Tempus, Chapter 17 (of 20)

[ravenna_c_tan]

Title:Tempus, Chapter Seventeen
Author: Ravenna C. Tan ravenna_c_tan
House: Ravenclaw
Word Count: 3701 (just this chapter)
Challenge: The "Old Cliches, New Tricks" Fest at hp_cliche
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Magical violence, ambiguous consent, corporal punishment, and nudity.
Pairing:H/D
Beta Reader Thanks To: miraba
Cliche: Time-travel, but that isn't Snarry.
Disclaimer: Harry, Draco, Hogwarts, and the rest all belong to JK Rowling. I'm just having fun, doing it for the love, not any money.
Summary: Students at Hogwarts have always been warned about corridors that appear and disappear. Did you ever wonder where they go? Or when? Harry thinks he is late to his seventh year potions class, but he turns out to be more than seventy years early.

(The Archive of previous chapters is available Right Here)



After breakfast in the Great Hall, Harry made a quick side trip down to the alcove just to see if anything had changed. The charmed quill was still hidden there behind the painting, and indeed as soon as he touched it, the quill in his bag began trying to leap out of its own accord. It went still once he had put the other quill back and backed out of the alcove.

Classes, lunch, and more classes were uneventful. Harry found his mind wandering and trying to refine the points of his and LeStrange's plan. Well, it wasn't so much a plan just yet, more a series of contingencies. The most important thing, he and LeStrange had agreed, was that Phineas Nigellus Black had to be stopped. Confronting him head on did not seem a wise course. Black would find a way to silence them both. Harry had a feeling a permanent obliviation wasn't beyond the headmaster's conscience. The fact that no one had heard from Regulus Black since his departure from Hogwarts caused Harry some concern. Draco's family could probably protect him, but who would know if Harry were shipped off to some sanatorium for deranged wizards?

Black was also unlikely to let either Harry or LeStrange run off to the Ministry to make a full report on him, and with his contacts he might well be able to head off or divert any investigation that might take place. But a Ministry official would be here tomorrow, to renew the geas on Harry. Was there a way to slip the official a bottle or two of memories suitable for viewing in a Pensieve? LeStrange was already procuring some bottles from Professor Gullwing for just such an operation.

Harry didn't want LeStrange to have to incriminate himself if he didn't have to, but he didn't see any way around it. Harry's own memories were not enough to convict Black, since it was Regulus Black he had actually seen. Only LeStrange had proof of the true depths of the headmaster's crimes in his mind.

Another thing they were unsure of was how the board of governors was likely to react. Would Draco's father be more interested in keeping the whole thing quiet and his son's reputation unsullied than in justice? Harry knew nothing of the current Malfoy patriarch but he could easily imagine it being so. They needed to be sure that the evidence presented was beyond reproach.

Harry assumed that he would be summoned to the headmaster's office to meet with the Ministry official as he had been before, but for the plan to work either he or LeStrange would need some time with the man without the headmaster present. They were still debating how to arrange that.

And as for telling Draco, Harry wanted nothing more than to be able to hand him Phineas Black's head on a proverbial platter, a fait accompli. Harry figured if he couldn't prove who had shattered the glass, at the very least bringing his lover's rapist to justice ought to count for some measure of forgiveness. He just hoped that they could deal with Black soon, very soon, because he didn't know how much more of cold, hateful Draco he could take.

At dinner time, it appeared Draco had not returned. He wasn't among the other seventh years, and Harry slid onto the bench next to Crabbe. Crabbe slapped him hard on the back, which was his way of telling Harry to cheer up.

"Where's Frost?" Crabbe asked in his ear.

Harry glanced up and down the table, and shrugged.

"Up to no good that one is," Crabbe said and began tucking in to his roast and potatoes.

Whittington climbed onto the bench next to Harry. "How're you, Potter? You look a bit peaky."

"I'm fine," Harry said automatically. Crabbe pounded him on the back again and he nearly choked on a bite of carrot.

