White Lies (13/?)
Title: White Lies (13/?)
Author: Cassis Luna
Rating: PG-13 for now
Warnings: ignores DH, EWE, AU, adult themes, profanity
Chapter Word Count: 6367
Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me, it belongs to J.K. Rowling. No money is being made out of this.
Note: I got the idea about the Restoration Potion from the Troyjeinen Potion found here, so that's not mine either.
Summary: Eight year. Draco drinks a potion that makes him know if a person is lying, and Harry, apparently at fault that Draco is this way, is forced to 'help' him throughout the effects of the potion. For the first time, they deal with each other with no lies to hide behind.
Alternate Summary: In which Draco's a Potions experiment gone bad, Hogwarts wants to eat Harry (oh, but does it really?), and everyone thinks they're shagging each other. (Yes, even the house-elves.)
CHAPTER 13
Coming Clean
If Harry didn't know better, he'd think that Madame Pomfrey actually liked kicking people out of the infirmary.
After McGonagall had given them a stern lecture about why they should 'mercifully keep your mouths shut lest you prefer me to charm it shut for you' while they ate the lunch that the house elves had brought them, Madame Pomfrey had been adamant that they get their rest and sleep.
"But it's one in the afternoon!" Ron had exclaimed, aghast.
Madame Pomfrey had raised an eyebrow in his direction, as if asking him a very short 'So?'. Ron had wisely shut himself up.
So it was with grumbles that the six students all retreated to their beds - Ron and Hermione in the Gryffindor Tower, Blaise and Pansy in the dungeons, and Harry and Draco to their respective beds inside the Hospital Wing. ("I assure you that I will know if any one of you is found up and awake so don't even try.") However, they thanked Madame Pomfrey fifteen minutes later when they were all lying down on their mattresses, heads on their soft pillows and encased in their warm blankets because they hadn't realized just how tired they had become with all the excitement.
All thoughts of the sun still high in the sky fled from their heads as they easily drifted off to sleep.
-
Harry dreamt of evil, scepter-wielding Bishops made of stone.
And Draco.
He dreamt of Draco.
But instead of the bishop driving his scepter into the neck of Draco's horse, Harry dreamt of the bishop driving his scepter, the sharp point glinting ominously from the torchlight, through Draco's chest, and the sound of flesh being torn apart made him sick, but he couldn't look away, even when Draco fell to the floor with a sickening thud that echoed loudly in his ears.
And in his dream, as Draco bled and stained the floor with a dark, mocking red, all Harry did was stand and stare, not doing anything, until unknown hands hauled him away and shoved him in a cupboard.
-
When Harry awoke, it was seven hours later. The sun had already gone down and Madame Pomfrey was nowhere to be seen - which was for the best because Harry did not know what she would do if she found him suddenly awake, eyes wide and trembling violently. His hands clutched at the sheets as his panicked eyes sought familiarity in the withering darkness of the infirmary, trying to erase the blinding red behind his eyelids.
He gasped, trying to get air in his lungs, and he willed himself to relax.
Shifting slightly, he let out a soft groan, both at the soreness of his muscles and at the memory of the dream.
His heart was still beating wildly in his chest and he craned his head to look through blurry eyes at the bed next to his - and released the breath that he didn't know he had been holding.
Draco was still there, still sleeping peacefully in the darkness of the infirmary.
As he tried to calm his heart, Harry just let himself lie there, staring at Draco's sleeping face and seeking comfort at the way his chest rhythmically moved up and down with each soft breath. No bishops, no scepters, no blood... just… Draco.
Groaning softly again, Harry raised his hands to rub at his face.
Dinner. That's what he needed. Comfort food and a bath too, to get rid of all these unwanted tension.
He'd go to the Gryffindor Tower to take a much needed bath, and then drop by the kitchens.
But first…
Harry glanced at Draco on the other bed, just watching him sleep. He quietly moved off the bed and, hesitating for just a brief moment, slowly walked towards the other boy.
"Draco?" he whispered once he had reached his destination.
Draco stirred, made an incoherent sound, and then turned just a bit towards Harry. "Hrmm…" he said.
"Are you awake?" Harry asked quietly.
Slowly, Draco's eyes opened, unfocused and bleary. He blinked sleepily at Harry. "Harry?" he murmured.
Harry nodded, satisfied. He exhaled deeply, letting the tension that the nightmare brought ease away from his body. He gave the half-asleep boy a small, sheepish smile. "Just checking," he said. "Go back to sleep, Draco."
And Draco smiled at him back, albeit a bit lopsidedly, before closing his eyes completely and succumbing once more to the call of slumber, leaving a very red and very flushed Harry to struggle with the image of seeing Draco Malfoy smile at him so unguardedly.
-
Draco was also dreaming.
He dreamt that he woke up and Harry was there. Harry's smile was the first thing that Draco saw when he opened his eyes, and Harry's voice was the first thing that he heard, that soft whisper of "Go back to sleep, Draco." and -
What the fuck?
Draco's eyes snapped open and, ignoring the pain in his eyes at having been pulled from sleep so abruptly, he scrambled in bed to sit up just as Harry reached for the door knob of the infirmary.
"Harry?" Draco called out with a scratchy voice as his brain started to catch up with the world. It was a slow process, but Draco forced it anyway.
Surprised, Harry turned back to face him.
It was dark in the infirmary and Draco had to narrow his eyes just to be able to see Harry clearly.
"Sorry to wake you," Harry said sheepishly. "You can go back to sleep, Draco."
Draco nodded dumbly, but didn't lie back down even though every muscle in his body was aching to do so. "Where are you going?"
"Dorms," Harry replied. "Bath. I'll bring you dinner in a while."
Draco ran his hand down his face, groaning inwardly. At least now he had it confirmed that it was a good idea to abandon sleep, if only to prevent Gryffindors from doing more idiotic acts of stupidity.
"Harry," Draco said again with difficulty. "Go back to sleep. I'll ask Madame Pomfrey if we can use the showers here, and the house elves are here for a reason."
This feels and sounds awfully domestic, Draco's sleep-deprived brain mused. He would've been amused, if Potter would just be a good boy and obediently listen to what he says.
"What?" Harry asked, genuinely baffled. He blinked at Draco, shrugging. "It's alright, I'm not sleepy anymore anyway."
Harry was missing the point here. "You can't go out there," Draco said exasperatedly. The darkness of the infirmary was getting to be really annoying now. Only the moonlight sifting through the window made it possible for Draco to see the still golden light around Harry's form and Harry's expression change from confusion to one of realization - and not the good kind.
"And why not?" Harry asked challengingly, suspiciously.
This Harry wasn't a stranger to Draco. The idiotic Gryffindor just didn't have an ounce of Slytherin self-preservation. Draco realized this during the climax of the war, when Harry just wouldn't sit still even though everyone was already telling him not to go out and reveal himself.
("I can't just sit here and let you all - just waltz out there into danger!"
Remus opened his mouth to speak, but Snape turned around abruptly, his cloak billowing with the action, and sneered angrily at Harry."Much as I would enjoy sending you off waltz towards danger, Potter, do drill in that thick head of yours that you of all people cannot get yourself killed with the Dark Lord still out there rising to power!")
"Because you'll get yourself hurt, that's why not," Draco replied, irritable from lack of sleep.
"What, I can't even take a bath now?" Harry muttered, running his fingers through his hair in frustration.
Draco forced himself to look away from the motion that always made his throat a little drier than it should be. "No, not when there's a madman out there wanting to trap you."
"There's always a madman out there wanting to trap me," Harry said bitterly, rolling his eyes. Draco cringed inwardly at how Harry's light stayed gold. "I'm just going to take a bath, Draco. Besides, I wouldn't be able to sleep even if I wanted to."
Without waiting for a reply, he turned around and walked briskly towards the door of the infirmary - which wouldn't open. His eyes widened, and he whipped his head around to glare at Draco, who was innocently twirling his wand with his fingers.
"What the hell?" Harry yelled angrily, stomping his way towards the blond.
Draco jumped off the bed, prepared for a fight. He was used to this. After all, this was how he and Potter started.
"You don't get it, Potter," he said, sneering. "Was our near-death experience in the third floor corridor not enough to get through your thick skull that someone in Hogwarts wants you horribly incapacitated?"
