FIC: There Is No Resurrection of the Dead (6.2/7)

[gypsyflame]

Title: There Is No Resurrection of the Dead

Author: Xandra ( gypsyflame)

Pairings: Harry/Draco, Snape/Draco, Snape/Harry/Draco, slight Draco/OMCs

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: About 35,400

Warnings: EWE, drug abuse, self-harm, non-explicit masochism, voyeurism

Summary: Auror Harry Potter is hopelessly in love with his partner, Draco Malfoy. But just when it seems like they might take their relationship to the next level, Draco’s old lover reappears. Apparently, rumours of his death have been greatly exaggerated…

A/N 1: Betaed by fbowden. Flic, I cannot express how much I appreciate all the time and effort you put into this fic with me. Your sharp eye, your keen insights, your emotional support…I’m not exaggerating when I say this would never have been finished without you. Thank you.

A/N 2: Story title comes from 1 Corinthians 15:12- “Now if Christ be preached that he rose from the dead, how say some among you that there is no resurrection of the dead?” Quote at the end of the fic comes from the same passage. Also, despite the opening scene, this is not a self-cutting, emo!Draco story, so please don’t let that deter you.



When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Snape’s face.

For a brief, horrible moment, Harry thought that he had been wrong about Snape, after all. Then he noticed that the man was sitting on the ground with his wrists and ankles bound before him, just as Harry’s were. Bile rose in his throat. How he could have thought, even for a second…

“Oh, shit,” he said.

“Indeed.”

“What happened?” Harry tested the ropes around his wrists and ankles, but they held firm. In fact, they seemed to get tighter the more he struggled, so he stopped and looked around. They seemed to be in a file room of some kind.

“That woman and two of her thugs dragged you in here half an hour ago,” said Snape. “Apparently you hit your head when they Stunned you. They were afraid you might not wake at all.”

Oh. So that’s what the throbbing pain in the back of his skull was.

“How could I have been so stupid?” Harry muttered.

“A question I have often pondered myself.”

Harry rolled his eyes, but didn’t try to defend himself. In this case, he deserved Snape’s scorn. Honestly, the place was under investigation- by himself, no less- and he hadn’t even… “I didn’t even have my wand drawn,” he said, not sure what was driving him to confess.

Snape stared at him. “That is truly asinine.”

“She told me Draco was hurt!” he protested, although he knew it wasn’t a legitimate excuse.

“I see. So, believing that someone you cared about was in danger, you immediately rushed to his defense, without bothering to protect yourself or to establish the veracity of the claim?” Snape smirked. “Will you never learn, Potter?”

Stung by the reference to Sirius, Harry said, “Yeah? How’d they get you, then?”

Snape looked away. Harry immediately felt like a git.

“Okay, that’s not entirely fair. I mean, there’s no way you could have known this place was under investigation, so-”

Snape’s head whipped back around. “Under investigation?”

“Yeah. The MLE thinks the Renegades might be operating out of this club.”

“Lovely.” Snape let his head fall back against the wall.

“I mean, that’s probably why they wanted me. Draco and I were assigned the case yesterday. I don’t know why they went after you, though.”

The door opened. “I think I can answer that question,” said Carrie.

Harry hoped against hope that she was under the Imperius. “Carrie, what-”

“That’s Ms. Carter to you,” she snapped.

Okay, probably not the Imperius, then. “Why are you doing this? Where’s Draco?” Harry asked.

“He isn’t here. Yet.” Carrie sat on a couple of large file boxes. “And to answer your other question, well, you said it yourself. I really can’t have you interfering with my operation. I’m sure you understand.”

“You really are a Renegade,” Harry said.

Carrie smiled. “You might say I’m the Renegade.”

Harry didn’t get it until Snape said, “Camorra.” When she nodded, he snorted contemptuously. “I expected you to be taller.”

“You can’t seriously think you’re going to get away with this,” Harry said. “Draco and I turn up dead or missing right after starting an investigation into a club that everyone knows Draco goes to all the time? Nobody’s going to just think that’s a coincidence.”

“Oh, I absolutely think I’m going to get away with it. That’s where Professor Snape comes in.”