None of the three of them said anything for the rest of the meal other than "pass the salt" and "have some pumpkin juice." But Harry was glad they were there.

He was just toying with the cherry on top of the dessert he didn't feel like eating when a loud bang from the entrance hall caught his attention, as well as that of everyone at dinner. Harry rushed to the door, wand in hand, along with most of his classmates.

Facing each other on the rectangle of flagstones were Frost and Malfoy, wands out, about thirty paces apart. Malfoy's traveling hat was on the floor several feet behind him, smoking slightly. He shrugged out of his traveling cloak, undoing the clasp with one hand while keeping his wand trained on the other wizard.

"What's the meaning of this, Frost?" he said, kicking the cloak to the side to give his feet room to move.

Frost's answer was a slashing motion with his wand and a jet of blue light, which Draco blocked easily. The ricochet hit the wall above the great doors and chips of stone rained down. He tried it again, this time Draco deflected the spell and shot back one of his own. Frost had dived to the side, but when he came up, it appeared one of his legs was petrified.

"This is for what you did to my sister!" Frost screamed, and slashed at Draco again.

Draco's shield charm was simply too good, and Frost's hex bounced off him harmlessly once more. Harry felt himself pushed forward by the hundreds of students behind him, and he could hear, behind them, the staff trying to fight their way forward.

"In case you haven't heard, Timothy," Draco said, his voice as cold as Harry had ever heard it. "You and I are brothers-in-law."

"I know that! But you didn't have to...!" Frost did not get to finish his sentence as Draco hurled Expelliarmus, and Frost's wand went flying. As Draco advanced, Frost retreated, dragging his frozen leg toward where his wand lay against the wall. "I've always hated you!" Frost screamed. "I should have just killed you instead of shattering that stupid glass!"

Draco stopped advancing. "You shattered the glass?"

"Mirabille wouldn't marry you if you were maimed." Frost sounded very young and very terrified, but Harry found himself unable to muster much sympathy.

Draco's eyes blazed with a cold, silver fire. He raised his wand.

"What are you going to do to me?" Frost clenched his teeth and pressed himself back against the wall.

"Nothing," Draco said, lowering his arm. "Nothing I can do will possibly make your life any worse." With that he looked up, seemingly aware of the throng pressing into the entrance hall for the first time. He smoothed his hair back and went to pick up his cloak.

Professor Gullwing was the first to the front. "What is going on h--" she began, but any other words were drowned out by the roar of surprise from the crowd as Timothy Frost picked up his wand and turned, his arm coming up as if to slash again.

He never got it above his waist as Harry threw a jet of red light and Frost collapsed to the stone.

Everyone's eyes were now on Harry. His spell had been nonverbal, but it was clear whose wand the stunner had come from.

Professor Gullwing turned to him. "Well done, Mr. Potter," she said. She bent down to check that Frost was still breathing, then picked up his wand. "Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter, if you would be so kind as to levitate Mr. Frost, I think we are all headed for the headmaster's office." Then she pitched her voice louder. "The rest of you, back to your houses. There's nothing more to see here. Ah, Professor LeStrange, these three are all yours. Shall we?"

Harry had never been less comfortable inside the headmaster's office than he was this time, as he and Draco were made to stand in front of the fireplace while the headmaster sat at his desk and the other two professors across from him. Frost they slumped into a chair.

"Now," Black said, one fist resting on the wood on his desk, "Would you care to tell me what just occurred? Mr. Malfoy, you first."

Harry was amazed at the voice that came from Draco's mouth. Not a tremor or a stutter. But calm was not the right word for it. Cold. He was at his coldest. "Yes, headmaster. As you know, I had just Floo'ed here and was walking down to the dungeon from your office. As I stepped into the entrance hall, Frost attacked me without warning or provocation." He held up his hat, which was quite scorched. "As you can see, his aim was a bit off. He then repeatedly attacked me, while I defended myself with shield charms. I attempted to lock his legs, only partly succeeded, and then disarmed him. When I turned my back he attempted to attack me once more, and Mr. Potter stupefied him."

