[Harry Potter] And the Clock Keeps Ticking - Part 4/7
Title: And the Clock Keeps Ticking - Part 4/7
Author: nherizu
Rating: NC17
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco (main), Ron/Hermione, Neville/Hannah, Ginny/OMC.
Summary: Harry Potter knows three things. One, Voldemort can still cause chaos even after his death. Two, Draco Malfoy is one of the last two missing survivors. Three, Harry’s creepy dreams every night are the only key to finding Malfoy. And yet ... maybe Harry shouldn’t be so sure, for the truth about Malfoy is not what he thinks it is.
Warnings/Content Notes: (highlight for details): * Minor character death-despite whatever you may find later in the story, I really meant minor, so don’t worry *winks*. Add a few minor OCs, too, and repeated use of a strong potion (but only for pain relief).*
Word Count: 50,631
Author's Notes: See Part 1. :)
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3.
And the Clock keeps Ticking
Four
The ticking clock was so loud in Hermione's office. Harry didn't know what had possessed him that he had obligingly come as he was told, but now he regretted it. No one should challenge Hermione when they knew they were hiding something. Harry drummed his fingers against his thigh, trying to nonchalantly avoid her gaze and failing miserably.
"Harry," she said from behind her desk, and something told Harry that she was far from calm. "How is your headache?"
Harry studiously watched Hermione's clock. It was ten minutes fast. Why was it ten minutes fast again? Probably because Hermione hated being late. Yes, that would be it. But the ticking was a little too loud for such a tiny clock. How did one make it stop ticking that loud? Smash it with a Bludger?
"Harry?"
"Hm?"
"The headache?"
"What headache?"
"You know what I mean. The dreams?"
"Oh yeah, they stopped."
There were about ten ticks before something even louder forced Harry to face Hermione. Looked like she just slammed her hands on the desk.
"They stopped," said Hermione slowly. "How did they stop?"
"Er, they just kind of . . . did?"
"After more than half a year? They stopped just like that?" There was a warning in Hermione's voice. "When did that happen?"
"About two or three months ago . . ." Harry shrugged, drumming his thigh faster. "It doesn't matter."
"Harry, stop it," Hermione said sternly.
"Stop what?" Harry blinked innocently.
"This!" said Hermione. "You're acting bizarrely! First you were on extremely dangerous potions-"
"Oh, bloody-" Harry spluttered, "they're not extremely dangerous!"
"-and now the dreams just stopped!" Hermione said loudly. "Then you avoided me after you got back from your mission, and I know you were trying to find Malfoy, but now that everyone is in Malfoy's search party because he's the last one, you look just . . ." She made vague, frustrated gestures with her hands, ". . . like you don't care about it anymore!"
"Because I realised it really doesn't matter!" Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "The dreams stopped, you should be happy for me. And I'm in the search party, so don't say I'm not looking for him!"
"I'm happy, I am," said Hermione, sounding tired, "but you're hiding something, I know."
"Look," said Harry, "you want me not to act independently about Malfoy and follow Robards' instructions, so I am. I'm searching for Malfoy with the team, okay?"
"But this whole Malfoy thing is just weird," said Hermione. "You know Harry, Hannah has done a thorough check of Muggle hospitals just like you told her to, and still no trace. We haven't been able to pick up Malfoy's magical signature anywhere, and we can't find anything about him on the internet-"
"-magical signature?" Harry perked up. "Is that how the Unspeakables search for him? Using his magical signature?"
"Well yes, he's a wizard, he's bound to leave one wherever he goes. It's basic, Harry. You should have paid more attention in the meetings. The only obvious trace we've got so far is inside the Manor, but that's normal considering he lived there."
"Even though the Manor has been stripped of its magic?"
"Yes, Malfoy had lived there for a very long time."
"Like-like maybe if we checked Hogwarts, then we could find his magical signature there, too? Or mine, or yours?"
Hermione looked at him oddly. "Yes, that's correct."
"But my magical signature wasn't in the . . . the restaurant we visited three months ago?"
"There would have been, but it would be so weak. Which is why Malfoy's got to be moving frequently so that he doesn't leave a traceable signature."
"Okay," said Harry, sighing inwardly with relief. So long as people thought the magical signatures in the Manor were only some old traces of Malfoy's magic, the fact that Malfoy's magic itself lived there would still be safe. And the fact that Ian Raines didn't have any magic meant the Ministry wouldn't be aware of his existence. Even if Malfoy went somewhere in his ghost form, the Ministry wouldn't detect his magical signature. Harry should still have time to find a way to bring Malfoy back to life again.
"Okay?" asked Hermione, her expression clearly one of disbelief. "It's not okay! You're hiding something, and somehow . . ." she paused to throw him a sharp look. "Somehow I get the feeling that everything is connected."
Once again, Harry didn't know whether he should hate or love Hermione for being so smart.
"What? Are you telling me there's something about Malfoy?" asked Harry, trying hard to sound annoyed. "Not going to think I'm being silly again like in sixth year?"
"Actually, yes, I think you're being silly, because this is different from sixth year," Hermione snapped. "What I want to say is, I think you're obsessed-again-but in a different way. You're getting better at hiding it, aren't you, Harry?"
"You just told me I'd lost interest in finding Malfoy, but now you're accusing me of being obsessed?" asked Harry, aghast. "Bloody hell, Hermione."
She shrugged. "All I'm saying is . . . it's suspicious. The way you're acting and everything."
"Then have it your way. I'm not doing anything I'm not supposed to!"
"Are you being completely honest?"
"Hermione," Harry half-whined.
"All right. Fine," said Hermione, her shoulders drooped. "I'll pretend I haven't noticed anything. But . . ." She reached for Harry's hand, and he had to awkwardly uncross his arms to hold her hand. "Remember that I-Ron and I-we are your best friends, Harry."
Harry stared at her. The guilt was growing inside again-stronger and unrelenting. For a moment he considered telling her everything, but . . . would she understand? No-Hermione, let alone Ron, wouldn't understand. Even Harry himself still didn't fully understand. But that didn't matter. It was about doing the right thing, not for other people, but for himself, because-because he had finally stopped hating and wanted to do something. Wasn't that all that mattered?
"Of course," said Harry. "I know."
. .
. .
"I need the books you confiscated from us, Potter," said Malfoy. "This isn't going anywhere. My mother didn't write down the last step she had to take to complete the ritual, and we need to know what caused her to fail if we want to reverse this whole thing. And there's still the problem that if I were to go back to my body, the curse would be activated again."
Harry looked up from where he was sprawling on the sofa, pretending to read Narcissa Malfoy's diary for the hundredth time. Malfoy was standing forlornly in the middle of the library, playing with the books that were floating around him. "I know, I've thought about sneaking up there this Sunday. But what kind of books should I be looking for?"
"Old rituals, old magic, maybe even necromancy."
"But you're not dead, why necromancy?"
"Because the idea is kind of similar-we're going to put my magic, my soul into my body," said Malfoy, shrugging. "Although I'm fairly sure my mother would have written down everything . . ."
"Fine, I'll do what I can, but before that . . ." Harry sat up to rest his elbows on his knees. "Let's confirm what we need to confirm first, okay? It's been so long and all we did is research."
Malfoy stopped his gentle, twirling wind and the books dropped to the floor. He looked as if he were taking a deep breath, hands slipping inside his trouser pockets. "Of course. Why do you think I asked you to come today?"
"To meet Raines?"
Malfoy nodded. "Yeah. Better to get this over with. It's only a matter of whether I really am a ghost or only magic, isn't it? I believed that I'd been dead for more than six months, what could be worse?"
Harry didn't believe a single thing Malfoy said, though. How could he, when Malfoy looked far from calm?
"I've known you for years, there's no way I would fail to recognise you."
"Potter." Malfoy laughed dryly. "We were not the best of friends in Hogwarts, how could you be so sure?"
"Then how could you recognise me that time when I was captured?" asked Harry, and Malfoy's shoulders stiffened. "I know you recognised me. You lied for me. Just like your mother lied for you. It's not that hard to believe, is it, that I'd know you even when you didn't look like you?"
"There are people who look similar," said Malfoy. "Ian Raines might not be me."
"He is you. But he's not you, because the real you is-is the one who stands before me," said Harry. "Trust me?"
Malfoy looked pained, torn, and Harry hated that. It made him want to touch, to feel, to make sure Malfoy was all right. To make sure he was there-alive.
"It's too much of you to ask me to trust you," said Malfoy eventually, a little smile playing on his lips. Harry thought his heart would burst at the rare display. "Guide me to the orphanage."
"Okay." Nodding, Harry turned on his feet and extended his hand. "I'll Apparate us."
"This is weird," said Malfoy, seemingly reluctant to place his hand on Harry's forearm. Harry refused to think about it further, so he Apparated even before Malfoy could readjust his grip around Harry. When he arrived at a secluded corner near the orphanage, however, Harry was alone.
