Christine Gryphon screamed and arched so violently on the bed that Harry shot to his feet with a spell at the ready. Parkinson thrust out a hand and threw him a glare that was obviously a warning.
"Don't."
Shaking, Harry sat back down, but his grip did not loosen on his wand. Gryphon was obviously in severe pain. The Dark Mark on her arm glowed suddenly with a garish orange light, and then the map began to quiver on the bed.
Parkinson snatched up the parchment. "There," she murmured and pointed.
Harry and Parkinson burst into the abandoned warehouse with wands blazing. Harry shouted practiced phrases such as, "Halt! Drop your wands!" and "Auror Division!" but was no one there to hear them.
With a silent Parkinson next to him, Harry walked into the empty room and surveyed Virgil Crabbe's dead body. Severed metal chains dangled from the roof joist above, but Draco Malfoy was gone.
Harry looked at Parkinson in astonishment, and found her dark eyes reflecting his sense of disbelief.
How had Draco escaped? And where had he gone?
oOo
By the time Harry made it home, it was nearing midnight. Crabbe's men had come rushing up the stairs at the noise, but after Parkinson's enraged hexes had dropped several of them, the others had fled. Parkinson had given chase, effectively abandoning Harry, and he had gone back to the Ministry to fill in Kingsley on his attempt to locate Draco, and also to drop off Crabbe's body at the morgue. He'd picked up the requisite paperwork, even though he had no intention of writing reports until, at best, the next afternoon.
He felt half-starved, so after divesting himself of all extraneous materials, including his borrowed wand, he went into the kitchen and cut several large slices of bread. After topping them with cheddar, he toasted them (only burning one due to the unfamiliarity of the wand) and wolfed them down, gulping pumpkin juice straight from the bottle and hoping Eddie wouldn't wake up. He hated it when Harry didn't use a glass.
Harry looked at the wand and wondered what had happened to his. It hadn't been on Crabbe's body, nor had any of the others, including Parkinson's. He could only hope that Draco had taken them when he'd escaped. The borrowed wand was somewhat stumpy and rough, made of hewn oak with little character.
After tidying the kitchen, Harry went into the living room and sank down on the couch, giving in to a moment of sadness when he thought about Blaise Zabini sleeping in the same spot. It seemed a terrible shame never to see his bright grin flash in a wicked smirk, or hear his soft laugh after a sarcastic gibe.
Harry unbuttoned his shirt with a depressed sigh. Death seemed to follow him everywhere. He tossed his shirt on the floor and followed it with his shoes and socks. Without bothering to do more than loosen his jeans, he sprawled on the couch and dragged a blanket over himself. Before he nodded off to sleep, he thought he heard someone step in the hallway, but although he roused himself back to semi-wakefulness, the footsteps retreated. Counting himself lucky that Eddie hadn't started a row, he allowed sleep to take him.
oooOooo
After escaping from Crabbe, Draco thought it best to make himself as scarce as possible, so after a few random Apparition jumps and a few more deliberate ones, he made it to a dark alley in a run-down, seedy area of Scotland, mostly deserted at night except for a few stray gang members and cutthroats. A simple Disillusionment Charm was enough to pass Muggles without notice, until he reached the abandoned shack wherein he'd stashed a number of Portkeys.
After one nauseating, spinning journey later, he fell to the ground on the outskirts of London, in an overgrown yard attached to a rust-coated warehouse building. There, he vomited a couple of times, thankful that it was too dark to notice if it contained blood. He suspected it did, based on the way he felt. He needed medicinal potions, and quickly.
Two more Apparitions took him to a place of safety, thankfully deserted, and he staggered through the place, ransacking it for healing potions. He finally located a large stash of them in a bathroom cupboard. The array was notable, and he thanked his lucky stars to find a Bone-Mending Potion along with several strong painkillers, and even a Blood Replenishing Potion. He took them all after weighing the side effects of combining them and decided that the risk was an acceptable alternative to suffering what he already felt.
