Fic: eislean cuir stad air (1/10) COMPLETE
Title: eislean cuir stad air 1/10
Author: aquila_star
Prompt: Written for bottom_draco's fairly tale fest, inspired by prompt 79. The Tragedy of Deirdre
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Summary: It is universally agreed that fate is inevitable, though sometimes it can hang on a precipice. It only takes a breath to tip the balance, but on which side will it fall?
Rating: NC 17
Disclaimer: All the pretty boys and the world they live in belong to JKR, etc, to whom I am grateful for giving me the opportunity to play.
Warning(s): AU
Word Count: 68,000ish, this part 5978
Author's Notes: I've had to mix things around quite a bit to make my vision of the prompt fit into JKR's world. While I've tried to stay close to canon, I have tweaked some things and outright changed others to make the fic work. In the end, I'm happy with it, and I hope you enjoy it too. :D The title translates loosely to 'Sorrow suspended,' and the cut text means 'if this be my lot.' I used Gaelic translations, as inspired by the roots of the fable.
Thanks to cybeleadam who claimed it for me on the big day, this prompt ate my brain as soon as I saw it, so I knew I had to have it. Bigger thank you's to schemingreader and annafugazzi who beta-ed this monster fic for me. Your suggestions were invaluable, ladies. Even bigger thanks and much love to nikki4noo who not only beta-ed, but was there every step of the way. She helped me with the concept, ideas, and plot, and sent me numerous pics of half naked men to inspire my smut. :P Poor Nikki listened to me chatter on about this fic for months, and bore the brunt of it more than any other person. I'd name my next baby after you if hubby would let me, bb. ♥ Some thanks also go to twistedm too, for picking out all the typos we four missed, while she was reading it on the comm!
All you ladies are awesome, I owe you so much. ♥ ♥
The Lion cannot defeat the Viper without the power of the White Dragon. Only the White Dragon can provide the power he needs. When the Dragon is in his heart, the Lion will defeat the Viper. The White Dragon is key, the Lion must liberate the White Dragon before victory can be found.
June 1997
He's running, always running, legs pumping furiously, chest heaving in an attempt to draw enough breath to continue. He doesn't know why he's running or from whom but the terror is catching up, gripping him tightly, making every breath harder to win. He trips, stumbles, the certainty of capture and death threatening to drown him. Before it can overtake him, his hand is gripped so tight it hurts, and he's pulled to his feet, his shoulder wrenching from the ferocity of the pull. He looks down, seeing a strong masculine hand wrapped around his own, knuckles whitened by their grip. He follows the arm up to a set of broad shoulders and a head of dark, impossibly messy hair but he's only able to catch glimpses of the pale face belonging to his rescuer. He is tiring now, the terror is catching up again. He knows he is lagging, dragging the other down as panic sets in. “Hold on, Draco,” a voice says, as the boy whose hand he's holding onto for dear life looks back at him.
His face is pale but handsome. A pair of round spectacles perch precariously on his nose, and a red, vivid scar stands out on his forehead. But his eyes...it's his eyes that see right into Draco, his eyes containing such certainty and determination that it overflows, filling Draco with warmth and hope, things he has felt only in snatches during his lonely, uncertain life.
He surges forward, legs pushing harder, his breath coming easier now as emerald eyes fill him up and a strong hand grips him tighter. He smiles at the boy running beside him, receiving a bright smile in return as...
...he woke up, gasping as if he had been running in reality instead of in a dream. He panted desperately, gasping for air, the sound impossibly loud in his empty bedroom. He knows that face, those eyes... he'd dreamt of them almost every night of his life, their brilliance has haunted him every night in his sleep.
The dreams have been changing, becoming more like visions, rather than the hazy snapshots of his childhood. It's as if they are preparing him for something, as if something was coming. 'As if he's coming,' Draco thought with a shiver. He threw off the covers and paced across the room to the floor length windows, looking out onto a pristine view of white topped mountains, clear lakes and vibrant leafed trees, all obscured by the early morning fog. Of course it was all fake, the product of a spell, supposedly to make him more comfortable. It didn't work to make him more comfortable, but still soothed him to gaze at such a lovely scene. He'd been trapped here for five years now, what felt like a lifetime, with only a bare idea of why. He was mostly alone, though his parents were allowed to visit every few days, and Riddle came often to wax poetic about his great plans for the wizarding world, his intended destruction of the Mudbloods and how the Muggles might make barely adequate slaves, but they would do.
He was jerked out of his thoughts by a bang on his door. It was followed by a few more, the sound of a scuffle. There was the unmistakable thump of a body hitting the ground, and then the door opened and closed, seemingly by itself. Draco froze, his spine tingling with awareness. There was someone in the room with him, he could sense it.
“Who's there?” he asked, crossing his arms across his bare chest protectively. There was no response, but Draco was more certain than ever. He knew things, before they happened, and he'd never been more certain of anything in his life.
“I know you're there,” he said. “You might as well show yourself.”
Silence filled the room again, but Draco was determined to wait. As the moments passed the air in the room became thick as the tension built. Draco had the wild thought that he should be afraid, but he wasn't. Finally, just when he was about to break, the air in front of the door shimmered before sliding away, revealing a messy head on broad shoulders. Draco gasped when the intruder looked up, adjusting round spectacles with still invisible hands and staring at Draco with the greenest eyes he'd ever seen. Green eyes he had been dreaming of only minutes before.
The rest of the Cloak fell, revealing too baggy clothes and scuffed trainers that Draco would have scoffed at had he met this boy on the street. But the eyes, the hair, the face; he'd been seeing them in his dreams, all his life.
“Hi,” the boy said awkwardly, staring at Draco as if he had two heads.
“Hi,” Draco returned, feeling suddenly naked in his pyjama pants, arms still crossed over his bare chest.
They stared at each other for a moment, before Draco spoke again. “What are you doing here?”
“I...uh,” He scratched the back of his neck, nervously, eyes dancing across Draco's face and down his torso. Draco shivered.
“Well? I'm not used to strange people breaking into my bedroom in the middle of the night.” Draco stalked across the room, opening a drawer and pulling a t-shirt over his head.
“I was looking for...well, never mind. I just didn't know there was anyone in here, much less...well, you.”
“What does that mean, exactly? Who else would you expect to find here?” Draco was annoyed and more than a little disappointed. The boy may have haunted his dreams, but he was also a bit of a twit.
“I, uh...I should introduce myself, I guess,” he bit his lip, his fingers fidgeting with the shimmery material he still held.
“Yes, you should.” Draco said simply.
“I'm Harry Potter,” he said.
Draco took a step back, almost staggering. Harry Potter? No wonder Riddle had been so desperate to find him. Draco thought of the picture tucked inside his journal, and of the dreams that had followed him every time he slept. He'd been dreaming of none other than Harry Potter, all these years. Suddenly he understood Riddle's insistence on keeping him here, away from the world. If he and Potter were to...Draco cut off that line of thought, shivering with the implications.
He shook off his internal reaction and responded with a sneer. “Good for you. Now are you going to tell me why you're here?”
“You uh...don't you know who I am?” Potter looked confused, his brow furrowed in a not terribly attractive manner.
“Of course I know who you are, but you still haven't told me why you're in my bedroom.” Draco crossed his arms again, and tapped his foot. “Well?”
“Right, I...well, I was looking for something,” Potter was shifting from foot to foot, his eyes still roaming Draco's body. Draco was now utterly disappointed. This is what he'd been waiting for all these years?