"Malfoy?" he called out, looking everywhere. But the neighbourhood was silent. Harry ran towards the orphanage, beginning to panic. Maybe he had made a mistake-if somehow ghosts, souls, magic, whatever Malfoy was, weren't able to Apparate. Maybe Splinching for non-solid forms meant to disappear forever. He was about to shout louder when a tap on his shoulder made him jump.
"Looking for someone?" said Malfoy-
No, it was Raines. Harry gritted his teeth because he was almost glad to know Malfoy was still there. But it wasn't him.
"Yeah," Harry said instead, knowing Raines wouldn't understand anyway. "He just-disappeared."
"Maybe he left you while you were daydreaming?" Raines hazarded a guess. "You look like the scatterbrain type."
"I think that'd be you," Harry retorted.
"Me? No, I'm just not a caring person," said Raines with a dismissive wave. "Why are you here by the way?"
"It's none of your business."
"Is it?" Raines let out that empty laughter again. "I thought you were here because you still think I'm your missing boyfriend."
"He's not my boyfriend," said Harry tightly. "And he's not you."
"Really?" Raines shrugged. "I don't even care," he said, adjusting his washed out denim jacket. "Oh, the kids are playing football."
Harry followed Raines's gaze, seeing past the open gate into the garden. Five boys, who looked like they were about nine or ten years old, were chasing a ball and laughing. Monica and another little girl were sitting on the front stairs.
"Odd sport, football is," said Raines, grabbing for a cigarette in his jacket pocket. "I hate it."
Harry snorted. "Because you can't play?"
"I've always felt my feet were made for something better than kicking a stupid round thing on the ground."
"Yeah? Like what?"
"Don't know. Like kicking the ground to fly."
Harry looked up, startled. Raines seemed undisturbed, casually blowing the smoke and staring at the kids. "Flying?" asked Harry at last.
"Stupid, huh? Who cares, that's my dream."
"Your dream is to fly?" Harry asked carefully. "With what?"
"Don't know. Not a plane, not wings either." Raines shrugged. "Doesn't matter."
"Magic," said Harry, not taking his eyes off Raines. "Maybe you need magic."
"Bugger, you're loonier than I am," said Raines, his lips quirked into a small smile. Harry clenched a fist, because-that smile was Malfoy's. The one that made his stomach churn and his heart jump around.
"Well, if you're not here for me . . ." Raines let his words hang, waving nonchalantly at Harry. He shuffled through the gate, joking with the boys and bending down to lift Monica. Until he vanished behind the front door with the kids, Harry could only foolishly watch him in silence.
He probably hated Raines more than he ever hated Malfoy.
"That's-my body, Potter," said Malfoy behind him, his voice sounding so close to Harry's ear. Harry shivered.
"Where were you?" He spun around, doing the best he could to mask the overwhelming relief and the unwelcome flush.
"I think it just took longer for me to reform my . . ." Malfoy waved distractedly towards his own body. ". . . current form."
"So you saw him? Raines?"
"Yes, that was me. He is me," said Malfoy, his eyes full of longing as he gazed at the closed door. "I think he needs lessons in how to dress."
"That's not important." Harry would have rolled his eyes if only Malfoy hadn't looked so sad. "We need to get you back to your body."
Malfoy stared at him, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pressed together tightly. He remained that way until Harry wanted to snap his fingers just to call Malfoy back to Earth. When Malfoy spoke, it was with a low, soft voice that belied a lot of emotions. "He's so . . . apathetic. He doesn't have any personality, does he?"
"No." Harry couldn't agree more.
"But what can he do? His memory and basically everything that formed him . . . have disappeared," said Malfoy. "He's a new person. He might have picked up his new habits and everything from the people around him."
"Maybe," Harry trod carefully, not knowing where this conversation was going.
"But that's probably for the best. It's better for him-me . . . Merlin, this is difficult." Malfoy shook his head. "But it's better to live anew than be a loathed ex-Death Eater."
"What?" Harry asked in disbelief. "What are you talking about?"
"He's alive, Potter, he doesn't look like he's unhappy, and he's alive," said Malfoy, sounding desperate. "He doesn't need me, because I-I-" Malfoy blinked his eyes, refusing to look at Harry. It might have been his imagination, but Harry thought the way Malfoy blinked and sniffed was more heart-wrenching than even tears would be. "I'm only magic," said Malfoy, his voice trembling slightly.
"You're not telling me you're changing your mind," said Harry through gritted teeth. "He's not you, and you can-"
"No, I can't," bellowed Malfoy. "Can't you understand? Without me he'll stay alive! I'm the curse, there's no other way!"
"We can still find a way," shouted Harry. "There's always a way!"
"Well, maybe you should get this through your thick skull, but not everything in life can go according to your wishes!"
"Why are you suddenly scared?" Harry gripped Malfoy's shoulders and shook them. "Why?"
Malfoy looked ashen, his mouth pinched and his face so pale it was almost invisible. "If we fail, he'll die. And I will, too. There will be no Draco Malfoy or Ian Raines. I won't exist anymore-in any shape or form, Potter."
Harry opened his mouth only to close it again. It was as if a bottomless hole was opening in his stomach, and it was heavy, cold, painful. The realisation smacked him in the face, making it hard to breathe. Because-because Malfoy wouldn't be here if they failed.
Malfoy reached up, his cold knuckles brushing against Harry's cheek. He stared into Harry's eyes, and there was something that told Harry that Malfoy realised something, saw something in Harry. Malfoy dropped his hand, a sad, knowing smile on his lips. "Let me go, Potter."
Before Harry could, however, there was a cold wind and suddenly Malfoy was standing a short distance away from him.
"Perhaps you should learn more about Ian Raines," said Malfoy. "Perhaps he isn't that bad."
"No one is worse than you," Harry said, attempting a smile to no avail. "But no one is easier to hate than Raines."
Malfoy laughed. "I thought you hated me. I should be offended that Raines has stolen that privilege."
"I hated you. Still do," said Harry. "Will hate you more if you disappear."
"We can't let that happen now, can we?" Malfoy said with a smile. A moment later, that smile faded away. He kept his eyes on the empty orphanage garden. "Ian Raines is me, Potter. You'll come around one day."
"No," said Harry, shaking his head. "No."
Malfoy merely gazed at him for a while before he shook his head as well. Harry tried to avoid that stare, blinking just to get his bearings again. Yet when he opened his eyes once more, Malfoy had disappeared.
. .
. .
A week after Malfoy left him, Harry was back in Callington. He couldn't bring himself to meet Malfoy-not after he was clearly told to learn liking Raines. Hence now he found himself waiting in front of the orphanage gate, unsure of what the hell he was actually waiting for.
Occasionally he could see some kids running around the building, some of them looking at him strangely. But Raines wasn't there, and Harry had no intention to actually ask for him. He didn't even want to meet him. Yet he came anyway.
It was nearly dusk when Harry saw the front door open with Monica tugging at Leah's sweater sleeve. Seeing Harry, Leah frowned. Monica pointed at him, whispering something to Leah. Harry fidgeted on his feet, not knowing what to say in case Leah asked him what he was doing there. As expected, Leah ushered Monica to go inside, and she smiled faintly at Harry afterwards. Harry tried to return the smile, but he could only manage a grimace.
"Are you looking for Ian?" Leah asked when she arrived at the gate.
"Er, I only stopped by because I had things to do around here . . ."
The way Leah raised her eyebrows told Harry that she could see through his lie.
"He's not coming today, but I see you've noticed," said Leah. "Today is Leon's turn."
Harry recalled that he did indeed see a dark-haired bloke filing inside the orphanage right after he Apparated. "I see," he said hesitantly. "It's all right, I'm not really-"
"He doesn't live very far," Leah cut in, watching him intently. "I can give you directions if you want."
Harry opened and closed his mouth, at a loss. "Er . . . is that all right?"
"Yeah, he won't mind," said Leah, shrugging. When Harry opened his mouth again to counter, Leah raised her hand. "You have to talk to him."
"Talk to him about what?" asked Harry, baffled.
"About him, obviously," Leah stated matter-of-factly. "Now, you see that house with the red car parked in front of it? Take the left turn right after it, and just go straight until you see a blue gate. Ian lives there-room number three."
"I-okay," Harry replied uncertainly. "Thanks for the-uh-directions."
"You're welcome." Leah smiled before pausing for a moment. She stared at Harry. "You have to understand that he's afraid."
"Of what?"
"Of himself. Of the things he doesn't know," said Leah softly. "He's not really that strong."
"He doesn't look like he gives a rat's arse about anything," said Harry. "He doesn't look like he needs me to talk to him."
"Perhaps he doesn't, but you'll do it anyway, won't you?" Leah said. "It's better if he's the one who tells you everything. It's just not my place to do that, you know?"
"Yeah, maybe," Harry agreed reluctantly. There was a long pause before he sighed and said, "I'll go then."
"See that you do." Leah smiled again. "Tell Ian not to be late tomorrow, will you?"
"Will do." Harry nodded.
He walked down the pavement until he saw a junction near the red car, taking the left turn and searching for a blue gate. Just as Leah said, it didn't take him long to find it. Harry stared for a moment, having difficulties believing Malfoy-Raines could live in a place as small and run-down as this.
