Title: Black and Deep Desires
By: Dr. Kim-chan
Me: So the last chapter didn't quite make sense. Don't worry; what'll come next will overshadow that rushed-out episode.
Lucius: Of course it made sense. They went to Potions class and Severus acted like a big wuss just because Mills said to excuse them. Then they went and talked with Hagrid, and then the whole chapter ended on a messy climax which ended up with Hermione frozen, Dobby losing his memory, and Draco on his way to finishing his mission. But did he really finish? And why is he acting like such a big wuss now? That's what we're here to find out.
Ron: Also, it would've been longer and a tad bit more structured, but the public needed you more. And even then who gives a damn because the plot's gonna get way better from here on out. In fact, today we have another dream sequence planned (maybe even better than Chapter Fourteen's), and the ending will totally blow you away.
Me: …Wow. Thanks for clarifying that. I may have to start paying my muses…well, you guys anyway. Harry, Draco, get off your duffs and do something!
Harry: You want us to do something? (takes out wand and says "Accio Oliver Wood!". Oliver does appear, but…)
Draco: (covers eyes, but peeks once in a while) Apparently he was in the middle of an after-game shower…
Plushie: (pops in with camcorder) "Now THIS is the money shot! No wonder they call him 'Wood'!" (records with interest)
Me: (trying to recover from nosebleed) Thank you, Harry. Thanks a lot. Rolling Chapter 23! (clicks remote) Someone get Oliver a towel!
New Note as of Sept. 29: Pay attention to the change about the Memory Charm bit. At first I said they were irreversible, but thanks to a certain faithful reviewer, my mistake was corrected. :D
(Begin Chap. 23)
…How was he supposed to know that casting Memory Charms on house elves had adverse effects?
It had been an entire forty minutes Draco spent, sitting at the Slytherin Table between Crabbe and Parkinson and watching Potter sip his pumpkin juice. His bluish-gray eyes watched him across the Great Hall with the greatest of care; he almost forgot to eat, he was so nervous. Every once in a while his eyes would slip to just a few seats away at his own table where Blaise Zabini was sitting. He must've gotten the hint that Draco went through with it—he would give a dirty look in return and look away as if he was embarrassed to have ever been Malfoy's former flame. Between that, staring at Potter and giving Hermione the once-over to see if she hadn't recovered her memory, the blonde was a ticking time bomb.
To explain Hermione's re-emergence and give another factor into Draco's unhealthy nervousness, Dumbledore himself found both her and a dazed Dobby in the kitchens. Draco kicked himself for being so unorganized. He should've relocated her somewhere else and removed the Freezing Charm, or else Dumbledore wouldn't have initiated a small-scale investigation. Even then, it wasn't his biggest concern. Even if he had been caught right then and there, he would've walked to Azkaban happy that he was able to carry out the plan on behalf of the Dark Lord.
Well, he wasn't captured. As ambitious as he was when it began, for some reason Dumbledore suddenly arrived at an inconclusive solution and disbanded the investigation, only giving a note to the Auror task force to better enforce security. It was hard to disband the teachers, though. Everyone knew that Memory Charms were reversible, even improper ones performed on house elves. But as you'll see later, Dumbledore had an ulterior motive and did his best to fend off McGonagall's inquiries. Doesn't he always? However, the truly harmful news was delivered when Draco decided to check back with Dobby to see if the delivery of the pumpkin juice was successful.
Which brings us back to the adverse effects of Memory Charms. As soon as Draco had left the kitchens, the spell relapsed, therefore when Dobby turned his attention back to the goblet sitting on the oven, he dismissed it as an old goblet which had been left to sit out.
Which meant that all of Draco's hard work for that afternoon had been drained into one of the sinks.
Thinking back on Dobby's halfhearted explanation now made him grit his teeth. Draco stopped. Gritting one's teeth was unbecoming, and it only increased the ferocity of his headache. Never mind the pumpkin juice being drained down the sink. He had another chance to try. The dragon-shaped bottle was almost full. It was still September.