“You said that already. Are you dense, or just an idiot?”
Potter's eyes snapped up, meeting Draco's eyes once more. Draco shivered at their intensity, but held the gaze.
“No, but apparently you're a bit of a prat,” he snapped back at Draco.
“I'm not the one breaking into a stranger's bedroom in the middle of the night, so I'm not the prat here, you idiot.” Draco took a few steps forward, his fists clenched by his sides now.
Potter sighed, dragging his hand through already messy hair, making it stand up even worse. “I'm sorry, I...I'm not so good with words and you're...well, distracting.”
“Yes, I know I'm gorgeous, but there's no need to drool,” Draco snapped at him, loving the blush that crept up Potter's neck. Draco smirked, changing tactics and sauntering the few remaining feet until he stood right in front of the other boy, noting that the fidgeting had increased and the blush had deepened.
“Now tell me why you're here, before I yell for help,” he said, poking Potter hard in the chest.
“Ow, there's no need to poke me, geez.” Potter rubbed his hand across his chest, but he still didn't give.
“Why don't you tell me your name?” he asked, keeping between Draco and the door. Draco wasn't about to call for anyone, despite his annoyance that Potter seemed unable to answer a simple question. He knew very well that making the house aware of Potter's presence would be a huge mistake. He knew, with every fibre of his being, that he could trust this idiotic nitwit with his life. And wasn't that just ironic cherry on top of his stupid life.
“Are you going to keep ignoring my questions? Should I just call for help right now?” Draco opened his mouth as if to scream but before he could blink Potter had one hand clasped over his mouth and the other gripping the back of his neck. Draco's eyes widened and his pulse raced. Idiot or not, Potter was very attractive, his eyes all the more fierce for being so close.
“Don't, please, or you'll get me killed. I know you're confused and probably a bit freaked out, but I'm not here to hurt you.” Potter's voice was low and tinged with desperation, Draco could almost breathe in the smell of his fear.
Potter's body shifted against his, and Draco closed his eyes against the sensation. It felt good, far too good considering the situation. “I'll explain why I'm here if you promise not to scream, alright?”
Draco nodded, his eyes meeting Potter's, only a few inches away. They held the gaze for a long moment before Potter uncovered Draco's mouth and stepped back. His other hand released it's grip on Draco's neck, sliding across his shoulder before dropping away. Draco breathed a sigh of relief, unsure if it was because Potter had let go at last, or because he didn't want the other boy to know how much his closeness had affected Draco.
“Plebe,” Draco snapped, turning away from Potter and striding across the room to the cupboard with a perpetual cooling charm on it. He pulled a jug of pumpkin juice out, glaring at Potter as he poured himself a glass. It was mostly to cover up his nervousness, but he realized that he would have to offer some to his guest, however unwanted the guest may be. He may have spent the past five years trapped alone in a room, but he still had manners. He was a Malfoy, after all.
Potter watched him placidly, leaning back against the door. Draco sighed, but reached for another glass nonetheless.
“Would you like some pumpkin juice?” he asked politely.
“I'd love some,” Potter replied, so Draco gestured to the chair opposite him. Potter sat down and accepted the glass. “Thank you,” he said quietly.
Draco sat in the other chair and looked at Potter closely. He reminded Draco of someone, besides the fact that Draco knew him from his dream. “I'm Draco,” he said at last.
“Draco? Really?” Potter looked surprised. “I thought you looked familiar”
“I do?” Draco was surprised now. “I mean, you do too.”
“We met when I was eleven, at Madam Malkin's. And I saw you the year after in Flourish and Blott's.”
“That was you?” Now Draco was amazed. Not only had he been dreaming of Harry Potter all these years, but they'd met. He remembered Harry now.
“Yeah, that was me.” Potter smiled and Draco smiled back, until he remembered what they were doing.
“As fascinating as this is, I believe we have things to discuss.” Draco said haughtily.
“Right then, I guess I should...” Potter lifted his hand in an expansive sweep between them.
“Yes, you should.”
“Okay then...I, uh, was looking for a weapon,” Potter was staring at the table, but looked up when Draco snorted.
“A weapon? That ridiculous. Beside the fact that this is my bedroom, not a weapon storage facility, they won't let me have anything sharper than a table knife. I don't even have my wand, anymore.” Draco sneered at Potter. He really was a twit.
Potter looked utterly shocked. “You...are you a prisoner here?” His voice was rather squeaky. Draco found he preferred it low and closer.
“Of course I am. What kind of a hero are you anyway? Do you really think anyone in their right mind would stay here voluntarily?”
“How do I know you're in you're right mind?” Potter said with a smirk. Draco wanted to slap it off his face.
“So now you chose to be articulate, great.” Draco leaned back in his chair and looked away.
“Well, there's plenty of otherwise sane people out there who follow voluntarily, how am I to know you're not one of them?” Draco frowned. Potter had a point there.
“I'm not. I don't want to be here, but I don't have a choice. No one asked me, anyway, and my fa...never mind, it's not pertinent.” Draco bit his lip. He didn't want to bring his father into this, for many reasons.
“Pertinent? Are you...you know what, forget it. The fact is, I came here because I discovered that Riddle was keeping a weapon here and we determined that this is the room he was keeping it in. You're sure you don't have any idea what I'm talking about?” Potter was leaning forward on the table now, his eyes filled with the same determination that Draco remembered from his dream. He shivered. “It would really help me out.”
“Potter, I've been here for almost five years now. They've barely let me out of this room, you can be sure that I've searched every inch of it, top to bottom. There's nothing like that here.”
“Five years? That's...but why?” Potter's face was a now a study of disbelief. Draco couldn't help but sneer a bit, the boy seemed unable to keep his every emotion from his face.
“I don't know, exactly. I mean, Riddle plans to...use me for some kind of spell, or something, but I don't know why he wants me. I'm nothing special, really. But no one will tell me.” Draco kept his face as blank as possible, talking about his situation was terrifying.
“Well, that's it then,” Potter said, pushing the chair back and rising to his feet. “We have to get you out of here.”
“We...what? You're going to rescue me?” Draco stood as well, shaking his head in disbelief. His recent dream flashed through his mind, he remembered running, always running, holding Harry Potter's hand and feeling safe in it's grip. Could it be now? Was this really happening?
His mind was reeling, but Potter kept talking.
“Of course I'm going to rescue you!” he exclaimed. “If you're here against your will, I can't leave you, now can I? Besides, I kind of like you, snarky, pretentious git that you are.” Potter grinned at him and Draco's stomach flipped.
“It's not pretention when you're amazing as I am,” he replied back huffily. “Then it's just the truth.”
Potter rolled his eyes. “Fine, whatever. Now are you coming with me, or aren't you?” He held out his hand, meeting Draco's frightened eyes with that same determined gaze.
Draco had a moment of panic at the thought of leaving, of never seeing his parents again, at being free in the world for the first time since he was twelve years old. He wasn't even sure what he would do with himself, but his heart raced at the possibility of being by Potter's side, of arguing with him again, in better circumstances.
The hesitation lasted about 3 seconds, before he really realized what he was doing, he reached out and took Potter's hand. It was dry and warm and the touch made Draco shiver. He'd been dreaming of this boy for a reason. He did know that he could trust Potter, no matter what was to come. Even if he was a twit.
“Good, let's go,” Potter said, tugging him toward the door. “I've already been here too long. They'll be freaking out by now.”