He slipped through the gate and climbed the short flight of stairs. Room number three was the last one on the left. The door was made out of a thin panel of plywood, and the wall was painted white-although it had peeled off here and there. Harry swallowed, and then knocked.
There was a heavy silence while Harry waited for Raines to open the door. His heart was in his throat, his palms sweating. He didn't even know what the bloody hell he should talk to Raines about. But every time he remembered the way Malfoy gazed at him, brushing his knuckles against Harry's cheek . . . it made Harry's stomach twist unpleasantly. It reminded him too much of the fact that Malfoy was . . .
"Well, well, what have we got here?"
The drawl coming from behind him made Harry jump in expectation. He whirled around hoping to see Malfoy, only to find Raines leaning sideways against the wall, eyeing Harry sceptically. His hands were in his grey trench coat pockets, the white jumper he wore underneath making his throat look paler than usual.
"Hi," Harry greeted tentatively. "Leah told me . . ."
"Sure, sure. There's no one else who would tell you my address." Raines shrugged. He headed to the door, brushing against Harry's right shoulder in the process. "Want to come in?" he asked, unlocking the door.
"Yeah, thanks." Harry breathed a sigh of relief at the invitation, following Raines' lead inside. He took a moment to adjust his eyes to the darkness, and was awed by what he saw.
"Feel free to sit anywhere you like," said Raines, turning on the lamp. The yellow light made everything clearer. Harry walked slowly across the narrow hallway, all the while taking in his surroundings.
It wasn't empty or dirty like one would think from seeing the front door. The furniture was old but not bespoke as at Malfoy Manor, though it was actually nice. It made Harry think of 'home', even though neither Grimmauld Place nor Hogwarts-let alone Privet Drive-had the same style. It was just like the home he had always envisioned, the one he thought every family should have. A pair of warm brown sofas, with a beige rug placed near the hearth. Some handmade cards were pinned on the white board above the hearth-no doubt presents from the orphan children. There was a photograph displayed on top of a small table that separated the living room and the kitchen. Harry walked towards it.
"You're not here," Harry pointed out, examining the photograph closely. It showed Leah and the children in front of the orphanage building, smiling widely. Two other young blokes were there-Leon was one of them, Harry guessed. An old man with round belly that reminded Harry of Slughorn was on his knees, laughing and hugging two little girls.
"I wasn't there when it was taken."
"But you said you've been in the orphanage all your life."
"Well, it's true," said Raines. Harry looked up, finding Raines' eyes trained on him. "You know that's true."
"What do you mean?"
Raines laughed without humour, throwing himself onto one of the sofas. He seemed to remember about his coat, so he grumbled, wriggling himself out of the thick material. "Come now, Harry Potter. Don't pretend you don't think of me as that boyfriend of yours," he said, hooking his coat over the back of the sofa.
"How many times do I have to say that he's not my boyfriend?"
"The man you like then."
Harry stared, his heart sounding noisy in his ears. "What do you know?"
"What do I know?" Raines twirled his forefinger in the air lazily. "What I do know is that I woke up nine months ago without any memories. That I almost died because apparently I didn't bloody know anything-even the simplest thing. I didn't even know how to turn the hot and cold taps on. Odd, don't you think?" Raines searched Harry's eyes, waiting for something Harry didn't know. He laughed wryly. "Of course you don't think that's odd. I might be a fucking noble for all I know, not knowing how to cook or sweep the floor."
"You're-" Harry licked his lips, uncertain of what he should say. "What happened then?" he settled with that in the end.
"I collapsed from hunger." Raines shrugged. "It was near the orphanage, so I was lucky. The head of the orphanage-that is Old Man William-took me in. He even let me use this flat."
"Have you learnt everything then? You can cook now?" asked Harry, even though the thing he wanted to ask wasn't anywhere near that question.
"No, I eat at the orphanage four times a week, and I work part time three times a week in a café. So I eat there, too."
"You're working in a café . . ." Harry couldn't quite hide his disbelief. Somehow the image of the Malfoy he knew was slipping away faster and faster. Raines was not Malfoy despite the fact that sometimes Harry could still see and hear the old Malfoy in him. But even those little things were going to vanish if Harry kept on talking with this new person. And Harry hated that.
"Tell me, Harry Potter," Raines said slowly. "Who am I?"
Harry remained passive, couldn't even blink his eyes.
"Who are you?" Raines continued, "What are you to me?"
"You're-I-" Harry stuttered, taking a step back and sensing a knot twisting where his heart should be. He swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. "We were schoolmates."
But God, that sounded so wrong. He never knew this person. Never.
"Schoolmates? Is that all?" asked Raines, incredulous. "Where was our school then?"
"It was in-in-Scotland," Harry managed to say before he shook his head. "This is ridiculous."
"What is?" asked Raines, his voice raised an octave higher. "I'm asking you about my past, and you're clearly attached to my past. What's so ridiculous?"
"It's ridiculous because you're not him," said Harry tightly. "No matter what you do, you're still not him."
"Then what do you want from me?" shouted Raines, standing up and marching towards Harry. "I don't remember a fucking thing, what do you expect from me?"
"Who said I was expecting anything from you?"
Raines gripped the collar of Harry's coat, nearly suffocating him. They glared at each other, Harry refused to back down even when his lungs started to hurt from the lack of oxygen. Eventually Raines released him, causing Harry to stumble backward and cough.
"What are you doing here? Go on then. Leave. You know where the door is," said Raines spitefully.
Harry shot him another seething glare, and wasted no time in leaving the flat. It was only when he was already walking furiously down the pavement, red leaves crunching beneath his trainers, that Harry admitted he was being unfair to Raines. But he didn't want to be fair. Why should he? He was sick of being a hero, so sick of always having to play the right card for the world's convenience.
Yet why was being selfish so painful?
. .
. .
Harry stood before the main bedchamber of Malfoy Manor, where he knew for sure Malfoy was brooding. It had been like that for months ever since he found out about his mother's diary-Harry doubted it would change only because he hadn't come here for almost a month.
"Don't stand there like an idiot, Potter, just come in," Malfoy's voice came from behind the door, sounding so far away. Harry sighed in resignation. He pulled himself together and turned the doorknob.
"Hi," he said uneasily.
"Well, hello there," drawled Malfoy. "What brings the Golden Boy to our humble Manor?"
"Stop it, Malfoy." Harry scowled. Malfoy eyed him sceptically from where he was perched on the bed.
"I thought you had stopped coming here for good," said Malfoy nonchalantly, although his posture was stiffer than usual. "Busy saving the world maybe."
"You can't get rid of me that easily." Harry rolled his eyes for show, ambling along the carpeted floor and stopping next to Malfoy. He flopped down on the bed ungracefully. "Did you do anything at all while I wasn't here?"
"Of course, who do you think I am?" Malfoy feigned a hurtful look. "I did my best to haunt this Manor."
"Ha-ha, how productive of you," said Harry sarcastically.
Malfoy shrugged his shoulders and they fell into a long silence. Harry glanced at him sideways, noting all the little things he never thought as important before. The way Malfoy's hair curled at the nape, and how his pores were more visible around his upper cheeks. Harry wanted to run his fingers there, to sense if his skin was as smooth as it looked. The way Malfoy's lips pouted slightly, the way his Adam's apple bobbed as though he could still swallow-or maybe he could, Harry never asked. Harry sighed in frustration when he realised what he was doing.
"Do you like children?" he asked out of nowhere.
"Children?" asked Malfoy, sounding puzzled. "Not really, I don't know what to do with them. Why?"
Harry took a moment before he blurted out in one breath, "Raines likes them."
Harry could feel Malfoy's gaze roaming on his right cheek, but he refused to stare back. "I see," said Malfoy eventually.
"There's this girl-Monica. I think he likes her the most. He was kind of mad at me when I asked if something had happened to her. He said not all orphans had tragic pasts." Harry laughed. "I didn't realise that-I shamelessly assumed all of them had pasts like me."
Malfoy didn't say anything, so Harry continued, "You know, he snapped at me when I said he couldn't be you no matter what he did."
"You told him about me?"
"No, but he guessed." Harry took a shuddering breath, squeezing his hands together. "He isn't as apathetic as I thought he was."
"You understand about him now?" asked Malfoy, more softly than Harry would have liked. Harry nodded reluctantly.
"Not that I want to understand him. But he might not be as happy as he looked."
"Potter." Malfoy laughed, shaking his head. "You're being ludicrous. He'll be happier this way, trust me."
"Because he's alive? Because he doesn't have the Dark Mark?" Harry snapped, facing Malfoy. Their foreheads almost bumped together. "Because he's not Draco Malfoy?" Harry's voice turned softer, sadder. He shifted his eyes to watch Malfoy's lips.
