Disclaimer I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to the Harry Potter-verse. This story has been created solely for my own amusement and no monetary gain has been made from its publishing.
Author's Note I'm not going to bother to make any promises on when and how much I'll be writing. Every time that I do, I don't seem to be able to live up to it. With that being said, I have not given up on this story and it is going to continue. Updates may come slowly, but they will come. I appreciate all of you that have stuck with me as I work on this. Life is crazy sometimes and has no respect for carefully laid out writing schedules. I've come to realize that, like a baby, this is going to come along when it's good and ready.
Chapter Nineteen
Memories and Revelations
It took all of seven seconds after Lothair left for Draco to regret his decision to keep the lot of them informed of what was happening. Pansy's voice had risen to shrill notes that bordered on non-human, Granger was still crying, Weasley was shouting threats at him, Crabbe and Goyle were threatening Weasley, and Blaise ... well, Blaise was just sitting there cleaning his nails. When the other bloke felt Draco's eyes on him, he lifted his own hazel set and raised a perfectly sculpted brow.
"I swear to Merlin, Mafoy, if you've done anything to Harry-"
Rolling his eyes, Draco's attention snapped back to Weasley. His patience was starting to stretch much too thin for the redhead's safety. "Stop talking." He wasn't even entirely sure what happened or even if it was his own magic that had done it, but Weasley's mouth continued to open like a fish but suddenly there was no sound. Well, that was handy.
His gaze cut across to Granger. "You're semi-intelligent," he spoke dryly, "How do you deal with that-" he motioned with some disgust to Ron "-on a constant basis?"
If he was expecting an actual response, he was sorely disappointed. "Can we see, Harry?"
"I take back what I said. You're not intelligent," he muttered, leaning back in his chair. "No, you can't. As you've just seen, he's not exactly up for visitors." After a moment of eying the two of them with some suspicion, he continued, "Besides, you may not have cast that spell but I'm not entirely convinced that you can be trusted."
"We would never hurt, Harry!" she argued, shaking her head firmly against the thought.
"You wouldn't intentionally hurt, Harry," he commented, glancing at Ron and scoffing, "I can, at least, believe that of you, Granger. He, on the other hand..." He didn't think he needed to finish that comment. Even as an enemy, Draco could point out at least two separate occasions where Weasley had proven himself less than loyal. While this might not have concerned him previously, this bloody bond they shared tied the two of them together. What affected Harry now affected him and he'd be damned if he was going to let Weasley get one over on him.
"Who cares about Potter!" Pansy snapped, her patience wearing thin. She didn't like to be ignored, particularly when it was Draco who was ignoring her. She'd been trying to get a straight answer out of him for the last ten minutes and, frankly, she was tired of listening to Granger babble on about stupid Potter.
This seemed to do the trick as Draco's head slowly turned to look at her. His face was blank, but she'd caught just the briefest flash of what had looked like irritation. "What's with you? Hanging out with Potter now?"
Draco internally sighed, keeping a tight hold on his irritation. It wasn't like it was her fault that he hadn't told any of them about the tension at the Manor. He'd purposefully left them out of it. He hadn't wanted any information about his misgivings to get out, even unintentionally ... not that it mattered, in the end.
"Clearly," he drawled, flatly. He eyed the group ahead of him. An explanation might have come easier if he was just looking at his own circle of friends, but Weasley and Granger's presence was making him uneasy. It didn't matter if Harry trusted them. He didn't and he certainly wasn't comfortable offering them information about himself that could potentially be used against him. Hell, he wasn't even entirely sure that he trusted his own friends with that information.
Running a hand over his face, he decided on telling them only what he had to. Lothair wasn't wrong when he said they needed to keep their cards close to their chest, particularly since they were here to accomplish more than one agenda. "As my luck would have it, Potter saved my life," he admitted, grudgingly. Ron was trying to say something but he remained blissfully silent and Draco was more than happy to leave him like that. "So we've come to an ... agreement." He mostly certainly wasn't going to tell them anything about the bond. That was dangerous information, friends or otherwise.
"An agreement?" Pansy asked, skeptically, "And what the hell does that mean?"
"It means we've agreed," Draco responded, dryly. "What else could it possibly mean?"
Pansy had been about to stubbornly respond back at him but was cut off by a quieter voice than her own. "How did he save your life?"
The question had come from Granger and Draco knew it hadn't been asked out of concern for himself. After a moment of studying her, he rolled up his sleeves. He figured telling them his stance against the Death Eaters was harmless since the information was already out there. It wouldn't create more danger than they were already facing. "One doesn't exactly walk away unscathed when they reject membership."
Granger didn't say anything more nor did he. He didn't have to. They were all acutely aware of what it was that he had rejected membership to. Blaise, however, finally showed some interest in the conversation. "So it's official then?" he asked, watching Draco closely, giving nothing away about his own thoughts.
Holding his gaze, Draco nodded. Despite the information being in circulation, admitting it freely put him out in the open a little bit and he wasn't comfortable with the feeling of being exposed.. He knew he had the abilities to avoid any damage from the group of students before him, not to mention the fact that there were several fully trained Elves within a stone's throw from him, but the caution was still there.
Blaise continued to stare at him in contemplative silence before he simply nodded and went back to cleaning his nails. A reaction of silence from him signaling that he accepted the situation as it was. The Zabini family had always been one of the few Pureblood families to linger on the edge, neither leaning toward the light nor the dark.