A lot of things washed over Harry at that moment. He saw Draco's sneer and felt his heart shrivel up because after being so used to Draco's unguarded expressions of amusement and joy now, having that sneer directed at him like before made him feel terrible. Then that mention of the 'near-death experience in the third floor corridor' had him remembering his dream and Draco and blood and that pointed scepter tearing through his chest, and he was torn between wanting to stay to remind himself that Draco was okay and going very far, far away from here.
Harry rubbed his temples, feeling the blood drain from his face and his fingertips go cold. "Fuck this," he muttered angrily. "Fuck you, Malfoy."
He turned again, stomping the way back to the door, his wand in his hand and 'Alohomora' on his lips.
Draco thought about letting him go.
Then he thought again.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
Harry's limbs snapped closer to his body and he fell to the floor like a dead weight.
Draco walked over to him, cringing when Harry's murderous glare found him and latched on.
"Sorry, Potter," he said, meaning it. Using a Hover Charm, he levitated Harry towards his bed, laying him down on the messy sheets. "Now if you promise not to hex me, hit me, or harm me in any way, I'll let you go. Blink twice if you do."
Harry continued to glare at him.
Draco waited patiently as he stood beside the bed. It was a pity that Harry couldn't speak. That also meant that Draco couldn't know if he was lying or not.
Then, Harry blinked twice.
"Finite Incantatem," Draco murmured and ducked when Harry's fist flew towards him. "Hey, you promised!"
"I can't believe you did that!" Harry hissed angrily. Underneath the anger, he also felt a little hurt.
"You wouldn't see sense!"
"What sense? I was just going to the Gryffindor Tower, Draco."
"Exactly! Hogwarts isn't safe for you anymore, Harry!"
"So what? You're going to keep me locked up here?"
"If that's what it's going to take, then yes! I don't want to keep on saving your arse from gigantic chess pieces, Potter!"
"Then don't!" Harry screamed, shoulders shaking. "Goddamnit, Draco, don't save my arse from gigantic chess pieces. It nearly got you killed!"
And Draco wondered just what they were arguing about.
He blinked, realization dawning on him. "Is that why you woke me up earlier?"
Harry flushed, but his green eyes still glared at Draco - at least, until Draco suddenly keeled over and crumpled to the floor.
Holding himself up using his elbows and clutching his throat, Draco coughed harshly. His chest heaved with strained effort. Specks of blood splattered on the floor, and Harry saw red. He immediately jumped off the bed, kneeling next to Draco, whose elbows soon gave away. Harry pulled at his shoulders until he was sitting up, so Draco leaned heavily against him instead of the floor. He coughed against Harry's shirt, nails scratching at his burning throat.
Harry held him tightly, one arm around his waist and the other grabbing at Draco's wrists to prevent him from injuring himself. His heart beat painfully against his chest and he panicked, feeling helpless and scared. "Draco, what -"
"Belladonna," Draco rasped out, body shaking.
Harry didn't need to be told twice. He laid Draco down on the floor and bolted towards Madame Pomfrey's drawers. It was with experience that he managed to find the belladonna tincture right away, and he rushed back to Draco, heart clenching at the sight that the boy trembling on the floor made.
With great effort, he managed to get Draco up to a sitting position again, and holding the blond's chin with his fingers, he lifted Draco's head up just enough to pour the tincture into his mouth.
Draco slumped heavily against Harry's chest, still coughing and chest still heaving and Harry thought what if it didn't work but then Draco's fingers curled on Harry's hip and his body started trembling less and Harry leaned back, his head thumping on the bedside table and his arm still around Draco's waist.
"Merlin," he muttered breathlessly. He stared at the infirmary ceiling, shaky fingers reaching up to brush through Draco's blond hair. Draco's face was still buried in his shirt, and Harry felt more than heard the boy's erratic breathing.
The small bottle of the belladonna tincture lay forgotten on the floor.
"This is such bollocks," Draco muttered against his shirt, "can't even have a decent conversation with you without something happening."
Harry gave a short, dry laugh. "Welcome to my life," he chuckled humorlessly.
"Yeah," Draco murmured, and relaxed against Harry's body.
-
Five minutes later, Harry nudged Draco. "Don't fall asleep on me, you wanker."
"Can't help it," Draco muttered, arms tightening around Harry's waist and enjoying the way Harry shifted uncomfortably. "You woke me up."
Harry stiffened slightly, before relaxing. "Sorry."
Draco nodded, and then swallowed. His throat still felt like hippogriffs scratched it. "We're still going to continue our conversation, Potter. Don't think you're getting out of it."
Harry sighed, closing his eyes. "What's there to continue?"
Draco rolled his eyes. He was reluctant to leave his position - after all, how many times in your life do you end up snuggling Harry bloody Potter? (even if that circumstance was brought about by painful hyperventilation) - but figured that his words wouldn't have the same effect that he was aiming for.
With great regret, he disentangled himself from Harry, enjoying the blush that stole over Harry's cheeks as he became fully aware of their position but Draco was a good man. He refrained from teasing him about it, if only because Draco was trying to have a serious conversation here.
The teasing would come later.
They sat on the floor, facing each other.
"Harry, if you really must go to your awfully decorated Tower, then you shall take me with you. It will burn my eyes, but I'm willing to sacrifice it for the greater good since I am such a good fellow…" Draco said haughtily, or as haughtily as he could with his voice sounding like Flitwick's. (Okay, that was an exaggeration…)
Harry snorted. "You talk funny," he muttered, but shut up when Draco kicked him.
"And it's not that we're locking you here," Draco continued, more soberly now. He regarded Harry with a serious expression, looking almost thoughtful. "It's just that… things are getting really serious now. We don't know who's trapping you and for what reason, but now we know that they're not beyond, well, maiming you."
Harry once again had flashes of their time at Grimmauld Place, where Draco would so often assume this leading role that Harry was grateful for, more than he'd wanted to admit. It felt nice, having someone else do all the work for once.
"You have to remember to be careful, Harry," Draco said, but then snorted. "But you seem to never do."
"Hey!"
Draco ignored him. "But thankfully, I am here to remind you. Don't forget, I promised Professor Lupin I'd keep an eye on you."
"And I promised Professor Snape I'd keep an eye on you," Harry muttered, realizing the whole irony of the situation. He also remembered Remus as well, and how worried the man had been for him yesterday. He suddenly felt guilty. "I know, I know," he said, sighing. "I'm sorry. I was just frustrated earlier."
Draco nodded sympathetically. "Woke up badly?"
Harry hesitated at first, but then realized that he didn't mind sharing it with Draco. "I had a bad dream," he admitted, shrugging nonchalantly. "So I just wanted to get my mind off things. And feeling locked up reminded me of Dumbledore -" Draco flinched. "- and how he never told me anything back then, even though I was ready to tear my hair out with everything that was happening around me."
Draco did not want to talk about Dumbledore. "Your dream," he said, murmuring. "Is that the reason why you woke me up?"
Flushing, Harry nodded.
Draco waited.
And waited.
And waited.
He sighed exasperatedly. "Well, do I have to force it out of you?" he said, making Harry flush an even darker shade of red. "It was about me, wasn't it?"
Harry nodded. "The bishop -" he muttered, looking at the floor beside Draco's leg. "He stabbed, err - he stabbed you, not the horse, and… Well, you."
He could still remember it vividly, the grotesque image. Harry's hand fell from his lap to the floor, where blood from Draco's earlier episode lay. It stained his hand and he could feel his fingertips going cold once again -
Draco took Harry's hands in his own and held it firmly. "I'm fine, Harry," he murmured, thumbs rubbing circles on the back of Harry's hands. "Look at me. I'm alright."
Harry's eyes remained on their intertwined fingers, his own specked with red. "No, you're not," he muttered. "You just heaved out blood, Draco. That's my fault too. If I hadn't -"
"Oh, for Merlin's bloody sake, Potter!" Draco exclaimed, making Harry's head snap up in surprise to look at him. "Just a week ago you were going on about how it's not your fault and now you want it to be your fault?" he snapped, glaring. "Listen to me, Harry, because you must realize how challenging it is for me to boost your ego. Now, how could it have been your fault? It was Peeves' fault, and you know it. As for the chess game, I did it so that we could get out of that bloody room. I didn't do it to save your arse, so don't beat yourself up for it."