“Wait,” Draco pulled his hand away, turning back toward his armoire. “I need to get dressed.” He began opening drawers and pulling out clothes. He was reaching for a set of robes when Potter stopped him.
“Not the robes, they'll just get in the way.”
Draco turned to give him a sneer. “I'm not going out unless I'm properly dressed. I wouldn't be caught dead looking like you.” His eyes flicked up and down Potter's shabbily dressed form.
Potter rolled his eyes. “No one cares what you look like. But the robes are bulky and they swish when you walk. We need to be quick and quiet. Just put on some slacks and a sweater, it's cold out this late.” Potter bent down to pick up the Invisibility Cloak he'd abandoned by the door.
“Fine,” Draco grabbed his warmest clothes, casting a mournful glance at all the fine items that he would be leaving behind, but he didn't hesitate. Freedom was better than a gilded cage any day. Besides, he'd rather die than be bonded to...he shook his head. 'Don't think about it, Draco, just get going.' He hurried to the bathroom, uncomfortable with the idea that Potter might watch him get changed.
He dressed as fast as he could, putting a few of his more personal items in the pockets of his linen jacket before leaving the bathroom. He stopped briefly to take a well worn journal out of his bedside table, before joining Potter at the door.
“How are we going to do this, exactly?” Draco asked as Potter swung the Cloak over his shoulders.
“This Cloak makes us invisible, so as long as we're quiet, we should be able to slip out unnoticed. It's how I got in, after all.” Potter adjusted the Cloak so that it draped over his head as well and Draco was struck by the oddness of the situation. Potter was only visible where the Cloak gaped open.
“This is bizarre,” Draco muttered, but he allowed Potter to pull him close so that they both fit under the Cloak before fastening it up the front.
“Welcome to my world,” Potter chuckled into Draco's ear, wrapping his arms around Draco securely as they moved toward the door. The hot breath on Draco's neck and Potter's proximity were distracting, but Draco forced himself to focus as Potter opened the door slowly. It would take all their wits to get out alive. Draco took a deep breath, forcing his feet to move when Potter said go.
The first few steps were tentative, but the feeling relief was overwhelming. He was leaving. After five long years, he was leaving. The dismal fate he had resigned himself to was fading as a bright uncertain future rose up to take it's place.
He was free.
*
July 1991
Harry pushed open the door to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, giving one backward glance at Hagrid, before sighing and entering the shop. He was nervous about being left there, for however short a time, but he was excited about going to Hogwarts and he'd need robes.
On the dais in front of him was a small blond boy who looked to be about the same age as Harry himself. He was getting fitted for robes as well, but they were a dark red, instead of the black robes that Harry's list required.
He stood up beside the blond boy as he was directed, sending a small smile his way. The boy lifted an eyebrow at him, rather imperiously, but it only made Harry grin. It was as if he was playing dress up with his father's clothes, the look did not suit his small pointy face.
“Is something funny?” the boy asked, turning away from Harry to watch the seamstress as she hemmed his robe.
“No, I...” Harry stammered. He was saved from making up a response when Madam Malkin came back in with a robe for Harry to try on.
The other boy looked at him again. “Going to Hogwarts, are you?”
Harry nodded. The boy continued, giving Harry a once over. “I'm going to Durmstrang. Father says that I will receive a proper education there, not like at Hogwarts.”
Harry bristled. “My parents went to Hogwarts, so it can't be that bad,” he shot back.
“Well, mine did too, and they say it is,” the boy said. He opened his mouth to speak again, but closed it, studying Harry closely now.
“Are you...do I know you?” he asked, and Harry shook his head. The boy sniffed. “Well, you look familiar, anyway.”
“Oh,” Harry said, at a loss of how to respond to that.
“I'm Draco,” the other boy, Draco, said, giving Harry another once over. “What's your name?”
“I'm...uh, I'm Harry,” He replied, holding his arms out so the seamstress could take his measurement, feeling slightly ridiculous.
“It nice to meet you, Harry, though we'll probably never meet again. I'm sure to make loads of new friends at Durmstrang, Father says it's where all the proper pureblood families send their children.”
“Oh,” Harry said again, feeling like a twit. But Draco seemed not to have noticed, he was still talking.
“Do you play Quidditch?” He asked, continuing without waiting for Harry to answer. “I am going to try out for the team right away. Durmstrang lets the first years bring their own brooms--not like Hogwarts. I'd love to play on a real team, flying with practise balls just isn't as much fun.”
“Are you good at it?” Harry asked. He didn't know what Quidditch was, but Draco seemed to know what he was talking about.
“Of course I am. I'm a Malfoy, and Father says that Malfoys succeed at whatever they do.”
“Your father says a lot,” Harry replied, wishing he had known his father long enough to have learned something from him that he could respond with.
“Well, he knows a lot, so of course he tells me. I'm his heir, you know. It's a sacred duty and not to be taken lightly.” Draco lifted his chin, and Harry was reminded unpleasantly of Aunt Petunia when she looked down on those she thought lesser than herself.
“I suppose,” Harry replied. He was saved from any more unpleasant conversation by Madam Malkin, who had finished with Draco's robe and was instructing one of the seamstresses with measurements and colours.
“All finished for today, Mr. Malfoy,” she said, puling the red robe off his shoulders. “You may tell your mother that the order will be ready within a week and will be owled to you promptly.”
“Thank you, madam.” Draco said politely, before turning to Harry. “Well, have fun at Hogwarts, Harry. Perhaps we'll see each other again.” He smiled politely at Harry before turning and strutting out of the shop. Harry got the impression that Draco hoped they wouldn't meet again but he honestly didn't care. Draco was snobbish and annoying, and Harry was suddenly glad that they would not be going to school together.
*
June 1997
They moved as swiftly and quietly as possible through the darkened hallways of Riddle house. The house was silent at this late hour, moreso because of the ongoing revelry Draco had been pleased to leave, but Draco's heart was still pounding with desperate fear of being caught. They were very lucky, only needing to pause once as they slipped down the main staircase toward the foyer. Two men in black robes alighted the stairs, side by side, leaving Draco and Potter no choice but to flatten themselves against the wall, Draco's back pressed tight against Potter's chest. Suddenly he found his heart beating for an entirely different reason.
Potter's arms were wrapped around his shoulders, keeping the Cloak securely closed, and Draco felt as if he was wrapped in safety. Potter smelled good too, despite his scruffy appearance, he smelled clean, like soap and pumpkin juice, and youthful male. Draco breathed in deeply, wishing that there was time to savour it, for they were moving again before he realized.
The made their way down the last bank of stairs and crossed the foyer, past the front door and down a side corridor. Draco was baffled, freedom was only a few steps away.
“Potter, you idiot,” Draco hissed. “Where are we going? The door is ove...” He was interrupted rather abruptly when Potter clamped a sweaty hand over his mouth.
“Shh,” Potter said, his breath hot against Draco ear. “We're not going out the front door, do you have a death wish?” Draco shook his head as best he could. Potter's hand dropped to his shoulder again, guiding Draco firmly down the corridor to a room on the east side of the house. They slipped through the door quietly, moving immediately across the room toward a set of delicate french doors.
“See?” Potter whispered. “This is how I got in, and this is how we're getting out. They'll be waiting for us in the woods, just there.” Draco followed Potter's gesture and spied a dark lawn and the darker grove beyond. “We'd heard that the house would be almost empty tonight, and this was the best way in.”