Draco's eyes turned to the other three. Their families were much less neutral. Parkinson senior may not have been on Lucius' level but he was certainly involved enough to be considered an active member. Same with Crabbe and Goyle's families. Ultimately, he didn't think the latter two were much of a concern. They followed Draco's lead and were content to do so. He doubted they'd put enough thought into it to use their connection to him as an advantage. Pansy, on the other hand, was probably the biggest threat.
He wasn't naive enough to think that she didn't have her own ideas about how their lives would turn out. Being from Pureblood families the idea of an arranged marriage was a high possibility, particularly for political reasons and she'd been living under the impression that an arranged marriage between them was a sure bet. To be fair, had he not tossed aside the favour he'd had, it might have happened. As it stood now, it was an impossible future and when she realized that fully, he couldn't predict how she would act.
Weighing the options, he concluded that it was best to make himself clear now, while they had the upper hand and the guaranteed ability to smother any rising problems. Meeting Pansy's gaze with a steely look, he was frank. "I am no longer bound to the traditions of the Malfoy family, Pansy," he said firmly, "There will never be anything more between us aside from friendship. Siding with me now means going against your family-" his eyes shot to Crabbe and Goyle "-the same with you two. If the three of you are going to be a part of this, you're putting yourself at risk. Decide what you wish to do."
"You can't just-" Pansy sputtered angrily, her face red with embarrassment for having been called out so bluntly.
"I can," Draco corrected, cutting off her building rant, "And I did."
Crabbe and Goyle glanced at each other and then back to Draco, the wheels turning slowly. After a moment, Draco's earlier thoughts were confirmed and they merely shrugged and nodded their heads. They would follow him.
Pansy's furious eyes moved between them before she spun to Blaise, "Surely, you're not falling for this nonsense?"
Blaise raised an eyebrow in bored exasperation, "Surely, you didn't think that I had any intention of subjecting my skin to that great ugly skull, did you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and making the corner of Draco's mouth twitch with amusement before he could control himself.
Pansy gapped at him in outrage. "So you're all just going to join up with Potter?" she asked, incredulously.
Blaise shrugged, "I never said anything about Potter," he commented, going back to his nails. "I'll put my money on Malfoy. If he decided to toss his in with Potter, so be it."
Draco's eyes moved to Blaise studying him. The other man need not say anything else. Draco understood the implication and he gave his friend a small nod in understanding. By asking and then accepting their support, he was taking on the responsibility of them. He wasn't just going to be looking out for himself.
"It's your turn to decide, Pansy." Draco sighed, seeing the anger and frustration on her face.
"How can all of you just turn your backs on everything we've wanted growing up?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Having your Father torture you tends to change one's mind," Draco drawled coolly, eyes narrowing in her direction. Over her shoulder, he could see the shadowed form of Akkar, watching him and waiting for a signal to move. Giving him an imperceptible nod, Draco watched as the elf silently moved forward, his presence masked from the witches and wizards in the room.
"That doesn't mean we have to join up with Potter!" Pansy argued, waving her arm in the direction of Weasley and Granger since Harry was no longer anywhere for them to see. She didn't feel the Elf come up behind her. She didn't feel him place the tip of two fingers on the back of her head. She didn't hear the murmured spell. Her voice trailed off as her eyes glazed over. Draco watched with a hint of curiosity as her eyes finally rolled back and she slumped backwards into the waiting arms of his bodyguard.
"Shall I return her to the dorms, Sir?" Akkar asked, shooting Draco a curious glance.
"It's as good a place as any," Draco nodded, with a lazy wavy of his hand to signify his dismissal. With a Nod, Akkar disappeared along with Pansy and Draco's eyes shifted to Granger and Weasley. They were an entirely different problem. Frankly, he didn't know them on a personal level and he didn't have Potter to gage his reaction. Perhaps it was best to simply erase their memories and allow Potter to make the decision when he woke.
After a moment, he rolled his eyes. Of course, Potter was a trusting idiot, so that wasn't any better of an idea. "Well," he finally said, his eyes focusing solely on Granger, "I assume you understand the situation, Granger. If you choose to remain involved, you keep the silence. Make your choice."
She glared at him for a moment, her tears having stopped and her face now dried off. "I'm with Harry," she said, stubbornly, "We're both with Harry."
He couldn't say that he was all that surprised by the response. What else was she going to say? His eyes flickered to Weasley's red face and he sneered. Frankly, he didn't think either one of them were up to what was coming, but Potter was likely to want them involved. He knew well enough to pick his battles. There were bound to be a lot of them in the near future. Nodding, he waved his hand in their direction and released Ron from the silencing spell.
"It's late," he muttered, pushing himself up from his chair. The events of the day had finally caught up to him and his body felt heavy with a combination of tension and exhaustion. The damn ache in his chest had intensified to a point that it rarely reached and he was mildly concerned about that.
The Slytherins, taking that as a signal to leave, turned and headed to the entrance with Blaise leading the way. Granger and Weasley were having a hissed conversation as Granger attempted to convince Ron to leave. He could have listened in but he was too tired and, frankly, uninterested to put in the effort. "Either leave or you'll be forced to leave," he drawled, making his way to the far side of the room before disappearing down the hall. He wasn't concerned about them lingering. The other guards would ensure that they found the exit quickly.