He was lying, but if it made Harry feel better, then all was well.
But it didn't make Harry feel better. He knew Draco was trying to cheer him up, but the fact that Draco didn't do it for him made him feel strangely hollow somewhat. It was a selfish thought, and that made Harry more miserable about himself. Swallowing, he nodded. "Yeah. Sorry."
Draco nodded back, and let go of his hands.
"Now go get your house elf friends and get us dinner."
Harry couldn't help a small smile. "Lazy git."
-
They had finally gotten off the floor (which they had Scourgified to get rid of the blood) and onto Harry's bed, where they sat on opposite ends with two trays full of dinner between them that had their stomachs growling as soon Dobby appeared carrying it. Now, they ate in companionable silence, their hunger getting the better of them.
They realized that Madame Pomfrey wouldn't be getting back any time soon so they took it upon themselves to light the candles in the infirmary to at least be able to see what they were about to put in their mouths.
After a while, Harry was satiated enough to put down his chicken leg to ask. "Hey, Draco?"
"Hm?"
Harry swallowed one big gulp of pumpkin juice. "I thought you were mad at me."
That had Draco putting his spoon and fork down. He raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"You know," Harry said, feeling self-conscious. "This morning. Breakfast. You wouldn't talk to me."
"Oh," Draco said. Well, this was awkward. He couldn't really remember the exact reason why he had been mad with Harry, if he had been mad at him at all. No, Draco hadn't been mad at Harry. He had been mad at himself. For having the Dark Mark, for making the wrong decisions, even if those decisions made him an asset for the Order, and -
For falling in love with someone he could never have.
"I wasn't mad at you, Harry," Draco finally said, sighing.
Harry quirked an eyebrow upwards. "Well, it seemed like it."
The golden light around Harry both amused Draco and made him guilty. He gave a wry smile. "I apologize if it seemed that way. But really. It had nothing to do with you."
Not really anyway.
Harry looked at him for a short moment, before slowly nodding. "Alright," he murmured, dropping his mutilated chicken leg and reaching for a napkin from the tray as he Not Looked at Draco.
Well, that certainly made Draco's resolve crumble.
"Dear Merlin, Potter, don't sulk," he blurted out suddenly.
Harry blinked at him, surprised. He flushed, opening his mouth to defend himself. "I'm not -" He was suddenly enveloped in black.
"The Dark Mark," he cut in then, his voice a tad bit higher than usual that ended up scratchy at the end due to his earlier episode. He ran his fingers through his hair, an action he permitted himself to do only if his hair was already messy to begin with - which it was due to the events that happened in the third floor corridor and sleep.
Harry remained silent, still surprised, though this time it was because of what Draco had just mentioned - and the dawning realization of just what the other boy was about to admit to him.
"I was awake yesterday," Draco continued, more softly this time and calmer. "You know, when you and Neville were talking."
"Oh," Harry said, embarrassed. His eyebrows furrowed as he remembered yesterday's conversation with Neville and what it had to do with Draco being mad at him. "Sorry for waking you up," he muttered.
Draco sent him a wry smile. "You two started talking about The Dark Lord -"
"Voldemort," Harry cut in softly.
Draco looked surprised, then uncomfortable. He had said it many times before, but… He wasn't Neville, or Ron, or Hermione, or dear Merlin, he wasn't Harry. It still took a little more out of him every time, because they weren't taught to fear the Dark Lord ever since they were young - weren't forced to share your home with someone who might suddenly turn your bones into twigs in your sleep just because it tickled his fancy.
Draco may have been a spy for the Order… but that didn't mean he hadn't been scared out of his wits.
"Voldemort," Draco said, exhaling.
Harry sent him a small, proud smile, which brightened up his mood immediately.
"You two started talking about - Voldemort, and I just remembered the Dark Mark," he admitted, shrugging, eyes sliding to his covered forearm as if on automatic. "I get miserable when I remember it. Not that I forget, because I never do even if I wanted to but - sometimes, I remember how it felt, under my skin, that vile, disgusting feeling -"
He took a deep breath, cutting himself off abruptly. "As you've witnessed this morning, Harry, it sends me into the sourest of moods," he finished wryly.
Harry's lips quirked up just a tiny bit, but he remained somber, looking at Draco with an almost thoughtful expression on his face. Then, after a long agonizing silence, he waved at Draco's forearm shyly. "Can I -?"
Draco shrugged and lifted up his sleeve, exposing creamy white and unblemished skin. He shoved his arm in front of Harry.
Harry held it with both hands, using his thumbs to brush over the skin where the Dark Mark… used to be, and since it was no longer there, Harry wasn't thinking about it, really, even though he knew he was supposed to but it really was hard thinking about something else when all he could think about was how beautiful Draco's skin was for a guy and was it really proper for a guy to think another guy's skin beautiful?
Well, that was a rather… pouf-y thought.
"What are you thinking about?" Draco asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.
He could feel his face burning, and dutifully kept it down. "Not the Dark Mark, that's for sure -" he muttered, once again tracing the place where the Mark once lay, not noticing Draco's small but sharp intake of breath from above him. "- because it's not here anymore," he finished firmly.
Draco stared at him, as if asking Merlin why the hell he was just stating the obvious.
Harry shrugged, grinning as an idea formed in his head. It was embarrassing, yes, and his cheeks didn't look like they will return to their normal color soon but he supposed sacrifices must be done in the name of friendship. "If it makes you feel better, then I'm not thinking about the Dark Mark because I'm really thinking about how smooth and beautiful your skin is. Really, what lotion do you use?"
Draco gaped at him.
Then laughed.
Harry's shoulders relaxed, as he too found himself smiling at the sight the other boy made.
Now that made the embarrassment worth it, seeing Draco laugh like that…
Draco's face shone with mirth, past worries forgotten. "Oh, wait until Weaselbee gets wind of this. He won't be able to eat properly every time he sees us in the Great Hall together."
And despite Ron's misfortunes, Harry grinned and inwardly patted himself for a job well done.
And Draco ducked his head under the pretense of laughter (though he really was laughing) because his face was burning - because when Harry had said that he wasn't thinking about the Dark Mark and was actually thinking about how smooth and beautiful Draco's skin was, he shone a bright gold.
-
Not long after that, Madame Pomfrey came in and was not surprised to see them up and about. What she was surprised about, however, was the tray of food between them and on the bed.
"I'm quite sure that there's a rule forbidding students to use the house elves for their own personal use," she said, raising an eyebrow on their guilty faces. Then, a small, amused smile broke on her face. "But my memory has been failing me recently, so I shall inform you of it when I remember."
Grinning, Harry guiltlessly picked up another treacle tart.
"Your friends are awake and are eating their dinner in the Great Hall now," Madame Pomfrey continued as she walked over to her cupboards of potions. "We're lucky that Miss Coulby is inconsolable once she starts her waterworks so she wasn't able to say much during her sudden outburst in lunch. Even luckier is that around the same time, some flowers combusted in Greenhouse 3, so the students have simply made up their own stories, fortunately for us."
"Greenhouse 3?" Harry asked, eyebrows rising up. "Poor Neville's got a lot of work to do then."
Draco waved it off. "Longbottom enjoys the work. Merlin knows why, really."
Harry snorted. "You enjoy Potions. Merlin knows why…"
Draco kicked him. "You merely lack taste," he said haughtily, sniffing, and Harry grinned, because now it felt like things were back to normal.
What normal meant with Draco Malfoy, Harry wasn't sure, but he enjoyed it anyway.
"Here, Mister Malfoy," Madame Pomfrey said, walking over to them and holding a rather familiar bottle. "Your dose of belladonna for the day."
Harry and Draco looked at each other.
Draco took it, but didn't make any move to open it. "Thank you, Madame Pomfrey, but I don't need it at the moment. I already took one just… half an hour ago, actually," he said self-consciously, knowing that the Mediwitch will catch up on his meaning.
Madame Pomfrey's eyebrows rose up. "I see," she murmured, taking out her wand. "You don't mind if I do a check-up, do you, dear?" Draco shook his head. She started waving her wand around. "And good call, drinking the tincture. Keep that one with you then, in case you'll need it again. I suppose I should also give you a Blood-Replenishing Potion to have around -"
"It's alright," Harry cut in, smiling sheepishly. "I always have one in my robe pocket."