After that, he ran a hot bath and gratefully sank into the water for a long, blissful soak. Once his physical body began to hurt less, he turned his attention to the future. He would need to send an owl to Pansy as soon as possible; otherwise she would turn the world upside down searching for him. And then there was Gryphon. Draco would have to send her something special for going through the agony of locating him.
Draco would have stayed in the torture room to await Pansy, but he was afraid that Harry would be with her, and Draco had things to do that Harry didn't necessarily need to be witness to. Several things. He shut his eyes with a groan and began to make mental lists.
19th July, 2005 - Tuesday
Eddie was not as considerate in the morning. In fact, he was in a snit, judging by the amount of pot banging and cupboard slamming that emanated from the kitchen, waking Harry from a sound slumber.
Harry pulled a pillow over his face to try and block out the sounds, but he groaned, knowing that Eddie had no intention of allowing him to sleep any longer. He might as well get up and have the fight over with.
"Sleeping on the sofa now? Really?" Eddie cracked three eggs with a spell and they dropped into the sizzling skillet.
"I didn't want to wake you." He felt somewhat cowardly about it now, truth be told, but his bedroom door creaked and he hadn't wanted to awaken Eddie. He'd also been too tired to think rationally and the sofa had looked welcoming and comfortable. "And I was exhausted." He still was, actually, and wanted nothing more than crawl into a bed (or even sprawl on the sofa) and go back to sleep.
"Well, of course—"
"Ron is in the hospital."
Eddie dropped the spatula he'd been using to poke at the eggs. He stared at Harry with his mouth open in a moue of horror. "What? Merlin, is he all right? What happened? Rowena, listen to me acting like a spoiled brat when your best friend is—"
"He's fine. Or he will be fine. He was wounded in an altercation." Harry tried not to sound relieved, but he was thankful for the ability to deflect Eddie's anger.
"And you? Were you part of this altercation?"
Harry shook his head, for the first time glad he'd arrived at The Lockbox late. It saved him from lying. "No." He did not elaborate.
"No?" Eddie raised a brow and then turned back to his cooking.
Harry frowned. "No. I arrived after Ron had been wounded. I went to see him at St Mungo's, of course."
Eddie sighed heavily. "Naturally. I mean, that's good. It's normal, obviously. But it would have been nice to have received an owl or something. It's not like I was sitting up half the night wondering about your safety and if you were even coming home. Oh wait, I was."
Harry clenched his teeth. "Sorry. You're right. I should have owled."
"No, I suppose it's something I need to get used to, since you've obviously taken up with the Aurors again. It's back to long hours and sleepless nights, fearing the worse whilst you doggedly pursue wrongdoers without a moment's thought of the people who love you sitting at home worrying about you."
Harry shied away from the word love. He wasn't ready to hear it, especially not in the context of an irritated tirade, and definitely not whilst covering ground they had already been over time and again. Harry was tired of being painted the bad guy while Eddie was the long-suffering paragon of virtue.
"You know, I'm not out traipsing around going to clubs, or picking up men, or having a good time without you. I'm out there trying to prevent senseless deaths and stop people from committing heinous crimes and hurting other people. Do you really think my staying in with you playing Exploding Snap or going for romantic walks is more important?"
Eddie scraped the bottom of the pan so hard that a glop of half-cooked egg flipped out of the pan and sizzled on the cooker. "No, of course I don't. I am fairly certain that I don't even rate a mention on the Harry Potter Scale of Vital Importance. I'm starting to believe I'm lower than 'disposing of the rubbish' or 'scrubbing the fireplace'."
Harry glared at him. The headache he'd discovered upon awakening had bloomed into a full-blown near-migraine and he knew that ugly words would slip past his usual filters if he didn't do something to stop them.
"I am far too tired to get into this with you right now. I'm going home to get some sleep. We'll continue this later."
"Yes, run along and avoid the issue. Like you always do." Eddie picked up the pan and banged it on a plate, sending the eggs cascading down in a yellow flood. Most of them landed on the surface of the plate, but other bounced off and landed on the countertop. For a moment, Harry thought the plate had cracked.
