Slouching Towards Bethlehem, Chapter 6
Title: Slouching Towards Bethlehem
Author: Kroki Refur
Pairing: None
Genre: Action/Drama
Rating: R
Summary: Sixth year, and Harry's back at Hogwarts, but how can it be like it was? NEWTs and even Quidditch pale into insignificance, with Sirius gone and the horizon dark with war. Familiar faces turn up in unexpected places, and then there's the small matter of Malfoy... Drama a-plenty, and maybe an apocalypse or two to come.
Warnings: Language; violence.
Chapter 1 here.
Chapter 2 here.
Chapter 3 here.
Chapter 4 here.
Chapter 5 here
Hi guys! Sorry for the looong hiatus -- I've been, um, emigrating. Hope some of you still don't mind reading this since it's AU now. This chapter was originally going to include substantially more plotline, but it became rather unwieldy; I still haven't decided whether I should try and put the rest in regardless. If you find it's too short, or you think it needs more, please let me know! Thank you in advance
--Refur
The story so far: Harry has returned to Hogwarts for his sixth year, but he finds it difficult to overcome his grief for Sirius and his difficulty in returning to normal life. Sirius is declared officially dead by the Ministry of Magic. Meanwhile, Draco Malfoy has gone missing, which convinces Harry that Voldemort's army of Death Eaters is headed for Hogwarts. Remus Lupin comes to the school to give Harry Sirius's will, which names him as sole heir and Remus as his guardian; however, Harry pushes him away before he is able to inform him of the latter stipulation. The next day, Harry awakes in a cell with no memory of how he got there. The only other occupant is Malfoy, who's chained to the wall. Ron and Hermione use a Locator Spell to find Malfoy, but Dumbledore is reluctant to follow the results, so they set off alone to Derbyshire to find Harry. Meanwhile, Harry comes to blows with Malfoy, and shortly afterwards discovers his wand in the cell. He finds it has been bewitched so that it can only perform Unforgiveable Curses. Malfoy teaches him Imperio, and he uses it on the House Elf who comes to feed them. The two of them break out, and run into Ron and Hermione in the corridor. They overhear a conversation between Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy, revealing the former's plan to destroy the protection spell in Harry's blood by making him take the life of another, i.e. Malfoy, in anger. They flee over the hills, where they are met by members of the Order, who return them to Hogwarts.
Once back, Malfoy realises it must have been his fellow Slytherins who set him up. He is moved to Harry's dormitory to prevent a similar occurrence, and both boys are prohibited from leaving the grounds. Lupin comes to see Harry, and points out that Malfoy is now alone in the world, and in need of a friend. Harry chooses Malfoy as a partner for the term-long Magical Transportation project. Malfoy rejects Harry's overture of friendship, and says if he wants to help he can find proof that the Slytherins were involved in their abduction.
And now, the astonishing continuation!
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Beta-ed?: No
Slouching Towards Bethlehem
Chapter Six: Vexed to Nightmare
Ron looked at Harry in surprise. “What does he mean? Get who expelled?”
Harry looked down at his hands. “The Slytherins,” he muttered. “Malfoy thinks... He says they were the ones who kidnapped us. That's why Dumbledore moved him here.”
Ron sat back, looking surprised. Hermione was staring at Harry, but she said nothing.
“I knew they'd fallen out,” said Ron, “but I never thought... D'you think it's true?”
Harry felt his shoulders slump. “I know it's true,” he said quietly. “I overheard them talking about it.”
“What?” Ron stared. “When?”
Harry couldn't meet his gaze. “The day we got back. Sunday.”
“And you didn't tell us?” Ron's voice was rising. “You've known who did it all this time and you never told us? Why didn't you tell us?”
Harry sneaked a glance - his friend's face looked stunned and hurt. Harry glanced over at Hermione, but she looked away.
“I... I was going to, but...” Harry shook his head. “It didn't...” He couldn't think of an excuse. He looked at Hermione again. She didn't meet his eyes.
“But you know now,” Harry said, feeling desperation rise inside him. Why couldn't they see? He hadn't told them because... Because...
“Yeah, no thanks to you,” Ron said. “We only found out cos bloody Malfoy's quite happy to shout the odds all over the common room. What is your problem?” The surprise was beginning to fade from his face now, leaving only hurt and a growing anger. “Don't you trust us?”
“Of course I do,” Harry said, feeling miserable.
“Yeah, well, you've got a funny way of showing it,” Ron snapped, and stood up abruptly. “I'm going to bed. At least I know how Malfoy feels about me.” And he stormed off up the stairs.
Harry looked at Hermione, and she caught his eye for the first time, and his heart dropped as he recognised the look of disappointment on her face. “I do trust you,” he said lamely.
“I know you do, Harry,” Hermione said. “But you should have told us.” And she buried her head in her book, and didn't look up again.
----
Harry sat in the common room long after everyone else had gone to bed. The fire burned down, throwing dancing shadows into the corners of the room. Beyond the casement windows was an impenetrable darkness. But Harry didn't see any of it -- he was busy thinking.
Hermione was right, of course. He should have told her and Ron about the Slytherins. He had been going to, right there in the hall. But then -- he hadn't. He tried to work out why, but the more he tried to unravel his emotions, the more tangled they became. But then, why should he tell them everything? Wasn't he allowed to have any privacy at all? It wasn't like he had kept it secret, exactly. There had just never been an appropriate moment to tell them. What would they have done, anyway? It wasn't their problem. It wasn't them who always wound up being targeted, who was kidnapped and threatened and plotted against, whose very dreams were invaded. OK, they usually got involved, but that was their choice. He didn't force them to follow him around, and he was under no obligation to let them in on all the latest secret knowledge, just because they liked going around on adventures. Adventures. Lucky them if that's all they were to them. Ron was so obsessed with being famous, and Hermione just wanted to show off. And now they were trying to make him feel guilty for not telling them every little thing about his life. They were being totally unreasonable. Yeah, unreasonable, that was it. He was fed up with being made to feel guilty because his life wasn't as damn well perfect as theirs, because he was upset that Sirius was dead, because he was always being expected to save the world -- he could hardly be expected to be happy happy joy joy all the time. Well, he wouldn't stand for it any more. If they wanted to treat him that way, he would damn well give them a piece of his mind. It would serve them right.