"Because-" Malfoy swiped his tongue over his lips, and although there wasn't any saliva that could make them wet, Harry found himself transfixed by the view. "Potter-"
"I can learn to accept him if you want me to," Harry relented, slowly lifting his gaze to rest on Malfoy's eyes. Malfoy compressed his lips. "But you're different. Don't stop me from trying to-"
"All right, that's enough," said Malfoy harshly, pushing Harry's shoulders away. He rose to his feet, looking anywhere but at Harry. "It's nice to know that you've made friends with Raines. Maybe you could start brushing your hair together."
"It's not that I made friends with him," Harry retorted, annoyed. "I said I could learn to accept him."
"Well, you needn't accept him, do you?" snapped Malfoy. "Why should you?"
"Because you want me to acknowledge him as you! Don't you understand, I can't see him as you, but I'll try to-"
"It's not what I want," shouted Malfoy. When Harry only glared at him in return, his breathing ragged, Malfoy ran his fingers through his transparent fringe. "That's not what I meant," he finally said, this time more softly, but his voice layered with emotion. "It's not important what I want. The question is, why do you feel like you should do it for me?"
"I just want to," Harry replied stubbornly.
"Well, why?"
"Just because." Harry sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I felt like-I felt like shit when I told Raines he couldn't be you."
"Guilt, Potter?" Malfoy sneered. "How very noble of you. As expected from the Golden Boy."
"It has nothing to do with it," said Harry, more calmly than he suspected he would be. "And I could try accepting him as Raines, that's all. A new person, just like you said. As long as you're still here . . ."
"What?" Malfoy widened his eyes in alarm. "What do you mean?"
"As long as you're still here, in this Manor, you're still Draco Malfoy," finished Harry.
"Potter, get a grip," Malfoy groaned, sounding completely exasperated. "I'm not human, you should-I don't know, make friends with humans!"
"You know I've never been good at following orders."
"That's not an order!"
"So was that a request?" Harry stared straight into Malfoy's panicked eyes. "I can decline then."
"Merlin!" Malfoy threw his arms in the air exaggeratedly. "Hopeless. Hopeless."
"Whatever you say, Malfoy. Whatever you say," said Harry, shrugging. They glared at each other for a long, heavy minute, before Malfoy closed his eyes in defeat.
"You'll understand someday that I'm not the Draco Malfoy you want."
Harry didn't answer, but, to be honest, he had wanted to snort at that. However, Malfoy's tone when he spoke again pulled Harry back from his thoughts.
"Promise me you'll try this, Potter. I don't care if you only see him as Ian Raines. I don't care if that means you don't treat him like you treat me. Just-just try to like him."
Harry stared. "Er . . . why should I like him?"
"Because you can't afford to like me," said Malfoy sharply, his tone and expression leaving no room for argument. Harry opened his mouth, at a loss for words.
"What?"
"Oh, shut it, I'm not daft. I can see it all over your face."
"But-"
"Just do it. Promise."
"Malfoy, I-"
"Potter," said Malfoy, holding Harry's gaze. "Promise me."
Harry wanted to scream. He wanted to push Malfoy against the wall and beat the shit out of him. He needed to release all of this pent-up frustration, otherwise he would explode. But on top of it all, he needed to hold Malfoy, telling him that no, Harry wouldn't change his mind, and yes, Harry would always choose Malfoy over Raines. It didn't matter that he wasn't human, it didn't matter at all.
But instead, watching Malfoy watch him with those eyes, Harry caved in. "Yeah, okay. Promise." Because he couldn't deny that Malfoy was also right.
"Good." Malfoy straightened even more, as though it was still possible for him to appear more formal. He sent a small smile, clearly a forced one that made Harry long to kiss it away. "Then I'm going to-have a walk." He seemed to have another thought and added, "Are you coming?"
"To the garden? Watching the balding trees?"
"Balding trees have their own beauty, don't be a prat, Potter," Malfoy chided. He vanished after saying, "Meet you there."
Harry put his head in his hands, sighing in frustration. Malfoy knew Harry liked him, and wasn't keen on the idea. But that was so unfair-to ask him to like Raines . . .
"I'm so, so, fucked up," he groaned, falling backwards onto the bed. It creaked a little, the soft mattress wobbling beneath him. The bed must have cost a fortune-the Malfoys only used the finest after all, just as Malfoy always put it. Harry let his thoughts wander incoherently while the mattress lulled him in gentle waves, until a soft 'thud' jerked his attention back to Earth. He sat straight back, furrowing his brow.
Standing up, his Auror instinct screamed at him. Not that he could trust that instinct after repeatedly messing up missions, and not that his instinct was any better in the war. Hating Snape and trusting the fake Moody were only a few examples that he was pants at relying on instincts. Like Snape had always said, Harry's arrogance blinded him. But Harry had learnt a lot, and not the easy way. And besides, it wouldn't hurt to check where the sound came from, right? The worst that could happen was only-well, a furious Malfoy who would wait too long in the garden.
With that thought, Harry took out his wand and muttered a spell. If anything had moved in the last three minutes, it would be engulfed in a blue light. Sweeping his gaze over the room, the only things basked in blue light were the bed and Harry. Oh, but there was a part where the light was uneven, as if there was something extra on the carpet, beneath the bed's headboard. Harry crept towards it, crouching and peeking through the crack between the back of the bed and the wall. And yes, there was indeed something. Harry whispered Lumos.
It was square-shaped, like a book, bundled in a white fabric. It seemed that it was stuck there, at the back of the bed with a Sticking Charm. Checking for a curse, Harry wished he had asked Hermione to teach him a few more advanced spells. But so far there were no signs of curses, thus Harry began to extract it from the bed. He Levitated it carefully, noting the rose embroidery on the fabric. Harry was sure it was Narcissa Malfoy's.
He flicked his wand and the fabric unveiled a wooden box at once. It had something intricate with a big letter M crafted on the lid-Harry guessed it was the Malfoy family crest. "Sanctimonia Vincet Semper," Harry read the smaller letters that were placed below the big M, and was surprised to find the box glowing. He quickly tried to unlock it with Alohomora and more intermediate unlocking charms, but nothing happened. Harry had nearly given up, when he remembered that the box responded to his voice earlier.
"Password protected?" Harry wanted to groan. How could he guess Mrs Malfoy's password when he barely knew her?
"Rose," Harry tried, simply because it was the flower embroidered on the white fabric. And judging from the Malfoy's garden and her diary's scent, Mrs Malfoy seemed to be fond of flowers. "Honeysuckle. Lily. Erm . . . Narcissa." Nothing happened-Harry racked his brain for more flower names, but he was blank. "Daisy. Jasmine . . . oh fuck."
Sighing, Harry made a move to cover the box with the fabric again. Maybe he should just take it home and find a book that had a complete list of flower names. However, he paused and thought-if it was something Mrs Malfoy loved, there must be no other thing more suitable than this. He sat back, watching the green glow around the box. "Draco Lucius Malfoy," he whispered. A soft click echoed in the air.
Harry wanted to cheer in accomplishment, but he bit his lower lip instead. Rushing to open the lid, Harry found inside a folded map, a romance novel and a sheet of paper. He reached for the paper and frowned. It was the torn page of Mrs Malfoy's diary. Straightening its surface, curiosity ate him up. Its content, however, made his stomach lurch in protest.
"Oh God. Oh fuck. Oh bloody fuck." Harry put a hand over his mouth, certain that the colour must have fled from his face. "Malfoy . . ." he said shakily. This couldn't be-but Mrs Malfoy had proven that she had no qualm in doing something similar before. But if Malfoy knew-
Putting it back inside the box, Harry swallowed the bile forming in his throat and shut his eyes for a moment. He willed his heartbeat to slow down and the food to stay in his stomach. Opening his eyes again, he reached for the map.
It looked like an ordinary map of Great Britain, but on a closer inspection, Harry could see glints of green on some cities. Harry skimmed all the green marked cities and his eyes fell on Callington, marked with blue. It was the same blue mark he had seen in the last illegal drugs case he had with Ron. But what was the similarity between Callington and the other cities? Why were they marked, and why did Mrs Malfoy choose Callington out of the others?
Deciding he would need time-and maybe help-to solve that one, Harry shoved it back to the box and eyed the romance novel. That one was the weirdest thing in the box. Harry resolved that there would be nothing wrong in checking it, too, later. He set it back inside the box and worked on sealing it again. He shrunk the bundle, and then hid it inside his robe pocket. At the same time Malfoy flew through the door, scowling.
"What's taking you so long, Potter?"
Harry quickly straightened up, praying that his expression would be blank enough not to arouse Malfoy's suspicion. "I was-er-a bit light-headed," he lied.
Malfoy studied him for what seemed a very long minute. "You do look a little pale," he conceded at last.
"Yeah, but I'm fine now." Harry quickly assured him, pressing his fingers on top of his robe pocket nervously. "Let's go to the garden."
"If you think-" Malfoy hesitated. ". . . it isn't because of what I said, is it?"
"What-oh, no," said Harry, shaking his head a little bit too fast. "I was just . . ." Harry let it hang, staring at Malfoy's worried face. "Hey, come on."
Malfoy shrugged, his eyes never leaving Harry. "Right."
"Great," said Harry.
Before Malfoy could say anything in answer, Harry brushed past him, opening the door. When he turned back again, Malfoy had already disappeared.
