Title: Going Home - Part 2/3
Draco sat up, the last of the papers settling in the pile of everything that had to be graded. He ran a hand over his face, tired at the events of the day. He had forty-seven students, and in a fit of insanity, he had asked for a two-foot paper on the human body and how it worked. Some of them had been interesting, and he knew that those few were going to end up in the Prophet or at Witch Weekly, for the small amount of time it continued its publication during the beginning of the war. The others were all the same, varying degrees of right and wrong facts, written in a tone of voice in which there was no room to brook the argument they felt this was interesting. He knew it was boring, he thought it was boring, but it needed to be done, and so he made them read and write papers.
He heard yelling outside his corridor and he looked up, seeing that class should still be in session according to the clock. Figuring it was some students with free time, he ignored it until he heard a shouted curse and he reacted before he thought, his wand out and pointed at the door, muttering a see-through spell before he had a chance to process.
The door turned opaque, the figures on the other side slightly fuzzy as they moved and shot spells. None of them had a silver edge that deemed a dangerous spell, but he kept watch, knowing that the students had to fight now and then, but he didn’t want them to get hurt. One of the figures turned right then, and his heart clenched as he saw Harry’s face, frowning in concentration.
It was then he paid more attention to the fight, standing up, a hand braced against the door, fingers curling as he itched to move in and protect Harry from all possible dangers. He chewed on his lower lip, nervous as he caught sight of Pansy standing there and suddenly he felt his insides freeze over. It wasn’t supposed to happen yet, he had another week before this. Everything was moving too fast. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
He reached for the door handle, intent on stopping this, and stopping the events about to come, but he stopped himself. Harry needed this. He needed to understand. It was vital. Draco closed his eyes, his forehead resting against the door as he heard the shouted curses and hexes, the names and the exclamations of pain and triumph echoing around him.
He opened his eyes, looking at Harry who was being clapped on the back by Ron, and then at Pansy, who was on the ground, eyes wide in shock as she stared up at Harry. Blaise had crouched down, rubbing a hand over Pansy’s shoulder, his own eyes burning with resentment, and Draco knew that for all it was too soon, he was powerless to stop him as Harry turned his back and began to walk away, chatting with Ron.
He watched as Blaise stood up, wand outstretched and pointing at Harry. He heard his lover's name echo around the hall and Draco watched as Harry turned wide eyed.
The word echoed around the corridor and he watched the red light lined with silver flash towards Harry, getting closer and closer until it hit. Harry dropped to his knees, hands coming up instantly, blood beginning to spill between fingers and out of his mouth.
He could hear yelling as blood began to pound in his veins and he watched as Blaise and Pansy suddenly ran away, casting smirking looks behind them. It was that look of triumph, that look without guilt or fear that broke through his defenses, and he yanked the door open, face glowering in rage. He took in the sight of blood bubbling out of his lover’s mouth, spilling between his fingers as his eyes became more and more glazed as his life slowly slid away. He could see fearful, and hopeful, blue eyes look up at him.
“Get Poppy,” he said, his voice barely a whisper, and yet Ron obeyed, setting Harry on the ground gently before scrambling up, running away from the two of them and turning the hall. Draco ignored him, dropping down to his knees and dragging Harry’s body up against his, holding him close, moving Harry’s hands, covering the wound with his own, attempting to hold it closed, blood staining his clothes and skin.
“Calm down, you’re going to live, you’ll be fine,” he murmured, uncaring if it was the truth, knowing he needed to get Harry’s rapidly fluttering heart rate down, to calm down, so his heart would stop pumping so much blood. He drew Harry’s body closer to him, seeing his eyes suddenly fill with hope, and Draco managed a weak smile down at Harry. “I need you to calm down,” he said, the heart rate under his fingers not changing at all.
He looked up, looking for whatever hope would be at the end of the corridor. The only sound he could hear was the gurgle of Harry’s throat trying to get a breath down. He looked back down and saw that Harry’s eyes had slid shut, his breathing had slowed down, and his skin had taken a gray tinge to it. He jostled his leg, needing Harry to wake up, but he didn’t. He remained still and lifeless. It was then he noticed that Harry was colder than a moment ago and he swallowed.
His mind began to work frantically, trying to remember what had happened. Harry had never remembered this part, and Ron had never told him for some reason. He looked up again, willing Poppy to come and hurry, to save Harry, but no one was coming. It was as if he was the only person in the castle.
A thought came unbidden to his mind, and before he fully comprehended it, he was closing his eyes, the incantation burned fully in his mind.
“La mia vita unto voi, heilen Sie, leben Sie wieder,” he whispered, feeling something well up inside of him before spilling over .
His vision turned black, spots of colour dancing before his eyes as he suddenly felt older, felt as if he had lived for a hundred years instead of just seventeen and thirty respectively. He was vaguely aware of noises around him, of a blaring alarm and voices coming closer, but all he could feel was the muscles, then the flesh knitting together underneath his hands and he whispered it again, softer, more forceful. He felt Harry’s body wrack with shudders before the brunet threw himself out of Draco’s arms, dropping to the side, coughing, spitting, hacking up the blood and small pieces of something onto the floor.