Draco blinked at him. "You have a habit of carrying Blood-Replenishing Potions in your pocket?"
Harry flushed. "No, you git. It's for when you go into these episodes of yours."
"Oh," Draco said, feeling warm all over.
Madame Pomfrey smiled at Harry proudly as she finished her check-up. "Good, Mister Potter. Now, no damage done, Mister Malfoy. This is good news, since it seems that the potion's side-effects aren't as bad as it was during the first few days after consumption. I'll go inform Professor Snape and Minerva that you're awake, but I must insist that we continue our… conversation tomorrow. For now, you boys rest."
Harry wondered just how much rest they needed before Madame Pomfrey was satisfied.
Before she could leave, Draco spoke up. "Madame Pomfrey, you don't suppose we could use the baths here? Well, Harry really stinks and -"
"Hey!" Harry cut in, glaring.
Madame Pomfrey's lips quirked up into an amused smile. "Of course," she said, and then flicked her wand again. A click echoed in the infirmary. "I usually keep it locked because other students, when they see that they are running late in the morning, detour here to take a shower between their classes. Make a mess of it, too," she muttered to herself exasperatedly as she walked out of the room, but before she could open the door, she turned back once more.
"Oh, and Harry? I suppose I don't need to remind you not to wander about the castle alone."
Harry flushed and ignored Draco's smug look. "No, Madame Pomfrey."
-
After finishing their dinner and taking turns getting their much-needed bath, they both lay on their respective beds in their pyjamas.
"Hey, Draco?" Harry started, shifting to get into a more comfortable position. He ended up on his side, facing Draco.
"Hm?"
"Who do you think's been messing with the safety rooms?"
Draco paused, surprised with the sudden question. He turned in his bed, looking at Harry with a raised eyebrow. "It's not hard to guess. Probably some old Death Eaters wanting revenge or something."
Harry nodded. "Remus said the same thing. He said there are a lot of people remaining out there who wants to kill me."
Draco stared at Harry incredulously. "How can you say that so carelessly?" he muttered.
Harry blinked in surprise at Draco's sharp reply. "Well, it's still a horrible shock every time at first," he admitted wryly, shrugging. "But after that, I guess I'm just… used to it."
First year, there was Professor Quirrell. Second year, Tom Riddle. Third year, Sirius Black (supposedly). Fourth year, well… it was like the Tri-Wizard Tournament was made for his painful demise, dragons and psychopathic merpeople and all that. From fifth year onwards, it was nothing but Voldemort, Voldemort and Voldemort because of that stupid prophecy.
Even with Voldemort dead, it was still about Voldemort.
Looking at how the light around Harry burned a bright gold, Draco suddenly felt very sick and angry at the world. It wasn't the first time that he wanted to hide the boy and just keep him there, keep him, and tell him that it's safe, he's safe and no sick madman was going to get to him, not if Draco's around.
Draco snorted mentally.
Really, he wanted to protect Potter but couldn't even utter Voldemort's name?
Time to change that.
He swallowed.
"Voldemort sucks," he announced proudly.
Harry blinked at him.
Draco rolled his eyes. Slow Gryffindor. "Congratulate me, Potter. I just said his name."
A sort of realization dawned on Harry's face, and a smile stole over his lips as he shook his head in amusement. "But I always knew that you could do it," he said, and Draco preened at the praise.
"Now, Harry, listen here. All that food made me rather sleepy, so be grateful that I'm sparing time for you when I could be having my beauty sleep."
Harry kept his mouth shut, but the upward quirking of his lips could not be prevented.
Draco ignored it. "I think it's someone from the Patching Team," he said, listing out the possible candidates in his head. "It may be someone from the current Patching Team, or someone from the Patching Team during our summer vacation. I'm saying that it could be a student. I'm thinking of all the possibilities here."
Harry's nose scrunched up in confusion. "A student?"
Draco nodded. "They could be doing it willingly or unwillingly." He paused, and then softly added, "Knowingly or unknowingly."
Harry inhaled sharply. He felt angry at the thought that innocent people were being pulled into stupid messes again - because of him. "Why, though? I mean, Remus told me that killing me's probably not the goal here. If they wanted to, they'd have done it a long time ago."
Draco's blood ran cold at the thought. It was true. It would be so easy, after all, when one had the proper intent to. Just a wand and the words 'Avada Kedavra'. He kept his eyes on Harry, trying to comfort himself that Harry was alright, still breathing. "I don't know."
Harry nodded, forcing himself to relax against the bed. His muscles were tense, and his whole body felt strung up. "Is there still any chance that this is all just Hogwarts being moody?" he asked softly, hopefully. "Or a prank, maybe?"
Draco almost wanted to lie.
But he didn't - wouldn't.
But he also didn't want to tell the truth either.
So again, he swallowed.
"Voldemort sucks."
Harry's lips quirked up into a smile, as his body finally listened to him and relaxed against the bed.
Across him, Draco took his wand and flicked it, extinguishing all the candles.
"Hey, Draco?" Harry called out to the darkness.
His reply was the sound of sheets ruffling, indications of Draco moving around to get into a comfortable position. "Hm?"
"Thank you."
The ruffling stopped.
But for just a moment.
"You'd do the same for others too, Harry," came Draco's nonchalant reply.
Harry smiled, even though no one could see it. He could already feel his eyes drooping.
"For you too, Draco," he murmured, before he gave himself to sleep, leaving his companion shocked, flustered and very much awake.
-
The next time that Harry awoke, he was screaming.
Or - his dream self was, he's not really sure.
But what he's sure of was Draco's worried face above his, and Draco's hands firmly gripping his shoulders.
"Harry! Wake up, you wanker!"
Harry groaned in response, hands rising to press on his forehead. His head felt like it was bulldozed over, and his eyes are not happy at being cut from sleep once more.
It was the same dream as before, only longer but just as vivid.
The bishop and Draco, the unknown hands and the cupboard, and all that blinding red.
Draco slapped his cheek lightly.
Harry tried to keep his eyes open. "Draco," he mumbled, just to show the other that he was awake.
A relieved sigh was his reply. "Do you always get these nightmares, Harry?" Draco said exasperatedly.
Tiredly, Harry nodded. He rubbed at his eyes, realizing for the first time that the candle on the table between their two beds was lit. "Yeah. Sorry," he muttered guiltily. "Didn't mean to wake you."
Draco blinked. "No, I didn't mean that -" He started, before simply sighing. "I mean, do you always have nightmares?" he asked, more softly this time.
Harry nodded again. "Don't you?"
Draco paused, before slowly nodding back. "I do, but not as often as yours. Dreamless Sleep Potion?"
Harry shook his head, before quickly deciding that it was a bad idea. He closed his eyes to stop the world from spinning. "It feels weird in the morning. Makes me feel worse, actually."
Draco nodded sympathetically. He knew the feeling.
Unable to help himself, he brushed Harry's damp bangs from his forehead, his fingers tracing over the famous scar. His heart started to beat wildly in his chest when Harry released a soft sigh and leaned towards his touch. "Anything I can do?"
Harry's eyes opened again. "Well…" He inched just a fraction to the side of the bed, as if making space.
Draco waited expectantly.
Then, Harry's eyes closed once more and he shook his head with a tired grin. "It's okay, Draco. You can go back to sleep."
The light around him turned black.
Draco frowned.
Harry looked like he was already succumbing to sleep once more.
Oh, Draco was going to regret this in the morning - well, no, actually, he wouldn't but -
He looked at Harry's tired face, and at how Harry's hair still stuck to his forehead because of sweat.
Throwing all caution away, Draco pushed aside the blankets and slid in next to Harry. Another moment of hesitation, but he quickly discarded that as well when he put his arms around Harry's waist and shoulders to pull him closer.
It wasn't a hard task, since Harry himself shuffled closer to tuck his head under Draco's chin. A soft sigh escaped his lips and his body relaxed against the blond's, and it was contagious, because Draco could feel his body relaxing as well and his eyes sliding closed.
Mustering one last bit of strength, he took his wand and flicked his wrist.
The bed curtains closed around them, and Draco gave himself up to sleep, holding Harry close to him and thinking that if consuming botched up potions and experiencing their bloody (literally and figuratively) side-effects got him this, then he wouldn't mind drinking cauldrons full of them.