Potter opened the door and guided Draco through it, closing it securely behind himself before nudging Draco forward.
“It's that easy?” Draco said, hardly daring to believe that they were outside, with one less obstacle between them and freedom.
“Even with the house near empty, Riddle is so secure in his own superiority that his wards are rather flimsy. It was tricky to open them enough to let me through without taking them down, but Hermione is a wiz with that kind of thing. I don't know how she does it.”
“Who's Hermione?” Draco asked. She must be one of the people waiting from them. Draco was curious and excited to meet them. It had been so long since he'd seen anyone other than his parents, Riddle and the dark robed guards who stood outside his door at all hours.
“My friend. She and Ron will be worried, but it's not far now.”
They moved swiftly across the lawn and were into the woods before Draco knew what was happening. The weaved through trees and brush for a few minutes until they reached a small clearing, where Potter stopped. They stood in the silence for a moment before he gave a low whistle, but the answering whistle came quickly. The two trees directly in front of them stepped forward, shadows morphing until Draco saw they were not trees, but two people in dark robes, with hoods pulled up.
“Harry, where are you?” one of them whispered, receiving an elbow in the ribs from the other.
Draco shivered as Potter's answering chuckle vibrated against his hair. Being this close was unnerving, and his stomach was rolling with nervousness. Potter pulled the Cloak off and Draco shivered in the cold air. The loss of Potter's body heat was chilling in more ways than one.
“Hey guys. Alright then?” Potter grinned at his friends, who pulled their hoods down and smiled back.
“Alright, Harry,” said the redheaded boy, while giving Draco a sceptical look. “Who's this, then?”
“This is Draco,” Potter replied, dragging a hand through his already messy hair. “He's coming with us.”
“That's interesting Harry, but what about the...you know,” The girl said, twitching her head to the side. Draco sneered. She was clearly trying to communicate something without actually saying it, but with all that bushy hair, she just looked like she'd been hit with a stinging hex.
“Well, about that...” Potter began, but before he could complete the thought, a blinding light came on behind them. Frantic voices began to holler as the alarm was sounded.
“They've noticed I'm gone,” Draco said, gripping Potter's hand desperately.
“We have to go,” Potter said, holding Draco's hand and tugging them further into the woods, away from the house. The other two followed, and they were running together through the trees. The sounds of pursuit were getting closer, and a familiar panic began to overcome him. His attention was diverted and he tripped over a tree root, stumbling out of control, the certainty of capture and death threatening to drown him, until he felt the tug of Potter's grip on his hand, urging him on with a frantic “Hold on, Draco,” and he was filled with such certainty and determination he was able to regain his footing and keep up again, as the cries began to fade behind them. He could see the other two running beside them, which was odd, because he'd never seen them in his dreams and...
Draco gasped in a shocked breath, pushing his legs harder as he looked up at Harry, remembering suddenly how he had woken up, just before Harry had entered his life again.
“This way,” Harry said pulling him to the left and down a steep hill toward an almost hidden path below. The others were right behind them, slipping down until they hit the bottom, then running, always running until they could only hear themselves, panting breaths and pounding feet. They turned sharply and Harry tugged him to the side again, ducking under a few tree branches before stopping suddenly.
Draco braced his free hand on his knee, panting desperately to draw fresh air into his lungs. He was not accustomed to the exercise. Being trapped in one room for five years did not allow for such aerobics.
“Everyone okay?” the redhead asked, already regaining his breath.
“I think we've lost them, but we need to go now,” replied the girl from beside Draco. She took out her wand and held it up, level with her shoulder. Draco didn't have long to wonder what on earth she was doing because the next moment there were bright lights and a blaring horn, immediately in front of them.
Draco jumped back with a shriek, terrified until he felt Harry's hand pull him closer, his amused voice calming Draco as he spoke. “It's the Knight Bus...it's a little startling at first, but it's going to take us home. Not the smoothest ride ever, but underage wizards can't be choosers.”
Draco looked at him, wondering what he was talking about, but Harry pulled him forward again, so he followed. Trusting Harry had worked so far. The other two were already stepping up to the door that had opened at the front and the girl was paying for all of them before bustling them inside and up a set of stairs at the back of the bus. Before Draco had time to take in his surroundings, they were sitting on two rickety beds, staring at each other in awkward silence.
Finally, the bushy headed girl spoke up. “I'm Hermione Granger,” she said, speaking to Draco. “And this is Ronald Weasley. What was your name again?”
Draco shot a glance at Harry, who was biting his lip as he watched them. Draco's stomach churned. “It's Draco, and I'm very pleased to meet you both.”
“Surprised, as well, I'd wager,” she tilted her head, studying him.
“Yes,” Draco replied, glancing at Harry again.
“You look familiar,” Ron said, watching him no less intently. “Have we met somewhere?”
“I doubt it,” Draco sneered, not liking the his intense gaze. He was positive that this was one of the Weasleys his father used to complain about, and the thought was not very comforting. His stomach was feeling a bit sick, all the scrutiny combined with the drop in adrenaline and the sudden realization that his parents would likely be punished for his escape were leaving him with a sour taste in his mouth. His head began to spin as the girl spoke up again.
“Ron's right, you do look familiar. What's your last name?”
“Guys, lay off a bit, he's had a hard night,” Harry said, shifting closer to Draco protectively. Their shoulders were touching now, and Harry felt warm against him. It was soothing.
“Well, where did he come from, Harry?” Hermione said. “It's rather suspicious, don't you think?”
“Not really,” Harry answered. “He was in the room, and there was no weapon, so you can relax. Our information was wrong.” The other two shared a look.
“How can we be sure he's not a spy? He could tell them where we are, it could be a trap," Ron demanded.
“He's not a spy, Ron, I promise.” Harry's fingers squeezed gently, and Draco realized that they were still holding hands and that somewhere along the line their fingers had entwined. He was nervous and suspicious of Ron, but he found that he quite liked it.
“But how do you know?” Hermione demanded, her eyes dropping to their joined hands.
“I just do, alright? I can't explain it. Anyway, how is he going to tell them where we are, he doesn't even have a wand!”
“Why not? What kind of a wizard doesn't have a wand?” Ron was sneering at him now, but not nearly as good as Draco. He sneered back, showing him how it was done.
“The kind who's been a prisoner for five years,” Harry snapped back. Draco closed his eyes and leaned more heavily against Harry's shoulder.
“What!?” the other two exclaimed in tandem. “What do you mean?” Hermione asked.
“I mean, I know that the weapon isn't there because Draco told me so. He's been kept there for five years, against his will, and that's why I couldn't leave him there. Our information was wrong. There is no weapon, just Draco,” Harry said.
“But that's...I don't understand, Draco, why...” she stopped and Draco could feel all their eyes on him, even though his were closed.
“Draco?” Harry said. “Draco, are you alright?” His voice was low and urgent, so Draco opened his eyes, letting his head rest against Harry's shoulder, looking up into his concerned eyes.
“I, uh...I don't feel very good,” he said in a whisper.
“It's okay, I've got you.” Harry said comfortingly. He let go of Draco's hand and wrapped an arm around his shoulder instead, pulling Draco against his chest securely. He looked up at his friend. “You can ask him your questions later, let's just get home first.”
“Alright, Harry,” Hermione said quietly, and Draco closed his eyes again. Harry was warm and solid beneath him, and his heartbeat was reassuring. Quiet settled over Draco and soon he found himself drifting off, lulled by the rocking of the bus and the presence of the boy he'd been dreaming of his whole life.