Lifting a hand, he idly rubbed the spot on his chest that was aching. It was a strange sensation. It felt like something hot had been embedded just beneath his skin, the heat and uncomfortable ache spreading outward from a single spot like there was a physical link joining him to Potter just in that spot.
Grumbling, he walked past his own quarters to the far door on the left side. It irritated him that his first instinct had been to go to Potter's room and not his own. Was that a decision he'd made himself or just a mental manipulation caused by the bond? What frustrated him all the more was the fact that he'd never really know the answer to that. Pushing the door open, he slipped inside, sneering coldly when his eyes landed on Gwynn's back. "You know, sucking up doesn't work when he's out cold," he responded, crossing his arms and glaring at her as he leaned back against the wall beside the door.
Gwynn glared at him over her shoulder. "I'm not sucking up," she argued, her cheeks slightly flushed before her attention shifted back to Harry. "Besides, you're the one who shouldn't be here. It's not like you actually care about him or anything, right?"
Draco bristled at that, his hackles rising, and he had to fight with himself to bring it back under control. "Given the fact that my life is connected to his, that gives me every right to be here. You on the other hand, are the help," his tone hardened, "Go stand guard."
Gwynn froze at the command, her body stiffening as she attempted to fight off the effects. It was impossible. Standing, she turned stiffly and glared at him. Draco, it would seem, had much more control over his imposing aura than Harry did. She didn't say anything as she left, but she did glance back once more to where Harry lay motionless before disappearing out the door.
He couldn't explain why her last glance had pissed him off so much, but it certainly had. Moving to the armchair that Gwynn had been sitting on only moments before, Draco lowered himself into it and kicked his feet up casually onto Harry's bed with such an air of arrogance that Harry might have laughed at the familiarity of it had he been conscious enough to see it. "What the hell are you doing, you idiot?" he snapped, glaring at Harry's still form, "Stringing these stupid women along? Let me guess, you've got Granger sitting in the wings too?"
He didn't get an answer and it irritated him that he hadn't ... even though he'd known he wouldn't from the start. As he sat there, however, the irritation and the anger began to fade out of him. Potter's close proximity taking the edge off the ache in his chest and his raging emotions. Now he just felt exhausted, his usually perfect posture suffering as his body relaxed and slouched down in the chair.
"What the bloody hell have you gotten us into this time?" he grumbled, leaning his head back against the chair.
He didn't need to be told where he was. Draco would recognize the halls of his family home just by the sound of his footsteps echoing down the empty stretch of corridor. They were different from the last time he'd been there. The atmosphere was lighter. It hadn't been this ... welcoming in Malfoy Manor for years now. The curtains were thrown open and the light was shining in through the large windows, illuminating the interior.
As he walked through the corridor, his own footsteps were strangely silent as though he wasn't there at all. He moved through the halls, heading toward the main staircase that would take him back down to the main level. He hesitated a moment as he finally heard sounds. Confused at first, he listened carefully before it dawned on him that the sound he was hearing was laughter. The sound of laughter was also something that hadn't been heard in these halls for a very long time.
Frowning, he urged himself forward a little faster until he found himself leaning against the banister and peering down into the front lobby of his home in surprise. Two children were running around, their small feet dragging in mud over the polished marble of the floors. One head of dark black hair and one silver blonde.
He and Blaise. He remembered this. His Mother...
As if on cue, Narcissa Malfoy stepped in through the front door, a fond smile on her lips as she watched the two children run and chase each other about. Draco's eyes followed every movement. This was her years ago. He remembered this day. They'd spent the entire morning out in the garden. She'd been pruning the roses and he and Blaise had trashed through all the mud puddles they could find left over from the previous day's storm.
Pushing away from the banister, Draco took to the stairs, two at a time in his rush to get down to them. "Mother," he called out, but Narcissa didn't so much as twitch at the sound of his voice. She was laughing as the younger version of himself slipped on the muddied floor and fell into Blaise, causing them to tumble over in a tangled mess of limbs.
Was this just a memory that he was reliving? Was it a dream? He couldn't even begin to tell and as he watched his Mother, he was less and less inclined to find out. Why couldn't he just stay there for a while? He was safe. His Mother was safe. Lifting a hand, he reached out to touch her...
A low whistle sounded behind him.
"No wonder you were such a pompous prick, Malfoy! Look at this place!"
Draco spun around in surprise, finding a somewhat disheveled Potter standing there glancing around the front entrance of Malfoy Manor.
"Seriously," he muttered, shaking his head, "My Aunt and Uncle's entire home could fit right in this room."
In an uncharacteristic show of confusion, Draco gaped at him. "Potter?"
"Last time I checked," the brunette responded, finally turning his attention back to Draco with a roll of his eyes. "Your face is going to stick like that if you keep looking at me like I've grown a second head."
"How in the hell-"
Harry just shrugged. "Don't look at me," he commented, "This is your dream. Not mine. I don't remember anything till I woke up face down on your front lawn ... speaking of which, waking up to those bloody ghost pigeons pecking me in the side of the head wasn't exactly my favourite way to start the day."
Ghost pigeons?