. .
Five
. .
Author: nherizu
Rating: NC17
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco (main), Ron/Hermione, Neville/Hannah, Ginny/OMC.
Summary: Harry Potter knows three things. One, Voldemort can still cause chaos even after his death. Two, Draco Malfoy is one of the last two missing survivors. Three, Harry’s creepy dreams every night are the only key to finding Malfoy. And yet ... maybe Harry shouldn’t be so sure, for the truth about Malfoy is not what he thinks it is.
Warnings/Content Notes: (highlight for details): * Minor character death-despite whatever you may find later in the story, I really meant minor, so don’t worry *winks*. Add a few minor OCs, too, and repeated use of a strong potion (but only for pain relief).*
Word Count: 50,631
Author's Notes: See Part 1. :)
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3.
And the Clock keeps Ticking
Four
The ticking clock was so loud in Hermione's office. Harry didn't know what had possessed him that he had obligingly come as he was told, but now he regretted it. No one should challenge Hermione when they knew they were hiding something. Harry drummed his fingers against his thigh, trying to nonchalantly avoid her gaze and failing miserably.
"Harry," she said from behind her desk, and something told Harry that she was far from calm. "How is your headache?"
Harry studiously watched Hermione's clock. It was ten minutes fast. Why was it ten minutes fast again? Probably because Hermione hated being late. Yes, that would be it. But the ticking was a little too loud for such a tiny clock. How did one make it stop ticking that loud? Smash it with a Bludger?
"Harry?"
"Hm?"
"The headache?"
"What headache?"
"You know what I mean. The dreams?"
"Oh yeah, they stopped."
There were about ten ticks before something even louder forced Harry to face Hermione. Looked like she just slammed her hands on the desk.
"They stopped," said Hermione slowly. "How did they stop?"
"Er, they just kind of . . . did?"
"After more than half a year? They stopped just like that?" There was a warning in Hermione's voice. "When did that happen?"
"About two or three months ago . . ." Harry shrugged, drumming his thigh faster. "It doesn't matter."
"Harry, stop it," Hermione said sternly.
"Stop what?" Harry blinked innocently.
"This!" said Hermione. "You're acting bizarrely! First you were on extremely dangerous potions-"
"Oh, bloody-" Harry spluttered, "they're not extremely dangerous!"
"-and now the dreams just stopped!" Hermione said loudly. "Then you avoided me after you got back from your mission, and I know you were trying to find Malfoy, but now that everyone is in Malfoy's search party because he's the last one, you look just . . ." She made vague, frustrated gestures with her hands, ". . . like you don't care about it anymore!"
"Because I realised it really doesn't matter!" Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "The dreams stopped, you should be happy for me. And I'm in the search party, so don't say I'm not looking for him!"
"I'm happy, I am," said Hermione, sounding tired, "but you're hiding something, I know."
"Look," said Harry, "you want me not to act independently about Malfoy and follow Robards' instructions, so I am. I'm searching for Malfoy with the team, okay?"
"But this whole Malfoy thing is just weird," said Hermione. "You know Harry, Hannah has done a thorough check of Muggle hospitals just like you told her to, and still no trace. We haven't been able to pick up Malfoy's magical signature anywhere, and we can't find anything about him on the internet-"
"-magical signature?" Harry perked up. "Is that how the Unspeakables search for him? Using his magical signature?"
"Well yes, he's a wizard, he's bound to leave one wherever he goes. It's basic, Harry. You should have paid more attention in the meetings. The only obvious trace we've got so far is inside the Manor, but that's normal considering he lived there."
"Even though the Manor has been stripped of its magic?"
"Yes, Malfoy had lived there for a very long time."
"Like-like maybe if we checked Hogwarts, then we could find his magical signature there, too? Or mine, or yours?"
Hermione looked at him oddly. "Yes, that's correct."
"But my magical signature wasn't in the . . . the restaurant we visited three months ago?"
"There would have been, but it would be so weak. Which is why Malfoy's got to be moving frequently so that he doesn't leave a traceable signature."
"Okay," said Harry, sighing inwardly with relief. So long as people thought the magical signatures in the Manor were only some old traces of Malfoy's magic, the fact that Malfoy's magic itself lived there would still be safe. And the fact that Ian Raines didn't have any magic meant the Ministry wouldn't be aware of his existence. Even if Malfoy went somewhere in his ghost form, the Ministry wouldn't detect his magical signature. Harry should still have time to find a way to bring Malfoy back to life again.
"Okay?" asked Hermione, her expression clearly one of disbelief. "It's not okay! You're hiding something, and somehow . . ." she paused to throw him a sharp look. "Somehow I get the feeling that everything is connected."
Once again, Harry didn't know whether he should hate or love Hermione for being so smart.
"What? Are you telling me there's something about Malfoy?" asked Harry, trying hard to sound annoyed. "Not going to think I'm being silly again like in sixth year?"
"Actually, yes, I think you're being silly, because this is different from sixth year," Hermione snapped. "What I want to say is, I think you're obsessed-again-but in a different way. You're getting better at hiding it, aren't you, Harry?"
"You just told me I'd lost interest in finding Malfoy, but now you're accusing me of being obsessed?" asked Harry, aghast. "Bloody hell, Hermione."
She shrugged. "All I'm saying is . . . it's suspicious. The way you're acting and everything."
"Then have it your way. I'm not doing anything I'm not supposed to!"
"Are you being completely honest?"
"Hermione," Harry half-whined.
"All right. Fine," said Hermione, her shoulders drooped. "I'll pretend I haven't noticed anything. But . . ." She reached for Harry's hand, and he had to awkwardly uncross his arms to hold her hand. "Remember that I-Ron and I-we are your best friends, Harry."
Harry stared at her. The guilt was growing inside again-stronger and unrelenting. For a moment he considered telling her everything, but . . . would she understand? No-Hermione, let alone Ron, wouldn't understand. Even Harry himself still didn't fully understand. But that didn't matter. It was about doing the right thing, not for other people, but for himself, because-because he had finally stopped hating and wanted to do something. Wasn't that all that mattered?
"Of course," said Harry. "I know."
. .
. .
"I need the books you confiscated from us, Potter," said Malfoy. "This isn't going anywhere. My mother didn't write down the last step she had to take to complete the ritual, and we need to know what caused her to fail if we want to reverse this whole thing. And there's still the problem that if I were to go back to my body, the curse would be activated again."
Harry looked up from where he was sprawling on the sofa, pretending to read Narcissa Malfoy's diary for the hundredth time. Malfoy was standing forlornly in the middle of the library, playing with the books that were floating around him. "I know, I've thought about sneaking up there this Sunday. But what kind of books should I be looking for?"
"Old rituals, old magic, maybe even necromancy."
"But you're not dead, why necromancy?"
"Because the idea is kind of similar-we're going to put my magic, my soul into my body," said Malfoy, shrugging. "Although I'm fairly sure my mother would have written down everything . . ."
"Fine, I'll do what I can, but before that . . ." Harry sat up to rest his elbows on his knees. "Let's confirm what we need to confirm first, okay? It's been so long and all we did is research."
Malfoy stopped his gentle, twirling wind and the books dropped to the floor. He looked as if he were taking a deep breath, hands slipping inside his trouser pockets. "Of course. Why do you think I asked you to come today?"
"To meet Raines?"
Malfoy nodded. "Yeah. Better to get this over with. It's only a matter of whether I really am a ghost or only magic, isn't it? I believed that I'd been dead for more than six months, what could be worse?"
Harry didn't believe a single thing Malfoy said, though. How could he, when Malfoy looked far from calm?
"I've known you for years, there's no way I would fail to recognise you."
"Potter." Malfoy laughed dryly. "We were not the best of friends in Hogwarts, how could you be so sure?"
"Then how could you recognise me that time when I was captured?" asked Harry, and Malfoy's shoulders stiffened. "I know you recognised me. You lied for me. Just like your mother lied for you. It's not that hard to believe, is it, that I'd know you even when you didn't look like you?"
"There are people who look similar," said Malfoy. "Ian Raines might not be me."
"He is you. But he's not you, because the real you is-is the one who stands before me," said Harry. "Trust me?"
Malfoy looked pained, torn, and Harry hated that. It made him want to touch, to feel, to make sure Malfoy was all right. To make sure he was there-alive.
"It's too much of you to ask me to trust you," said Malfoy eventually, a little smile playing on his lips. Harry thought his heart would burst at the rare display. "Guide me to the orphanage."
"Okay." Nodding, Harry turned on his feet and extended his hand. "I'll Apparate us."
"This is weird," said Malfoy, seemingly reluctant to place his hand on Harry's forearm. Harry refused to think about it further, so he Apparated even before Malfoy could readjust his grip around Harry. When he arrived at a secluded corner near the orphanage, however, Harry was alone.
"Malfoy?" he called out, looking everywhere. But the neighbourhood was silent. Harry ran towards the orphanage, beginning to panic. Maybe he had made a mistake-if somehow ghosts, souls, magic, whatever Malfoy was, weren't able to Apparate. Maybe Splinching for non-solid forms meant to disappear forever. He was about to shout louder when a tap on his shoulder made him jump.