Part two
Author: aquila_star
Prompt: Written for bottom_draco's fairly tale fest, inspired by prompt 79. The Tragedy of Deirdre
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Summary: It is universally agreed that fate is inevitable, though sometimes it can hang on a precipice. It only takes a breath to tip the balance, but on which side will it fall?
Rating: NC 17
Disclaimer: All the pretty boys and the world they live in belong to JKR, etc, to whom I am grateful for giving me the opportunity to play.
Warning(s): AU
Word Count: 68,000ish, this part 5978
Author's Notes: I've had to mix things around quite a bit to make my vision of the prompt fit into JKR's world. While I've tried to stay close to canon, I have tweaked some things and outright changed others to make the fic work. In the end, I'm happy with it, and I hope you enjoy it too. :D The title translates loosely to 'Sorrow suspended,' and the cut text means 'if this be my lot.' I used Gaelic translations, as inspired by the roots of the fable.
Thanks to cybeleadam who claimed it for me on the big day, this prompt ate my brain as soon as I saw it, so I knew I had to have it. Bigger thank you's to schemingreader and annafugazzi who beta-ed this monster fic for me. Your suggestions were invaluable, ladies. Even bigger thanks and much love to nikki4noo who not only beta-ed, but was there every step of the way. She helped me with the concept, ideas, and plot, and sent me numerous pics of half naked men to inspire my smut. :P Poor Nikki listened to me chatter on about this fic for months, and bore the brunt of it more than any other person. I'd name my next baby after you if hubby would let me, bb. ♥ Some thanks also go to twistedm too, for picking out all the typos we four missed, while she was reading it on the comm!
All you ladies are awesome, I owe you so much. ♥ ♥
The Lion cannot defeat the Viper without the power of the White Dragon. Only the White Dragon can provide the power he needs. When the Dragon is in his heart, the Lion will defeat the Viper. The White Dragon is key, the Lion must liberate the White Dragon before victory can be found.
June 1997
He's running, always running, legs pumping furiously, chest heaving in an attempt to draw enough breath to continue. He doesn't know why he's running or from whom but the terror is catching up, gripping him tightly, making every breath harder to win. He trips, stumbles, the certainty of capture and death threatening to drown him. Before it can overtake him, his hand is gripped so tight it hurts, and he's pulled to his feet, his shoulder wrenching from the ferocity of the pull. He looks down, seeing a strong masculine hand wrapped around his own, knuckles whitened by their grip. He follows the arm up to a set of broad shoulders and a head of dark, impossibly messy hair but he's only able to catch glimpses of the pale face belonging to his rescuer. He is tiring now, the terror is catching up again. He knows he is lagging, dragging the other down as panic sets in. “Hold on, Draco,” a voice says, as the boy whose hand he's holding onto for dear life looks back at him.
His face is pale but handsome. A pair of round spectacles perch precariously on his nose, and a red, vivid scar stands out on his forehead. But his eyes...it's his eyes that see right into Draco, his eyes containing such certainty and determination that it overflows, filling Draco with warmth and hope, things he has felt only in snatches during his lonely, uncertain life.
He surges forward, legs pushing harder, his breath coming easier now as emerald eyes fill him up and a strong hand grips him tighter. He smiles at the boy running beside him, receiving a bright smile in return as...
...he woke up, gasping as if he had been running in reality instead of in a dream. He panted desperately, gasping for air, the sound impossibly loud in his empty bedroom. He knows that face, those eyes... he'd dreamt of them almost every night of his life, their brilliance has haunted him every night in his sleep.
The dreams have been changing, becoming more like visions, rather than the hazy snapshots of his childhood. It's as if they are preparing him for something, as if something was coming. 'As if he's coming,' Draco thought with a shiver. He threw off the covers and paced across the room to the floor length windows, looking out onto a pristine view of white topped mountains, clear lakes and vibrant leafed trees, all obscured by the early morning fog. Of course it was all fake, the product of a spell, supposedly to make him more comfortable. It didn't work to make him more comfortable, but still soothed him to gaze at such a lovely scene. He'd been trapped here for five years now, what felt like a lifetime, with only a bare idea of why. He was mostly alone, though his parents were allowed to visit every few days, and Riddle came often to wax poetic about his great plans for the wizarding world, his intended destruction of the Mudbloods and how the Muggles might make barely adequate slaves, but they would do.
He was jerked out of his thoughts by a bang on his door. It was followed by a few more, the sound of a scuffle. There was the unmistakable thump of a body hitting the ground, and then the door opened and closed, seemingly by itself. Draco froze, his spine tingling with awareness. There was someone in the room with him, he could sense it.
“Who's there?” he asked, crossing his arms across his bare chest protectively. There was no response, but Draco was more certain than ever. He knew things, before they happened, and he'd never been more certain of anything in his life.
“I know you're there,” he said. “You might as well show yourself.”
Silence filled the room again, but Draco was determined to wait. As the moments passed the air in the room became thick as the tension built. Draco had the wild thought that he should be afraid, but he wasn't. Finally, just when he was about to break, the air in front of the door shimmered before sliding away, revealing a messy head on broad shoulders. Draco gasped when the intruder looked up, adjusting round spectacles with still invisible hands and staring at Draco with the greenest eyes he'd ever seen. Green eyes he had been dreaming of only minutes before.
The rest of the Cloak fell, revealing too baggy clothes and scuffed trainers that Draco would have scoffed at had he met this boy on the street. But the eyes, the hair, the face; he'd been seeing them in his dreams, all his life.
“Hi,” the boy said awkwardly, staring at Draco as if he had two heads.
“Hi,” Draco returned, feeling suddenly naked in his pyjama pants, arms still crossed over his bare chest.
They stared at each other for a moment, before Draco spoke again. “What are you doing here?”
“I...uh,” He scratched the back of his neck, nervously, eyes dancing across Draco's face and down his torso. Draco shivered.
“Well? I'm not used to strange people breaking into my bedroom in the middle of the night.” Draco stalked across the room, opening a drawer and pulling a t-shirt over his head.
“I was looking for...well, never mind. I just didn't know there was anyone in here, much less...well, you.”
“What does that mean, exactly? Who else would you expect to find here?” Draco was annoyed and more than a little disappointed. The boy may have haunted his dreams, but he was also a bit of a twit.
“I, uh...I should introduce myself, I guess,” he bit his lip, his fingers fidgeting with the shimmery material he still held.
“Yes, you should.” Draco said simply.
“I'm Harry Potter,” he said.
Draco took a step back, almost staggering. Harry Potter? No wonder Riddle had been so desperate to find him. Draco thought of the picture tucked inside his journal, and of the dreams that had followed him every time he slept. He'd been dreaming of none other than Harry Potter, all these years. Suddenly he understood Riddle's insistence on keeping him here, away from the world. If he and Potter were to...Draco cut off that line of thought, shivering with the implications.
He shook off his internal reaction and responded with a sneer. “Good for you. Now are you going to tell me why you're here?”
“You uh...don't you know who I am?” Potter looked confused, his brow furrowed in a not terribly attractive manner.
“Of course I know who you are, but you still haven't told me why you're in my bedroom.” Draco crossed his arms again, and tapped his foot. “Well?”
“Right, I...well, I was looking for something,” Potter was shifting from foot to foot, his eyes still roaming Draco's body. Draco was now utterly disappointed. This is what he'd been waiting for all these years?