Black growled and turned to the two teachers. "Galatea, does that sound right to you?"

Gullwing steepled her fingers. "I did not see the beginning of the altercation, but of what I did see, yes, that sounds accurate."

"And you, Mr. Potter? You learned the stunning spell when?"

Harry stiffened under Black's sudden attention. "Er, Defense Against the Dark Arts, sir. In, you know."

Black's eyes narrowed. "And you, Gaius? What did you see?"

LeStrange shook his head. "I'm afraid all I saw was Mr. Frost attempting to hex Mr. Malfoy while his back was turned. And though I am no expert at dueling, I would say it was a fairly nasty hex, headmaster."

Gullwing held up Frost's wand. "It is simple enough to find out what he cast." She placed her own wand tip against Frost's and said "Priori incantati aliquotiens." The two wands glowed. At the first flash of light she said "He used Demeto!" She looked shocked. "And again, and a third time!" she said, as the wand flashed twice more. "And Saggito Flammare!"

"That would explain the hat," LeStrange said drily.

Black turned to Draco. "So, Mr. Frost shot you with fire, and then tried to slash you to ribbons. And all you did was block him?"

Draco's demeanor was as placid as a statue. He drew his wand and handed it to Professor Gullwing. "Here you are, professor," he said graciously.

"Thank you," she said. She repeated the incantation, and again began to narrate. "Yes. levitation to bring Mr. Frost here. Before that, Locomotor Mortis. Protego. Protego. Protego. A cleaning charm..." She reddened suddenly and pulled the two wands apart. "Here you are," she said shortly, handing it back with a brisk snap of her wrist.

Draco accepted it, his face betraying nothing.

"And now perhaps we should hear Mr. Frost's side of the story." Black aimed his own wand at Frost's slumped body and said "Ennervate."

Frost stirred a bit but did not wake.

"Mr. Potter, you're sure that was just a stunning spell you used?" Professor Gullwing held out her hand for his wand even as she said it.

"Yes, professor. Just plain Stupefy."

She touched their wands together briefly and then nodded. "He's telling the truth." She handed the wand to Harry. "If Mr. Frost cannot be revived at this time, I'd suggest he be taken to the hospital wing and dealt with on the morrow."

Each of the teachers tried the revival spell once more, to no avail. "Very well," Gullwing said. "I shall take him." She transfigured her chair into a stretcher, levitated Frost's limp form onto it, and left with a cursory good night to LeStrange and the headmaster.

Black turned to LeStrange. "Unauthorized dueling is a punishable offense."

"With all due respect, headmaster, this could hardly be called dueling. Malfoy here was attacked and merely defended himself, while Potter acted out of a sense of fairness and to protect a fellow student." LeStrange crossed his legs with forced casualness.

"Nonetheless, we will have bedlam if an example is not made of them." Phineas Nigellus Black stood.

"All three were from my house," LeStrange said. "I should like to deal with it internally."

"And the spectacle was witnessed by the entire student body," the headmaster countered. "Which makes them mine to deal with." He punctuated his sentence with a fist on his desk.

"What will their punishment be, then?" LeStrange asked, still trying to sound disinterested. "I gave Frost thirty lashes for tampering with the door spell."

"You surprise me, Gaius," Black said then. "I didn't think you had it in you."

"Yes, well, the ability to perform violence is inherent in us all," LeStrange said. "As our Mr. Frost proved with his attack tonight." Harry could hear the regret in LeStrange's voice, like he thought if he hadn't flogged Frost, Frost wouldn't have attacked Draco.

The headmaster picked up his tin of Floo powder, and Harry stole a glance at Draco's face. The wall of ice cracked a bit, as he saw fear flare in Draco's eyes. "Well, Gaius, I think you had best go and address your house. Tell them I will not put up with any shenanigans of this type. Ever. I will deal with these two personally and severely, while anyone else caught attacking a fellow student will be expelled."