"Fine. I will." With that, Harry spun and marched through the living room. He walked quickly, half-fearing that Eddie would run after him and stop him with pleading and kisses. It had happened before, but this time he didn't want it. He snatched up his knapsack and clothing, grabbed a handful of Floo powder, and yelled the phrase that would take him to Grimmauld Place. Once there, he set the wards to keep out everyone, dropped his clothing onto the floor of the hallway, and made his way to the kitchen. He needed a bracing cup of tea, perhaps laced with brandy.
And then he would go to bed.
While he waited for the tea to steep, he realised he was hungry. His stomach had been rumbling at the smell of the eggs Eddie had been making. His sandwich the night before had barely taken the edge off of his hunger and he thought a couple of sausages might hit the spot. He wandered back down the hall and dropped the borrowed wand he'd been using before rummaging in the knapsack to locate another wand. He'd hidden it to avoid questions.
Once better equipped, he located a large Cumberland sausage in the chiller and sliced off three pan-sized lengths. They were sizzling nicely and he was halfway through his tea when he heard a noise behind him and whirled, wand snapping into his hand and tea sloshing onto the floor.
Draco Malfoy sagged against the doorframe and lowered the wand he'd held pointed at Harry. "Oh, thank Merlin. I don't think I'm in any condition for a fight."
Harry crossed the space between them in moments and slid an arm under Draco's arms to hold him up. He looked terrible. He appeared half-dead and ready to pass out at any moment. His lip was split and crusted with dried blood, one eye was blackened and nearly swollen shut, and his hair was a frightful mess, as though he'd got it wet and not bothered to touch it afterwards.
"Draco! Bloody hell, we've been worried sick about you! Why didn't you let us know where you'd gone? I was half-terrified someone else had killed Crabbe and taken you, although Parkinson was dead certain you'd gone off on your own."
"You were worried sick? Really?" Draco sounded pleased and Harry flushed.
"This is not about your ego. How did you escape Crabbe? And why do I even bother with wards if you and Parkinson can slide through them without a by-your-leave… Never mind. You look like shite. Let's get you upstairs. I have potions."
"I took them all. Are you making sausages?"
Harry glanced back at the skillet, which was beginning to emit distressing steam that threatened to become smoke. "Wait right here." He propped Draco against the doorway and then hurried back to shut off the cooker. He shook the pan to loosen the sausages and then set it aside and went to escort Draco up the stairs. Draco moved as though he had aged by four decades overnight. Harry winced, remembering the lingering ache of the Cruciatus Curse. And there was no telling how many Draco had suffered.
With a jolt of unexpected surprise, Harry discovered the bedcovers rumpled in his own room; obviously, Draco had been sleeping there. "Come on, back to bed with you. I'll bring you some tea and some breakfast. And then we'll work on fixing you up."
"You really are a saint, Harry."
Harry flushed at the sincere-sounding compliment, but he snorted as he pulled back the blankets and helped Draco slide into his bed. For the first time, he noticed that Draco wore nothing but dark pants and a slightly wrinkled button down shirt that looked vaguely familiar. It had probably come from his own closet. He reprimanded himself for thinking that Draco looked fetching in a half-naked state while wearing his clothing. The man was gravely wounded, for pity's sake!
Once Draco was settled, Harry thumped back downstairs and busied himself making more tea, adding sausages to the skillet, and topping them off with scrambled eggs and a generous helping of beans.
Draco had dozed off by the time breakfast was finished cooking, but he roused easily and began to eat whilst Harry went to the washroom and tried to locate suitable potions. There weren't that many useful ones left. Draco really needed to seek medical attention at St Mungo's.
He mentioned it.
"No. I have no way of knowing whom to trust. Someone hired Crabbe and they might have half of St Mungo's on their payroll."
Harry thought it unlikely, but he frowned at Draco's words. "Wait. Someone hired Crabbe? I thought he was working on his own!"
Draco bit into a sausage with straight white teeth and shook his head as he chewed. "No. This goes far beyond petty revenge. Someone wants me gone, permanently, and that someone is very powerful."
"Do you have any idea who it is?"
Draco nodded. "Yes."
Harry waited, but Draco continued to polish off his dinner and did not elaborate. Harry rolled his eyes. "Well? Are you going to tell me who?"