His vision cleared and he was faced with the view of Harry kneeling on the floor, forehead pressed against the stone next to a pile of red vomit. He looked up, seeing Poppy, Ron, Severus and Albus standing there, wide eyed and he raised a shaky hand, running it over his face, forgetting the blood that was on his hands before he ran it through his hair, pushing the dark hair off his face.
He shivered, limbs and body shaking. He had never used that spell, and he never knew that this would be the price. He felt like he had aged a hundred years, his limbs were shaking, and he was more tired than he could ever remember being. He heard a cough and he turned, looking at Harry who was shaking, looking as if he were on a verge of a meltdown.
He swallowed, attempting to regain his composure. “Mr Weasley, take Mr Potter to the hospital wing. Do not let anyone see you.”
Ron stood there for a moment, shock and confusion on his face before he nodded and helped a pale Harry up. Draco winced as he caught sight of the pink scar that ran along Harry’s neck and he wished he could’ve healed that as well. He pushed himself up, eyes on the retreating backs of Ron and Harry as he stood on shaky limbs.
“Professor … I,” Poppy said, clearly at a loss as she frowned at him. “What was that?”
“A spell,” he replied. “A new one that hasn’t been invented yet. We’re going to have to Obliviate them. They cannot know, and neither can any of you.”
He could see Severus opening his mouth, about to complain, but then it closed with a nod. “Will you tell us what the spell did before you do?” the potion’s master asked.
Draco looked at Albus, who was still looking at him in shock. “It ... gives the recipient a piece of your life force, allowing them to live, as well as using your magical energy to heal themselves. It can only work on flesh wounds. It won’t work on Avada Kevadra. The problem with the spell is that it forms a … bond of some sort. No one really knows what this bond does, but we do know that it makes the recipient stronger, more resistant to physical attacks.”
The other three stared at him in shock for a moment before Albus seemed to shake himself out of it. “A bond? That cannot be good.”
“Trust me, it’s to me, not to the younger me. It will hold no sway over Harry. The Harry I know has that exact same scar,” he said, remembering the feel of the raised and bumpy skin under his fingers.
“If you are sure,” Albus said still wary.
Draco nodded. “I am.”
He raised his wand, intent on Obliviating the memories from them when Severus held up a hand. “What about the culprit?”
“The two of them disappeared from school without a trace. They will be taken care of,” he said, rage burning deep inside his gut.
Albus looked worried, but then a sort of steely determination came over his eyes and he nodded. “Thank you, Professor.”
Draco nodded and before any of them could say anything else, he wiped their memories clean, eyes wide as he watched their eyes glaze over for a moment before looking around confused.
“It was for your own good,” he murmured as he had three sets of confused gazes look at him. “Mr Potter is in the Hospital Wing. He needs to be cleaned and checked up on. And I need to speak to him.”
Draco stopped outside of the infirmary, eyes glued to the door, knowing he had to go in and Obliviate all memories of this. He wished this wasn’t getting so hard. When he had started to do this, it was so easy, so easy just to sit back and watch their faces, as they slowly got used to the extra laps and the other exercises he put them through. He thought maybe he would’ve had to deal with some broken bones and issues over certain fighting styles they were going to learn. Nothing to this extent. He had never even considered the possibility that he was so vital to the events in the future.
His memory of his seventh year had always been hazy, gaps missing for no reason at all. It had always annoyed him that he could never remember events that other people talked about, and now he knew why. He had never been good at messing with people’s memories. He could do it, but only if he concentrated hard, and when he had Obliviated his younger self, it had been in a split second, no time to plan it out and think. He was sure he messed with his mind accidentally and it annoyed him. Although at the same time, he was relieved that he knew after all these years why he couldn’t remember.
He pressed a hand against the door and took a deep breath, knowing he was going to have to go in and do this, without any questions and just tell them what needed to be done. Closing his eyes for a moment, he opened them and pressed on the door, the old wood groaning and creaking as it once more opened to reveal the injured parties.
He saw a flash of red down the end, next to the bed that had Harry’s name scrawled affectionately above the wall. He drew back his shoulders and squared them, face carefully blank and emotionless. He was not going to allow his personal feelings to mess up their mind like he had messed up his own.
He could see Harry struggling to sit up as he moved close, and he shook his head. “Lie down, Mr Potter. You are mostly healed, but not completely.”
He could see the distrusting and curious green gaze look at him for a moment before Harry nodded and sunk back down into the cushions, the scar wrapping around three-fourths of his neck bright in the harsh light of the infirmary. He waved his hand, conjuring a chair with ease and sitting down, robes arranged around him. He crossed his legs and leaned back, looking at Harry, and then at Ron who was watching him with an odd look as well.
“I trust the both of you have questions?” he murmured.
“I know who you are,” Ron blurted out, face suddenly burning red when he realised when he had said.
Draco managed to keep his expression under control and he merely raised an eyebrow, as if he were amused and not about to run screaming from the infirmary. “Is that so?”
Harry was looking between the two of them oddly, and Ron nodded, face redder than his hair. “I heard you talking to Malfoy and then I saw you Obliviate him.”
Draco’s other eyebrow raised and he looked at Ron incredulously. “Then, I guess it is no use in denying it. However, you do know that I am going to have to get rid of that memory, as well as the memory of the events that just transpired, correct?”