"Peacocks," he corrected automatically with a shake of his head. Had he dreamt the other man up? If it was a dream then why couldn't he interact with his surroundings. No one but him had seemed to notice Potter's entrance, either. If this was a memory ... then why was Potter here? He eyed the Gryffindor with more than a little suspicion. He was still wearing the same clothes he'd been in after classes. It was as though he'd been literally picked up and dropped into this dream ... which was impossible because Potter was supposed to be in a magically induced coma until Rosalind arrived from the realm.
"Peacocks. Pigeons," Harry muttered, waving a hand to dismiss the topic, "Birds. Whatever."
There was a twitch to Draco's cheek as his jaw tightened in irritation at having been brushed off. Damn Potter for his annoyance. "What the hell are you doing?" he asked, suspiciously. His thoughts had gone back to the moment in Jade Manor when Harry had invaded his mind. Despite what Potter had said, Draco knew it had been him and he knew the Gryffindor had seen more than he had let on at the time. "Poking around in people's minds is a habit of yours?"
Harry shot him an irritating look in return. "Of course not," he snapped back, "It's your bloody dream. It's not my fault that you're dreaming about me!"
"I'm NOT dreaming about you, Potter!" Draco exclaimed, a slight flush to his cheeks at the accusation. "Somehow you're doing this. You're not even a part of this memory."
"I'm not doing anything!"
"WHAT IN THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"
Harry and Draco spun around in surprise at the loud voice erupting from the other side of the hall. He'd forgotten how this memory was going to end. He watched, somewhat detached as his Father stormed in, yelling about the mud the boys had tracked in. He and Blaise had ducked behind his mother to avoid the brunt of his father's wrath. The smile was gone from his Mother's face as she bowed her head and apologized, taking the blame for the mess.
It hit him then.
She'd always been protecting him from this. She'd been protecting him from his Father, drawing his attention to her in the hopes that he'd be distracted from his intentions for Draco. It'd only work for so long, he knew, but he had a feeling that so did she. When all else failed, she'd gotten him out ... or at least tried her hardest to get him out before it was too late.
He'd taken that for granted. He'd taken her steady and consistent presence in his life for granted and now he didn't know if he'd ever see her again. Everything in him believed that she was still alive, even if he had no proof of it.
Harry hadn't said anything, his eyes had shifted to Draco in order to watch his reaction and he watched as that determination that was so familiar to him began to settle over his features. Harry wasn't stupid. He knew one of the reasons (if not the main reason) for Draco's return to Hogwarts was to find his Mother. Draco didn't have to say anything for Harry to realize that the other man's resolve and his impatience to do something was building. They were running out of time.
"We'll find her so don't do anything stupid."
Draco had momentarily forgotten that Harry was there and he started for a moment at the sudden sound of his voice. Covering his surprise with a healthy level of disdain he shot Harry a dirty look. "That's rich coming from you, isn't it?" he snapped, eying the brunette, "You doing something stupid is what landed you in a coma."
"You're right," Harry responded, dryly, "Saving your pasty arse was definitely stupid."
Draco blinked at him for a moment at the audacity of the implication. "You didn't-"
His argument was cut off as the floor beneath him started shaking and he stumbled slightly. "What the hell?" he asked, glancing around. He could still see his parents and the younger versions of himself and Blaise. None of them seemed affected by the shaking.
"Draco," Harry started, the question in his voice cut off by a loud crack and the world seemed to shift, the floor below Harry fell away and there was a moment of panic on the brunette's face before he disappeared into the darkness beneath him.
Draco jerked awake, gasping out Harry's name in a combination of surprise and horror. It took him a moment to realize what he was seeing. Harry was still laid out on the bed in front of him, the same deep green blanket spread overtop of him, and the same silence lingering around him. Glancing down, he found his own hands wrapped so tightly around the arms of the chair he'd been sitting in that his knuckles had gone white.
Prying his fingers from around the chair, he glanced around, belatedly realizing that a hand had been placed on his shoulder. Following the clearly feminine hand up, he found Rosalind smiling down at him. The surprise of seeing her left him gapping at her.
She smiled. "You don't think wizards are the only ones who can travel instantly, do you?"
Draco shook himself out of his stupor and stood up. "If we can travel instantly then why did we have to ride here?" he grumbled, somewhat accusingly.
Rosalind's tinkling laugh was his answer. "A little discomfort is good for you."
Draco didn't respond to that, his eyes shifted back to Harry's prone form, drawing Rosalind's own gaze. Her amusement faded and a sad smile settled on her features. "I'm sorry you two came to us in such turmoil," she sighed, placing a hand on Draco's arm, "but it won't be forever."
Draco wasn't sure whether or not he believed her. His life had been in turmoil for a while now ... Harry too, if he acknowledged it. Probably more so than his own life. "Think you can fix him?" he asked, taking what comfort he could from her warm touch without verbally acknowledging it.
"I'll do everything that I can," she responded. It wasn't the response he was likely to have wanted, but she wasn't in the habit of promising things she may or may not be able to keep. "Why don't you go and get some sleep," she suggested, nodding toward the bedroom door, "We won't be ready to start until the morning."
There was a part of him that didn't want to leave and Draco knew that, in this instance, it was the bond speaking. A part of him was desperate to stay but the larger part of him pushed back and he nodded. The ache had come back but it wasn't quite as bad as it had been. He'd likely get at least a few hours of sleep.