"Looking for someone?" said Malfoy-
No, it was Raines. Harry gritted his teeth because he was almost glad to know Malfoy was still there. But it wasn't him.
"Yeah," Harry said instead, knowing Raines wouldn't understand anyway. "He just-disappeared."
"Maybe he left you while you were daydreaming?" Raines hazarded a guess. "You look like the scatterbrain type."
"I think that'd be you," Harry retorted.
"Me? No, I'm just not a caring person," said Raines with a dismissive wave. "Why are you here by the way?"
"It's none of your business."
"Is it?" Raines let out that empty laughter again. "I thought you were here because you still think I'm your missing boyfriend."
"He's not my boyfriend," said Harry tightly. "And he's not you."
"Really?" Raines shrugged. "I don't even care," he said, adjusting his washed out denim jacket. "Oh, the kids are playing football."
Harry followed Raines's gaze, seeing past the open gate into the garden. Five boys, who looked like they were about nine or ten years old, were chasing a ball and laughing. Monica and another little girl were sitting on the front stairs.
"Odd sport, football is," said Raines, grabbing for a cigarette in his jacket pocket. "I hate it."
Harry snorted. "Because you can't play?"
"I've always felt my feet were made for something better than kicking a stupid round thing on the ground."
"Yeah? Like what?"
"Don't know. Like kicking the ground to fly."
Harry looked up, startled. Raines seemed undisturbed, casually blowing the smoke and staring at the kids. "Flying?" asked Harry at last.
"Stupid, huh? Who cares, that's my dream."
"Your dream is to fly?" Harry asked carefully. "With what?"
"Don't know. Not a plane, not wings either." Raines shrugged. "Doesn't matter."
"Magic," said Harry, not taking his eyes off Raines. "Maybe you need magic."
"Bugger, you're loonier than I am," said Raines, his lips quirked into a small smile. Harry clenched a fist, because-that smile was Malfoy's. The one that made his stomach churn and his heart jump around.
"Well, if you're not here for me . . ." Raines let his words hang, waving nonchalantly at Harry. He shuffled through the gate, joking with the boys and bending down to lift Monica. Until he vanished behind the front door with the kids, Harry could only foolishly watch him in silence.
He probably hated Raines more than he ever hated Malfoy.
"That's-my body, Potter," said Malfoy behind him, his voice sounding so close to Harry's ear. Harry shivered.
"Where were you?" He spun around, doing the best he could to mask the overwhelming relief and the unwelcome flush.
"I think it just took longer for me to reform my . . ." Malfoy waved distractedly towards his own body. ". . . current form."
"So you saw him? Raines?"
"Yes, that was me. He is me," said Malfoy, his eyes full of longing as he gazed at the closed door. "I think he needs lessons in how to dress."
"That's not important." Harry would have rolled his eyes if only Malfoy hadn't looked so sad. "We need to get you back to your body."
Malfoy stared at him, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pressed together tightly. He remained that way until Harry wanted to snap his fingers just to call Malfoy back to Earth. When Malfoy spoke, it was with a low, soft voice that belied a lot of emotions. "He's so . . . apathetic. He doesn't have any personality, does he?"
"No." Harry couldn't agree more.
"But what can he do? His memory and basically everything that formed him . . . have disappeared," said Malfoy. "He's a new person. He might have picked up his new habits and everything from the people around him."
"Maybe," Harry trod carefully, not knowing where this conversation was going.
"But that's probably for the best. It's better for him-me . . . Merlin, this is difficult." Malfoy shook his head. "But it's better to live anew than be a loathed ex-Death Eater."
"What?" Harry asked in disbelief. "What are you talking about?"
"He's alive, Potter, he doesn't look like he's unhappy, and he's alive," said Malfoy, sounding desperate. "He doesn't need me, because I-I-" Malfoy blinked his eyes, refusing to look at Harry. It might have been his imagination, but Harry thought the way Malfoy blinked and sniffed was more heart-wrenching than even tears would be. "I'm only magic," said Malfoy, his voice trembling slightly.
"You're not telling me you're changing your mind," said Harry through gritted teeth. "He's not you, and you can-"
"No, I can't," bellowed Malfoy. "Can't you understand? Without me he'll stay alive! I'm the curse, there's no other way!"
"We can still find a way," shouted Harry. "There's always a way!"
"Well, maybe you should get this through your thick skull, but not everything in life can go according to your wishes!"
"Why are you suddenly scared?" Harry gripped Malfoy's shoulders and shook them. "Why?"
Malfoy looked ashen, his mouth pinched and his face so pale it was almost invisible. "If we fail, he'll die. And I will, too. There will be no Draco Malfoy or Ian Raines. I won't exist anymore-in any shape or form, Potter."
Harry opened his mouth only to close it again. It was as if a bottomless hole was opening in his stomach, and it was heavy, cold, painful. The realisation smacked him in the face, making it hard to breathe. Because-because Malfoy wouldn't be here if they failed.
Malfoy reached up, his cold knuckles brushing against Harry's cheek. He stared into Harry's eyes, and there was something that told Harry that Malfoy realised something, saw something in Harry. Malfoy dropped his hand, a sad, knowing smile on his lips. "Let me go, Potter."
Before Harry could, however, there was a cold wind and suddenly Malfoy was standing a short distance away from him.
"Perhaps you should learn more about Ian Raines," said Malfoy. "Perhaps he isn't that bad."
"No one is worse than you," Harry said, attempting a smile to no avail. "But no one is easier to hate than Raines."
Malfoy laughed. "I thought you hated me. I should be offended that Raines has stolen that privilege."
"I hated you. Still do," said Harry. "Will hate you more if you disappear."
"We can't let that happen now, can we?" Malfoy said with a smile. A moment later, that smile faded away. He kept his eyes on the empty orphanage garden. "Ian Raines is me, Potter. You'll come around one day."
"No," said Harry, shaking his head. "No."
Malfoy merely gazed at him for a while before he shook his head as well. Harry tried to avoid that stare, blinking just to get his bearings again. Yet when he opened his eyes once more, Malfoy had disappeared.
. .
. .
A week after Malfoy left him, Harry was back in Callington. He couldn't bring himself to meet Malfoy-not after he was clearly told to learn liking Raines. Hence now he found himself waiting in front of the orphanage gate, unsure of what the hell he was actually waiting for.
Occasionally he could see some kids running around the building, some of them looking at him strangely. But Raines wasn't there, and Harry had no intention to actually ask for him. He didn't even want to meet him. Yet he came anyway.
It was nearly dusk when Harry saw the front door open with Monica tugging at Leah's sweater sleeve. Seeing Harry, Leah frowned. Monica pointed at him, whispering something to Leah. Harry fidgeted on his feet, not knowing what to say in case Leah asked him what he was doing there. As expected, Leah ushered Monica to go inside, and she smiled faintly at Harry afterwards. Harry tried to return the smile, but he could only manage a grimace.
"Are you looking for Ian?" Leah asked when she arrived at the gate.
"Er, I only stopped by because I had things to do around here . . ."
The way Leah raised her eyebrows told Harry that she could see through his lie.
"He's not coming today, but I see you've noticed," said Leah. "Today is Leon's turn."
Harry recalled that he did indeed see a dark-haired bloke filing inside the orphanage right after he Apparated. "I see," he said hesitantly. "It's all right, I'm not really-"
"He doesn't live very far," Leah cut in, watching him intently. "I can give you directions if you want."
Harry opened and closed his mouth, at a loss. "Er . . . is that all right?"
"Yeah, he won't mind," said Leah, shrugging. When Harry opened his mouth again to counter, Leah raised her hand. "You have to talk to him."
"Talk to him about what?" asked Harry, baffled.
"About him, obviously," Leah stated matter-of-factly. "Now, you see that house with the red car parked in front of it? Take the left turn right after it, and just go straight until you see a blue gate. Ian lives there-room number three."
"I-okay," Harry replied uncertainly. "Thanks for the-uh-directions."
"You're welcome." Leah smiled before pausing for a moment. She stared at Harry. "You have to understand that he's afraid."
"Of what?"
"Of himself. Of the things he doesn't know," said Leah softly. "He's not really that strong."
"He doesn't look like he gives a rat's arse about anything," said Harry. "He doesn't look like he needs me to talk to him."
"Perhaps he doesn't, but you'll do it anyway, won't you?" Leah said. "It's better if he's the one who tells you everything. It's just not my place to do that, you know?"
"Yeah, maybe," Harry agreed reluctantly. There was a long pause before he sighed and said, "I'll go then."
"See that you do." Leah smiled again. "Tell Ian not to be late tomorrow, will you?"
"Will do." Harry nodded.
He walked down the pavement until he saw a junction near the red car, taking the left turn and searching for a blue gate. Just as Leah said, it didn't take him long to find it. Harry stared for a moment, having difficulties believing Malfoy-Raines could live in a place as small and run-down as this.