With a feeling of savage satisfaction, Harry went to bed.
----
He was up early in the morning, despite his late night, and hurriedly dressed and left the dormitory before any of the other boys were awake. His breath smoked in the chilly air that radiated from the stone walls of the spiral staircase, and he shivered slightly. The light that filtered through the leaded windows was grey and wan, matching Harry's mood. His righteous anger had evaporated, leaving him feeling apprehensive and unsure of himself. He felt slightly light-headed from lack of sleep, and unsettled from a dream that he couldn't quite remember.
The long tables in the Great Hall were still mostly empty; a couple of yawning seventh-years debated something in low voices at the Gryffindor table. Apart from that, it was deserted -- except for Draco Malfoy.
Harry was surprised -- he had thought that the closed curtains around Malfoy's bed were a sign that he was still asleep. Clearly he had been mistaken. For a moment, the idea of sitting down next to Malfoy flitted through his mind. Then the other boy looked up and shot him a scowl of such concentrated hatred that Harry was almost impressed. He raised his eyebrows in reply, and went to sit at the other end of the table.
He wasn't left in peace for long, however. About fifteen minutes after he had sat down, Ron and Hermione came through the main doors, looking slightly out of breath. Harry carefully rearranged his features into an expression which he hoped looked cool and cynical.
"Harry," said Ron, looking relieved. Then he frowned. "What's wrong? You got stomach-ache or something?"
Harry frowned. "I suppose you think that's funny," he said, and despite his efforts, his tone was more sullen than sarcastic.
Ron and Hermione exchanged a quick glance, which somehow only served to increase Harry's irritation. "I see," he said, icily. "You've been talking about me, have you?"
Ron gave an exasperated sigh. "Look, mate, we're just worried about you, that's all. There's no need to jump down our throats. As far as I remember, it wasn't us that was keeping secrets."
Harry clenched his jaw, all the resentment and circling arguments of the night before rising within him. "Keeping secrets now, is it," he said. "Next you'll be accusing me of wanting to take all the glory for myself."
Ron stared at him. "What are you on about?"
Harry jumped to his feet, his fists clenched. He wanted to yell at them, scream out all the resentment, all the black frustration that was dragging him down. But he couldn't find the words. "Oh just... leave me alone," he muttered, and, pushing his way between them, stalked out of the room.
----
The following Sunday dawned bright and clear, but without the nip of frost in the air that had been growing more and more evident over the last week or two. Outside it felt almost as warm as June, and most of the students were out on the grass, enjoying summer's last fling before the year drew down around their ears. Harry, however, was in no mood for sunbathing: he had had another disturbing dream, though he couldn't remember any more than a long strip of something grey and a feeling of unspecified threat. He sat brooding on the sofa in the common room, with the few students who were so behind on their homework that they had been forced to relinquish their Sunday afternoon. Most of them were first-years whose names Harry didn't know, and they left him to himself, for which he was grateful. Ron and Hermione had abandoned the gloomy common room for the outdoors, after pleading with him at some length. He felt a pang of guilt for the way that he had snapped at them, but quickly shook it off -- why should he have to go out just because they wanted him to?
He found his mind drifting back to his dream. The air had been dim and smoky, and the grey strip had shone dully, stretching out before him. And a stifled giggle--
--A stifled giggle. What did that remind him of? He felt the thought slip through his head, too fast for him to see it clearly. Frowning, he carefully went back over his train of thought, but whatever it was was too quick for him. Sighing in frustration, he stood up abruptly and headed for the portrait hole.
----
Ron and Hermione found him some time later, sitting in one of the bay windows of the library and staring out through the mullioned glass at the darkening sky. They smiled, a trifle nervously, Harry thought; they had been acting extra nice around him since the argument on Wednesday, which had never really been resolved.
"There you are," Hermione said. "We were worried about you. Why weren't you at dinner?"
"Dinner?" Harry felt slightly confused. Surely it wasn't that late yet? But Ron and Hermione's expressions, combined with the sudden yawning emptiness in his stomach, told him that a lot more time had passed than he had realised. "Oh," he said, feeling stupid. "I didn't realise it was dinnertime."
Ron glanced at Hermione, then pushed Harry's bag off the chair next to him and plumped down. "What've you been doing?" he asked, amiably.
Harry shrugged. "Thinking."
"Yeah? What about?"
Harry felt slightly annoyed at the intrusion, but he was determined not to start yet another row. "About how the Slytherins got in to the common room," he said, shortly.
"Oh, that." Ron frowned. "Well, they must've had the password," he said, "and they must've been bloody lucky that no-one saw them."
"Yes, but..." Harry stopped short. The thought he had been trying to catch earlier had slithered through his brain once more.
"But what?" Ron asked. Harry shot him a glare and frowned, concentrating very hard. There! There it was!
"I heard them!" he said, louder than he'd intended. Madame Pince looked round, sharply, and Harry bent his head closer to his two friends. "I heard someone laughing in the corridor, the day Lupin told me about the will. But there was no-one there."
Ron and Hermione exchanged glances. "Are you sure you're alright, Harry?" Hermione asked.
Harry stared at her in surprise. That hadn't been the response he'd been expecting. "What d'you mean?"
"Well," Hermione said carefully, "we know you've been under a lot of stress since... since the Department of Mysteries, and what with all this business with Voldemort and..." She paused, looking at him as if she expected something. "You been behaving rather..." she trailed off.
Harry looked from her to Ron, still trying to work out what she was getting at. Hermione nudged Ron sharply, and he let out a grunt of surprise, which he attempted unsuccessfully to cover with a cough.
"Well, um," Ron started, clearing his throat. Then, as if he'd come to decision, he leaned forward urgently. "Listen, mate," he whispered, "it's not normal to hear voices when there's nobody there, now, is it?"
Harry sat back in astonishment. This again? He thought he ought to be offended, but all he felt was an overwhelming desire to laugh. He covered his mouth with his hand, shoulders shaking silently. Containing himself, he looked up, only to be drowned in a fresh paroxysm of noiseless giggles by the perplexed looks on Ron and Hermione's faces. He shook his head, unable to speak, his eyes filling with tears, and managed to jerk his head in the direction of the exit.