Draco glanced back at Harry, his head shaking almost imperceptibly in a no. His eyes then went to LeStrange, beseeching.

LeStrange stood. "You know perfectly well that it is Frost who is at fault here."

"And I intend to expel him the moment he regains consciousness." Black's eyes smoldered. "Now the discipline of these two is in my hands, professor. Good night to you."

Panic spread over Draco's face. Harry wanted to reach out, to tell him it would be all right, but he couldn't very well do that in front of Black. But he could tell, Draco was about to do something, to run or to fight.

LeStrange cleared his throat. "Actually, headmaster, I was wondering if I might be of some assistance."

Black looked over his shoulder from the hearth. "What sort of assistance?"

"Oh, whatever you need. I just thought with two of them you might need an extra pair of hands."

For a moment a look flashed across Black's face--a smirk, or perhaps a leer--but then it was gone, replaced with his usual severe frown. "Why Gaius, if I didn't know you better I'd think perhaps you were worried I might harm your charges. Or are you finally getting a taste for discipline?"

LeStrange did not answer. "If you would, headmaster," he said, gesturing toward the fire.

"I'm sorry, Gaius, but I work alone." Phineas Nigellus Black gestured toward the door.

"Very well. But I shall expect to see them both at breakfast, willing and able to complete their coursework."

"Yes, yes, Gaius, their education is foremost in my mind." Black huffed.

Harry tugged on Draco's sleeve where Black could not see, and suddenly Harry felt Draco's fingers in his, squeezing tight with fear. Harry squeezed back, trying to reassure him. He didn't know why Draco had suddenly turned fearful. He didn't relish the thought of a night in the dungeon with the headmaster, either, but surely they would get through it. He would have felt better to have LeStrange there, because it would have been someone watching their backs, but they would have to do without him.

The door closed on LeStrange's back, and Black turned to the two young men. "If you would place your wands on my desk, please."

Harry did, slowly, as if a sudden movement might set off a hex. Draco did the same, his eyes shut, his hand shaking as he forced himself to let go of the carven ash.

The Room of Correction was as Harry remembered it--pitch black. As before, Black made them go first through the Floo and then he followed, meaning that they had three, perhaps four seconds alone before the headmaster appeared. And it was in that brief interval of time that Harry heard Draco's voice.

"Harry, Reg is dead. I think Black killed him. I found out..."

But then the whoosh of the headmaster coming through precluded all other talk. The torches flickered to life, and Black stalked slowly around them in a circle. "Well, now, Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy. You do both realize that I should have expelled the two of you as well. Drawing a wand on a fellow student simply cannot be allowed. It is only because of the... extenuating circumstances that I have decided to handle this matter in my own way."

He gave a wave of his wand and a thick chain with a hook on it came down from the ceiling with a loud clanking noise. "If you would both be so kind as to speed this process along by stripping down to your skin, please."

They exchanged looks, while Black busied himself across the room at a high rack of implements. Harry tried to read Draco's mind, but not only was Harry's mind too awhirl to concentrate properly, Draco was Occluding exceptionally well. Harry supposed that made sense--if Black had any inkling that Draco knew, the consequences could be dire. Harry took a deep breath, determined to close his mind to any potential intrusion as well. So long as Black had no reason to suspect they knew anything particular about him, they were safe.

Well, perhaps safe was not the right word. But Harry didn't think they should fear for their lives, not unless Draco let something slip. LeStrange was expecting them in the morning. They just had to get through to tomorrow, and Black would be undone.

Though of course, Draco didn't know that. Draco still didn't know that Harry had been there, had seen what had happened in LeStrange's room. He was moving like a man going to his own execution, Harry thought. He slowly and deliberately folded his clothes into a neat, square pile, the robe on the bottom, the tie on top. Harry attempted to fold his as well, with messier results. It would have been funny if the situation hadn't been so serious.