Harry swallowed. “Sir, is that really necessary?”
Draco turned his gaze to his lover and nodded. “I am afraid it is. The spell is not going to be developed for a few years from now and I cannot allow you to walk around with this knowledge, as well as what can happen. It is dangerous and something not to be trifled with. “
“Who are you?” Harry asked, looking between Ron and Draco, green gaze calculating.
Draco shrugged and turned to look at Ron. “You can tell him, neither of you are going to remember it anyway.”
Ron looked at him for a moment before turning and whispering in Harry’s ear. Draco watched in slight amusement tinged with some trepidation as Harry’s face went white with shock and then red with anger. Draco flicked his hand as soon as he saw the telltale flush, silencing the room just in time.
“You slimy little ferret! You deserve to rot in Azkaban for all that you did! I actually thought you were a good person, but in reality you're just a little snake who came here to make sure Voldemort wins!” Harry raged, turned redder and redder with each word.
Draco sat through it, emotionless, knowing he needed to allow Harry to vent some steam before anything else could happen. The other man, for all of his wisdom in the years to come, still wore his heart on his sleeve. And, he had the shortest temper fuse Draco had ever seen. Even Ron had calmed down after a couple years of war, realising not all was black and white, but that there was a lot of gray in the world.
Draco watched Ron who was looking around nervously for a moment before switching over to Harry who was panting, eyes wide and face red, his hair sticking up at all angles looking for the world like some deranged, psychotic killer.
“Are you done?” he asked, smirking a little as Harry huffed and crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back, green eyes looking at him furiously. Eventually, Harry gave a sharp jerk on his head and Draco leaned forward.
“Now, trust me when I say you currently don’t like me, but also trust me when I say that in about four or five years that is going to change. I am not the same person in this day and age. I grew up, I matured, I realised that Voldemort was an idiot and I was an even bigger one to follow him. You’re not going to remember this, but trust me when I say that all is going to turn out well in the end, and that having your memory erased is a good thing,” he said, tapping his fingers against his chin.
Harry looked at him dubiously and he sighed. “I know it’s hard to believe and there is really nothing I can say or do to make you believe me, but do you honestly think Dumbledore would allow me to teach here if I was a member of Voldemort’s ranks, never mind the fact that I teach a Muggle defense class? Do you really see the current Draco Malfoy teaching what I teach? I’ve changed and, if nothing else, think about it and see from what you know about me.”
Harry’s arms relaxed slightly then and Draco leaned back, recognising the signs of a reluctant acceptance. He crossed a leg over the other and removed the wand from his pocket. He placed it on the bed carefully, seeing the blue and green gazes look at the wand and then back again at him.
“It would be best if you were asleep for this, that way if something is missed then it would only seem like a dream and nothing more. I am going to Obliviate this conversation and modify the memory of my healing you, making the wound seem less severe and easily healed,” he explained, looking from one to another.
“Professor,” Harry began, brow wrinkling a little at the familiar epithet on someone he hated. “How old are you?”
Draco managed a small smile. “I’m 30, and the war is over, you won, and survived, along with Hermione and Ron.”
Harry slumped against the headboard, relief and wonder flooding his features for a moment it turned suspicious. “I’m not going to remember this, am I?”
Draco shook his head. “No, but the spell never takes away emotions, so you will remember the feeling of relief, among others.”
Harry looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding and scooting down the bed, getting comfortable. Draco was disquieted over how easily this Harry seemed to accept Draco for who he was. He was so accepting and optimistic, so unlike his jaded lover that it almost tore his heart in half.
“Hopefully I won’t end up like Lockhart, eh Ron?” Harry said with a chuckle, turning to his best friend who had a slightly stunned look on his face.
“Yeah, that’d be a shame,” Ron replied after a moment, seeming to come together at the last moment.
Draco nodded and pressed his wand against Harry’s temple. “Goodnight,” he murmured.
He heard the faint reply before he cast the sleeping spell and Harry’s eyes fluttered closed and a deep rumble was emitted from his chest as the brunet snuggled into the covers, looking every inch of his seventeen years. Draco leaned forward, wand still pressed to Harry’s temple as he concentrated carefully before casting the spell, sending a prayer to every deity he could think of, hoping he wouldn’t mess this up like he had messed up his own memory.
He dropped his arm, wand by his side, watching as Harry simply mumbled and turned over, snuggling further into the pillows. Draco allowed himself a moment to watch Harry sleeping so peacefully, storing it away in his mind before he turned to Ron, who was chewing on his lip and tugging at his fringe, looking deep in thought, just like he did night after night when he stayed up looking at, and revising, strategy plans.
“I would suggest you find a bed,” Draco murmured.
Ron looked up, slightly startled at the reminder that there was someone else in the room. He looked nervous, blue gaze darting around the room. “I … uhh,” Ron began, running a hand through his red hair.
Draco raised an eyebrow, waiting for Ron to finish what he was going to say. When nothing came, he cleared his throat expectantly.
Ron flinched slightly and took a deep breath. “Look, I really, really don’t like the idea of people messing with my mind. It’s a paranoia of sorts and so I was thinking I could keep this a secret and y'know, help the Draco that’s my age when he starts to act like you, so people could accept you better.”