Once outside, Harry let loose a burst of laughter so loud that a passing first year started in astonishment. He leaned against the wall, actually slapping his thigh, and laughed until his diaphragm began to ache painfully. By the time he'd finished, Hermione was looking rather cross.
"What was all that about?" she asked.
Harry shook his head. "I don't know," he giggled, and it was true -- nothing they had said had been particularly funny. "Just, you know..." His attempt at explanation was submerged by more spluttering.
"Fine," Hermione snapped, and Harry pulled himself together.
"No, listen," he said, wiping away his tears. "I didn't mean I heard a voice and no-one was there. Someone was there. They must have been. That must be how the Slytherins got the password! They heard it when I went in."
"What, you mean they were hiding?" Ron asked.
"No." Harry was calming down now, and thinking fast. "They must have an Invisibility Cloak."
"I don't know, Harry, those're pretty rare," Ron pointed out.
"They can't be that rare, Mad-Eye Moody's got two," Harry countered.
Ron looked doubtful. "Yeah, but..." But he was cut off by Hermione jumping up and down in excitement. If it wasn't for the fact that there was no teacher in visual range, Harry was sure she would have had her hand in the air.
"But!" she cried, "Professor Moody lost one of his cloaks when he lent it to Sturgis Podmore!"
Ron and Harry stared at her, not making the connection.
"Oh, come on, you two," Hermione said impatiently. "He didn't get the cloak back because Sturgis Podmore was captured by..."
"You-Know-Who," Ron said.
"And the Slytherins were working for..." Hermione continued.
"You-Know-Who," said Ron, a tinge of awe in his voice.
"That's brilliant, Hermione!" Harry said, jumping forward and hugging his friend. A moment later he let go of her, awkwardly. "So all we've got to do is find the cloak and we'll have the evidence." He paused. "I ought to go and tell Malfoy," he added, unenthusiastically.
"Why?" Ron looked annoyed. "Not like he deserves to be in on any of this."
For a moment, Harry remembered his resentment at the way Ron seemed to view his life as an adventure, but he fought it back. "Well, I've got to go and talk to him about the Magical Transportation homework anyway," he said. "Maybe he'll be less of an idiot if he thinks we're trying to help him out."
"Malfoy couldn't be less of an idiot if someone gave him all Hermione's brains," Ron muttered, but Hermione elbowed him sharply in the ribs.
"We'll come too," she announced, and ignored the filthy look Ron shot her. "For moral support," she added.
Harry was somewhat surprised, but grateful nonetheless. It would be easier to face Malfoy with his two best friends by his side. "Alright, then," he said. "Let's go."
----
The Gryffindor common room was crowded with students chatting and laughing, the day outside in the sunshine having put them in high spirits, but, unsurprisingly, Malfoy was nowhere to be seen. Harry led the way up the spiral stairs leading to the boys' dormitories. The sky outside the narrow windows was studded with stars, and cool air radiated from the stone walls. The door to the sixth year dormitory was firmly closed, and when Harry threw it open Malfoy, who was sitting on his bed reading something, let out a yelp of surprise.
Ron grinned as he followed Harry into the room. "Whatsa matter, Malfoy? Scared of the big scary Gryffindors?"
Malfoy's features had already rearranged themselves into his traditional disdainful scowl. "Just surprised to see you here, Weasley. Aren't you supposed to be in the girls' tower?" His scowl deepened as he spotted Hermione, who was bringing up the rear. "What's that little mudblood doing here?"
Ron stiffened, but Hermione just rolled her eyes. "We've come to tell you something."
"You're never likely to say anything I want to listen to," Malfoy sneered.
"Shut up, you idiot," Harry snapped. "She's trying to help you."
Malfoy raised his eyebrows. "I would have thought she'd want to help herself first," he said coolly. "But then, I guess there isn't any helping the likes of her, is there?"
Ron stepped forward with a growl, but Hermione sighed loudly and stepped in front of him. "Look," she said, in a matter-of-fact tone, "do you want my help or not? Because honestly, all this sulking really isn't going to do you any good."
Malfoy's expression froze, and then he turned a look of baleful hatred on her. "Sulking?" he whispered.
"Yeah," Harry stepped forward now, pleased to see Malfoy lose some of his composure. "You've done nothing but mope about the place since we got back to Hogwarts. We're trying to help you, and all you can do is insult us. It's about time you grew up and stopped being such a--" He swallowed the last words of his sentence, taken somewhat aback by the force of anger in the stare the Malfoy was now directing his way.
"What about you?" Spots of colour were burning in Malfoy's pale cheeks, and he was standing almost nose-to-nose with Harry now, though Harry couldn't remember having seen him move. "I've been moping around? You've been the school drip since that idiot Black bought it, and I don't see anyone telling you to snap out of it. And that was months ago!"
Harry felt his jaw clench. "That's different," he growled.
"Why? Why is it different?" Malfoy was so close that Harry could see a muscle twitching at his temple. Harry looked around for support to Ron and Hermione, but they were just staring at him, looking rather terrified. "Oh, forget it," Malfoy snapped, and pushed his way past Harry and down the stairs, his steps echoing against the worn stone.
"Wanker," Ron said amiably, but Harry was in no mood for frivolity. He turned to his two friends.
"That's what you think, isn't it," he said, keeping his voice very calm. "You think I've been... moping. That's why you didn't say anything."
"What?" Ron looked guilty. "Of course not, Harry. Malfoy's just an arse, everyone knows that."
Harry wasn't listening. "You think I'm as bad as him," he said, almost to himself.
"Harry," Hermione stepped forward and put her hand on his arm, but Harry pulled away furiously.
"No, you know what? Malfoy's right. Let's just forget it." And he almost ran to the exit, sure that if he stayed in the room a moment longer he would explode. He heard Ron and Hermione calling after him, and the complaints of surprised Gryffindors as he shoved his way through the common room, but it all felt like it was a long way away. He had to get away, away from the fake sympathy and gossip. He had to get out of the castle.