Chapter 14
Author: Cassis Luna
Rating: PG-13 for now
Warnings: ignores DH, EWE, AU, adult themes, profanity
Chapter Word Count: 6367
Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me, it belongs to J.K. Rowling. No money is being made out of this.
Note: I got the idea about the Restoration Potion from the Troyjeinen Potion found here, so that's not mine either.
Summary: Eight year. Draco drinks a potion that makes him know if a person is lying, and Harry, apparently at fault that Draco is this way, is forced to 'help' him throughout the effects of the potion. For the first time, they deal with each other with no lies to hide behind.
Alternate Summary: In which Draco's a Potions experiment gone bad, Hogwarts wants to eat Harry (oh, but does it really?), and everyone thinks they're shagging each other. (Yes, even the house-elves.)
CHAPTER 13
Coming Clean
If Harry didn't know better, he'd think that Madame Pomfrey actually liked kicking people out of the infirmary.
After McGonagall had given them a stern lecture about why they should 'mercifully keep your mouths shut lest you prefer me to charm it shut for you' while they ate the lunch that the house elves had brought them, Madame Pomfrey had been adamant that they get their rest and sleep.
"But it's one in the afternoon!" Ron had exclaimed, aghast.
Madame Pomfrey had raised an eyebrow in his direction, as if asking him a very short 'So?'. Ron had wisely shut himself up.
So it was with grumbles that the six students all retreated to their beds - Ron and Hermione in the Gryffindor Tower, Blaise and Pansy in the dungeons, and Harry and Draco to their respective beds inside the Hospital Wing. ("I assure you that I will know if any one of you is found up and awake so don't even try.") However, they thanked Madame Pomfrey fifteen minutes later when they were all lying down on their mattresses, heads on their soft pillows and encased in their warm blankets because they hadn't realized just how tired they had become with all the excitement.
All thoughts of the sun still high in the sky fled from their heads as they easily drifted off to sleep.
-
Harry dreamt of evil, scepter-wielding Bishops made of stone.
And Draco.
He dreamt of Draco.
But instead of the bishop driving his scepter into the neck of Draco's horse, Harry dreamt of the bishop driving his scepter, the sharp point glinting ominously from the torchlight, through Draco's chest, and the sound of flesh being torn apart made him sick, but he couldn't look away, even when Draco fell to the floor with a sickening thud that echoed loudly in his ears.
And in his dream, as Draco bled and stained the floor with a dark, mocking red, all Harry did was stand and stare, not doing anything, until unknown hands hauled him away and shoved him in a cupboard.
-
When Harry awoke, it was seven hours later. The sun had already gone down and Madame Pomfrey was nowhere to be seen - which was for the best because Harry did not know what she would do if she found him suddenly awake, eyes wide and trembling violently. His hands clutched at the sheets as his panicked eyes sought familiarity in the withering darkness of the infirmary, trying to erase the blinding red behind his eyelids.
He gasped, trying to get air in his lungs, and he willed himself to relax.
Shifting slightly, he let out a soft groan, both at the soreness of his muscles and at the memory of the dream.
His heart was still beating wildly in his chest and he craned his head to look through blurry eyes at the bed next to his - and released the breath that he didn't know he had been holding.
Draco was still there, still sleeping peacefully in the darkness of the infirmary.
As he tried to calm his heart, Harry just let himself lie there, staring at Draco's sleeping face and seeking comfort at the way his chest rhythmically moved up and down with each soft breath. No bishops, no scepters, no blood... just… Draco.
Groaning softly again, Harry raised his hands to rub at his face.
Dinner. That's what he needed. Comfort food and a bath too, to get rid of all these unwanted tension.
He'd go to the Gryffindor Tower to take a much needed bath, and then drop by the kitchens.
But first…
Harry glanced at Draco on the other bed, just watching him sleep. He quietly moved off the bed and, hesitating for just a brief moment, slowly walked towards the other boy.
"Draco?" he whispered once he had reached his destination.
Draco stirred, made an incoherent sound, and then turned just a bit towards Harry. "Hrmm…" he said.
"Are you awake?" Harry asked quietly.
Slowly, Draco's eyes opened, unfocused and bleary. He blinked sleepily at Harry. "Harry?" he murmured.
Harry nodded, satisfied. He exhaled deeply, letting the tension that the nightmare brought ease away from his body. He gave the half-asleep boy a small, sheepish smile. "Just checking," he said. "Go back to sleep, Draco."
And Draco smiled at him back, albeit a bit lopsidedly, before closing his eyes completely and succumbing once more to the call of slumber, leaving a very red and very flushed Harry to struggle with the image of seeing Draco Malfoy smile at him so unguardedly.
-
Draco was also dreaming.
He dreamt that he woke up and Harry was there. Harry's smile was the first thing that Draco saw when he opened his eyes, and Harry's voice was the first thing that he heard, that soft whisper of "Go back to sleep, Draco." and -
What the fuck?
Draco's eyes snapped open and, ignoring the pain in his eyes at having been pulled from sleep so abruptly, he scrambled in bed to sit up just as Harry reached for the door knob of the infirmary.
"Harry?" Draco called out with a scratchy voice as his brain started to catch up with the world. It was a slow process, but Draco forced it anyway.
Surprised, Harry turned back to face him.
It was dark in the infirmary and Draco had to narrow his eyes just to be able to see Harry clearly.
"Sorry to wake you," Harry said sheepishly. "You can go back to sleep, Draco."
Draco nodded dumbly, but didn't lie back down even though every muscle in his body was aching to do so. "Where are you going?"
"Dorms," Harry replied. "Bath. I'll bring you dinner in a while."
Draco ran his hand down his face, groaning inwardly. At least now he had it confirmed that it was a good idea to abandon sleep, if only to prevent Gryffindors from doing more idiotic acts of stupidity.
"Harry," Draco said again with difficulty. "Go back to sleep. I'll ask Madame Pomfrey if we can use the showers here, and the house elves are here for a reason."
This feels and sounds awfully domestic, Draco's sleep-deprived brain mused. He would've been amused, if Potter would just be a good boy and obediently listen to what he says.
"What?" Harry asked, genuinely baffled. He blinked at Draco, shrugging. "It's alright, I'm not sleepy anymore anyway."
Harry was missing the point here. "You can't go out there," Draco said exasperatedly. The darkness of the infirmary was getting to be really annoying now. Only the moonlight sifting through the window made it possible for Draco to see the still golden light around Harry's form and Harry's expression change from confusion to one of realization - and not the good kind.
"And why not?" Harry asked challengingly, suspiciously.
This Harry wasn't a stranger to Draco. The idiotic Gryffindor just didn't have an ounce of Slytherin self-preservation. Draco realized this during the climax of the war, when Harry just wouldn't sit still even though everyone was already telling him not to go out and reveal himself.
("I can't just sit here and let you all - just waltz out there into danger!"
Remus opened his mouth to speak, but Snape turned around abruptly, his cloak billowing with the action, and sneered angrily at Harry."Much as I would enjoy sending you off waltz towards danger, Potter, do drill in that thick head of yours that you of all people cannot get yourself killed with the Dark Lord still out there rising to power!")
"Because you'll get yourself hurt, that's why not," Draco replied, irritable from lack of sleep.
"What, I can't even take a bath now?" Harry muttered, running his fingers through his hair in frustration.
Draco forced himself to look away from the motion that always made his throat a little drier than it should be. "No, not when there's a madman out there wanting to trap you."
"There's always a madman out there wanting to trap me," Harry said bitterly, rolling his eyes. Draco cringed inwardly at how Harry's light stayed gold. "I'm just going to take a bath, Draco. Besides, I wouldn't be able to sleep even if I wanted to."
Without waiting for a reply, he turned around and walked briskly towards the door of the infirmary - which wouldn't open. His eyes widened, and he whipped his head around to glare at Draco, who was innocently twirling his wand with his fingers.
"What the hell?" Harry yelled angrily, stomping his way towards the blond.
Draco jumped off the bed, prepared for a fight. He was used to this. After all, this was how he and Potter started.
"You don't get it, Potter," he said, sneering. "Was our near-death experience in the third floor corridor not enough to get through your thick skull that someone in Hogwarts wants you horribly incapacitated?"