Nodding, he turned and headed toward the door. Pausing in the doorway, he turned back with a slightly confused look. "Potter was there," he started, explaining further when Rosalind looked at him curiously, "in my dream."
"It isn't uncommon to dream of the one you're bound to," Rosalind explained, somewhat hesitantly. She didn't know where he was going with this and the look on his face didn't exactly clear up her own confusion.
"No, He-" his voice trailed off. He didn't think it had been a dream. Something was off. He didn't know what but he could feel it in his bones. Shaking his head, he offered her a good night and left the room.
Rosalind had not been the only one to arrive. Soren had also made the trip. He'd spoken to Draco briefly before he and Lothair locked themselves away to discuss whatever it was they needed to discuss regarding what had happened in the dungeons yesterday. Despite the situation, none of them had been excused from their morning classes and he was currently sitting in Transfigurations listening to Professor McGonagall drone on about the difficulties of an animagus spell.
Under normal circumstances, he'd have been keenly interested but his mind was a maze of conflicting thoughts and tension. The amount of time that had passed between his Mother's disappearance and now was starting to eat away at his sanity ... particularly after last night's dream, if he could call it that and he wasn't convinced that he could.
That morning he had accosted Snape before breakfast, asking the other man what further information he had gathered regarding his mother's location. If he'd been expecting some sort of brilliant revelation, he'd been sorely disappointed. It was slow going. Snape didn't have the freedom to just go poking his nose around without raising suspicion and putting himself in danger. The man's investigation was going at a snail's pace and Draco's growing impatience was having a hard time dealing with it
A startling loud snap made him jump slightly, surprised when he glanced down to see the quill he'd been holding snapped in half. He could see Blaise shooting him curious looks from beside him, but no one else seemed to have noticed. The snap had only been loud to his distracted senses. Vanishing the broken quill and the splattered ink, he shook his head slightly to signal to Blaise that he was fine.
Pulling out a new quill, his eyes scanned the room for Akkar. He found him in the far back corner, curiously watching the proceedings of the class with some interest. Draco nearly snorted. What did a 1000 year old elf find fascinating in a seventh year Wizarding transfiguration class? As though sensing Draco's eyes on him, he tilted his head to the side and made eye contact with his charge, one dark eyebrow raising in question.
Draco studied the other Elf for a moment. He didn't exactly trust him. He didn't distrust him either. The information about his mother and his intentions had not been shared with anyone and he wasn't certain it was a good idea to share it now, but he couldn't deny the fact that it was going to be particularly difficult to put his plan into fruition when he had a constant shadow. As far as he was concerned, he had two options; try and shake his tail or bring Akkar in on the plan. There was a good chance that he would agree to help him ... even if he had to order him to do so. Of course, ordering him to do so would also mean ordering him to keep the secret from Lothair and the others. That route would also be messy.
Slowly Draco raised his own eyebrow in response, causing his guard to smirk and shrug, assuming that he was drawing attention to Akkars interest in the subject at hand. Draco watched as the other Elf went back to listening to the lecture.
Now would be a good time to slip out. Potter was unconscious and the attention of the group had focused on the smaller Elf. It'd be easier to slip in and out of the grounds while they were all preoccupied. On top of which, Potter was incapable of following after him. Draco had no doubt that the idiot would do just that if he found out what Draco, himself, was up to.
Of course, the thought of leaving Potter in that coma made his chest ache sharply. He couldn't guarantee that his presence wouldn't be needed and, outside of the bond, Draco did have an obligation to pay Potter back for saving his life. A life debt, so to speak. His lip curled up into a sneer for a moment. Apparently, his conscience had decided that spending the rest of his life connected to the fool wasn't payment enough.
Sighing, he shifted to gather up his things as the rustling of bodies caught his attention. Class was over and the rest of the students were beginning to file out of the classroom. Grabbing his bag, he moved to follow Blaise out of the room. He could feel Akkar fall into silent steps behind him.
As they moved toward the Great Hall, Draco's irritation began to rise again. Nothing that had happened the other day was known to anyone outside of their group, but the continued whispers about Potter were starting to drive him crazy. It didn't help that they'd shown up over a week late for class and now, before another week had passed, Potter was suddenly missing again. Breakfast had barely ended before the murmurs had started and they'd been gradually growing as the Gryffindor missed more and more classes.
"You go ahead," he commented to Blaise, nodding off in the direction of the Great Hall. "I'm going to head back to the Dungeons. Blaise shot him a curious glance but nodded and carried on. Blaise was not one for unnecessary words and, right then, Draco was particularly grateful for it. Turning to the left, he headed back toward the Dungeons.
"You're plotting something," came a quiet, disembodied voice
"No, I'm not."
"You're a terrible liar."
Draco shot the empty space beside him a disdainful glare but didn't comment.
"You've been brooding about something all morning."
"Brooding is a thing that people do," he responded, flatly.
"You're not most people."
Draco didn't know how to respond so he didn't say anything at all. They continued to walk in silence. He could feel Akkar's eyes on him, but the other Elf didn't press the subject. Reaching the right tapestry, Draco passed through it and onto the spiraling stone staircase that would lead them down into the chamber.
With Soren and Rosalind's arrival, they'd had to increase the space. Thankfully, however, they had not brought an entire guard with them. In fact, the only individuals that had come with them was two other Healers that worked directly under Rosalind. Draco wasn't a fan of either of them. That wasn't to say that either one of them had done anything to prove themselves untrustworthy. As it was, Draco had a difficult time trusting anyone. Rosalind was the exception. She had an aura that immediately soothed the tension in him.