----
The temperature had dropped significantly since earlier in the day, and the smoke of Harry's breath glinted slightly in the faint light of the stars as he made his way alongside the dark waters of the lake to the beech tree. The cool air did nothing to calm his temper, however, and his fists were still tightly clenched in his pockets when he realised that someone else had had the same idea: hunched at the bottom of the tree was a dark shape that could have been a bundle of clothes in the darkness, were it not for the pale blob on top of it that could only be interpreted as Draco Malfoy's head. Harry stopped dead in the middle of the path, feeling conflicting desires to turn tail and find another hiding place, or to throw Malfoy in the lake for stealing the spot that had such strong associations for Harry. In the end, he did neither: Malfoy had already spotted him.
"Look, Potter," he said, sounding annoyed, though Harry could see nothing of his expression, "I told you. I'm not interested in your help. Can't you just leave me alone?"
Harry let out a short bark of laughter that was utterly lacking in mirth. "I didn't come out here to find you, you arrogant twit. It's not my fault you're sitting in my spot."
"Well, it's not my fault you like to follow me around, but you don't see me whining about it, do you?"
"No, that's true," Harry replied, doing his best to match Malfoy's tone of lofty disinterest. "You're too busy whining about how daddy hates you." The moment after he said it, he saw a flash of Lupin's face, looking disappointed. But it was too late to take it back now, even if he'd wanted do (and despite his mental Lupin, he wasn't sure he did) -- Malfoy was on his feet, still far enough away for his face to be a blur, but close enough for his posture to be easily read. He was furious.
"What the Hell would you know about my father, Potter? It's not like you've ever had one of your own!"
Harry heard an actual growl come out of his mouth, and reached for his wand, only to remember that it was still being unhexed by McGonagall. "My dad was more of a father in one year than yours could manage in a lifetime," he grated.
"Ha!" Malfoy's laughter was closer to hysteria than derision. "That muggle-loving idiot! He must have been a brilliant father, he made such a good choice of godfather. Somehow, I'm not surprised he couldn't get himself a real pure-blood, just a mudblood bitch like that busybody Granger..."
His words were choked off in a strangled cry, as Harry launched himself. The force of his forward rush knocked Malfoy to the ground, and after that, everything was a blur. Harry could hear a loud whistling noise in his ears, and he was aware vaguely of rolling over and over, and hands beating at him; but all his concentration was poured into his fists. He had no concept of time passing, or of anything really except an enormous relief at being able to just hit something. Nothing else mattered to him, until he suddenly found that he couldn't breathe. Somehow, he and Malfoy had fallen into the lake.
Flailing, he coughed and choked to drive out the water that he had breathed into his lungs. He thrust the body of the other boy away from him, and fought to get back to the air, but his foot tangled in Malfoy's robe, and he found himself being dragged down. The water was completely dark. Harry reached in the direction of his foot, and managed to untangle it, then righted himself. His feet found the muddy lake bottom. Standing up, gasping, he discovered the water was only up to his mid-thighs.
He stood there for a moment, partially immersed in the water, the temperature of which did not seem to have been affected by the warmth of the day. Then he began to stagger towards the shore. Behind him, he heard Malfoy erupt from the water, spluttering. A moment later, the other boy collapsed beside him under the beech tree.
For a long while there was no sound but two sets of laboured breathing. Various parts of Harry began to sting with pain, both from the cold of the water and from cuts and bruises that must have been inflicted either by Malfoy or by the rolling on the ground. The lights in the windows of the castle seemed very far away. The silence stretched out, and then it was broken.
"Bloody Hell," said Malfoy, with feeling.
Harry nodded, suddenly too tired to speak. He lay on his back, staring up at the stars through the partially-denuded branches of the beech tree. Sometimes, life was just... weird.
"We've got to do that Magical Transportation assignment by tomorrow evening," he noted, absently.
"Bollocks," said Malfoy. "Can't you get the mudblood to do it for us? She does half your other homework."
Harry closed his eyes. His whole body felt heavy. "Why d'you always call her that?"
"What?" Malfoy seemed to be thinking. "Mudblood? 'Cause she is one."
"There's nothing wrong with her blood," Harry said. "It's just as good as yours."
The was a strangled splutter from Malfoy, but it seemed rather half-hearted. "Give it up, Potter. You know pure blood is better. You must know that."
"Yeah? Who told you that?" Harry asked, feeling as if this conversation was happening to someone else."
"My f-" Malfoy stopped short. For a moment, he was quiet. "Everybody knows," he finished.
"I don't," Harry replied. "Hermione's cleverer than you or me, or any pure-blood wizard in this school, most likely."
"Yeah, well." Malfoy made a movement that might have been a shrug. "Brains aren't everything."
"Neither's blood."
Malfoy made no reply. Harry became conscious of how cold he was getting. His fingertips were growing numb. Nevertheless, he had no desire to go back to the castle.
"Can you do a Warming Charm or something?" he asked Malfoy.
"Haven't got a new wand yet," the other boy replied.
"Oh." Harry wiggled his toes in his soaking shoes. They squelched in a not-altogether-pleasant manner. "You know," he continued, "she's only trying to help you. We all are. Well, maybe not Ron," he amended.
"What's your point?" Malfoy's voice had lost all tones of hostility. He sounded blank.
"Maybe you should be a bit nicer to her, that's all."
Malfoy gave a heavy sigh. "Maybe you should try being nice to her for a change, Potter. She's your friend, after all. At least I have the excuse of not liking her."
Harry felt stung. "It's not like you were ever nice to your friends," he pointed out.
Malfoy sat up. "Potter," he said, in the tones of someone explaining something to an idiot, or a small child, or maybe an idiotic small child, "my friends sold me out and left me to die. Your friends risked their lives to save you. Much as I may think they're utter fools for doing so, if you can't tell the difference then I'm afraid you may have been brain-damaged by all that demented fluffy feelings crap they keep feeding you in Gryffindor. Now, if you don't mind," he continued, getting briskly to his feet, "I'm freezing my arse off out here, so I'm going back to bed. You can come if you want, I couldn't care less, but if they find your frozen corpse in the morning, don't blame me."
Harry jumped to his feet and caught up with Malfoy, who had already started back down the path. They walked in silence for a while. When they had almost reached the circle of light thrown by the castle, Malfoy spoke.
"I hope you understand that I still hate you, Potter," he said, without looking at Harry.
And to his surprise, Harry found himself grinning in the darkness. "Yeah," he said. "The feeling's mutual."