It was an hour past curfew in the Slytherin boys' dormitories. A waning crescent lurked outside; darkness reigned inside. Crabbe and Goyle were snoring as usual, and Blaise went to sleep straightaway. (How long could someone keep a grudge?) Draco was lying on his bed with the curtains half-drawn, trying his best to calm down and reassess today's failure. Some way, some how, he would find that golden bridge between the Malefecium Elixir and Harry Potter's throat.
For now, however, he would just have to sleep on it…or was that a mistake, too?
…Running, only running.
The moon was above him, spying through the tree branches flying by, as if it was mocking Draco's feeble attempts to hide. The necklace around his throat jangled, reminding him of the horrible fact the bottle was completely empty. Out of everyone's book to take a leaf from, why Dobby's? Why did he pour the Elixir down the drain? That had been his family's only chance for repentance! What business did he have betraying his own family?
The winds surrounding him shrieked about the imposing trees of the Forbidden Forest to tell him it was late October, much too late to give Potter the potion anyway, even if he had any left. Where was Potter? The Death Eaters had infiltrated the castle, hoping to find a raging Harry helpful to their cause. Voldemort was there also so nothing would be left to chance. Stopping to catch his breath for a moment, Draco glanced behind him. A portion of Hogwarts was in flames, with dark clouds gathering on the mountainous horizon.
What was the point of clouds? Even if the coming rain quenched the fire, it wouldn't bring back the dead.
As soon as he heard the first screams echo throughout the castle walls, Draco knew he had to run. Lucius and the Dark Lord were there, expecting to see him and congratulate him. Congratulate? He just placed the greatest Dark wizard of their time in a very vulnerable position! It was the old adage that if you weren't part of the solution, you were part of the problem.
He could feel it with every breath. He would run out of strength soon, but the Dark Lord wouldn't be tired. He'd still possess the strength to kill him, if not his father first.
Draco stopped again, this time collapsing to his knees by a tree. Hogwarts was no more than a burning dot on the horizon; he had ventured deep into the Forbidden Forest. No, Voldemort wouldn't be able to reach him in time. Maybe the centaurs would take care of it for him. As was exampled by Umbridge before, they didn't tolerate trespassers. Would a bow through the heart be more merciful than the Killing Curse?
He had nowhere else to go. Without really knowing it, he had wrought ruin upon both sides of the war. He had wrought ruin upon all of wizarding Britain—no, Europe. Hell, maybe the world would take notice of the great mess he made. All he knew was that he had ran from both sides. The good side wouldn't take him back; the dark side would shun him. Numbly, Draco wrapped his cloak tighter around himself for warmth, but it didn't do any good. It was nearly ripped from snagging on so many branches. (And besides, warmth was such a funny word for a time like this.) He looked up at the moon and shivered. This had to be as deep into the forest as you could go. How long had he been running? Where had he planned on going? Were these the last moments of his life?
There was no one here to see. His reputation wasn't important any longer. If he was to die here, at least the last thing he could do was hang his head and let an endless river of tears wet the dirt and leaves at his feet. Quiet the tears were, but they expressed every singe of pain he ever felt in his life. He feared he'd never stop crying. Maybe he'd cry out every ounce of moisture and he'd die suddenly of dehydration.
But in all truth, he didn't want to die. There was so much regret he'd leave behind in this world.
Most of all…
It was a miracle in the midst of a nightmare. The next time he looked up, Blaise was right in front of him with a smile on his face. The forest's shadows made him seem more like a haunting image of Potter.
"I'm surprised at you. All that talk about fulfilling Voldemort's destiny and you couldn't complete a simple delivery? I guess there was heart left in you after all…"
Wait a minute. Blaise's voice had changed during the last sentenced. Blinking back his tears, Draco was shocked to find that his ex-boyfriend had warped into Potter himself. How could he be here? But there was no denying it. No one could mistake those emerald eyes burning through those rounded spectacles.
"Heart left for me, right?" Harry smirked and laughed softly. "I guess everyone isn't as they seem."
"What're you waiting for?" Draco asked gruffly.