A lot of things washed over Harry at that moment. He saw Draco's sneer and felt his heart shrivel up because after being so used to Draco's unguarded expressions of amusement and joy now, having that sneer directed at him like before made him feel terrible. Then that mention of the 'near-death experience in the third floor corridor' had him remembering his dream and Draco and blood and that pointed scepter tearing through his chest, and he was torn between wanting to stay to remind himself that Draco was okay and going very far, far away from here.
Harry rubbed his temples, feeling the blood drain from his face and his fingertips go cold. "Fuck this," he muttered angrily. "Fuck you, Malfoy."
He turned again, stomping the way back to the door, his wand in his hand and 'Alohomora' on his lips.
Draco thought about letting him go.
Then he thought again.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
Harry's limbs snapped closer to his body and he fell to the floor like a dead weight.
Draco walked over to him, cringing when Harry's murderous glare found him and latched on.
"Sorry, Potter," he said, meaning it. Using a Hover Charm, he levitated Harry towards his bed, laying him down on the messy sheets. "Now if you promise not to hex me, hit me, or harm me in any way, I'll let you go. Blink twice if you do."
Harry continued to glare at him.
Draco waited patiently as he stood beside the bed. It was a pity that Harry couldn't speak. That also meant that Draco couldn't know if he was lying or not.
Then, Harry blinked twice.
"Finite Incantatem," Draco murmured and ducked when Harry's fist flew towards him. "Hey, you promised!"
"I can't believe you did that!" Harry hissed angrily. Underneath the anger, he also felt a little hurt.
"You wouldn't see sense!"
"What sense? I was just going to the Gryffindor Tower, Draco."
"Exactly! Hogwarts isn't safe for you anymore, Harry!"
"So what? You're going to keep me locked up here?"
"If that's what it's going to take, then yes! I don't want to keep on saving your arse from gigantic chess pieces, Potter!"
"Then don't!" Harry screamed, shoulders shaking. "Goddamnit, Draco, don't save my arse from gigantic chess pieces. It nearly got you killed!"
And Draco wondered just what they were arguing about.
He blinked, realization dawning on him. "Is that why you woke me up earlier?"
Harry flushed, but his green eyes still glared at Draco - at least, until Draco suddenly keeled over and crumpled to the floor.
Holding himself up using his elbows and clutching his throat, Draco coughed harshly. His chest heaved with strained effort. Specks of blood splattered on the floor, and Harry saw red. He immediately jumped off the bed, kneeling next to Draco, whose elbows soon gave away. Harry pulled at his shoulders until he was sitting up, so Draco leaned heavily against him instead of the floor. He coughed against Harry's shirt, nails scratching at his burning throat.
Harry held him tightly, one arm around his waist and the other grabbing at Draco's wrists to prevent him from injuring himself. His heart beat painfully against his chest and he panicked, feeling helpless and scared. "Draco, what -"
"Belladonna," Draco rasped out, body shaking.
Harry didn't need to be told twice. He laid Draco down on the floor and bolted towards Madame Pomfrey's drawers. It was with experience that he managed to find the belladonna tincture right away, and he rushed back to Draco, heart clenching at the sight that the boy trembling on the floor made.
With great effort, he managed to get Draco up to a sitting position again, and holding the blond's chin with his fingers, he lifted Draco's head up just enough to pour the tincture into his mouth.
Draco slumped heavily against Harry's chest, still coughing and chest still heaving and Harry thought what if it didn't work but then Draco's fingers curled on Harry's hip and his body started trembling less and Harry leaned back, his head thumping on the bedside table and his arm still around Draco's waist.
"Merlin," he muttered breathlessly. He stared at the infirmary ceiling, shaky fingers reaching up to brush through Draco's blond hair. Draco's face was still buried in his shirt, and Harry felt more than heard the boy's erratic breathing.
The small bottle of the belladonna tincture lay forgotten on the floor.
"This is such bollocks," Draco muttered against his shirt, "can't even have a decent conversation with you without something happening."
Harry gave a short, dry laugh. "Welcome to my life," he chuckled humorlessly.
"Yeah," Draco murmured, and relaxed against Harry's body.
-
Five minutes later, Harry nudged Draco. "Don't fall asleep on me, you wanker."
"Can't help it," Draco muttered, arms tightening around Harry's waist and enjoying the way Harry shifted uncomfortably. "You woke me up."
Harry stiffened slightly, before relaxing. "Sorry."
Draco nodded, and then swallowed. His throat still felt like hippogriffs scratched it. "We're still going to continue our conversation, Potter. Don't think you're getting out of it."
Harry sighed, closing his eyes. "What's there to continue?"
Draco rolled his eyes. He was reluctant to leave his position - after all, how many times in your life do you end up snuggling Harry bloody Potter? (even if that circumstance was brought about by painful hyperventilation) - but figured that his words wouldn't have the same effect that he was aiming for.
With great regret, he disentangled himself from Harry, enjoying the blush that stole over Harry's cheeks as he became fully aware of their position but Draco was a good man. He refrained from teasing him about it, if only because Draco was trying to have a serious conversation here.
The teasing would come later.
They sat on the floor, facing each other.
"Harry, if you really must go to your awfully decorated Tower, then you shall take me with you. It will burn my eyes, but I'm willing to sacrifice it for the greater good since I am such a good fellow…" Draco said haughtily, or as haughtily as he could with his voice sounding like Flitwick's. (Okay, that was an exaggeration…)
Harry snorted. "You talk funny," he muttered, but shut up when Draco kicked him.
"And it's not that we're locking you here," Draco continued, more soberly now. He regarded Harry with a serious expression, looking almost thoughtful. "It's just that… things are getting really serious now. We don't know who's trapping you and for what reason, but now we know that they're not beyond, well, maiming you."
Harry once again had flashes of their time at Grimmauld Place, where Draco would so often assume this leading role that Harry was grateful for, more than he'd wanted to admit. It felt nice, having someone else do all the work for once.
"You have to remember to be careful, Harry," Draco said, but then snorted. "But you seem to never do."
"Hey!"
Draco ignored him. "But thankfully, I am here to remind you. Don't forget, I promised Professor Lupin I'd keep an eye on you."
"And I promised Professor Snape I'd keep an eye on you," Harry muttered, realizing the whole irony of the situation. He also remembered Remus as well, and how worried the man had been for him yesterday. He suddenly felt guilty. "I know, I know," he said, sighing. "I'm sorry. I was just frustrated earlier."
Draco nodded sympathetically. "Woke up badly?"
Harry hesitated at first, but then realized that he didn't mind sharing it with Draco. "I had a bad dream," he admitted, shrugging nonchalantly. "So I just wanted to get my mind off things. And feeling locked up reminded me of Dumbledore -" Draco flinched. "- and how he never told me anything back then, even though I was ready to tear my hair out with everything that was happening around me."
Draco did not want to talk about Dumbledore. "Your dream," he said, murmuring. "Is that the reason why you woke me up?"
Flushing, Harry nodded.
Draco waited.
And waited.
And waited.
He sighed exasperatedly. "Well, do I have to force it out of you?" he said, making Harry flush an even darker shade of red. "It was about me, wasn't it?"
Harry nodded. "The bishop -" he muttered, looking at the floor beside Draco's leg. "He stabbed, err - he stabbed you, not the horse, and… Well, you."
He could still remember it vividly, the grotesque image. Harry's hand fell from his lap to the floor, where blood from Draco's earlier episode lay. It stained his hand and he could feel his fingertips going cold once again -
Draco took Harry's hands in his own and held it firmly. "I'm fine, Harry," he murmured, thumbs rubbing circles on the back of Harry's hands. "Look at me. I'm alright."
Harry's eyes remained on their intertwined fingers, his own specked with red. "No, you're not," he muttered. "You just heaved out blood, Draco. That's my fault too. If I hadn't -"
"Oh, for Merlin's bloody sake, Potter!" Draco exclaimed, making Harry's head snap up in surprise to look at him. "Just a week ago you were going on about how it's not your fault and now you want it to be your fault?" he snapped, glaring. "Listen to me, Harry, because you must realize how challenging it is for me to boost your ego. Now, how could it have been your fault? It was Peeves' fault, and you know it. As for the chess game, I did it so that we could get out of that bloody room. I didn't do it to save your arse, so don't beat yourself up for it."