Author: Kroki Refur
Pairing: None
Genre: Action/Drama
Rating: R
Summary: Sixth year, and Harry's back at Hogwarts, but how can it be like it was? NEWTs and even Quidditch pale into insignificance, with Sirius gone and the horizon dark with war. Familiar faces turn up in unexpected places, and then there's the small matter of Malfoy... Drama a-plenty, and maybe an apocalypse or two to come.
Warnings: Language; violence.
Chapter 1 here.
Chapter 2 here.
Chapter 3 here.
Chapter 4 here.
Chapter 5 here
Hi guys! Sorry for the looong hiatus -- I've been, um, emigrating. Hope some of you still don't mind reading this since it's AU now. This chapter was originally going to include substantially more plotline, but it became rather unwieldy; I still haven't decided whether I should try and put the rest in regardless. If you find it's too short, or you think it needs more, please let me know! Thank you in advance
--Refur
The story so far: Harry has returned to Hogwarts for his sixth year, but he finds it difficult to overcome his grief for Sirius and his difficulty in returning to normal life. Sirius is declared officially dead by the Ministry of Magic. Meanwhile, Draco Malfoy has gone missing, which convinces Harry that Voldemort's army of Death Eaters is headed for Hogwarts. Remus Lupin comes to the school to give Harry Sirius's will, which names him as sole heir and Remus as his guardian; however, Harry pushes him away before he is able to inform him of the latter stipulation. The next day, Harry awakes in a cell with no memory of how he got there. The only other occupant is Malfoy, who's chained to the wall. Ron and Hermione use a Locator Spell to find Malfoy, but Dumbledore is reluctant to follow the results, so they set off alone to Derbyshire to find Harry. Meanwhile, Harry comes to blows with Malfoy, and shortly afterwards discovers his wand in the cell. He finds it has been bewitched so that it can only perform Unforgiveable Curses. Malfoy teaches him Imperio, and he uses it on the House Elf who comes to feed them. The two of them break out, and run into Ron and Hermione in the corridor. They overhear a conversation between Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy, revealing the former's plan to destroy the protection spell in Harry's blood by making him take the life of another, i.e. Malfoy, in anger. They flee over the hills, where they are met by members of the Order, who return them to Hogwarts.
Once back, Malfoy realises it must have been his fellow Slytherins who set him up. He is moved to Harry's dormitory to prevent a similar occurrence, and both boys are prohibited from leaving the grounds. Lupin comes to see Harry, and points out that Malfoy is now alone in the world, and in need of a friend. Harry chooses Malfoy as a partner for the term-long Magical Transportation project. Malfoy rejects Harry's overture of friendship, and says if he wants to help he can find proof that the Slytherins were involved in their abduction.
And now, the astonishing continuation!
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Beta-ed?: No
Slouching Towards Bethlehem
Chapter Six: Vexed to Nightmare
Ron looked at Harry in surprise. “What does he mean? Get who expelled?”
Harry looked down at his hands. “The Slytherins,” he muttered. “Malfoy thinks... He says they were the ones who kidnapped us. That's why Dumbledore moved him here.”
Ron sat back, looking surprised. Hermione was staring at Harry, but she said nothing.
“I knew they'd fallen out,” said Ron, “but I never thought... D'you think it's true?”
Harry felt his shoulders slump. “I know it's true,” he said quietly. “I overheard them talking about it.”
“What?” Ron stared. “When?”
Harry couldn't meet his gaze. “The day we got back. Sunday.”
“And you didn't tell us?” Ron's voice was rising. “You've known who did it all this time and you never told us? Why didn't you tell us?”
Harry sneaked a glance - his friend's face looked stunned and hurt. Harry glanced over at Hermione, but she looked away.
“I... I was going to, but...” Harry shook his head. “It didn't...” He couldn't think of an excuse. He looked at Hermione again. She didn't meet his eyes.
“But you know now,” Harry said, feeling desperation rise inside him. Why couldn't they see? He hadn't told them because... Because...
“Yeah, no thanks to you,” Ron said. “We only found out cos bloody Malfoy's quite happy to shout the odds all over the common room. What is your problem?” The surprise was beginning to fade from his face now, leaving only hurt and a growing anger. “Don't you trust us?”
“Of course I do,” Harry said, feeling miserable.
“Yeah, well, you've got a funny way of showing it,” Ron snapped, and stood up abruptly. “I'm going to bed. At least I know how Malfoy feels about me.” And he stormed off up the stairs.
Harry looked at Hermione, and she caught his eye for the first time, and his heart dropped as he recognised the look of disappointment on her face. “I do trust you,” he said lamely.
“I know you do, Harry,” Hermione said. “But you should have told us.” And she buried her head in her book, and didn't look up again.
----
Harry sat in the common room long after everyone else had gone to bed. The fire burned down, throwing dancing shadows into the corners of the room. Beyond the casement windows was an impenetrable darkness. But Harry didn't see any of it -- he was busy thinking.
Hermione was right, of course. He should have told her and Ron about the Slytherins. He had been going to, right there in the hall. But then -- he hadn't. He tried to work out why, but the more he tried to unravel his emotions, the more tangled they became. But then, why should he tell them everything? Wasn't he allowed to have any privacy at all? It wasn't like he had kept it secret, exactly. There had just never been an appropriate moment to tell them. What would they have done, anyway? It wasn't their problem. It wasn't them who always wound up being targeted, who was kidnapped and threatened and plotted against, whose very dreams were invaded. OK, they usually got involved, but that was their choice. He didn't force them to follow him around, and he was under no obligation to let them in on all the latest secret knowledge, just because they liked going around on adventures. Adventures. Lucky them if that's all they were to them. Ron was so obsessed with being famous, and Hermione just wanted to show off. And now they were trying to make him feel guilty for not telling them every little thing about his life. They were being totally unreasonable. Yeah, unreasonable, that was it. He was fed up with being made to feel guilty because his life wasn't as damn well perfect as theirs, because he was upset that Sirius was dead, because he was always being expected to save the world -- he could hardly be expected to be happy happy joy joy all the time. Well, he wouldn't stand for it any more. If they wanted to treat him that way, he would damn well give them a piece of his mind. It would serve them right.