Snape and Harry looked at each other. Harry knew they were thinking the same thing: that Carrie, in the grand tradition of egocentric bad guys, was about to tell them her entire plan. People like her could never resist letting their victims know exactly how clever they were, which usually worked in the victims’ favor. All they had to do was keep quiet, and she might dig her own grave.

“In fact,” Carrie was saying, “your little investigation is an important part of the scenario I’ve concocted. It’s common knowledge that you, Mr. Potter, are head-over-heels in love with Draco, just as it’s common knowledge that Draco is an insatiable slut.”

Harry forced himself not to respond. He didn’t dare look at Snape.

“The two of you investigating a sex club Draco’s so familiar with…it’s not a huge stretch of the imagination to think that you might get caught up and take the concept of ‘undercover’ a little too far.”

She turned to Snape.

“And you, Professor- well, you might be a respected war hero, but nobody really likes you. And your previous relationship with Draco became public knowledge during his trial. So if you were to be, say, stalking him…that would just fit what people already think about you.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see Snape stiffen- probably because what Carrie was saying was so close to what he’d actually done.

“You follow Draco to the club and catch him in flagrante delicto with Harry Potter, whom you’ve always had a turbulent relationship with. You fly into one of those rages that are such an endearing part of your personality and send the Killing Curse at Potter, but Draco jumps in front of it. In his grief, Potter kills you, and then, unable to stand his guilt, takes his own life.” She smiled. “And it all happens so fast that nobody can stop you.”

“And how exactly do you propose to enact this little scenario of yours?” Snape asked. “I can assure you that the investigating Aurors will check for traces of Imperius.”

“You Brits and your obsession with the Unforgivables,” Carrie said. “You think Imperius is the only way to control someone’s mind? My mother knew differently. The Spanish have a whole host of curses they’ve never even heard of here.”

“Draco’s not going to come in here,” said Harry. “When I don’t meet him outside, he’ll go to the Ministry.”

“Really?” Carrie said. “Because I’m pretty sure you sent him an owl telling him you’d meet him inside.”

Harry had seen the kind of forgeries the Renegades were capable of. They were near-impeccable. If Draco didn’t have any reason to doubt the authenticity of the note- and Harry didn’t see why he would- he wouldn’t check to see if the handwriting was genuine. And Harry had never gotten an owl to replace Hedwig. When he needed to send a letter, he just went to the post office and used one of theirs.

Fuck.

“It’s really a shame about Draco, though,” she said as she stood up. “He’s one of our best customers. And he’s so popular with the other patrons; they just adore him. Boy gets passed around like a party favour.”

Harry bit down on his tongue to keep himself from saying anything. Snape, unfortunately, had no such restraint.

“You little cow,” he hissed. “You dare-”

“This is all your fault, you know,” she interrupted. “Draco never would have started coming here if it hadn’t been for you. Think about that while you’re waiting.”

She slammed the door as she left. Harry and Snape stared at each other.

“People will believe it,” Harry said.

“Yes.”

“How are we going to get out of this?”

“I have no idea.”

“Great. That’s very helpful.” Harry rested his head against the wall, careful of the sore spot.

Snape glared at him. “I am not the Auror in this situation, Potter. Do you have any ideas?”

“No.” Harry sighed. “Did they take your wand?”

“Of course.”

“Mine, too. Which might not be such a problem if this closet wasn’t a magical null. I assume you noticed that.”

“I did.”

“Right. So, in conclusion, we’re basically fucked. There’s nothing we can do until they come back for us. Maybe once we get out of this closet, we’ll be able to turn the tables, but until then…” Harry trailed off.

Snape nodded. “I agree.”

Harry looked down at his hands. “Draco-”

“No,” Snape said sharply. Harry looked back up at him; his eyes were more intense than Harry had ever seen them. “I will not allow Draco to be hurt. We will not allow it.”

Harry felt a sudden sense of comradeship with Snape, the only other person who knew what it was like to love Draco so intensely. “I never meant to come between the two of you, you know. I just want Draco to be happy. If that means being with you, I’ll step aside.”

“I know,” said Snape. “It’s part of what makes you so annoying.”

Harry laughed.