“You said that already. Are you dense, or just an idiot?”
Potter's eyes snapped up, meeting Draco's eyes once more. Draco shivered at their intensity, but held the gaze.
“No, but apparently you're a bit of a prat,” he snapped back at Draco.
“I'm not the one breaking into a stranger's bedroom in the middle of the night, so I'm not the prat here, you idiot.” Draco took a few steps forward, his fists clenched by his sides now.
Potter sighed, dragging his hand through already messy hair, making it stand up even worse. “I'm sorry, I...I'm not so good with words and you're...well, distracting.”
“Yes, I know I'm gorgeous, but there's no need to drool,” Draco snapped at him, loving the blush that crept up Potter's neck. Draco smirked, changing tactics and sauntering the few remaining feet until he stood right in front of the other boy, noting that the fidgeting had increased and the blush had deepened.
“Now tell me why you're here, before I yell for help,” he said, poking Potter hard in the chest.
“Ow, there's no need to poke me, geez.” Potter rubbed his hand across his chest, but he still didn't give.
“Why don't you tell me your name?” he asked, keeping between Draco and the door. Draco wasn't about to call for anyone, despite his annoyance that Potter seemed unable to answer a simple question. He knew very well that making the house aware of Potter's presence would be a huge mistake. He knew, with every fibre of his being, that he could trust this idiotic nitwit with his life. And wasn't that just ironic cherry on top of his stupid life.
“Are you going to keep ignoring my questions? Should I just call for help right now?” Draco opened his mouth as if to scream but before he could blink Potter had one hand clasped over his mouth and the other gripping the back of his neck. Draco's eyes widened and his pulse raced. Idiot or not, Potter was very attractive, his eyes all the more fierce for being so close.
“Don't, please, or you'll get me killed. I know you're confused and probably a bit freaked out, but I'm not here to hurt you.” Potter's voice was low and tinged with desperation, Draco could almost breathe in the smell of his fear.
Potter's body shifted against his, and Draco closed his eyes against the sensation. It felt good, far too good considering the situation. “I'll explain why I'm here if you promise not to scream, alright?”
Draco nodded, his eyes meeting Potter's, only a few inches away. They held the gaze for a long moment before Potter uncovered Draco's mouth and stepped back. His other hand released it's grip on Draco's neck, sliding across his shoulder before dropping away. Draco breathed a sigh of relief, unsure if it was because Potter had let go at last, or because he didn't want the other boy to know how much his closeness had affected Draco.
“Plebe,” Draco snapped, turning away from Potter and striding across the room to the cupboard with a perpetual cooling charm on it. He pulled a jug of pumpkin juice out, glaring at Potter as he poured himself a glass. It was mostly to cover up his nervousness, but he realized that he would have to offer some to his guest, however unwanted the guest may be. He may have spent the past five years trapped alone in a room, but he still had manners. He was a Malfoy, after all.
Potter watched him placidly, leaning back against the door. Draco sighed, but reached for another glass nonetheless.
“Would you like some pumpkin juice?” he asked politely.
“I'd love some,” Potter replied, so Draco gestured to the chair opposite him. Potter sat down and accepted the glass. “Thank you,” he said quietly.
Draco sat in the other chair and looked at Potter closely. He reminded Draco of someone, besides the fact that Draco knew him from his dream. “I'm Draco,” he said at last.
“Draco? Really?” Potter looked surprised. “I thought you looked familiar”
“I do?” Draco was surprised now. “I mean, you do too.”
“We met when I was eleven, at Madam Malkin's. And I saw you the year after in Flourish and Blott's.”
“That was you?” Now Draco was amazed. Not only had he been dreaming of Harry Potter all these years, but they'd met. He remembered Harry now.
“Yeah, that was me.” Potter smiled and Draco smiled back, until he remembered what they were doing.
“As fascinating as this is, I believe we have things to discuss.” Draco said haughtily.
“Right then, I guess I should...” Potter lifted his hand in an expansive sweep between them.
“Yes, you should.”
“Okay then...I, uh, was looking for a weapon,” Potter was staring at the table, but looked up when Draco snorted.
“A weapon? That ridiculous. Beside the fact that this is my bedroom, not a weapon storage facility, they won't let me have anything sharper than a table knife. I don't even have my wand, anymore.” Draco sneered at Potter. He really was a twit.
Potter looked utterly shocked. “You...are you a prisoner here?” His voice was rather squeaky. Draco found he preferred it low and closer.
“Of course I am. What kind of a hero are you anyway? Do you really think anyone in their right mind would stay here voluntarily?”
“How do I know you're in you're right mind?” Potter said with a smirk. Draco wanted to slap it off his face.
“So now you chose to be articulate, great.” Draco leaned back in his chair and looked away.
“Well, there's plenty of otherwise sane people out there who follow voluntarily, how am I to know you're not one of them?” Draco frowned. Potter had a point there.
“I'm not. I don't want to be here, but I don't have a choice. No one asked me, anyway, and my fa...never mind, it's not pertinent.” Draco bit his lip. He didn't want to bring his father into this, for many reasons.
“Pertinent? Are you...you know what, forget it. The fact is, I came here because I discovered that Riddle was keeping a weapon here and we determined that this is the room he was keeping it in. You're sure you don't have any idea what I'm talking about?” Potter was leaning forward on the table now, his eyes filled with the same determination that Draco remembered from his dream. He shivered. “It would really help me out.”
“Potter, I've been here for almost five years now. They've barely let me out of this room, you can be sure that I've searched every inch of it, top to bottom. There's nothing like that here.”
“Five years? That's...but why?” Potter's face was a now a study of disbelief. Draco couldn't help but sneer a bit, the boy seemed unable to keep his every emotion from his face.
“I don't know, exactly. I mean, Riddle plans to...use me for some kind of spell, or something, but I don't know why he wants me. I'm nothing special, really. But no one will tell me.” Draco kept his face as blank as possible, talking about his situation was terrifying.
“Well, that's it then,” Potter said, pushing the chair back and rising to his feet. “We have to get you out of here.”
“We...what? You're going to rescue me?” Draco stood as well, shaking his head in disbelief. His recent dream flashed through his mind, he remembered running, always running, holding Harry Potter's hand and feeling safe in it's grip. Could it be now? Was this really happening?
His mind was reeling, but Potter kept talking.
“Of course I'm going to rescue you!” he exclaimed. “If you're here against your will, I can't leave you, now can I? Besides, I kind of like you, snarky, pretentious git that you are.” Potter grinned at him and Draco's stomach flipped.
“It's not pretention when you're amazing as I am,” he replied back huffily. “Then it's just the truth.”
Potter rolled his eyes. “Fine, whatever. Now are you coming with me, or aren't you?” He held out his hand, meeting Draco's frightened eyes with that same determined gaze.
Draco had a moment of panic at the thought of leaving, of never seeing his parents again, at being free in the world for the first time since he was twelve years old. He wasn't even sure what he would do with himself, but his heart raced at the possibility of being by Potter's side, of arguing with him again, in better circumstances.
The hesitation lasted about 3 seconds, before he really realized what he was doing, he reached out and took Potter's hand. It was dry and warm and the touch made Draco shiver. He'd been dreaming of this boy for a reason. He did know that he could trust Potter, no matter what was to come. Even if he was a twit.
“Good, let's go,” Potter said, tugging him toward the door. “I've already been here too long. They'll be freaking out by now.”