Reaching the main area, Draco found the space empty. Frowning slightly he moved to check the kitchen. Again, nothing. Turning around, he barely registered Akkar coming back into view as he headed toward the personal rooms. Bypassing most of them, he moved to Harry's room and pushed open the door.
Harry still lay on the bed, the only sign that he was even alive was the slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Rosalind was leaning over him, studying the warm glow of magic that was currently surrounding him with a small frown on her face. When she straightened back up, the glow faded and she glanced to Draco, a smile replacing the previous look but not hiding the flicker of concern he'd caught in her eyes a moment before.
"What is it?" he asked, moving forward.
For a moment, he thought she was going to placate him with some lie about everything being fine, but she eventually sighed. The sound was laced with frustration and annoyance, which had him raising an eyebrow.
"We've repaired all of the physical damage caused by the curse," she said, her eyes flicking back to Harry. "His nerve endings have been repaired and any impediment to his mobility has been corrected."
"But-" Draco hedged, a flash of worry starting to burrow it's way into him.
Rosalind remained silent for a moment. "His mind isn't responding the way it should."
Draco blinked at her for a moment. What the hell did that mean? "I'm hesitant to believe that Potter's mind has ever worked the way it was supposed to," he responded, dryly, "but what do you mean, exactly?"
Rosalind shot him a look that was half amused and half reproachful. "We've removed the stasis spell, but his mind is responding as though it's still under the influence. It's like it's ... trapped there." After another moment, she frowned again. "Given the malevolent intent of the curse, it's not surprising that a trace of the magic has latched onto him but the traces of it are minimal and shouldn't have this sort of effect."
Draco felt a headache starting to brew at his temples. The more she spoke the more questions he had. "The magic has latched onto him?"
Rosalind nodded. "Natural magic is different from the magic that you draw from within you. Essences of the same thing, but fundamentally different. Natural magic affects the user as it's an outside source and not a part of them. The curse used on Harry was derived from natural magic. Simply speaking, when the magic was cased, it was absorbed into Harry, which leaves traces behind even when the curse itself has been removed."
"And that's what's affecting him now?" he asked.
"I don't know," Rosalind sighed. "It shouldn't be. The levels of magic are too low for it to have this much of an effect, but there's nothing else in his system or environment that could be causing the problem either."
Draco frowned, forgetting completely that he was supposed to be heading back to classes shortly. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. Despite Rosalind's insistence that there wasn't enough of the curse to cause an effect, Draco wondered if that was true. What if the attack had not been intended as a physical attack? What if the intent had been psychological, hidden beneath the distraction of the physical attack? If that was the case, how were they supposed to combat something they couldn't find? He didn't doubt that Rosalind had checked all possible healing opportunities.
"All we can do now," she continued, unaware of Draco's thoughts, "is to wait and see if Harry comes out of it on his own. It could very well be something he has to face himself."
Draco recalled the strange dream he'd had the night before and the moment before when the other man had entered Draco's mind. He had a million questions. Could he do that with other people? Or was it caused by the bond? A rapidly formulating idea was swirling around his thoughts and Draco set his bag down on the chair. It was a reckless idea. Almost Potter level reckless and, perhaps, his involvement with the Gryffindor had addled his brain but Draco moved toward the bed all the same.
"Draco?"
He barely heard Rosalind's confused and somewhat cautious call to him. Ignoring it, for the moment, he reached out to place his hand on Harry's forehead. The instant his hand had connected with Harry's skin, Draco had just enough time to register the heat coming off the Gryffindor before his entire body stiffened as though an electric current had run through him. He blinked once and everything shifted.
Suddenly he was standing once again in the front entrance of his home. His mother and the younger versions of himself and Blaise were gone. His father was gone. There was nothing but silence.
A second ago he'd been standing in the Chamber of Secrets at Hogwarts.
"Draco?"
This time Draco registered his name, spinning around to find Harry standing behind him. It was different this time. Harry appeared younger. Twelve maybe? Thirteen? He was surprisingly haggard looking. There were dark circles under his eyes making him look like he hadn't slept in a week and his clothes, though not ripped or torn, had certainly seen better days. More importantly, there was something around the edges of Potter's eyes that Draco wasn't used to seeing; fear. Hell, he didn't think he'd ever seen it before.
It wasn't a dream. He wasn't sleeping. He'd been fully aware of his surroundings a moment before he'd ended up in this ... he didn't know what to call it? Was it a memory?
"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, taking a step back and away from him.
"What are you doing here?" he shot back, taking a single step forward to remove the distance Harry had placed, causing the fear in the boy to flare for a second. "Why are you hiding?"
"You shouldn't be here."
Draco ignored Harry's comment. "Why are you hiding in here?" he asked again.
"You have to leave. He's going to know."
Draco frowned. "Who's going to know?"
The fear that had lingered in Harry's face was slowly shifting into anger and Draco watched the change, his confusion growing.
"You shouldn't be here!" Harry demanded, frowning up at Draco's taller form.
"What is this place?" If he thought the continued questions were going to get an answer, Draco was sorely disappointed. Harry apparently had no intention of answering them.