Draco raised an eyebrow. “Are you under the impression people accepted me?”
Ron blushed. “Uhhh, yeah?”
Draco leaned back, an arm curling around the back of his chair, rolling his wand between his fingers as he looked at the flushed redhead. He shrugged a shoulder. “I was, eventually” he said. Come to think of it, Ron had been particularly accepting, almost jumping at the chance to shake his hand when he had finally changed sides. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad for Ron to remember certain things.
“Then I can help,” Ron said earnestly.
Draco sighed. “Even if I did allow this, how can we know you are going to keep the secret? You could be captured and tortured, every memory drawn from your mind and my position in jeopardy.”
Ron frowned, chewing on his lip and tugging at the forelock of his hair again. Suddenly, a light seemed to come on his face and he looked up. “A Secret Keeper. You can be the keeper of the secret, so that I can’t tell and no one can find out!”
Draco raised an eyebrow, having to admit that for all of his planning and ideas, this had to rank at the number one spot of things he shouldn’t do. And yet at the same time, he wanted to. He sighed. “That would be a singularly bad idea,” he began, watching as Ron’s face fell and fear slowly began to trickle in. “However, I cannot seem to make myself disagree with you, and as such, I am going to allow it, with some rules.”
Ron’s worried filled face suddenly lit up and he sat straight, looking overjoyed. “Sure? What?”
“I am going to have to remove certain events from your mind. The outcome of the war and how I healed Harry namely. Those are too dangerous for you to have running around in your mind,” he said.
Ron looked thoughtful for a moment. “I can handle that, I think. I just don’t like having my memory messed with.”
“There are some things that need to be forgotten,” Draco replied, voice serious.
Ron looked thoughtful for a moment before nodded again. “Let’s do it.”
Well, today sucked, for lack of a better term.
You have no idea, and I can’t talk to you about it because of these goddamn books and the fucking wards and it’s a fucking piece of shit and I really don’t like life right now. I need to rant and I can’t rant to anyone!
What about your friends?
They wouldn’t understand?
Poor Robin. You know I would help if I could, right?
I know, thanks.
No problem, what are friends for?
I guess through these books we are. Do you mind?
You know what, Alex? I really don’t mind.
I guess you’re stuck with me now.
I guess so.
We’re probably going to hate each other if we ever meet each other.
Probably, but that is what makes it all the better. It’s like a little piece of us that no one knows about, talking only to each other. Spy shit and all that. I wonder if everyone else gets along like we do?
Probably not … ouch … fuck … my friend hates the other person. Says that the other person is probably a mindless … fuck … well, you get the point.
Yeah, I do. You swear a lot more now, Alex.
You’re a bad influence, Robin.
I guess I am. Good.
Don’t sound so happy. People might wonder if you’re crazy.
I can’t help it. My day was that bad. There is no more room for anything besides happiness.
Ah … shit. Have to go, friends got in.
Alright, night! Sleep tight!
Hope the bedbugs bite you!
Draco looked around at the other teachers, all of them staring at him in pain and disgust. He could hear the screams, the cries for help from the outside and he closed his eyes, fighting against the bonds that held him, wanting to get free, wanting to save them. They were young, they didn’t deserve this. He looked over to where Blaise Zabini was standing, face arrogantly proud that he had managed to get all of the teachers down, and Draco knew it was partly because he had got him. That a simple seventh year student had managed to get the one person who knew what was going to happen, without much of a fight. Draco had been dreading this day for so long, knowing that he would have to live through it.
He had not participated the first time round, stunning himself so he wouldn’t have to see the faces of the people they were attacking. He had dealt with the aftermath, the screams and cries of pain of the injured and of friends and family finding loved ones dead, eyes open wide and glassy, their lives ripped from their hands by a few spoken words and a flash of green.
He heard an inhuman howl and he closed his eyes, a sob managing to make its way past his lips, tears gathering at the corner of his eyes and the sound of another scream sent the first tear rolling its way down his cheek. He knew he would be hated, and he would relish it, take their anger and accept it, knowing that they couldn’t accept him, and he would never be able to accept himself. It was impossible. He would live with this pain for the rest of his life, knowing that he could’ve stopped this one act and instead had let it pass.
He heard the sound of a scream, and it sounded older, deeper, like one of the other years beginning to fight back and winning. He knew Harry and his Defense Association had fought back and won, killing a few of the Death Eater’s children in the process, but no one cared, not a single person had mourned the few seventh years who had been lost during this battle. They were the reason it was begun, and death had been too kind of a punishment.
He heard someone screaming and even after all these years he recognized the voice. It was Pansy, her insane cackle followed by the shout of a killing curse, and she was cut off mid-yell and he relished it, knowing that once again, she was dead and gone from his life. He chanced a look at Blaise and he saw that the dark-skinned man’s eyes were wide with worry and he was chewing on his bottom lip, his slightly crooked teeth tearing into the flesh and making a small trickle of blood begin to wind its way down his chin to drop on the floor.