With a feeling of savage satisfaction, Harry went to bed.
----
He was up early in the morning, despite his late night, and hurriedly dressed and left the dormitory before any of the other boys were awake. His breath smoked in the chilly air that radiated from the stone walls of the spiral staircase, and he shivered slightly. The light that filtered through the leaded windows was grey and wan, matching Harry's mood. His righteous anger had evaporated, leaving him feeling apprehensive and unsure of himself. He felt slightly light-headed from lack of sleep, and unsettled from a dream that he couldn't quite remember.
The long tables in the Great Hall were still mostly empty; a couple of yawning seventh-years debated something in low voices at the Gryffindor table. Apart from that, it was deserted -- except for Draco Malfoy.
Harry was surprised -- he had thought that the closed curtains around Malfoy's bed were a sign that he was still asleep. Clearly he had been mistaken. For a moment, the idea of sitting down next to Malfoy flitted through his mind. Then the other boy looked up and shot him a scowl of such concentrated hatred that Harry was almost impressed. He raised his eyebrows in reply, and went to sit at the other end of the table.
He wasn't left in peace for long, however. About fifteen minutes after he had sat down, Ron and Hermione came through the main doors, looking slightly out of breath. Harry carefully rearranged his features into an expression which he hoped looked cool and cynical.
"Harry," said Ron, looking relieved. Then he frowned. "What's wrong? You got stomach-ache or something?"
Harry frowned. "I suppose you think that's funny," he said, and despite his efforts, his tone was more sullen than sarcastic.
Ron and Hermione exchanged a quick glance, which somehow only served to increase Harry's irritation. "I see," he said, icily. "You've been talking about me, have you?"
Ron gave an exasperated sigh. "Look, mate, we're just worried about you, that's all. There's no need to jump down our throats. As far as I remember, it wasn't us that was keeping secrets."
Harry clenched his jaw, all the resentment and circling arguments of the night before rising within him. "Keeping secrets now, is it," he said. "Next you'll be accusing me of wanting to take all the glory for myself."
Ron stared at him. "What are you on about?"
Harry jumped to his feet, his fists clenched. He wanted to yell at them, scream out all the resentment, all the black frustration that was dragging him down. But he couldn't find the words. "Oh just... leave me alone," he muttered, and, pushing his way between them, stalked out of the room.
----
The following Sunday dawned bright and clear, but without the nip of frost in the air that had been growing more and more evident over the last week or two. Outside it felt almost as warm as June, and most of the students were out on the grass, enjoying summer's last fling before the year drew down around their ears. Harry, however, was in no mood for sunbathing: he had had another disturbing dream, though he couldn't remember any more than a long strip of something grey and a feeling of unspecified threat. He sat brooding on the sofa in the common room, with the few students who were so behind on their homework that they had been forced to relinquish their Sunday afternoon. Most of them were first-years whose names Harry didn't know, and they left him to himself, for which he was grateful. Ron and Hermione had abandoned the gloomy common room for the outdoors, after pleading with him at some length. He felt a pang of guilt for the way that he had snapped at them, but quickly shook it off -- why should he have to go out just because they wanted him to?
He found his mind drifting back to his dream. The air had been dim and smoky, and the grey strip had shone dully, stretching out before him. And a stifled giggle--
--A stifled giggle. What did that remind him of? He felt the thought slip through his head, too fast for him to see it clearly. Frowning, he carefully went back over his train of thought, but whatever it was was too quick for him. Sighing in frustration, he stood up abruptly and headed for the portrait hole.
----
Ron and Hermione found him some time later, sitting in one of the bay windows of the library and staring out through the mullioned glass at the darkening sky. They smiled, a trifle nervously, Harry thought; they had been acting extra nice around him since the argument on Wednesday, which had never really been resolved.
"There you are," Hermione said. "We were worried about you. Why weren't you at dinner?"
"Dinner?" Harry felt slightly confused. Surely it wasn't that late yet? But Ron and Hermione's expressions, combined with the sudden yawning emptiness in his stomach, told him that a lot more time had passed than he had realised. "Oh," he said, feeling stupid. "I didn't realise it was dinnertime."
Ron glanced at Hermione, then pushed Harry's bag off the chair next to him and plumped down. "What've you been doing?" he asked, amiably.
Harry shrugged. "Thinking."
"Yeah? What about?"
Harry felt slightly annoyed at the intrusion, but he was determined not to start yet another row. "About how the Slytherins got in to the common room," he said, shortly.
"Oh, that." Ron frowned. "Well, they must've had the password," he said, "and they must've been bloody lucky that no-one saw them."
"Yes, but..." Harry stopped short. The thought he had been trying to catch earlier had slithered through his brain once more.
"But what?" Ron asked. Harry shot him a glare and frowned, concentrating very hard. There! There it was!
"I heard them!" he said, louder than he'd intended. Madame Pince looked round, sharply, and Harry bent his head closer to his two friends. "I heard someone laughing in the corridor, the day Lupin told me about the will. But there was no-one there."
Ron and Hermione exchanged glances. "Are you sure you're alright, Harry?" Hermione asked.
Harry stared at her in surprise. That hadn't been the response he'd been expecting. "What d'you mean?"
"Well," Hermione said carefully, "we know you've been under a lot of stress since... since the Department of Mysteries, and what with all this business with Voldemort and..." She paused, looking at him as if she expected something. "You been behaving rather..." she trailed off.
Harry looked from her to Ron, still trying to work out what she was getting at. Hermione nudged Ron sharply, and he let out a grunt of surprise, which he attempted unsuccessfully to cover with a cough.
"Well, um," Ron started, clearing his throat. Then, as if he'd come to decision, he leaned forward urgently. "Listen, mate," he whispered, "it's not normal to hear voices when there's nobody there, now, is it?"
Harry sat back in astonishment. This again? He thought he ought to be offended, but all he felt was an overwhelming desire to laugh. He covered his mouth with his hand, shoulders shaking silently. Containing himself, he looked up, only to be drowned in a fresh paroxysm of noiseless giggles by the perplexed looks on Ron and Hermione's faces. He shook his head, unable to speak, his eyes filling with tears, and managed to jerk his head in the direction of the exit.