"Get. Out! I don't want you here!"
The anger was rapidly rising in Harry. Draco could practically feel it oozing out of him to pool around them on the floor. Potter's facial expression changed with the growing anger until he was almost snarling at him. His features shifted, taking on the pointed ears of the elves and the smooth skin. It looked odd on the thirteen year old version of Harry, but Draco's attention was caught on Harry's eyes. Around the edges of the other boy's iris, red began to bleed out until the shockingly bright green had all but disappeared.
Draco had the distinct impression that he was looking directly into the face of a nightmare. Harry looked more vampire than Elf, his teeth having lengthened into sharp points and his nails extending into what looked to Draco like dangerously lethal weapons. Holding up his hands, to placate the angry form ahead of him, "Potter," he started, the moment he said it something shifted in Harry and he leapt at him. He just managed to leap back to prevent his head being taken clean off. He had not, however, been quick enough to stop those sharp nails from dragging across his chest. The realization came with a sharp, hissing pain.
Glancing down, he could see blood blooming against his skin through the shredded portion of material the nails had clawed through. He glanced up just in time to feel Harry's smaller body collide with his own. Forcing him backwards and back into reality.
Blinking, Draco found himself standing once again in Potter's room. Rosalind's concerned voice calling his name. A low hiss of pain escaped him when heat flared across his chest. Glancing down, he found the same wound on his chest that Potter had landed on him in the dream ... or whatever it was. His eyes flickered to the bed, Potter's physical form had attempted to shift to the same as the non-physical. His nails had lengthened and Draco was going to bet there'd be blood and expensive material underneath them.
Draco's eyes narrowed and his own anger rushed into him, matching the anger Harry had just thrown at him. "You little coward," he hissed, shrugging out of his robes until he was standing in his trousers and bloodied shirt. He didn't really understand what was going on. Potter was locked in his own mind. Potter was hiding and, for whatever reason, he seemed to be able to get past the Gryffindor's walls. Maybe it was the bond? Maybe it was something else? At the moment, he didn't really care.
Ignoring Rosalind's calls, he moved to the bed and climbed up. Taking the spot beside Harry, he turned the other man onto his side and wrapped his own arms around him, keeping Harry's arms pinned at his side so he couldn't take another swipe at him. The last thing he wanted was his eyes clawed out in some weird fit of anger. He didn't fully understand what was happening between them but Draco pressed his forehead to Harry's with an intense focus on the other man.
Like before, the moment he made a connection, the world shifted and he was back. Or, at least, he thought he was.
Gone were the pristine halls of Malfoy Manor, replaced with darkness. He couldn't see an inch in front of his face. Shifting his weight, he dragged a foot across the ground and heard the grinding of concrete beneath his foot.
"Potter?" he called, his ears trained for any sound.
It was faint and he wasn't entirely convinced he'd heard at first, but it happened again. A sniffle. Turning his body in that direction, he carefully made his way toward it. Another sniffle. A hiccup. Was someone crying?
"Potter?" he questioned, carefully moving closer. He internally rolled his eyes at himself. Of course it was Potter. This was his head. Who else would it be?
"Go away."
It was barely a whisper, but Draco heard it like it'd been whispered in his ear. "Can't do that."
"You're not supposed to be here!"
Draco turned, but didn't see anything. All he could see was darkness but the voice was close ... surrounding him. "Why not?"
"He'll find you."
"Who will find you?"
"He'll find me."
"Potter," Draco snapped, his irritation rising, "Who will find you?"
The voice didn't respond immediately. It was strange ... he almost couldn't explain but the air around him seemed to shimmer for a moment. Like something was slowing blinking into existence in the darkness.
"It's happening again?"
A small seed of panic began to sprout in his chest. "What's happening again?" Something shimmered to his left and then again straight ahead of him. He recalled the ground shaking the last time. Was the ground suddenly going to open up beneath him? Where would he end up? The last thing he wanted was to be trapped inside Potter's mind forever.
The air began to shimmer faster, swirling around him, almost blinding him. He didn't know what made him do it, but he reached out, fingers wrapping around a forearm and just like that, a switch had been flicked. Light flared for a moment and he was standing in the middle of a living room, blinking into wide green eyes.
Harry stood there, staring at him with a mix of fear and surprise.
"What's happening?"
The Gryffindor just shook his head. He didn't know, but he knew what was coming. He could hear the footsteps approaching the stairs, hear the stairs creak beneath the weight he knew they were currently bearing. He turned his head, prompting Draco to do the same as Vernon Dursley came barreling into the room, a small and horrifyingly familiar frame being dragged along behind him. They brushed through the living room and disappeared into the hall, Harry's younger voices pleading for the larger man to believe him when he said he hadn't broken it. What had broken, Draco had no idea.
Releasing Harry's arm, he moved toward the hall, unable to do anything else. Harry didn't move. He was rooted to the spot. Stepping out into the hall, it wasn't hard to miss the large man who now had Harry pinned to the wall with one beefy hand as the other ripped open a small door. "You ungrateful little brat. We take you in and this is how you repay us?" The man shouted, sneering down at the struggling child, "You should have just died with your parents and saved us the hassle."
With the door now open, the man pulled Harry away from the wall and threw him inside, slamming the door. Clicking the lock into place, the man tuned and stomped off down the hallway, passing by a stunned Draco like he hadn't been there at all. What had he just witnessed? What was this? Where was Dumbledore? Or the order?