And it would have been arousing, as well. Harry looked away from Draco's golden body, glowing in the torch light, suppressing the thought that it might never again be the way it was, when he could just slide into bed whenever he wished and touch that golden skin all over. He didn't know how what had happened would change Draco, would change the way they felt about each other. He pressed his hands against his bare stomach, trying to will the apprehension he felt away.

There was another feeling welling up, though, a surge of wild hope, brought on by the simple fact that Draco had called him Harry. Had spoken, for a few brief seconds, as if the estrangement of recent days were a thing of the past. Harry hung onto that feeling when he saw the mask of coldness descend over Draco's face and the hint of a sneer begin to appear.

"Headmaster, I'm ready," Draco said, his voice flat.

"It's been a while since you've been to the Room of Correction, hasn't it, Mr. Malfoy? Your hands, please." Black approached him and tapped the back of his hands with his wand. Snakelike cords flew from the tip, wrapping themselves around his wrists, binding them together with perhaps eight inches of slack between. "Now you, Mr. Potter."

Harry stepped up next to Draco and held out his wrists, expecting to receive the same binding. Draco glared at him.

Black raised an eyebrow. "I understand that the two of you have not been getting along of late."

Neither of them answered.

"Fickle youth," Black pronounced. "Step back a moment, Mr. Potter."

Harry did as he was bid, and Black spelled Draco's hands over his head, then levitated him upward and to the center of the room where the chain hung. One flick of the wrist and Draco's bonds draped themselves over the hook, and Draco was dangling, his toes just touching the floor. Black flicked his wand again and the chain dropped an inch or two but no more. Draco could push up on tiptoe, but he could not put his heels on the floor.

Harry was so transfixed by the sight that he did not notice Black sidle up to him. "Mr. Potter, if you would." Harry looked and Black was handing him a piece of ebony wood, perhaps ten inches long, carved with runes and a pattern of snake scales. It fitted comfortably into his hand and he wondered if it were charmed to do so.

"Sir?" he asked, unclear on what Black was asking of him.

"Like this," Black said, demonstrating a quick wrist flick with his wand. He then held up a hand, indicating Harry should wait, went to Draco and rotated him until his bare back faced Harry. Black stepped back. "You may proceed."

Harry swallowed, unsure what was going to happen when he flicked his wrist, but quite sure he did not want Draco to be the target.

"Go on, Potter," came Draco's voice, harsh and biting. "You've been dying to have a crack at me, haven't you?"

That brought out a chuckle from Black and Harry took a deep breath. He raised the wooden dowel, then brought his arm down with a snap of his hand. A tail of silver light shot from the end, uncurled toward Draco almost in slow motion, and then lashed him across the back with a shower of sparks. Harry almost dropped the handle in surprise.

Draco hissed through his teeth.

"Impressive, Mr. Potter. So much raw power. I don't think Mr. Malfoy has ever felt it quite like that." Black's eyes glittered. "Nine more, if you please, and watch your aim."

Harry could now see the welt coming up where the magical whip had struck the first time, the slash running from the top of Draco's right shoulder down across to the bottom of his left shoulder blade. Harry tried to aim the next blow a little lower, but he didn't really know how the thing worked. Out went the silver tail, arcing toward Draco's hanging form, and then again the explosion of sparks.

And this time, a cry, a small one, from Draco's throat. "Ah!"

Harry waited until the welt came up. Apparently in his attempt to put the next one lower, he had tagged Draco right in the ribs.

The next one went more or less where the first one had gone, and Draco shook the chain a bit, but didn't scream. The fourth clawed the meaty part of Draco's buttocks, leaving a livid streak. Harry's hand was sweating around the wood and he realized his forehead was sweating as well, the heat prickling suddenly when, on the fifth stroke, Draco screamed and followed the scream with "For fuck's sake, Potter!"

Nailed him in the ribs again. "S-sorry," he said, then glanced at Black, quite sure that apologies would be frowned upon.