"What do you mean?"
"You know bloody well what!" Draco barked, standing up weakly. "Go ahead and do it."
"You don't really think I'm going to kill you?" Harry replied cynically, all traces of lightheartedness gone. He drew his wand and started pacing a semicircle around the desperate Slytherin.
"Everyone's dead. You know that, right? Dumbledore, Ron, Hermione, everyone. Both you and I are alone. What difference does it make if I kill you? No one's here to keep score, and it's obvious you already crossed the line to fight Voldemort's influence. You were simply a pawn in his plan; you have no power. What's the point of killing a powerless pawn who couldn't even do his job? If at all I'm proud of you. It means you resisted temptation, meaning you're not as evil as you seem."
Closer.
"But you were right about one thing. There is no good or dark side anymore. It's just us against Voldemort."
Closer…
"Just us…"
It was like the best antidepressant mankind's science could ever come up with; the strongest magic that could ever be conjured. Against this unearthly cold, Potter's lips held that awkward warmth…but it wasn't awkward. It was the genuine love Draco had been searching for. If there was any hope to be found, it'd be here, within the Boy Who Lived.
The dark-haired boy's kiss went deeper, as if there was a certain flavor he was trying to obtain. He sat on his knees and straddled the blonde, one hand pinning him against the tree. The other hand was gently holding his face. The winds died down, knowing they stood no chance against the heat the two were generating. Draco could tell Harry was desperately trying to control himself. However, the hand that was on his face had moved to the skin under his shirt, caressing it softly. His body started to tingle. Should he allow his own hands to wander?
No time for second-guesses. His own hands were answering him. Harry was pushing him up against the tree so hard, if they didn't stop soon bark imprints would mar Draco's back…
Suddenly Harry stopped, detaching their lips. Confusion was written all over Draco's face.
"Why…?"
A finger was put on his lips. Harry was still extremely close—too close for Draco to see what he was doing. He could feel it, though. Harry's arms moved him away from the tree again, enough room for him to put one arm behind the flustered Slytherin.
"I had a reason for doing this. As angry as I was it wouldn't have been in me to let you die a horrible death, and I wanted to face Voldemort with a clear conscience."
Something was horribly wrong. It was like they had taken turns crying. Two uneven streams of tears were pouring out of his green eyes and past the rims of his glasses.
"I really do love you, Malfoy. But as I said, there's no good side anymore."
Draco was really trying to pay attention since it was a big deviation from what he said just five minutes ago. But a stick was jabbing him in the back…he peeked around to see…
Wait.
Harry rested his head on Draco's shoulder, embracing him tightly with one hand. He whispered something softly...he couldn't hear what it was…sounded like…
"—davra."
…Blaise was jarred from his sleep at the sound of a hysterical, screaming type of sobbing. He took out his wand and whispered 'Lumos'. Crabbe and Goyle continued to snore loudly; it was really true that they could sleep through anything. Then it could only be one other person.
He jumped out of his bed, ran to Draco's bedside, and shoved the curtains away. Whitish strands of hair were blown every which way, some plastered to his forehead by cold sweat. His eyes were as wide as they could humanely be, the same being said of his mouth that was causing the noise. The old instincts coming back, Blaise climbed into the bed beside him and grasped him tightly.
"It's okay! Draco, wake up!" Blaise yelled over his screams. A minute longer, then Draco simply proceeded to shake all over, sniffing and trying to catch his breath. Still, he was nowhere near the condition of being able to talk. Asking no more of him, the dark-haired boy put him in his arms and began rocking him back to sleep. As it were, Blaise spent the rest of the night with Draco in his arms.
…Meanwhile, Professor Mills was wandering the castle, on her way to Dumbledore's office. She experienced a strong disturbance while meditating on this night, and Dumbledore was the only one to confide in, especially with the news she just received.
After a long while of walking, she finally reached the gargoyle protecting the staircase. Whispering the password, the gargoyle jumped back to allow her in. Refastening her cloak, she carefully climbed up the stairs.