***

They passed the next half-hour in silence. Harry was starting to feel a little lightheaded and queasy. To distract himself, he decided to confess something that had been weighing on his conscience. They might die tonight, so why not?

“I watched you and Draco have sex,” he said.

Snape opened his mouth, then closed it. Harry had never seen the man so taken aback.

“At Grimmauld Place,” Harry clarified, in case there was any doubt. “I used surveillance spells on the library to make sure you two weren’t going to kill each other, and when you started, you know…I kept watching.”

He felt better already; he’d never been good at ignoring his conscience.

“Why are you telling me this?” Snape finally asked.

Harry shrugged. “I dunno. I felt bad about it, I guess.” He looked at Snape carefully. “Are you angry?”

“No,” Snape said slowly, as if surprised by his own answer.

That was good, then. If they got out of this alive, Harry would tell Draco, too.

A few minutes later, Snape said, “Did you enjoy it?”

“Yeah,” said Harry, knowing that he should probably be embarrassed to admit that. But everything seemed fuzzy and vague, as if his own emotions were separated from him by a thick veil.

“Potter. Are you dizzy at all? Nauseous? Blurry vision?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, surprised. “How’d you know?”

“You are concussed, you idiot.”

“Oh. Is that bad?”

“Well, there probably will not be any lasting brain damage, if that is what you are asking.” Snape paused. “Although I am not sure how one would be able to tell if there were.”

“Very funny.” Harry leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. They couldn’t do anything but wait; surely it wouldn’t do any harm to take a little nap…

“Potter! Open your eyes. You cannot sleep when you have a concussion. You may very well never wake up.”

“Why do you care?” Harry grumbled. “I’d have thought you’d be thrilled to get rid of me.”

“Save the dramatics, Potter,” Snape said. “As tiresome as I may find you, I do not wish for your death. At least, not regularly. And Draco would never forgive me if I allowed you to die so inanely. Open your eyes.”

Harry obeyed reluctantly and glared at Snape. A few seconds later, his eyes started to drift shut again.

“For Christ’s sake, Potter!” Snape exclaimed. “What part of ‘you might never wake up’ do you find so difficult to comprehend?”

“I’m tired.”

“I know. But you cannot sleep. Try to keep talking; it will keep you awake.”

Harry opened his eyes. “Talk about what?” he said, unable to imagine a single topic that he and Snape would be able to sustain a conversation with.

“The weather, for all I care. Just try to keep your brain active- as foreign a concept as that may be to you.”

“God, you are such a bastard,” Harry said, his mind starting to clear a little. “I don’t know how Draco put up with you for so long.”

“I suspect the many earth-shattering orgasms I gave him on a regular basis may have had something to do with it,” Snape said, smirking.

Somewhere in his head, Harry knew that Snape was deliberately provoking him, but he couldn’t resist rising to the bait. “Yeah, well, maybe the orgasms I gave him are the reason you haven’t heard from him in days.” Of course, Harry didn’t actually know for a fact that Draco hadn’t contacted Snape since the scene in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place, but he was sure enough to gamble on it.

And he must have been right, because Snape just blinked. “You slept with Draco?” he said disbelievingly.

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Saturday. And then again yesterday.” What had happened in the conference room might not really count, but Snape didn’t need to know that.

“I see.”

Snape’s expression was shuttered, but Harry could tell how hurt he was, and he felt horrible. The man was only trying to help, after all. In his own annoying way.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said. “I didn’t mean to make it seem like- like he’s choosing me over you. He made it very clear that he’s not.”

“I do not need your reassurance, Potter,” Snape snarled.

“I’m not trying to reassure you!” Snape just glared, and Harry sighed. “Okay, I am. It’s just that…I don’t know how to feel around you, or how to act. I hated you for so long, and then when I found out how wrong I’d been about you, you were already dead and it was too late. I never got any closure, you know? I never got to apologize, or ask you the millions of questions I wanted to ask you, or know you as a real person. And then when I fell in love with Draco, I resented you because he loved you the way I wanted him to love me. This whole situation is mad, because I want not to care how it affects you. I want not to care if you get hurt. But I can’t. I just…I can’t.”