Once outside, Harry let loose a burst of laughter so loud that a passing first year started in astonishment. He leaned against the wall, actually slapping his thigh, and laughed until his diaphragm began to ache painfully. By the time he'd finished, Hermione was looking rather cross.
"What was all that about?" she asked.
Harry shook his head. "I don't know," he giggled, and it was true -- nothing they had said had been particularly funny. "Just, you know..." His attempt at explanation was submerged by more spluttering.
"Fine," Hermione snapped, and Harry pulled himself together.
"No, listen," he said, wiping away his tears. "I didn't mean I heard a voice and no-one was there. Someone was there. They must have been. That must be how the Slytherins got the password! They heard it when I went in."
"What, you mean they were hiding?" Ron asked.
"No." Harry was calming down now, and thinking fast. "They must have an Invisibility Cloak."
"I don't know, Harry, those're pretty rare," Ron pointed out.
"They can't be that rare, Mad-Eye Moody's got two," Harry countered.
Ron looked doubtful. "Yeah, but..." But he was cut off by Hermione jumping up and down in excitement. If it wasn't for the fact that there was no teacher in visual range, Harry was sure she would have had her hand in the air.
"But!" she cried, "Professor Moody lost one of his cloaks when he lent it to Sturgis Podmore!"
Ron and Harry stared at her, not making the connection.
"Oh, come on, you two," Hermione said impatiently. "He didn't get the cloak back because Sturgis Podmore was captured by..."
"You-Know-Who," Ron said.
"And the Slytherins were working for..." Hermione continued.
"You-Know-Who," said Ron, a tinge of awe in his voice.
"That's brilliant, Hermione!" Harry said, jumping forward and hugging his friend. A moment later he let go of her, awkwardly. "So all we've got to do is find the cloak and we'll have the evidence." He paused. "I ought to go and tell Malfoy," he added, unenthusiastically.
"Why?" Ron looked annoyed. "Not like he deserves to be in on any of this."
For a moment, Harry remembered his resentment at the way Ron seemed to view his life as an adventure, but he fought it back. "Well, I've got to go and talk to him about the Magical Transportation homework anyway," he said. "Maybe he'll be less of an idiot if he thinks we're trying to help him out."
"Malfoy couldn't be less of an idiot if someone gave him all Hermione's brains," Ron muttered, but Hermione elbowed him sharply in the ribs.
"We'll come too," she announced, and ignored the filthy look Ron shot her. "For moral support," she added.
Harry was somewhat surprised, but grateful nonetheless. It would be easier to face Malfoy with his two best friends by his side. "Alright, then," he said. "Let's go."
----
The Gryffindor common room was crowded with students chatting and laughing, the day outside in the sunshine having put them in high spirits, but, unsurprisingly, Malfoy was nowhere to be seen. Harry led the way up the spiral stairs leading to the boys' dormitories. The sky outside the narrow windows was studded with stars, and cool air radiated from the stone walls. The door to the sixth year dormitory was firmly closed, and when Harry threw it open Malfoy, who was sitting on his bed reading something, let out a yelp of surprise.
Ron grinned as he followed Harry into the room. "Whatsa matter, Malfoy? Scared of the big scary Gryffindors?"
Malfoy's features had already rearranged themselves into his traditional disdainful scowl. "Just surprised to see you here, Weasley. Aren't you supposed to be in the girls' tower?" His scowl deepened as he spotted Hermione, who was bringing up the rear. "What's that little mudblood doing here?"
Ron stiffened, but Hermione just rolled her eyes. "We've come to tell you something."
"You're never likely to say anything I want to listen to," Malfoy sneered.
"Shut up, you idiot," Harry snapped. "She's trying to help you."
Malfoy raised his eyebrows. "I would have thought she'd want to help herself first," he said coolly. "But then, I guess there isn't any helping the likes of her, is there?"
Ron stepped forward with a growl, but Hermione sighed loudly and stepped in front of him. "Look," she said, in a matter-of-fact tone, "do you want my help or not? Because honestly, all this sulking really isn't going to do you any good."
Malfoy's expression froze, and then he turned a look of baleful hatred on her. "Sulking?" he whispered.
"Yeah," Harry stepped forward now, pleased to see Malfoy lose some of his composure. "You've done nothing but mope about the place since we got back to Hogwarts. We're trying to help you, and all you can do is insult us. It's about time you grew up and stopped being such a--" He swallowed the last words of his sentence, taken somewhat aback by the force of anger in the stare the Malfoy was now directing his way.
"What about you?" Spots of colour were burning in Malfoy's pale cheeks, and he was standing almost nose-to-nose with Harry now, though Harry couldn't remember having seen him move. "I've been moping around? You've been the school drip since that idiot Black bought it, and I don't see anyone telling you to snap out of it. And that was months ago!"
Harry felt his jaw clench. "That's different," he growled.
"Why? Why is it different?" Malfoy was so close that Harry could see a muscle twitching at his temple. Harry looked around for support to Ron and Hermione, but they were just staring at him, looking rather terrified. "Oh, forget it," Malfoy snapped, and pushed his way past Harry and down the stairs, his steps echoing against the worn stone.
"Wanker," Ron said amiably, but Harry was in no mood for frivolity. He turned to his two friends.
"That's what you think, isn't it," he said, keeping his voice very calm. "You think I've been... moping. That's why you didn't say anything."
"What?" Ron looked guilty. "Of course not, Harry. Malfoy's just an arse, everyone knows that."
Harry wasn't listening. "You think I'm as bad as him," he said, almost to himself.
"Harry," Hermione stepped forward and put her hand on his arm, but Harry pulled away furiously.
"No, you know what? Malfoy's right. Let's just forget it." And he almost ran to the exit, sure that if he stayed in the room a moment longer he would explode. He heard Ron and Hermione calling after him, and the complaints of surprised Gryffindors as he shoved his way through the common room, but it all felt like it was a long way away. He had to get away, away from the fake sympathy and gossip. He had to get out of the castle.