He was lying, but if it made Harry feel better, then all was well.
But it didn't make Harry feel better. He knew Draco was trying to cheer him up, but the fact that Draco didn't do it for him made him feel strangely hollow somewhat. It was a selfish thought, and that made Harry more miserable about himself. Swallowing, he nodded. "Yeah. Sorry."
Draco nodded back, and let go of his hands.
"Now go get your house elf friends and get us dinner."
Harry couldn't help a small smile. "Lazy git."
-
They had finally gotten off the floor (which they had Scourgified to get rid of the blood) and onto Harry's bed, where they sat on opposite ends with two trays full of dinner between them that had their stomachs growling as soon Dobby appeared carrying it. Now, they ate in companionable silence, their hunger getting the better of them.
They realized that Madame Pomfrey wouldn't be getting back any time soon so they took it upon themselves to light the candles in the infirmary to at least be able to see what they were about to put in their mouths.
After a while, Harry was satiated enough to put down his chicken leg to ask. "Hey, Draco?"
"Hm?"
Harry swallowed one big gulp of pumpkin juice. "I thought you were mad at me."
That had Draco putting his spoon and fork down. He raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"You know," Harry said, feeling self-conscious. "This morning. Breakfast. You wouldn't talk to me."
"Oh," Draco said. Well, this was awkward. He couldn't really remember the exact reason why he had been mad with Harry, if he had been mad at him at all. No, Draco hadn't been mad at Harry. He had been mad at himself. For having the Dark Mark, for making the wrong decisions, even if those decisions made him an asset for the Order, and -
For falling in love with someone he could never have.
"I wasn't mad at you, Harry," Draco finally said, sighing.
Harry quirked an eyebrow upwards. "Well, it seemed like it."
The golden light around Harry both amused Draco and made him guilty. He gave a wry smile. "I apologize if it seemed that way. But really. It had nothing to do with you."
Not really anyway.
Harry looked at him for a short moment, before slowly nodding. "Alright," he murmured, dropping his mutilated chicken leg and reaching for a napkin from the tray as he Not Looked at Draco.
Well, that certainly made Draco's resolve crumble.
"Dear Merlin, Potter, don't sulk," he blurted out suddenly.
Harry blinked at him, surprised. He flushed, opening his mouth to defend himself. "I'm not -" He was suddenly enveloped in black.
"The Dark Mark," he cut in then, his voice a tad bit higher than usual that ended up scratchy at the end due to his earlier episode. He ran his fingers through his hair, an action he permitted himself to do only if his hair was already messy to begin with - which it was due to the events that happened in the third floor corridor and sleep.
Harry remained silent, still surprised, though this time it was because of what Draco had just mentioned - and the dawning realization of just what the other boy was about to admit to him.
"I was awake yesterday," Draco continued, more softly this time and calmer. "You know, when you and Neville were talking."
"Oh," Harry said, embarrassed. His eyebrows furrowed as he remembered yesterday's conversation with Neville and what it had to do with Draco being mad at him. "Sorry for waking you up," he muttered.
Draco sent him a wry smile. "You two started talking about The Dark Lord -"
"Voldemort," Harry cut in softly.
Draco looked surprised, then uncomfortable. He had said it many times before, but… He wasn't Neville, or Ron, or Hermione, or dear Merlin, he wasn't Harry. It still took a little more out of him every time, because they weren't taught to fear the Dark Lord ever since they were young - weren't forced to share your home with someone who might suddenly turn your bones into twigs in your sleep just because it tickled his fancy.
Draco may have been a spy for the Order… but that didn't mean he hadn't been scared out of his wits.
"Voldemort," Draco said, exhaling.
Harry sent him a small, proud smile, which brightened up his mood immediately.
"You two started talking about - Voldemort, and I just remembered the Dark Mark," he admitted, shrugging, eyes sliding to his covered forearm as if on automatic. "I get miserable when I remember it. Not that I forget, because I never do even if I wanted to but - sometimes, I remember how it felt, under my skin, that vile, disgusting feeling -"
He took a deep breath, cutting himself off abruptly. "As you've witnessed this morning, Harry, it sends me into the sourest of moods," he finished wryly.
Harry's lips quirked up just a tiny bit, but he remained somber, looking at Draco with an almost thoughtful expression on his face. Then, after a long agonizing silence, he waved at Draco's forearm shyly. "Can I -?"
Draco shrugged and lifted up his sleeve, exposing creamy white and unblemished skin. He shoved his arm in front of Harry.
Harry held it with both hands, using his thumbs to brush over the skin where the Dark Mark… used to be, and since it was no longer there, Harry wasn't thinking about it, really, even though he knew he was supposed to but it really was hard thinking about something else when all he could think about was how beautiful Draco's skin was for a guy and was it really proper for a guy to think another guy's skin beautiful?
Well, that was a rather… pouf-y thought.
"What are you thinking about?" Draco asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.
He could feel his face burning, and dutifully kept it down. "Not the Dark Mark, that's for sure -" he muttered, once again tracing the place where the Mark once lay, not noticing Draco's small but sharp intake of breath from above him. "- because it's not here anymore," he finished firmly.
Draco stared at him, as if asking Merlin why the hell he was just stating the obvious.
Harry shrugged, grinning as an idea formed in his head. It was embarrassing, yes, and his cheeks didn't look like they will return to their normal color soon but he supposed sacrifices must be done in the name of friendship. "If it makes you feel better, then I'm not thinking about the Dark Mark because I'm really thinking about how smooth and beautiful your skin is. Really, what lotion do you use?"
Draco gaped at him.
Then laughed.
Harry's shoulders relaxed, as he too found himself smiling at the sight the other boy made.
Now that made the embarrassment worth it, seeing Draco laugh like that…
Draco's face shone with mirth, past worries forgotten. "Oh, wait until Weaselbee gets wind of this. He won't be able to eat properly every time he sees us in the Great Hall together."
And despite Ron's misfortunes, Harry grinned and inwardly patted himself for a job well done.
And Draco ducked his head under the pretense of laughter (though he really was laughing) because his face was burning - because when Harry had said that he wasn't thinking about the Dark Mark and was actually thinking about how smooth and beautiful Draco's skin was, he shone a bright gold.
-
Not long after that, Madame Pomfrey came in and was not surprised to see them up and about. What she was surprised about, however, was the tray of food between them and on the bed.
"I'm quite sure that there's a rule forbidding students to use the house elves for their own personal use," she said, raising an eyebrow on their guilty faces. Then, a small, amused smile broke on her face. "But my memory has been failing me recently, so I shall inform you of it when I remember."
Grinning, Harry guiltlessly picked up another treacle tart.
"Your friends are awake and are eating their dinner in the Great Hall now," Madame Pomfrey continued as she walked over to her cupboards of potions. "We're lucky that Miss Coulby is inconsolable once she starts her waterworks so she wasn't able to say much during her sudden outburst in lunch. Even luckier is that around the same time, some flowers combusted in Greenhouse 3, so the students have simply made up their own stories, fortunately for us."
"Greenhouse 3?" Harry asked, eyebrows rising up. "Poor Neville's got a lot of work to do then."
Draco waved it off. "Longbottom enjoys the work. Merlin knows why, really."
Harry snorted. "You enjoy Potions. Merlin knows why…"
Draco kicked him. "You merely lack taste," he said haughtily, sniffing, and Harry grinned, because now it felt like things were back to normal.
What normal meant with Draco Malfoy, Harry wasn't sure, but he enjoyed it anyway.
"Here, Mister Malfoy," Madame Pomfrey said, walking over to them and holding a rather familiar bottle. "Your dose of belladonna for the day."
Harry and Draco looked at each other.
Draco took it, but didn't make any move to open it. "Thank you, Madame Pomfrey, but I don't need it at the moment. I already took one just… half an hour ago, actually," he said self-consciously, knowing that the Mediwitch will catch up on his meaning.
Madame Pomfrey's eyebrows rose up. "I see," she murmured, taking out her wand. "You don't mind if I do a check-up, do you, dear?" Draco shook his head. She started waving her wand around. "And good call, drinking the tincture. Keep that one with you then, in case you'll need it again. I suppose I should also give you a Blood-Replenishing Potion to have around -"
"It's alright," Harry cut in, smiling sheepishly. "I always have one in my robe pocket."