The growing ache inside of him had him moving. He had no choice. He had to open that door. Reaching out, his fingers wrapped around the lock and squeezed, shattering beneath the pressure. Taking the handle, he pulled the door open. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the shadows in the small space, but they eventually did and he found Harry there, sitting in the corner with his knees drawn up to his chest and his face buried, sobbing.
The rage that began to fill him was terrifying. He was just a child ... complicated by the fact that said child was now connected to him irrevocably. The image shivered and then shifted. The smell of grass hitting him instantly. They were on a playground and an equally small Harry was being cornered by a group of boys, the largest of the lot punching the smaller boy as two others held him place. The image shifted again. Harry sat on the stairs alone, watching as other children celebrated a birthday. His Uncle calling him a freak. His aunt taunting him about the death of his parents. The images came faster and faster and Draco could feel the panic in the air. It wasn't his own. He didn't feel panic. He felt rage.
The panic was Harry's and Draco's body instinctively turned in the direction it was coming in. Harry was still several paces behind him, eyes wide and staring at the images ... the memories. These were memories, Draco had no doubt about that. They were Potter's memories. The words "freak" and "failure" seemed to be whispered the loudest and lingered the longest. The Gryffindor seemed lost in them.
Reaching out, Draco grabbed the front of his shirt and shook him enough to force those wide eyes from the images to him. "What the hell are you doing?" he asked, angrily as Harry's hand lifted to wrap around Draco's wrist. The contact sent a fizzle of energy through the blond, but he ignored it. "This is what's keeping you here?"
"I deserve to stay here," Harry muttered, shaking his head, "I couldn't even protect myself. How am I supposed to protect an entire realm?"
Draco let go of him and pointed toward the newest onslaught of terrible images from Harry's past. "That isn't your failure," he snapped. "They were the ones who were supposed to protect you. They failed you. Staying here does not validate every bullshit thing they're saying! You staying here will be your failure so pull yourself together, Potter! You can't stay here forever. I need you back in reality. We still have things to do!"
"I can't help you," He whispered, his eyes unfocused and staring right through Draco as though he wasn't standing in front of him. "I can't help anyone."
Draco gritted his teeth. He could feel the energy start to swirl around them. They were in Potter's mind but he could feel the wind pick up as though he was standing on a mountain. He was grateful that he'd taken his robes off before coming back. They would have been a major hindrance in this wind.
"I can't save you."
It was whispered and, in all respects, Draco shouldn't have even been able to hear it but Harry's voice carried over the wind like it belonged there.
"What are you talking about?" Draco shouted back, trying to make himself heard over the roar. He did not have the same luxury that Harry did. The wind was starting to force him back and his frustrations grew. "You don't have to save me!"
The force of the wind picked up and he felt his feet slip a bit. He wasn't about to be pushed away. He wasn't about to let Potter hide in here and leave him to clean up the bloody mess. Not a fucking chance.
His arm shot out and grabbed the front of Harry's shirt before the other man could push him away. The surprise cleared some of the fog from Harry's eyes and replaced it with the fear Draco had seen earlier, but Draco ignored it and jerked the smaller man forward.
"You already saved me, you idiot!" he shouted at him, before slamming his lips down on Harry's. Why he kissed him, Draco had no explanation. He'd wanted to slap some sense into the little idiot but a part of him had no desire to face off with that red eyed demon again. He was still bleeding from the last time.
The wind shifted. Rather than pushing him away, it changed direction and started wrapping around the both of them. There was a new pressure building between them and as Draco forced his way into Harry's mouth, some part of the bond kicked into place. He could feel the shock of it move through him but he was partially distracted by the fact that for some god awful reason, Potter tasted like Honeydukes chocolate.
Naturally, or not so naturally, Draco happened to have a weakness for Honeydukes chocolate.
The annoyance of that realization had him pulling back with a scowl. Harry stood there staring at him, wide eyes not daring to even blink. Gone were the images. In fact there was nothing at all around them. Just empty white space.
Draco snorted. It was a much better representation of Potter's brain.
His eyes moved back to Potter and he was pretty sure the other man still had not blinked. He sighed, letting the realization of what he'd just done sink into him. He'd just accepted the bond. Now who was the idiot.
"Fuck." he sighed, loudly.
His eyes narrowed at Potter's silence and some of his anger returned. "You don't get to be a coward," he snapped, releasing his hold as he belatedly realized the font of Harry's shirt was still wrapped up in his fingers. "You dragged me into this fucking mess and you're going to see it through whether you like it or not."
Harry still hadn't said anything and it was starting to creep Draco out a little bit.
"Now get your scrawny ass back into reality!"
He'd barely managed to get the words out before Draco found himself unceremoniously thrown out of Potter's mind. Suddenly finding himself slammed back into his own body left him disoriented for a moment. He had to blink several times before his vision cleared and when it did, he found himself nose to nose with Potter whose green eyes were now wide open.
Jerking in surprise, Draco pulled back, rolling off the side of the bed and to his feet. There was an annoyed demand for Potter to stop staring at him on the tip of his tongue but Rosalind was already moving forward and cut off the direct line of sight they had with each other. Taking the opportunity, Draco slipped out of the room before he had any more stupid ideas.
to be continued...