He began to struggle, his inner turmoil breaking free and overpowering his need to leave time alone as it was and let it pass. Years of training allowed him to use this worry, this nervousness that Blaise was clearing displaying, to break though his bonds. He felt his arms and legs begin to move again, the rigor from the full body bind slowly seeping out of his body and leaving his muscles feeling sore.
He ignored it, palming his spare wand from where Blaise had forgotten to check in his trouser legs and before Blaise could fully turn towards him and defend himself—Draco had shot a stunning spell mixed with a stinging spell at Blaise. He watched in satisfaction as the man fell to the ground, muscles twitching with pain as the feeling of a whip struck across his skin again and again.
He turned towards the teachers and waved his wand, releasing the bonds. They spared him not a second glance as they rushed out, wands drawn leaving only himself, the Headmaster and Severus Snape in the room. As soon as the door was closed, he felt a long-fingered hand wrap around his robes a moment before he was slammed into the table, the air expelled from his lungs by the force of the attack.
“What the fuck is this all about?” Severus hissed, voice low and eyes flashing.
Draco closed his own eyes, unable to see the blame and anger in those eyes and he turned his head away. “It needed to happen,” he murmured, the excuse sounding flimsy, even to him.
“Children needed to die,” Severus ground out.
Draco nodded. “They did.”
He felt himself being drawn up and slammed back down, pain radiating from his back and he relished it. Needing the physical reminder than he was human and not a god. He could not change the flow of time.
“Theirs was a needless death and it rests solely on you, Mr Malfoy,” Severus accused, his voice quiet but each word hitting Draco like a physical blow.
He looked at the man. “You don’t think I know that? You don’t think that if I didn’t warn people, then I wouldn’t have to live through his again? I don’t want them dead! I wanted them alive! But it needed to happen! They needed to see that this war is real!”
He pulled back from yelling in the man’s face, anger staining his cheeks a pale red. “Do not mistake me for some emotionless doll. I have feelings, and goddamn it, I feel responsible for every single life out there, but it needed to happen. No one really understood the war. Most people assumed it wouldn’t affect them. Do you know how many people were going to remain neutral? Do you understand how many children of Death Eater's saw the carnage and turned away from Voldemort to join the Order? No! Because you haven’t fucking lived through it. I know how it changes things, and I know what it means in the long run. But it still hurts because I know that these are children and I could’ve done something about it and I didn’t and I am going to go to hell because of it.”
He had managed to sit up during his impassioned speech, staring Severus straight in the eye as he did it, panting slightly and tears running in two silent tracks down his face.
Severus stepped back, onyx eyes glowering, thin lips twisted into a sneer of disgust. Draco could see him warring with himself, wanting to attack him for allowing this to happen to children, and another part confused. He looked about to get into another yelling match when a wrinkled and aged hand landed on Severus’s shoulder and he quelled under the soft, sad, heavy gaze of the Headmaster.
Draco looked away, unable to bear the pity he could see in those blue eyes. He wanted to go home right then and there, damn whatever consequences would result of his actions. He wanted to be wrapped into the firm arms of his lover and just sleep away, pretending this was all just a horrible nightmare and that he would wake up at any moment, roll over and none of this would have happened.
“The ability to change time and events is a wonderful thing, but it is not changing anything that can sometimes prove to be the hardest thing of them all,” Dumbledore intoned softly, his words barely audible but sounding as if they were shouted into a microphone enhanced with a Sonorous spell. “I am deeply sorry Mr. D’Arcangelo for this, and I further apologise for whatever shall happen to you in the next few months of school.”
Draco turned his gaze away, feeling tears drip onto his hand and he raised his hands and scrubbed at his face furiously. He dropped his head, despair running through every fiber of his being. He felt a hand on his shoulder and he shook it off, just wanting to be alone for the time being. He felt the other two move away, leaving him alone. He drew his legs up, wrapping his arms around them, curling into a ball with his chin resting on his knees.
He flicked his fingers at the wall, watching as it shimmered and changed, showing the outside, the battle finally finished with the addition of the trained teachers. He fought back bile as he stared into the glassy eyes of the children, no more than thirteen or fourteen, spread out on the floor, books and papers and ink everywhere, having spilled from bags trying to run.
He could see the older students, injured and gasping, others crying and holding the bodies of friends. He could see the teachers attempting to regain order, Poppy running around, trying her hardest to get to everyone so she could heal them. He could see those with broken bones, gashes running across their bodies and blood staining the walls and the ground.
“Severus, go get all the potions you can. Get the older students to take those who are mortally injured, or too injured to move and take them to the hospital wing. Find Miss Granger and Mr Potter and tell them to take all the students to the Great Hall,” Dumbledore said, breaking Draco from his staring contest with the wall.
“Mr Malfoy, I understand your guilt at this point, but am I right in assuming you know how to heal?”
Draco nodded. “I was the team’s healer during the first half of my time with the Order,” he murmured.
“Then, for the lives you could not save, attempt to help those who can still be saved. Go help Poppy in the room,” Dumbledore said.
Draco nodded and stood up, body still numb and mind ringing with two sets of memories, the ones he witnessed this day thirteen years ago and the new ones formed today. He braced his shoulders and wiped his face, casting a low-level glamour, hiding the redness of his eyes and the tear tracks on his face. Gathering himself in a way only a Malfoy could, he moved to the door, bracing himself against the hateful glares and opened the door.