Draco blinked at him. "You have a habit of carrying Blood-Replenishing Potions in your pocket?"
Harry flushed. "No, you git. It's for when you go into these episodes of yours."
"Oh," Draco said, feeling warm all over.
Madame Pomfrey smiled at Harry proudly as she finished her check-up. "Good, Mister Potter. Now, no damage done, Mister Malfoy. This is good news, since it seems that the potion's side-effects aren't as bad as it was during the first few days after consumption. I'll go inform Professor Snape and Minerva that you're awake, but I must insist that we continue our… conversation tomorrow. For now, you boys rest."
Harry wondered just how much rest they needed before Madame Pomfrey was satisfied.
Before she could leave, Draco spoke up. "Madame Pomfrey, you don't suppose we could use the baths here? Well, Harry really stinks and -"
"Hey!" Harry cut in, glaring.
Madame Pomfrey's lips quirked up into an amused smile. "Of course," she said, and then flicked her wand again. A click echoed in the infirmary. "I usually keep it locked because other students, when they see that they are running late in the morning, detour here to take a shower between their classes. Make a mess of it, too," she muttered to herself exasperatedly as she walked out of the room, but before she could open the door, she turned back once more.
"Oh, and Harry? I suppose I don't need to remind you not to wander about the castle alone."
Harry flushed and ignored Draco's smug look. "No, Madame Pomfrey."
-
After finishing their dinner and taking turns getting their much-needed bath, they both lay on their respective beds in their pyjamas.
"Hey, Draco?" Harry started, shifting to get into a more comfortable position. He ended up on his side, facing Draco.
"Hm?"
"Who do you think's been messing with the safety rooms?"
Draco paused, surprised with the sudden question. He turned in his bed, looking at Harry with a raised eyebrow. "It's not hard to guess. Probably some old Death Eaters wanting revenge or something."
Harry nodded. "Remus said the same thing. He said there are a lot of people remaining out there who wants to kill me."
Draco stared at Harry incredulously. "How can you say that so carelessly?" he muttered.
Harry blinked in surprise at Draco's sharp reply. "Well, it's still a horrible shock every time at first," he admitted wryly, shrugging. "But after that, I guess I'm just… used to it."
First year, there was Professor Quirrell. Second year, Tom Riddle. Third year, Sirius Black (supposedly). Fourth year, well… it was like the Tri-Wizard Tournament was made for his painful demise, dragons and psychopathic merpeople and all that. From fifth year onwards, it was nothing but Voldemort, Voldemort and Voldemort because of that stupid prophecy.
Even with Voldemort dead, it was still about Voldemort.
Looking at how the light around Harry burned a bright gold, Draco suddenly felt very sick and angry at the world. It wasn't the first time that he wanted to hide the boy and just keep him there, keep him, and tell him that it's safe, he's safe and no sick madman was going to get to him, not if Draco's around.
Draco snorted mentally.
Really, he wanted to protect Potter but couldn't even utter Voldemort's name?
Time to change that.
He swallowed.
"Voldemort sucks," he announced proudly.
Harry blinked at him.
Draco rolled his eyes. Slow Gryffindor. "Congratulate me, Potter. I just said his name."
A sort of realization dawned on Harry's face, and a smile stole over his lips as he shook his head in amusement. "But I always knew that you could do it," he said, and Draco preened at the praise.
"Now, Harry, listen here. All that food made me rather sleepy, so be grateful that I'm sparing time for you when I could be having my beauty sleep."
Harry kept his mouth shut, but the upward quirking of his lips could not be prevented.
Draco ignored it. "I think it's someone from the Patching Team," he said, listing out the possible candidates in his head. "It may be someone from the current Patching Team, or someone from the Patching Team during our summer vacation. I'm saying that it could be a student. I'm thinking of all the possibilities here."
Harry's nose scrunched up in confusion. "A student?"
Draco nodded. "They could be doing it willingly or unwillingly." He paused, and then softly added, "Knowingly or unknowingly."
Harry inhaled sharply. He felt angry at the thought that innocent people were being pulled into stupid messes again - because of him. "Why, though? I mean, Remus told me that killing me's probably not the goal here. If they wanted to, they'd have done it a long time ago."
Draco's blood ran cold at the thought. It was true. It would be so easy, after all, when one had the proper intent to. Just a wand and the words 'Avada Kedavra'. He kept his eyes on Harry, trying to comfort himself that Harry was alright, still breathing. "I don't know."
Harry nodded, forcing himself to relax against the bed. His muscles were tense, and his whole body felt strung up. "Is there still any chance that this is all just Hogwarts being moody?" he asked softly, hopefully. "Or a prank, maybe?"
Draco almost wanted to lie.
But he didn't - wouldn't.
But he also didn't want to tell the truth either.
So again, he swallowed.
"Voldemort sucks."
Harry's lips quirked up into a smile, as his body finally listened to him and relaxed against the bed.
Across him, Draco took his wand and flicked it, extinguishing all the candles.
"Hey, Draco?" Harry called out to the darkness.
His reply was the sound of sheets ruffling, indications of Draco moving around to get into a comfortable position. "Hm?"
"Thank you."
The ruffling stopped.
But for just a moment.
"You'd do the same for others too, Harry," came Draco's nonchalant reply.
Harry smiled, even though no one could see it. He could already feel his eyes drooping.
"For you too, Draco," he murmured, before he gave himself to sleep, leaving his companion shocked, flustered and very much awake.
-
The next time that Harry awoke, he was screaming.
Or - his dream self was, he's not really sure.
But what he's sure of was Draco's worried face above his, and Draco's hands firmly gripping his shoulders.
"Harry! Wake up, you wanker!"
Harry groaned in response, hands rising to press on his forehead. His head felt like it was bulldozed over, and his eyes are not happy at being cut from sleep once more.
It was the same dream as before, only longer but just as vivid.
The bishop and Draco, the unknown hands and the cupboard, and all that blinding red.
Draco slapped his cheek lightly.
Harry tried to keep his eyes open. "Draco," he mumbled, just to show the other that he was awake.
A relieved sigh was his reply. "Do you always get these nightmares, Harry?" Draco said exasperatedly.
Tiredly, Harry nodded. He rubbed at his eyes, realizing for the first time that the candle on the table between their two beds was lit. "Yeah. Sorry," he muttered guiltily. "Didn't mean to wake you."
Draco blinked. "No, I didn't mean that -" He started, before simply sighing. "I mean, do you always have nightmares?" he asked, more softly this time.
Harry nodded again. "Don't you?"
Draco paused, before slowly nodding back. "I do, but not as often as yours. Dreamless Sleep Potion?"
Harry shook his head, before quickly deciding that it was a bad idea. He closed his eyes to stop the world from spinning. "It feels weird in the morning. Makes me feel worse, actually."
Draco nodded sympathetically. He knew the feeling.
Unable to help himself, he brushed Harry's damp bangs from his forehead, his fingers tracing over the famous scar. His heart started to beat wildly in his chest when Harry released a soft sigh and leaned towards his touch. "Anything I can do?"
Harry's eyes opened again. "Well…" He inched just a fraction to the side of the bed, as if making space.
Draco waited expectantly.
Then, Harry's eyes closed once more and he shook his head with a tired grin. "It's okay, Draco. You can go back to sleep."
The light around him turned black.
Draco frowned.
Harry looked like he was already succumbing to sleep once more.
Oh, Draco was going to regret this in the morning - well, no, actually, he wouldn't but -
He looked at Harry's tired face, and at how Harry's hair still stuck to his forehead because of sweat.
Throwing all caution away, Draco pushed aside the blankets and slid in next to Harry. Another moment of hesitation, but he quickly discarded that as well when he put his arms around Harry's waist and shoulders to pull him closer.
It wasn't a hard task, since Harry himself shuffled closer to tuck his head under Draco's chin. A soft sigh escaped his lips and his body relaxed against the blond's, and it was contagious, because Draco could feel his body relaxing as well and his eyes sliding closed.
Mustering one last bit of strength, he took his wand and flicked his wrist.
The bed curtains closed around them, and Draco gave himself up to sleep, holding Harry close to him and thinking that if consuming botched up potions and experiencing their bloody (literally and figuratively) side-effects got him this, then he wouldn't mind drinking cauldrons full of them.
Chapter 14