Snape looked unsettled, but Harry felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off his chest. He hadn’t even realized how tangled his own feelings were until he’d spoken them aloud. He really didn’t want Snape to get hurt; even if the man was seriously lacking in people skills, Harry held great respect for him. And after everything Snape had gone through, didn’t he deserve a little happiness?

But at the same time, Harry didn’t want to get hurt himself, either- which he absolutely would if Draco chose Snape over him. Unfortunately, he couldn’t see any way to resolve the situation in which someone didn’t end up hurt and alone.

Snape cleared his throat, interrupting Harry’s thoughts. “What did you want to ask me?” When Harry gave him a blank look, he clarified, “You said you had questions. What are they?”

“You mean you’d really answer them?” Harry said in surprise.

“If they are legitimate.”

“Oh. I never thought you’d actually…” Harry’s mind raced. He’d been thinking for seven years of all the questions that he’d have asked Snape if he’d had the chance, but right now he couldn’t seem to remember any of them. His thoughts were too muddled. “It’s too hard for me to think right now. Does that offer still hold if we survive this?”

“When we survive this. And yes.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Snape nodded. Harry studied him for a moment. There was something he could think of to ask, but he wasn’t sure if it would make Snape angry, and he was hesitant to disrupt their tenuous accord. But then again, this might be his only chance to know.

“Um…can I…can I ask how you and Draco…how it happened?” He hastened to add, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. It’s just that Draco won’t talk about it, and I’ve always wondered-”

“Stop babbling, Potter.”

Harry shut his mouth.

Snape shifted into a more comfortable position. He kept his eyes firmly on the wall in front of him as he spoke. “It was the summer after your sixth year. The Dark Lord had taken up residence in Malfoy Manor, and there was a meeting in which Charity Burbage was killed. She was the Muggle Studies professor at Hogwarts.”

Harry remembered that.

“Afterwards, Draco was beside himself. The Dark Lord had taken his father’s wand, and Draco believed his life was in danger- which of course it was. I am sure you are familiar with how highly-strung Draco can be at times.”

That brought a small smile to Harry’s lips. “Highly-strung” was rather putting it mildly.

“He was panicking, hysterical. I thought he might hurt himself, and when I attempted to calm him…” Snape paused. “I am still not entirely sure how it happened. He kissed me. I pushed him away. He insisted, and I…I was too weak to resist. I believed that he only needed to be comforted. I certainly never intended it to go beyond that one night.”

“But you fell in love with him?” Harry asked.

Snape shook his head and closed his eyes, lips compressed into a thin line. “I was already in love with him.”

“Oh,” Harry said, startled. “When…”

“Long before it was appropriate.” Snape opened his eyes and gave a bitter laugh. “In fact, it was never appropriate.”

“Don’t say that,” said Harry. “Draco needed you. He needed you to love him. He needed you to give him a reason not to give up. Everything he did after the war, trying to make amends, becoming an Auror- he did all that because he wanted to make you proud.”

Snape didn’t say anything.

A few minutes passed before another question occurred to Harry. “Did you love my mum as much as you love Draco?”

“No,” Snape said, without having to think about it. “Your mother was…an ideal. I needed the presence of something pure and good, just to remind me that those things existed. My feelings for her were more religious than anything else. It was different with Draco. For one thing, he-”

“Loved you back,” Harry finished.

“Yes.”

“That must be nice,” Harry said morosely.

Snape sighed. “Potter-”

Whatever Snape was going to say was lost in the sudden noise of a commotion from the room outside. There was a loud crash and a banging sound, then a few raised voices whose words Harry couldn’t quite make out. He looked at Snape, who was as tense and apprehensive as Harry himself.

“What in blazes-”

“I don’t know,” Harry said, struggling with his bonds again as they heard several more crashes and a loud scream. He had to get up, he had to do something...

There was a shout, a deafening crack that sounded oddly like a gunshot, several thumps, and finally an ominous silence. Harry and Snape’s breathing sounded very loud all of a sudden.

The knob on the closet door rattled, then the door shook with a succession of forceful blows before exploding inward, half off its hinges. Draco stood in the doorway, his hair mussed, his eyes bright, a large gash on his cheek.

“You are both idiots,” he said.

Chapter Seven

Back to Chapter 6.1