A hush fell over the room, all who were conscious staring at him, blaming him and he walked through it all, wishing someone would punch him, yell at him, scream or something. He managed to stay calm, walking through the bodies quickly, heading towards the infirmary.
He stopped in his tracks at the voice and he turned slowly, seeing Seamus Finnegan standing there, holding Ginny Weasley close, her blue eyes staring up at him accusingly.
“You could’ve stopped this. You utter bastard! I hope you rot in hell forever,” Seamus spat, brown eyes glaring furiously at him.
Draco met his gaze and nodded once. “I hope I do too.”
Alex? Are you there? Please tell me you’re there. I really hope you’re there. Oh god, what if you died? I think I might go crazy without these nightly talks. Please be there, please, please, please. Please, don’t have died on me.
ALEX! Oh, thank Merlin. I was worried. I mean, after what happened, and I didn’t know which way to turn and I’m sure that … fuck … people got caught in … shit, and since I don’t know what … Ouch … Well, I was worried!
I’m fine. I got a bump on the head that Pomfrey healed up. Are you ok?
A couple of nicks and bruises, otherwise I’m fine. I guess we lucked out, eh?
I’m glad you’re ok. I really think I’d miss you and I don’t even know who you are!
I wish we could find out!
He said we’d only find out by chance, he would never reveal it.
I hope we meet. I could use a decent friend.
I have a few … I can always use more.
Me too. Alright, this day has been bad enough. Let's try and learn some more, eh? What’s your favourite colour, Robin?
Green and silver are nice colours. What’s your favourite holiday?
Easter. I love chocolate and the fact that we get lots and lots of chocolate is good.
I like Christmas, it’s always so pretty when it snows, and you can have hot chocolate and sit in the snow and throw snowballs. It’s fun.
I like coffee in my hot chocolate.
That was random.
No it wasn’t, think of it like a natural progression. I like chocolate, and then you said hot chocolate. I was merely continuing the train of thought and saying that I liked coffee in my chocolate.
You’re English, have some pride. Tea all the way!
That watered down shit? Not on your life. It's disgusting.
No tea with scones and clotted crème for you, then?
No tea. Yes to the others with raspberry or apricot jam, please.
I like jam, end of subject.
It is good. I like it with a piece of toast and tea.
Tea is still gross. I like it spread out across an attractive male to lick it up.
... Are you serious?
Yeah, have a problem with that?
I … I … goodnight.
Robin? Robin? What’s wrong? FUCK!
Draco flicked his wand, stopping another ‘misfired’ from hitting him. He turned around, seeing Hermione turning away from him, nose in the air and a scowl on her face. He could see the rest of the students looking at him with rage burning in their eyes. Even Ron, although he knew who he was, couldn’t seem to keep the glower from his face.
Draco felt the rushing of another spell towards him and he flicked his wand, looking over at Harry who was staring at him defiantly. He sighed. “Class, take your seats,” he said, waiting until all of them had sat down.
“Right, I understand your animosity towards me right now,” he began, only to be cut off by people beginning to yell.
“You let them die!”
“You could’ve stopped them!”
“My sister is dead because of you!”
“So’s my brother!”
“You’re a murderer!”
“You should’ve died as a child!”
Draco waited, hearing the hurled insults and accusations and filing them away for later. He shifted, forcing the emotions down, away from his eyes. He waited until the room had quieted down and it seemed everyone was as fraught as he was and had collapsed back in his chair. He drew his legs up, crossing them Indian style on the desk and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and chin in his hands.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them. “I am well aware of what you think of me,” he began hearing snorts and watching as people began to look away, uncaring. “And frankly I have to agree with the lot of you.” That caught their attention as the class turned to look at him in confusion.
“Do not believe that I am so heartless that I was able to retain my sanity over what I have helped happened. Do not forget that I have lived through all of this before; I have seen those children’s faces before, lying there just as they did. Do you think to understand why I was able to sit and watch it happen? I know what this does to everyone, I know how this changes everything and affects the war. It might not seem like it now, and I swear to you it was needed, but it will help. If this had no change on the outcome of the war, I would’ve told someone and stopped it from happening, my own future be dammed,” he said, voice strong and emotionless as he looked around the room.
“Professor,” Harry who spoke up eventually. Draco looked at him and raised an eyebrow in question. “Can you tell us one of the outcomes?”
Draco fought to keep from biting his lip as his mind whirled with the possibilities. Eventually, he nodded. “Do you know who the biggest support, monetary wise, the Order has?”
The class as one shook their head. Draco took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “It was Sonya and Luke Macmillan, Ernie Macmillan’s parents, and as you know he passed away in these recent events. In doing so, his parents, as he was an only child, became neutral and moved away, effectively losing half of their monetary support.”
He could see the confused looks cross over half of the student’s faces, and the other half looked smug at the possibility that the Dark Lord had more money. He wondered why no one had ever figured out who was going to join who, all these children were so open, and try as they might they wore their hearts on their sleeves.
Suddenly, Dean Thomas jumped up, pointing a finger at him, body shaking in anger. “You … you’re a death eater,” he accused.
Draco fought to keep from rolling his eyes. “Sit down and do not accuse me of what you don’t know.”