He slipped through the gate and climbed the short flight of stairs. Room number three was the last one on the left. The door was made out of a thin panel of plywood, and the wall was painted white-although it had peeled off here and there. Harry swallowed, and then knocked.
There was a heavy silence while Harry waited for Raines to open the door. His heart was in his throat, his palms sweating. He didn't even know what the bloody hell he should talk to Raines about. But every time he remembered the way Malfoy gazed at him, brushing his knuckles against Harry's cheek . . . it made Harry's stomach twist unpleasantly. It reminded him too much of the fact that Malfoy was . . .
"Well, well, what have we got here?"
The drawl coming from behind him made Harry jump in expectation. He whirled around hoping to see Malfoy, only to find Raines leaning sideways against the wall, eyeing Harry sceptically. His hands were in his grey trench coat pockets, the white jumper he wore underneath making his throat look paler than usual.
"Hi," Harry greeted tentatively. "Leah told me . . ."
"Sure, sure. There's no one else who would tell you my address." Raines shrugged. He headed to the door, brushing against Harry's right shoulder in the process. "Want to come in?" he asked, unlocking the door.
"Yeah, thanks." Harry breathed a sigh of relief at the invitation, following Raines' lead inside. He took a moment to adjust his eyes to the darkness, and was awed by what he saw.
"Feel free to sit anywhere you like," said Raines, turning on the lamp. The yellow light made everything clearer. Harry walked slowly across the narrow hallway, all the while taking in his surroundings.
It wasn't empty or dirty like one would think from seeing the front door. The furniture was old but not bespoke as at Malfoy Manor, though it was actually nice. It made Harry think of 'home', even though neither Grimmauld Place nor Hogwarts-let alone Privet Drive-had the same style. It was just like the home he had always envisioned, the one he thought every family should have. A pair of warm brown sofas, with a beige rug placed near the hearth. Some handmade cards were pinned on the white board above the hearth-no doubt presents from the orphan children. There was a photograph displayed on top of a small table that separated the living room and the kitchen. Harry walked towards it.
"You're not here," Harry pointed out, examining the photograph closely. It showed Leah and the children in front of the orphanage building, smiling widely. Two other young blokes were there-Leon was one of them, Harry guessed. An old man with round belly that reminded Harry of Slughorn was on his knees, laughing and hugging two little girls.
"I wasn't there when it was taken."
"But you said you've been in the orphanage all your life."
"Well, it's true," said Raines. Harry looked up, finding Raines' eyes trained on him. "You know that's true."
"What do you mean?"
Raines laughed without humour, throwing himself onto one of the sofas. He seemed to remember about his coat, so he grumbled, wriggling himself out of the thick material. "Come now, Harry Potter. Don't pretend you don't think of me as that boyfriend of yours," he said, hooking his coat over the back of the sofa.
"How many times do I have to say that he's not my boyfriend?"
"The man you like then."
Harry stared, his heart sounding noisy in his ears. "What do you know?"
"What do I know?" Raines twirled his forefinger in the air lazily. "What I do know is that I woke up nine months ago without any memories. That I almost died because apparently I didn't bloody know anything-even the simplest thing. I didn't even know how to turn the hot and cold taps on. Odd, don't you think?" Raines searched Harry's eyes, waiting for something Harry didn't know. He laughed wryly. "Of course you don't think that's odd. I might be a fucking noble for all I know, not knowing how to cook or sweep the floor."
"You're-" Harry licked his lips, uncertain of what he should say. "What happened then?" he settled with that in the end.
"I collapsed from hunger." Raines shrugged. "It was near the orphanage, so I was lucky. The head of the orphanage-that is Old Man William-took me in. He even let me use this flat."
"Have you learnt everything then? You can cook now?" asked Harry, even though the thing he wanted to ask wasn't anywhere near that question.
"No, I eat at the orphanage four times a week, and I work part time three times a week in a café. So I eat there, too."
"You're working in a café . . ." Harry couldn't quite hide his disbelief. Somehow the image of the Malfoy he knew was slipping away faster and faster. Raines was not Malfoy despite the fact that sometimes Harry could still see and hear the old Malfoy in him. But even those little things were going to vanish if Harry kept on talking with this new person. And Harry hated that.
"Tell me, Harry Potter," Raines said slowly. "Who am I?"
Harry remained passive, couldn't even blink his eyes.
"Who are you?" Raines continued, "What are you to me?"
"You're-I-" Harry stuttered, taking a step back and sensing a knot twisting where his heart should be. He swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. "We were schoolmates."
But God, that sounded so wrong. He never knew this person. Never.
"Schoolmates? Is that all?" asked Raines, incredulous. "Where was our school then?"
"It was in-in-Scotland," Harry managed to say before he shook his head. "This is ridiculous."
"What is?" asked Raines, his voice raised an octave higher. "I'm asking you about my past, and you're clearly attached to my past. What's so ridiculous?"
"It's ridiculous because you're not him," said Harry tightly. "No matter what you do, you're still not him."
"Then what do you want from me?" shouted Raines, standing up and marching towards Harry. "I don't remember a fucking thing, what do you expect from me?"
"Who said I was expecting anything from you?"
Raines gripped the collar of Harry's coat, nearly suffocating him. They glared at each other, Harry refused to back down even when his lungs started to hurt from the lack of oxygen. Eventually Raines released him, causing Harry to stumble backward and cough.
"What are you doing here? Go on then. Leave. You know where the door is," said Raines spitefully.
Harry shot him another seething glare, and wasted no time in leaving the flat. It was only when he was already walking furiously down the pavement, red leaves crunching beneath his trainers, that Harry admitted he was being unfair to Raines. But he didn't want to be fair. Why should he? He was sick of being a hero, so sick of always having to play the right card for the world's convenience.
Yet why was being selfish so painful?
. .
. .
Harry stood before the main bedchamber of Malfoy Manor, where he knew for sure Malfoy was brooding. It had been like that for months ever since he found out about his mother's diary-Harry doubted it would change only because he hadn't come here for almost a month.
"Don't stand there like an idiot, Potter, just come in," Malfoy's voice came from behind the door, sounding so far away. Harry sighed in resignation. He pulled himself together and turned the doorknob.
"Hi," he said uneasily.
"Well, hello there," drawled Malfoy. "What brings the Golden Boy to our humble Manor?"
"Stop it, Malfoy." Harry scowled. Malfoy eyed him sceptically from where he was perched on the bed.
"I thought you had stopped coming here for good," said Malfoy nonchalantly, although his posture was stiffer than usual. "Busy saving the world maybe."
"You can't get rid of me that easily." Harry rolled his eyes for show, ambling along the carpeted floor and stopping next to Malfoy. He flopped down on the bed ungracefully. "Did you do anything at all while I wasn't here?"
"Of course, who do you think I am?" Malfoy feigned a hurtful look. "I did my best to haunt this Manor."
"Ha-ha, how productive of you," said Harry sarcastically.
Malfoy shrugged his shoulders and they fell into a long silence. Harry glanced at him sideways, noting all the little things he never thought as important before. The way Malfoy's hair curled at the nape, and how his pores were more visible around his upper cheeks. Harry wanted to run his fingers there, to sense if his skin was as smooth as it looked. The way Malfoy's lips pouted slightly, the way his Adam's apple bobbed as though he could still swallow-or maybe he could, Harry never asked. Harry sighed in frustration when he realised what he was doing.
"Do you like children?" he asked out of nowhere.
"Children?" asked Malfoy, sounding puzzled. "Not really, I don't know what to do with them. Why?"
Harry took a moment before he blurted out in one breath, "Raines likes them."
Harry could feel Malfoy's gaze roaming on his right cheek, but he refused to stare back. "I see," said Malfoy eventually.
"There's this girl-Monica. I think he likes her the most. He was kind of mad at me when I asked if something had happened to her. He said not all orphans had tragic pasts." Harry laughed. "I didn't realise that-I shamelessly assumed all of them had pasts like me."
Malfoy didn't say anything, so Harry continued, "You know, he snapped at me when I said he couldn't be you no matter what he did."
"You told him about me?"
"No, but he guessed." Harry took a shuddering breath, squeezing his hands together. "He isn't as apathetic as I thought he was."
"You understand about him now?" asked Malfoy, more softly than Harry would have liked. Harry nodded reluctantly.
"Not that I want to understand him. But he might not be as happy as he looked."
"Potter." Malfoy laughed, shaking his head. "You're being ludicrous. He'll be happier this way, trust me."
"Because he's alive? Because he doesn't have the Dark Mark?" Harry snapped, facing Malfoy. Their foreheads almost bumped together. "Because he's not Draco Malfoy?" Harry's voice turned softer, sadder. He shifted his eyes to watch Malfoy's lips.
"Because-" Malfoy swiped his tongue over his lips, and although there wasn't any saliva that could make them wet, Harry found himself transfixed by the view. "Potter-"
"I can learn to accept him if you want me to," Harry relented, slowly lifting his gaze to rest on Malfoy's eyes. Malfoy compressed his lips. "But you're different. Don't stop me from trying to-"
"All right, that's enough," said Malfoy harshly, pushing Harry's shoulders away. He rose to his feet, looking anywhere but at Harry. "It's nice to know that you've made friends with Raines. Maybe you could start brushing your hair together."