But Black looked gleeful. "Five more, Mr. Potter. And pick up the pace, if you would."

Harry's throat felt dry. What would happen if he shortened his stroke? He tried pointing more directly at Draco's back, but the result was that a wave rolled down the long silver line, cracking loudly and suddenly at the end.

Draco's scream was ragged and he swung slightly from the chain.

No more experimenting, Harry told himself. And he went back to the slashing motion he had used before. But something had broken loose in Draco, and now he screamed on every blow. Seven, eight, nine. Draco's chest was heaving now, his head hanging, and there was very little unreddened skin on his back anywhere.

"One more," Harry said, as much to himself as to Draco.

He drew back his arm and let fly, another long slash, and Draco kicked and gurgled as though he had choked on his cry. Harry realized that he was breathing just as hard as Draco was, and that his arm was trembling.

"An excellent start, Mr. Potter. Now, another set of ten."

Harry shot a look at Black, he couldn't help it, his sense of betrayal sharp and sudden. But Black had not made any promises, had never said it would be only ten.

But Harry found he couldn't make his arm move. He stared at Draco, at the welts crisscrossing, bruises starting to come up where the magic had lashes particularly hard. How soon until he cut right through the skin?

"I can't."

"Yes, you can." Draco's voice. Firm. Resolute.

"No..."

"Potter, please, spare me the waiting and get on with it." Irked. Cajoling.

"But I..."

"Harry!" Urgent. Pleading.

Harry was afraid to look up at Black to see what he thought of that exchange. The last time someone had asked him to force them to suffer, the results had been less than good. And Draco was telling him it was bearable. Maybe what came next wouldn't be. Harry raised his arm and aimed for Draco's buttocks. At least he was better padded there.

One, two, three strokes, the sparks growing brighter with each successive blow, until Harry had to look away after each one, four, five, six, because he was being blinded. And through it all, Black chuckled and looked on.

Harry forgot his vow not to experiment and tried a few strokes backhanded, so that at least the lashes would come from the opposite direction. Seven, eight, nine, and he wasn't really sure if it was only Draco screaming or if he was screaming with rage on each blow, as well.

On ten, he overthrew, the snake of silver pain whipped out, wrapped itself around Draco's middle, and then snapped back, spinning Draco from the chain and leaving a dark red stripe horizontal around him. Harry ran to him without thinking, stopping him from swinging and then leaning his forehead against Draco's shoulder blades.

He was crying. Tears were running down his cheeks and mingling with the sweat on Draco's reddened back. Unlike with the poison in the cave that Dumbledore had drunk, Harry had no way of knowing how close to the end of the hateful task he was.

"Mr. Potter, would you say he's had enough?"

Harry's throat convulsed and he found it difficult to form words. But he took a step back from Draco and said, "Yes, enough."

Black was clucking his tongue. "You don't know him very well, then, do you Mr. Potter. Mr. Malfoy has a much higher tolerance than you, it would appear." He stepped close. "Mr. Frost received thirty lashes just the other night. Surely, you don't think I should let Mr. Malfoy off with any fewer?"

Harry couldn't answer. Of course this wasn’t the end. The end would always come somewhere after the end of his endurance. After he couldn't go on.

Or Draco couldn't.

"Another ten, if you please," Black said, waving an open palm at Draco's skin.

Harry still had the magical whip in his hand. He let it fall, then followed it to the floor himself. "I can't. I can't do it anymore."

Black's growl was low. "Powerful, yes, powerful but soft." He bent over, pulled Harry's hands toward him and bound them as he had Draco's. Harry felt himself jerked off the stone floor by a magical pull, and then up and over the hook went his bonds.

Putting him face to face with Draco, his feet dangling a few inches off the floor because Draco's legs were longer.

Draco's eyes were shut, but he moved his cheek ever so slightly, to lean against Harry's, and Harry sighed silently. It was his last moment of peace for quite some time.

[Next Chapter: A night in the Room of Correction could be worse...]

Continue to Chapter Eighteen