“You didn’t deny it,” Seamus replied.
“I teach a Muggle defense class, also known as people without magic defending yourself. Last time I checked, it was Voldemort’s sole mission to cleanse the world of them,” he said, attempting to not sound sarcastic.
That seemed to calm a lot of the students down as they realised it was true. For the past eight months of school, they had been learning how to fight, without magic.
“Professor,” Hannah Abbott began. “Would you be able to tell us something that benefits Harry’s side?”
Draco turned to look at the blond-haired girl, and after a moment jerked his head. “With the loss of the youngest Weasley child, the third eldest son, Percy, came back to his family and the six brothers actually formed a team. The six of them, when in the same battle, were unstoppable. Bill was the leader, Charlie dealt with transportation and creatures, Fred and George did ammunition, and Mr Weasley was the strategist,” he said, falling silent.
“What about the pr-Percy?” Ron asked predictably.
Draco managed a small smirk. “Turns out Percy had a lot, and I mean a lot, of pent up anger. Most of the Death Eaters were afraid of him. There was a rumor in Voldemort’s ranks … if you saw Percy Weasley, begin to pray, because you had just seen the god of death in his vengeance. That man is an arsehole and a damn good fighter.”
He could see the stunned look on Ron’s face and he blanked his face, not showing his amusement at the man’s predicament. Draco, even now after ten years of knowing who and what Percy could do, had trouble reconciling that image with the images of Perfect Prissy Percy.
“So I would suggest, Mr Weasley, that when your brother comes back and you want to shoot him, don’t. He is a very, I repeat, very, important figure in this war. I daresay that even some of the more hardened Death Eaters are afraid of him. He was the one who took out Fenrir Greyback.” He bit his lip, mad at himself for slipping up that piece of information. He closed his eyes for a brief moment waiting for the inevitable.
Draco sighed. “A spun silver garrote one night, and I shall say no more, class dismissed.”
Draco ignored the shouts of anger and confusion, as well as a wish for more, but remained silent, waiting until the last student had grudgingly filed out before dropping both his head into both hands. “Shit.”
Well, that was an enlightening class.
Talking to me again, then?
I … umm … I’m sorry about before. I was confused and I realised it doesn’t matter.
Because you don’t know me?
No! It’s not that is just that I … well … it’s not that! I promise!!
Of course it’s not. You just happened to get weird over something I wrote. Perhaps you’d like some more? I am sure I could find something in my perverted mind that would tickle your fancy.
I’m fine! Really, I’m fine with it! I just overacted, that’s all! I promise it’s nothing to do with you!
Of course it’s not, that’s why you freaked out. Perhaps you’ll run if I say I like to suck cock? Like to feel it slide down my throat and then explode, letting me drink it all up. You ever tried your own semen? I’ve tried mine and others, and Merlin, it’s like ice cream but better. It’s musky, with a slightly salty taste. I love to have a cock slide in and out of my arse, or with me riding them, backwards, forwards, sideways, any ways, just as long as I get that burn. I liked to be used, I love to be tied up and ridden like there is no tomorrow. I love to be dirty, covered in sweat, lube and spunk, spread out like some whore in a backstreet, hair messy and begging for another round. Does that creep you out as well?
I … merlin.
Still here, then? Want some more?
No! I’m fine. I said I’m fine with it and I am, just, please stop.
Whatever. Goodnight, Robin.
Draco leaned back, looking at the calendar, two fingers of firevodka in his hand, steam curling gently along the clear surface and rising into the air. It was May 29th, two weeks before the end of school. He was in shock that it was nearing the end of the year. The students had had their final, in class exam, on Monday, covering everything they had learnt in the school year in his class. It had been a six hour long test, and most of them had stumbled out of there, bleary eyed and looking as if they were going to pass out.
He raised the tumbler, taking a sip of the drink, watching in slight amusement as a curl of smoke exited his lips and he felt the rush of liquid move down his throat settling in his stomach in a slow burn, heating him up from inside out. He took another sip and rested the glass against his cheek, looking into the fire, sadness etched into every fiber of his being. The school year was almost over; Harry was going to leave in three days and he would not see his lover, except from a distance, for another thirteen years.
His stomach clenched, fighting back the sob that for the first time this year fought to tear itself away from him and gain control of his body. He couldn’t do this; he couldn’t give into the sadness, not wanting to know where it would take him. He was leaving in a few weeks, travelling, learning, helping when he could. He was going to spend his time learning more, learning how to heal, and how to help. He was going to come back and help. Help with the repairs and help build this world up into the shining example he had read about in his childhood, with faeries and werewolves and everyone walking together in a peaceful place.
He sighed, taking a bigger swallow of his drink, the smoke exhaled from his mouth almost in a ring. He smiled, feeling warm and fuzzy, and he knew he was getting drunk. He had never been able to hold his liquor very well. It didn’t matter; he had nothing to do tonight. He was off duty until Friday.
He heard a sharp rap against the worn wood off his door and he sat up, feet coming down off his desk, tumbler set on the smooth surface and hand scrubbing at his face, removing traces of the tears that were on his cheeks. He grabbed his wand, adding another layer to the glamour already on his face and took a deep breath, making sure he was presentable. “Come in,” he called out, leaning back against his chair, once more emotionless.