----
The temperature had dropped significantly since earlier in the day, and the smoke of Harry's breath glinted slightly in the faint light of the stars as he made his way alongside the dark waters of the lake to the beech tree. The cool air did nothing to calm his temper, however, and his fists were still tightly clenched in his pockets when he realised that someone else had had the same idea: hunched at the bottom of the tree was a dark shape that could have been a bundle of clothes in the darkness, were it not for the pale blob on top of it that could only be interpreted as Draco Malfoy's head. Harry stopped dead in the middle of the path, feeling conflicting desires to turn tail and find another hiding place, or to throw Malfoy in the lake for stealing the spot that had such strong associations for Harry. In the end, he did neither: Malfoy had already spotted him.
"Look, Potter," he said, sounding annoyed, though Harry could see nothing of his expression, "I told you. I'm not interested in your help. Can't you just leave me alone?"
Harry let out a short bark of laughter that was utterly lacking in mirth. "I didn't come out here to find you, you arrogant twit. It's not my fault you're sitting in my spot."
"Well, it's not my fault you like to follow me around, but you don't see me whining about it, do you?"
"No, that's true," Harry replied, doing his best to match Malfoy's tone of lofty disinterest. "You're too busy whining about how daddy hates you." The moment after he said it, he saw a flash of Lupin's face, looking disappointed. But it was too late to take it back now, even if he'd wanted do (and despite his mental Lupin, he wasn't sure he did) -- Malfoy was on his feet, still far enough away for his face to be a blur, but close enough for his posture to be easily read. He was furious.
"What the Hell would you know about my father, Potter? It's not like you've ever had one of your own!"
Harry heard an actual growl come out of his mouth, and reached for his wand, only to remember that it was still being unhexed by McGonagall. "My dad was more of a father in one year than yours could manage in a lifetime," he grated.
"Ha!" Malfoy's laughter was closer to hysteria than derision. "That muggle-loving idiot! He must have been a brilliant father, he made such a good choice of godfather. Somehow, I'm not surprised he couldn't get himself a real pure-blood, just a mudblood bitch like that busybody Granger..."
His words were choked off in a strangled cry, as Harry launched himself. The force of his forward rush knocked Malfoy to the ground, and after that, everything was a blur. Harry could hear a loud whistling noise in his ears, and he was aware vaguely of rolling over and over, and hands beating at him; but all his concentration was poured into his fists. He had no concept of time passing, or of anything really except an enormous relief at being able to just hit something. Nothing else mattered to him, until he suddenly found that he couldn't breathe. Somehow, he and Malfoy had fallen into the lake.
Flailing, he coughed and choked to drive out the water that he had breathed into his lungs. He thrust the body of the other boy away from him, and fought to get back to the air, but his foot tangled in Malfoy's robe, and he found himself being dragged down. The water was completely dark. Harry reached in the direction of his foot, and managed to untangle it, then righted himself. His feet found the muddy lake bottom. Standing up, gasping, he discovered the water was only up to his mid-thighs.
He stood there for a moment, partially immersed in the water, the temperature of which did not seem to have been affected by the warmth of the day. Then he began to stagger towards the shore. Behind him, he heard Malfoy erupt from the water, spluttering. A moment later, the other boy collapsed beside him under the beech tree.
For a long while there was no sound but two sets of laboured breathing. Various parts of Harry began to sting with pain, both from the cold of the water and from cuts and bruises that must have been inflicted either by Malfoy or by the rolling on the ground. The lights in the windows of the castle seemed very far away. The silence stretched out, and then it was broken.
"Bloody Hell," said Malfoy, with feeling.
Harry nodded, suddenly too tired to speak. He lay on his back, staring up at the stars through the partially-denuded branches of the beech tree. Sometimes, life was just... weird.
"We've got to do that Magical Transportation assignment by tomorrow evening," he noted, absently.
"Bollocks," said Malfoy. "Can't you get the mudblood to do it for us? She does half your other homework."
Harry closed his eyes. His whole body felt heavy. "Why d'you always call her that?"
"What?" Malfoy seemed to be thinking. "Mudblood? 'Cause she is one."
"There's nothing wrong with her blood," Harry said. "It's just as good as yours."
The was a strangled splutter from Malfoy, but it seemed rather half-hearted. "Give it up, Potter. You know pure blood is better. You must know that."
"Yeah? Who told you that?" Harry asked, feeling as if this conversation was happening to someone else."
"My f-" Malfoy stopped short. For a moment, he was quiet. "Everybody knows," he finished.
"I don't," Harry replied. "Hermione's cleverer than you or me, or any pure-blood wizard in this school, most likely."
"Yeah, well." Malfoy made a movement that might have been a shrug. "Brains aren't everything."
"Neither's blood."
Malfoy made no reply. Harry became conscious of how cold he was getting. His fingertips were growing numb. Nevertheless, he had no desire to go back to the castle.
"Can you do a Warming Charm or something?" he asked Malfoy.
"Haven't got a new wand yet," the other boy replied.
"Oh." Harry wiggled his toes in his soaking shoes. They squelched in a not-altogether-pleasant manner. "You know," he continued, "she's only trying to help you. We all are. Well, maybe not Ron," he amended.
"What's your point?" Malfoy's voice had lost all tones of hostility. He sounded blank.
"Maybe you should be a bit nicer to her, that's all."
Malfoy gave a heavy sigh. "Maybe you should try being nice to her for a change, Potter. She's your friend, after all. At least I have the excuse of not liking her."
Harry felt stung. "It's not like you were ever nice to your friends," he pointed out.
Malfoy sat up. "Potter," he said, in the tones of someone explaining something to an idiot, or a small child, or maybe an idiotic small child, "my friends sold me out and left me to die. Your friends risked their lives to save you. Much as I may think they're utter fools for doing so, if you can't tell the difference then I'm afraid you may have been brain-damaged by all that demented fluffy feelings crap they keep feeding you in Gryffindor. Now, if you don't mind," he continued, getting briskly to his feet, "I'm freezing my arse off out here, so I'm going back to bed. You can come if you want, I couldn't care less, but if they find your frozen corpse in the morning, don't blame me."
Harry jumped to his feet and caught up with Malfoy, who had already started back down the path. They walked in silence for a while. When they had almost reached the circle of light thrown by the castle, Malfoy spoke.
"I hope you understand that I still hate you, Potter," he said, without looking at Harry.
And to his surprise, Harry found himself grinning in the darkness. "Yeah," he said. "The feeling's mutual."