. He hasn't even put any potion on it yet. Stop tingling!
The black haired boy dabbed the cloth across the cut, watching it swell slightly before shrinking back down and closing over, a slight scar still there which would fade with time.
Potter realised at the same time as Draco that all of the abrasions on his face was healed and Potter snatched his hands back, resting them down at his sides. "Ahh, well that's all your face done," Potter said awkwardly, "you'll need to remove your shirt."
Draco narrowed his eyes. "Why?"
"So I can heal the rest of it," Potter said, a slight flush spreading across his cheeks.
The blond boy's eyes narrowed further, suspiciously. "Potter, I am perfectly able to apply potions to my own chest, seeing as my arms and hands are still fully functional."
Potter was giving a good impression of the Weasley's hair. "Ah, yeah, right, that's...I'll just go," he stammered. He quickly packed up the overflow potions and scrambled from the room, still a vivid red.
Draco snickered as he watched the boy go. "Prat," he muttered, without venom as he shed his shirt. He winced at the sight of the bruises, the ugly colour standing out on his pale skin.
"Why are you blushing, Draco?"
Draco started, turning towards the now awake Severus who was smirking. "What? No, I'm-" blushing? He could feel the slight heat in his cheeks and he felt the heat increase as Severus chuckled.
"I hate you."
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Harry couldn't breathe. Literally. It felt like someone had stomped down on his chest, collapsing his lungs. The flush on his cheeks had faded until he was almost transparent.
"Why are you blushing, Draco?"
He knew that voice. He couldn't get it out of his head and Dra-Malfoy, Malfoy knew.
"I hate you."
It was said with affection. Affection. No surprise or shock or disbelief or...
Damn it.
Malfoy had known all along.
Harry felt more betrayed then he knew he should.
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Author's Note:
...Thought I was dead, didn't cha?
Mwahahaha, I'm alive...sort of Dx I won't ramble here, 'cause it boosts up my word count but if you care, there is a post in my LJ about my absence. If not,
Reviewer replies posted here:
http : // fookyu - fookmi . livejournal . com / 2546 . html
I love you all and I promise I will update again quicker than this next time! (Don't kill me or this story will never get finished! XD)
Anyone who guesses Draco's GodMother correctly gets a cookie xP (Yes, she's a HP character.)
Review my angels,
-Liaa
(BTW, what is up with the fact I'm on like...40 people's alerts and only ten of you actually review? I need love too! Dx)
,,,Still searching for another BETA,,,,Please contact me if interested,,,,
-Chapter will be updated with edited version at a later date-
(Damn! I still rambled.)