"It's not that I made friends with him," Harry retorted, annoyed. "I said I could learn to accept him."
"Well, you needn't accept him, do you?" snapped Malfoy. "Why should you?"
"Because you want me to acknowledge him as you! Don't you understand, I can't see him as you, but I'll try to-"
"It's not what I want," shouted Malfoy. When Harry only glared at him in return, his breathing ragged, Malfoy ran his fingers through his transparent fringe. "That's not what I meant," he finally said, this time more softly, but his voice layered with emotion. "It's not important what I want. The question is, why do you feel like you should do it for me?"
"I just want to," Harry replied stubbornly.
"Well, why?"
"Just because." Harry sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I felt like-I felt like shit when I told Raines he couldn't be you."
"Guilt, Potter?" Malfoy sneered. "How very noble of you. As expected from the Golden Boy."
"It has nothing to do with it," said Harry, more calmly than he suspected he would be. "And I could try accepting him as Raines, that's all. A new person, just like you said. As long as you're still here . . ."
"What?" Malfoy widened his eyes in alarm. "What do you mean?"
"As long as you're still here, in this Manor, you're still Draco Malfoy," finished Harry.
"Potter, get a grip," Malfoy groaned, sounding completely exasperated. "I'm not human, you should-I don't know, make friends with humans!"
"You know I've never been good at following orders."
"That's not an order!"
"So was that a request?" Harry stared straight into Malfoy's panicked eyes. "I can decline then."
"Merlin!" Malfoy threw his arms in the air exaggeratedly. "Hopeless. Hopeless."
"Whatever you say, Malfoy. Whatever you say," said Harry, shrugging. They glared at each other for a long, heavy minute, before Malfoy closed his eyes in defeat.
"You'll understand someday that I'm not the Draco Malfoy you want."
Harry didn't answer, but, to be honest, he had wanted to snort at that. However, Malfoy's tone when he spoke again pulled Harry back from his thoughts.
"Promise me you'll try this, Potter. I don't care if you only see him as Ian Raines. I don't care if that means you don't treat him like you treat me. Just-just try to like him."
Harry stared. "Er . . . why should I like him?"
"Because you can't afford to like me," said Malfoy sharply, his tone and expression leaving no room for argument. Harry opened his mouth, at a loss for words.
"What?"
"Oh, shut it, I'm not daft. I can see it all over your face."
"But-"
"Just do it. Promise."
"Malfoy, I-"
"Potter," said Malfoy, holding Harry's gaze. "Promise me."
Harry wanted to scream. He wanted to push Malfoy against the wall and beat the shit out of him. He needed to release all of this pent-up frustration, otherwise he would explode. But on top of it all, he needed to hold Malfoy, telling him that no, Harry wouldn't change his mind, and yes, Harry would always choose Malfoy over Raines. It didn't matter that he wasn't human, it didn't matter at all.
But instead, watching Malfoy watch him with those eyes, Harry caved in. "Yeah, okay. Promise." Because he couldn't deny that Malfoy was also right.
"Good." Malfoy straightened even more, as though it was still possible for him to appear more formal. He sent a small smile, clearly a forced one that made Harry long to kiss it away. "Then I'm going to-have a walk." He seemed to have another thought and added, "Are you coming?"
"To the garden? Watching the balding trees?"
"Balding trees have their own beauty, don't be a prat, Potter," Malfoy chided. He vanished after saying, "Meet you there."
Harry put his head in his hands, sighing in frustration. Malfoy knew Harry liked him, and wasn't keen on the idea. But that was so unfair-to ask him to like Raines . . .
"I'm so, so, fucked up," he groaned, falling backwards onto the bed. It creaked a little, the soft mattress wobbling beneath him. The bed must have cost a fortune-the Malfoys only used the finest after all, just as Malfoy always put it. Harry let his thoughts wander incoherently while the mattress lulled him in gentle waves, until a soft 'thud' jerked his attention back to Earth. He sat straight back, furrowing his brow.
Standing up, his Auror instinct screamed at him. Not that he could trust that instinct after repeatedly messing up missions, and not that his instinct was any better in the war. Hating Snape and trusting the fake Moody were only a few examples that he was pants at relying on instincts. Like Snape had always said, Harry's arrogance blinded him. But Harry had learnt a lot, and not the easy way. And besides, it wouldn't hurt to check where the sound came from, right? The worst that could happen was only-well, a furious Malfoy who would wait too long in the garden.
With that thought, Harry took out his wand and muttered a spell. If anything had moved in the last three minutes, it would be engulfed in a blue light. Sweeping his gaze over the room, the only things basked in blue light were the bed and Harry. Oh, but there was a part where the light was uneven, as if there was something extra on the carpet, beneath the bed's headboard. Harry crept towards it, crouching and peeking through the crack between the back of the bed and the wall. And yes, there was indeed something. Harry whispered Lumos.
It was square-shaped, like a book, bundled in a white fabric. It seemed that it was stuck there, at the back of the bed with a Sticking Charm. Checking for a curse, Harry wished he had asked Hermione to teach him a few more advanced spells. But so far there were no signs of curses, thus Harry began to extract it from the bed. He Levitated it carefully, noting the rose embroidery on the fabric. Harry was sure it was Narcissa Malfoy's.
He flicked his wand and the fabric unveiled a wooden box at once. It had something intricate with a big letter M crafted on the lid-Harry guessed it was the Malfoy family crest. "Sanctimonia Vincet Semper," Harry read the smaller letters that were placed below the big M, and was surprised to find the box glowing. He quickly tried to unlock it with Alohomora and more intermediate unlocking charms, but nothing happened. Harry had nearly given up, when he remembered that the box responded to his voice earlier.
"Password protected?" Harry wanted to groan. How could he guess Mrs Malfoy's password when he barely knew her?
"Rose," Harry tried, simply because it was the flower embroidered on the white fabric. And judging from the Malfoy's garden and her diary's scent, Mrs Malfoy seemed to be fond of flowers. "Honeysuckle. Lily. Erm . . . Narcissa." Nothing happened-Harry racked his brain for more flower names, but he was blank. "Daisy. Jasmine . . . oh fuck."
Sighing, Harry made a move to cover the box with the fabric again. Maybe he should just take it home and find a book that had a complete list of flower names. However, he paused and thought-if it was something Mrs Malfoy loved, there must be no other thing more suitable than this. He sat back, watching the green glow around the box. "Draco Lucius Malfoy," he whispered. A soft click echoed in the air.
Harry wanted to cheer in accomplishment, but he bit his lower lip instead. Rushing to open the lid, Harry found inside a folded map, a romance novel and a sheet of paper. He reached for the paper and frowned. It was the torn page of Mrs Malfoy's diary. Straightening its surface, curiosity ate him up. Its content, however, made his stomach lurch in protest.
"Oh God. Oh fuck. Oh bloody fuck." Harry put a hand over his mouth, certain that the colour must have fled from his face. "Malfoy . . ." he said shakily. This couldn't be-but Mrs Malfoy had proven that she had no qualm in doing something similar before. But if Malfoy knew-
Putting it back inside the box, Harry swallowed the bile forming in his throat and shut his eyes for a moment. He willed his heartbeat to slow down and the food to stay in his stomach. Opening his eyes again, he reached for the map.
It looked like an ordinary map of Great Britain, but on a closer inspection, Harry could see glints of green on some cities. Harry skimmed all the green marked cities and his eyes fell on Callington, marked with blue. It was the same blue mark he had seen in the last illegal drugs case he had with Ron. But what was the similarity between Callington and the other cities? Why were they marked, and why did Mrs Malfoy choose Callington out of the others?
Deciding he would need time-and maybe help-to solve that one, Harry shoved it back to the box and eyed the romance novel. That one was the weirdest thing in the box. Harry resolved that there would be nothing wrong in checking it, too, later. He set it back inside the box and worked on sealing it again. He shrunk the bundle, and then hid it inside his robe pocket. At the same time Malfoy flew through the door, scowling.
"What's taking you so long, Potter?"
Harry quickly straightened up, praying that his expression would be blank enough not to arouse Malfoy's suspicion. "I was-er-a bit light-headed," he lied.
Malfoy studied him for what seemed a very long minute. "You do look a little pale," he conceded at last.
"Yeah, but I'm fine now." Harry quickly assured him, pressing his fingers on top of his robe pocket nervously. "Let's go to the garden."
"If you think-" Malfoy hesitated. ". . . it isn't because of what I said, is it?"
"What-oh, no," said Harry, shaking his head a little bit too fast. "I was just . . ." Harry let it hang, staring at Malfoy's worried face. "Hey, come on."
Malfoy shrugged, his eyes never leaving Harry. "Right."
"Great," said Harry.
Before Malfoy could say anything in answer, Harry brushed past him, opening the door. When he turned back again, Malfoy had already disappeared.
. .
Five
. .