"Not yet. Not until I am more certain. At this point, it's doubtful that you will believe me when I tell you."
Harry scowled, but he looked away. He thought about Eddie and Draco's previous words. One day you will trust me, and then you will believe me when I tell you things you don't want to hear. He did want to hear them, and he thought he might trust Draco now, after all they had been through, but when Draco winced and pressed a hand to his jaw, Harry decided now was not the time. Draco was injured and needed to rest and heal.
"Here," Harry said and picked up a jar he'd located in the linen cupboard. "I have some Bruise Balm that should take care of the worst of your bruises. I can pop into St Mungo's for more potions if you tell me what you might need. I see you already took the bone regrowth, although I bloody well don't want to know how many broken bones you might have had."
"Mostly ribs. I think they are healed now, judging by my increased ability to breathe. Thank you for breakfast. This is delicious." With that, he pushed his plate away, still half-eaten, and closed his eyes for a moment.
Harry admired his pale lashes and then took the tray and set it aside. "Sleep now. I'm going to rest in the other room and then I'll go out and get you some potions and some more food. And here, put this on your bruises first." Harry handed him the jar. He would have offered to apply the salve, but at this point he didn't trust himself to touch Draco. He was tired, jittery, and out of sorts; he needed sleep.
"Hey, Potter."
"Yeah?"
"Care to trade wands?" Draco held up the wand he'd been clutching earlier. Harry hadn't got a good look at it during their shambling walk up the stairs. He smiled broadly, seeing it now.
"You kipped my wand back from Crabbe."
"And you stole mine from Shacklebolt."
Harry nodded. "Took it from the Ministry lockup." He handed Draco his wand and took hold of his own before giving it an experimental swish.
Draco placed his wand on the blankets and then yawned hugely. "You know, it's getting hard to tell the difference. Yours works just fine for me."
Harry smiled and realised it was true. "Yeah, yours, too. For me."
"It's a sign. Oi, Potter, send Pans a note and let her know I'm alive. Don't need her killing me the next time I see her." His eyes closed before Harry could ask him "a sign of what" and since he was vaguely nervous about the potential answer, he only agreed and left the room.
Fifteen minutes later, he lay in a bed down the hall, fast asleep.
oOo
Harry awoke a few hours later and rose to check on Draco, who was still out cold, pale hair fanned across the pillow and most of his blankets kicked off. The room had grown warm with the afternoon sun beaming onto the hardwood floor. Harry blinked at the sight and wondered when it had stopped pouring. The weather had been miserable for the past month. He spelled the curtains shut and walked to the bed to cast a quick diagnostic charm on Draco. He'd learned it at St Mungo's after they'd used it on him for the thirty-fifth time. Multi-coloured lights hovered over Draco, pulsing in a reassuring fashion: blue for respiration, red for heartbeat, and green for brain activity. All seemed normal.
Draco didn't stir and Harry cancelled the spell and allowed his gaze to slide over Draco. The shirt was even more rumpled and one side of it had hiked up to expose one hipbone and an expanse of ribs. His skin was pale, like expensive porcelain, and Harry wanted to lean down and touch it, and then possibly follow the line of his hand with his tongue. The strength of his desire was alarming.
Harry backed away and then turned and exited the room at a quick walk. His heart pounded and he leaned against the bannister for a moment before heading down the stairs. What was it about Draco Malfoy? Harry had never been so attracted to Eddie. Not ever. Nor anyone else that he could remember.
He made another cup of tea to steady himself and then checked the time. It was just past three and he should probably go and make sure that Ron was recovering. He supposed he should also go to the Ministry and get started on the paperwork, but he decided the Auror Department could bloody well wait for another day. He wasn't even technically back from leave, despite what everyone seemed to think.
He scrawled a quick note for Draco and stuck it to the mirror in the loo—the most logical place for Draco to wander once he awakened. Then he dressed and headed for the Floo to pay a visit to Ron.
~TBC~
(Sorry for the short chapter, but the next one starts Part Four and I didn't want to break it up.) :D