The moonlight reflected all across the place. The air was filled with soft snores coming from the sleeping portraits. Mills swore that if she was ever able to obtain Dumbledore's office, she would. There were so many shelves to put all her mystic paraphernalia, and there was an observatory to boot! A smile was on her face for a while, then she remembered the task at hand.
"Umira?"
She turned to see Dumbledore ascending from a lower level of the office.
"Professor Dumbledore, I believe you're already aware of my cause for being here," she explained, her words almost merging together. "My other cause, I mean—thank you, I will take a seat. Anyway, I didn't think the circumstances would develop this fast. Just tonight, for instance…"
Dumbledore waved a hand and smiled warmly, immediately silencing Mills.
"Yes, Umira. I'm perfectly aware."
Mills gaped at him. "You already know?"
"Yes. I knew it from the minute we discovered Miss Granger frozen in the kitchens. And you also saw the strange way Dobby was acting. I believe you're familiar with the effects of a Memory Charm," Dumbledore said quietly. "Of course, improperly performed the results are a tad different for house elves—anyone in that manner. I don't think Mr. Malfoy was counting on that."
The redheaded woman shook her head.
"Not that I want to question your methods, Professor Dumbledore, but it's a little unfair not to tell anyone else."
"This is the Order's business and no one else's. If anyone else knew it would further compromise your mission, which is why I left Dobby's and Miss Granger's altered memories intact. You arrived here undercover to see if the Elixir entered Hogwarts grounds, haven't you? And we have our answer. However, now I feel that the investigation was unnecessary. A soft heart such as myself may be expecting too much, or it could be that Mr. Malfoy expects too much from himself. Either way, I'm placing my trust in the fact that he will be the one to undo the trouble he'll come to cause for Harry."
"Wait a minute!" burst out Mills. "You're allowing Draco to finish his mission? Wouldn't we be putting his friends—and yourself—in danger? The poem says—"
Dumbledore nodded again. " 'Enemies become friends, friends become foes, then you will face life's terrible woes.' Yes I am aware. But do you know the next part of the poem?"
A little irritable, Umira recited it.
" 'The antidote is simple, if that is what you seek; find your true love's lips within a moon's week'…but isn't that a little far-fetched? Merlin knows I've been watching Harry carefully over these past couple of days, and I'm not a sixth-year student in Ravenclaw House anymore, but I can already tell it'll be quite hard to find Harry's soul mate. Who in this world could be compatible with a boy who's seen so much death and suffering so early in his life? At first I had Mr. Weasley's little sister in mind—"
Dumbledore shook his head.
"No? Oh, not Miss Chang again!"
Shake.
"Hermione Granger? They've been friends forever!"
Negative.
"Parvati? Padma Patil? He went to the Yule Ball with one of those two sisters."
Shake again.
"None of them? I'm about to run out of guesses, Albus."
"Not every young wizard's love can be found in a young witch. And it's also very rare that your true love stands right next to you. Umira, let me ask a question of you."
She looked up, attentive on where Dumbledore was going with his cryptic talk.
"To answer one of your questions, the only person who could be compatible with Mr. Potter would be someone who has went through a similar experience. Probably not death, but more than his share of suffering and neglect," Dumbledore answered. "And something else. Whether the creator of this Elixir meant for this loophole to be created or not, even I'm not sure, but I can detect one as plain as day, and if our intuitions serve us correctly Mr. Malfoy will solve the investigation for us."
"How?"
"Umira…what if your greatest love was your greatest enemy?"
(End Chap. 23)
Ron: I WOULD'VE NEVER THOUGHT OF THAT!
Draco: (rolls eyes) I've seen it from miles away.
Harry: What a heated nightmare…so…(pant)…hot and heavy…(pant)…need…water…
Lucius: (pours water all over Harry) Is that to your liking?
Harry: I was savoring the tingly feeling.
Plushie: "You backstabber…literally!"
Me and Harry: It was only a dream, Plushie.
Plushie: Tomato, to-mah-to…anyway, until Chapter 24, you desperate reviewers.