“Wait,” Draco pulled his hand away, turning back toward his armoire. “I need to get dressed.” He began opening drawers and pulling out clothes. He was reaching for a set of robes when Potter stopped him.
“Not the robes, they'll just get in the way.”
Draco turned to give him a sneer. “I'm not going out unless I'm properly dressed. I wouldn't be caught dead looking like you.” His eyes flicked up and down Potter's shabbily dressed form.
Potter rolled his eyes. “No one cares what you look like. But the robes are bulky and they swish when you walk. We need to be quick and quiet. Just put on some slacks and a sweater, it's cold out this late.” Potter bent down to pick up the Invisibility Cloak he'd abandoned by the door.
“Fine,” Draco grabbed his warmest clothes, casting a mournful glance at all the fine items that he would be leaving behind, but he didn't hesitate. Freedom was better than a gilded cage any day. Besides, he'd rather die than be bonded to...he shook his head. 'Don't think about it, Draco, just get going.' He hurried to the bathroom, uncomfortable with the idea that Potter might watch him get changed.
He dressed as fast as he could, putting a few of his more personal items in the pockets of his linen jacket before leaving the bathroom. He stopped briefly to take a well worn journal out of his bedside table, before joining Potter at the door.
“How are we going to do this, exactly?” Draco asked as Potter swung the Cloak over his shoulders.
“This Cloak makes us invisible, so as long as we're quiet, we should be able to slip out unnoticed. It's how I got in, after all.” Potter adjusted the Cloak so that it draped over his head as well and Draco was struck by the oddness of the situation. Potter was only visible where the Cloak gaped open.
“This is bizarre,” Draco muttered, but he allowed Potter to pull him close so that they both fit under the Cloak before fastening it up the front.
“Welcome to my world,” Potter chuckled into Draco's ear, wrapping his arms around Draco securely as they moved toward the door. The hot breath on Draco's neck and Potter's proximity were distracting, but Draco forced himself to focus as Potter opened the door slowly. It would take all their wits to get out alive. Draco took a deep breath, forcing his feet to move when Potter said go.
The first few steps were tentative, but the feeling relief was overwhelming. He was leaving. After five long years, he was leaving. The dismal fate he had resigned himself to was fading as a bright uncertain future rose up to take it's place.
He was free.
*
July 1991
Harry pushed open the door to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, giving one backward glance at Hagrid, before sighing and entering the shop. He was nervous about being left there, for however short a time, but he was excited about going to Hogwarts and he'd need robes.
On the dais in front of him was a small blond boy who looked to be about the same age as Harry himself. He was getting fitted for robes as well, but they were a dark red, instead of the black robes that Harry's list required.
He stood up beside the blond boy as he was directed, sending a small smile his way. The boy lifted an eyebrow at him, rather imperiously, but it only made Harry grin. It was as if he was playing dress up with his father's clothes, the look did not suit his small pointy face.
“Is something funny?” the boy asked, turning away from Harry to watch the seamstress as she hemmed his robe.
“No, I...” Harry stammered. He was saved from making up a response when Madam Malkin came back in with a robe for Harry to try on.
The other boy looked at him again. “Going to Hogwarts, are you?”
Harry nodded. The boy continued, giving Harry a once over. “I'm going to Durmstrang. Father says that I will receive a proper education there, not like at Hogwarts.”
Harry bristled. “My parents went to Hogwarts, so it can't be that bad,” he shot back.
“Well, mine did too, and they say it is,” the boy said. He opened his mouth to speak again, but closed it, studying Harry closely now.
“Are you...do I know you?” he asked, and Harry shook his head. The boy sniffed. “Well, you look familiar, anyway.”
“Oh,” Harry said, at a loss of how to respond to that.
“I'm Draco,” the other boy, Draco, said, giving Harry another once over. “What's your name?”
“I'm...uh, I'm Harry,” He replied, holding his arms out so the seamstress could take his measurement, feeling slightly ridiculous.
“It nice to meet you, Harry, though we'll probably never meet again. I'm sure to make loads of new friends at Durmstrang, Father says it's where all the proper pureblood families send their children.”
“Oh,” Harry said again, feeling like a twit. But Draco seemed not to have noticed, he was still talking.
“Do you play Quidditch?” He asked, continuing without waiting for Harry to answer. “I am going to try out for the team right away. Durmstrang lets the first years bring their own brooms--not like Hogwarts. I'd love to play on a real team, flying with practise balls just isn't as much fun.”
“Are you good at it?” Harry asked. He didn't know what Quidditch was, but Draco seemed to know what he was talking about.
“Of course I am. I'm a Malfoy, and Father says that Malfoys succeed at whatever they do.”
“Your father says a lot,” Harry replied, wishing he had known his father long enough to have learned something from him that he could respond with.
“Well, he knows a lot, so of course he tells me. I'm his heir, you know. It's a sacred duty and not to be taken lightly.” Draco lifted his chin, and Harry was reminded unpleasantly of Aunt Petunia when she looked down on those she thought lesser than herself.
“I suppose,” Harry replied. He was saved from any more unpleasant conversation by Madam Malkin, who had finished with Draco's robe and was instructing one of the seamstresses with measurements and colours.
“All finished for today, Mr. Malfoy,” she said, puling the red robe off his shoulders. “You may tell your mother that the order will be ready within a week and will be owled to you promptly.”
“Thank you, madam.” Draco said politely, before turning to Harry. “Well, have fun at Hogwarts, Harry. Perhaps we'll see each other again.” He smiled politely at Harry before turning and strutting out of the shop. Harry got the impression that Draco hoped they wouldn't meet again but he honestly didn't care. Draco was snobbish and annoying, and Harry was suddenly glad that they would not be going to school together.
*
June 1997
They moved as swiftly and quietly as possible through the darkened hallways of Riddle house. The house was silent at this late hour, moreso because of the ongoing revelry Draco had been pleased to leave, but Draco's heart was still pounding with desperate fear of being caught. They were very lucky, only needing to pause once as they slipped down the main staircase toward the foyer. Two men in black robes alighted the stairs, side by side, leaving Draco and Potter no choice but to flatten themselves against the wall, Draco's back pressed tight against Potter's chest. Suddenly he found his heart beating for an entirely different reason.
Potter's arms were wrapped around his shoulders, keeping the Cloak securely closed, and Draco felt as if he was wrapped in safety. Potter smelled good too, despite his scruffy appearance, he smelled clean, like soap and pumpkin juice, and youthful male. Draco breathed in deeply, wishing that there was time to savour it, for they were moving again before he realized.
The made their way down the last bank of stairs and crossed the foyer, past the front door and down a side corridor. Draco was baffled, freedom was only a few steps away.
“Potter, you idiot,” Draco hissed. “Where are we going? The door is ove...” He was interrupted rather abruptly when Potter clamped a sweaty hand over his mouth.
“Shh,” Potter said, his breath hot against Draco ear. “We're not going out the front door, do you have a death wish?” Draco shook his head as best he could. Potter's hand dropped to his shoulder again, guiding Draco firmly down the corridor to a room on the east side of the house. They slipped through the door quietly, moving immediately across the room toward a set of delicate french doors.
“See?” Potter whispered. “This is how I got in, and this is how we're getting out. They'll be waiting for us in the woods, just there.” Draco followed Potter's gesture and spied a dark lawn and the darker grove beyond. “We'd heard that the house would be almost empty tonight, and this was the best way in.”
Potter opened the door and guided Draco through it, closing it securely behind himself before nudging Draco forward.
“It's that easy?” Draco said, hardly daring to believe that they were outside, with one less obstacle between them and freedom.
“Even with the house near empty, Riddle is so secure in his own superiority that his wards are rather flimsy. It was tricky to open them enough to let me through without taking them down, but Hermione is a wiz with that kind of thing. I don't know how she does it.”
“Who's Hermione?” Draco asked. She must be one of the people waiting from them. Draco was curious and excited to meet them. It had been so long since he'd seen anyone other than his parents, Riddle and the dark robed guards who stood outside his door at all hours.
“My friend. She and Ron will be worried, but it's not far now.”
They moved swiftly across the lawn and were into the woods before Draco knew what was happening. The weaved through trees and brush for a few minutes until they reached a small clearing, where Potter stopped. They stood in the silence for a moment before he gave a low whistle, but the answering whistle came quickly. The two trees directly in front of them stepped forward, shadows morphing until Draco saw they were not trees, but two people in dark robes, with hoods pulled up.
“Harry, where are you?” one of them whispered, receiving an elbow in the ribs from the other.
Draco shivered as Potter's answering chuckle vibrated against his hair. Being this close was unnerving, and his stomach was rolling with nervousness. Potter pulled the Cloak off and Draco shivered in the cold air. The loss of Potter's body heat was chilling in more ways than one.
“Hey guys. Alright then?” Potter grinned at his friends, who pulled their hoods down and smiled back.
“Alright, Harry,” said the redheaded boy, while giving Draco a sceptical look. “Who's this, then?”
“This is Draco,” Potter replied, dragging a hand through his already messy hair. “He's coming with us.”
“That's interesting Harry, but what about the...you know,” The girl said, twitching her head to the side. Draco sneered. She was clearly trying to communicate something without actually saying it, but with all that bushy hair, she just looked like she'd been hit with a stinging hex.
“Well, about that...” Potter began, but before he could complete the thought, a blinding light came on behind them. Frantic voices began to holler as the alarm was sounded.
“They've noticed I'm gone,” Draco said, gripping Potter's hand desperately.
“We have to go,” Potter said, holding Draco's hand and tugging them further into the woods, away from the house. The other two followed, and they were running together through the trees. The sounds of pursuit were getting closer, and a familiar panic began to overcome him. His attention was diverted and he tripped over a tree root, stumbling out of control, the certainty of capture and death threatening to drown him, until he felt the tug of Potter's grip on his hand, urging him on with a frantic “Hold on, Draco,” and he was filled with such certainty and determination he was able to regain his footing and keep up again, as the cries began to fade behind them. He could see the other two running beside them, which was odd, because he'd never seen them in his dreams and...
Draco gasped in a shocked breath, pushing his legs harder as he looked up at Harry, remembering suddenly how he had woken up, just before Harry had entered his life again.
“This way,” Harry said pulling him to the left and down a steep hill toward an almost hidden path below. The others were right behind them, slipping down until they hit the bottom, then running, always running until they could only hear themselves, panting breaths and pounding feet. They turned sharply and Harry tugged him to the side again, ducking under a few tree branches before stopping suddenly.
Draco braced his free hand on his knee, panting desperately to draw fresh air into his lungs. He was not accustomed to the exercise. Being trapped in one room for five years did not allow for such aerobics.
“Everyone okay?” the redhead asked, already regaining his breath.
“I think we've lost them, but we need to go now,” replied the girl from beside Draco. She took out her wand and held it up, level with her shoulder. Draco didn't have long to wonder what on earth she was doing because the next moment there were bright lights and a blaring horn, immediately in front of them.
Draco jumped back with a shriek, terrified until he felt Harry's hand pull him closer, his amused voice calming Draco as he spoke. “It's the Knight Bus...it's a little startling at first, but it's going to take us home. Not the smoothest ride ever, but underage wizards can't be choosers.”
Draco looked at him, wondering what he was talking about, but Harry pulled him forward again, so he followed. Trusting Harry had worked so far. The other two were already stepping up to the door that had opened at the front and the girl was paying for all of them before bustling them inside and up a set of stairs at the back of the bus. Before Draco had time to take in his surroundings, they were sitting on two rickety beds, staring at each other in awkward silence.
Finally, the bushy headed girl spoke up. “I'm Hermione Granger,” she said, speaking to Draco. “And this is Ronald Weasley. What was your name again?”
Draco shot a glance at Harry, who was biting his lip as he watched them. Draco's stomach churned. “It's Draco, and I'm very pleased to meet you both.”
“Surprised, as well, I'd wager,” she tilted her head, studying him.
“Yes,” Draco replied, glancing at Harry again.
“You look familiar,” Ron said, watching him no less intently. “Have we met somewhere?”
“I doubt it,” Draco sneered, not liking the his intense gaze. He was positive that this was one of the Weasleys his father used to complain about, and the thought was not very comforting. His stomach was feeling a bit sick, all the scrutiny combined with the drop in adrenaline and the sudden realization that his parents would likely be punished for his escape were leaving him with a sour taste in his mouth. His head began to spin as the girl spoke up again.
“Ron's right, you do look familiar. What's your last name?”
“Guys, lay off a bit, he's had a hard night,” Harry said, shifting closer to Draco protectively. Their shoulders were touching now, and Harry felt warm against him. It was soothing.
“Well, where did he come from, Harry?” Hermione said. “It's rather suspicious, don't you think?”
“Not really,” Harry answered. “He was in the room, and there was no weapon, so you can relax. Our information was wrong.” The other two shared a look.
“How can we be sure he's not a spy? He could tell them where we are, it could be a trap," Ron demanded.
“He's not a spy, Ron, I promise.” Harry's fingers squeezed gently, and Draco realized that they were still holding hands and that somewhere along the line their fingers had entwined. He was nervous and suspicious of Ron, but he found that he quite liked it.
“But how do you know?” Hermione demanded, her eyes dropping to their joined hands.
“I just do, alright? I can't explain it. Anyway, how is he going to tell them where we are, he doesn't even have a wand!”
“Why not? What kind of a wizard doesn't have a wand?” Ron was sneering at him now, but not nearly as good as Draco. He sneered back, showing him how it was done.
“The kind who's been a prisoner for five years,” Harry snapped back. Draco closed his eyes and leaned more heavily against Harry's shoulder.
“What!?” the other two exclaimed in tandem. “What do you mean?” Hermione asked.
“I mean, I know that the weapon isn't there because Draco told me so. He's been kept there for five years, against his will, and that's why I couldn't leave him there. Our information was wrong. There is no weapon, just Draco,” Harry said.
“But that's...I don't understand, Draco, why...” she stopped and Draco could feel all their eyes on him, even though his were closed.
“Draco?” Harry said. “Draco, are you alright?” His voice was low and urgent, so Draco opened his eyes, letting his head rest against Harry's shoulder, looking up into his concerned eyes.
“I, uh...I don't feel very good,” he said in a whisper.
“It's okay, I've got you.” Harry said comfortingly. He let go of Draco's hand and wrapped an arm around his shoulder instead, pulling Draco against his chest securely. He looked up at his friend. “You can ask him your questions later, let's just get home first.”
“Alright, Harry,” Hermione said quietly, and Draco closed his eyes again. Harry was warm and solid beneath him, and his heartbeat was reassuring. Quiet settled over Draco and soon he found himself drifting off, lulled by the rocking of the bus and the presence of the boy he'd been dreaming of his whole life.
Part two