The door opened to reveal his Harry standing there biting his bottom lip. Draco held back the urge to jump the boy, hating him for dressing like that, in his low pajama pants, too small, too tight shirt, scruffy hair and cheeks, eyes bright behind his overly large glasses. It wasn’t fair for him to tease Draco, to torment him with this innocence that would soon be lost.
“How can I help you, Mr Potter?” Draco asked, his voice sounding sure and strong.
“I was wondering if I could … errr … talk with you about something, Professor,” Harry asked, stepping further into the room.
Draco’s mind was sending signals that this was a bad idea in his current state, but he nodded anyway gesturing to the high-backed chair across from his desk. “Of course, sit.”
He watched Harry with slightly glazed, hooded eyes as the brunet sat down, fidgeting slightly. Draco watched him, fighting the urge to throw him across his desk, hoist his legs up over his shoulders and kiss and fuck the living daylights out of him.
“What can I do for you?” he asked after a moment of silence, shaking his head slightly to clear the lingering thoughts.
Harry seemed to brace himself, taking a deep breath. “Well, you see I came here because I wanted to know something and you seemed like the best person to ask and it’s really an odd question so if you don’t answer then that's ok because I know the whole 'can’t let the future change' and all that jazz.”
“Mr Potter,” Draco said in amusement, cutting Harry’s rambling short. “Could you please just say what it is you were going to say.”
Harry nodded, cheek flushed. “I was wondering if you knew if I was gay or not.”
Draco was stunned as he stared at his lover. He opened his mouth, and then closed it, torn between confusion and amusement. He opened his mouth and closed again, this time setting his jaw into a firm line. “Shouldn’t that be something you decide yourself?”
“I mean, I think I do, but then at the same time I don’t and I really want to know because it would make life a lot easier. I mean, when I look at Seamus or Ron I don’t feel anything, but then I look at Charlie, Ron’s older brother y'know, and suddenly I’m,” Harry stopped and blushed them, the colour spreading slowly across his cheeks and down his neck. “Well … I’m, what I mean to say is that …”
“... you have an erection,” Draco finished with a smirk, ignoring the feeling in his groin at the thought of Harry hard.
Harry’s blush, if possible, deepened until it was a scarlet red covering his face, ears, neck and the top half of his chest, Draco was sure of it. He fought to keep from breaking out in laughter, the alcohol in his blood making everything seem funny at this point, even his current predicament.
Harry nodded. “Yeah, that. But then I also get an… erection,” he continued, speaking the word as if it was Voldemort’s name. “When I look at Ginny or remember Cho or Alicia.”
Draco blinked, forcing himself to remain calm and cool, and not as if he was one drink into being completely sloshed. “This might come as a surprise Mr Potter, but it is possible for one person to be attracted to both sexes. Have you ever kissed either sex to determine if you are attracted to one over the other?”
Harry grimaced. “I kissed Cho and she cried, and then kissing Ginny was ok, and I kissed Alicia once and she just pushed me away and laughed.”
Draco snorted in amusement. “Perhaps you should attempt to look towards the more feminine side of the female scale, Mr Potter, and see if that works. And if you think you are gay, attempt to find a male in a similar quandary, or attempt to coerce one of your dorm mates into ‘experimenting’ and see what happens.”
Harry blinked, looking confused. “The more feminine side?”
Draco nodded. “Has it come to your notice that the women you are attracted to are all Quidditch players? Not exactly the greatest examples of a female body.”
Harry shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “I dunno. You can’t help who you like.”
Draco did laugh at this and shook his head. “That is untrue.”
Harry suddenly looked defiant. “No, it’s not. If I find someone attractive, then I must like them right?”
Draco shook his head. “I find the younger Lord Voldemort, during his Hogwarts years to be attractive, and yet I don’t like him because of his persona.”
Harry appeared stumped. “But ... he … he’s old!”
Draco suddenly felt morose, wishing for a time where the greatest folly that Lord Voldemort had was in the fact he was old. This innocence, this naivety, was refreshing and saddening as well. “As I said Mr Potter, when he was in Hogwarts.”
Draco suddenly stood up, unable to handle this any longer. Stepping out from behind his chair, he pushed it back in and looked at Harry. “I think it is time for you to go to bed, Mr Potter.”
Harry jumped up. “But you didn’t answer my question!”
Draco sighed, wanting to yell ‘you are gay and end up with Draco Malfoy, so just get on with it’, but remained silent. “That is not something I can tell you. You need to figure it out for yourself.”
Harry opened his mouth to reply, to fight to get an answer, but he seemed quelled by the slightly peeved look on Draco’s face. Draco walked briskly to the door and stood by it, hand on the door handle. He heard footsteps grind to a halt behind him and he turned to bid Harry a good night when suddenly he was pressed against the door, a pair of lips covering his own.
He stiffened, knowing this was breaking a hundred and one laws, and he raised his hands, moving to push the other man away. Instead, his fingers curled around thin arms and held tight, tilting his head to the left and kissed back. He kept his eyes open, looking at Harry through a fog of lust and alcohol-induced haze as his mind yelled at him.
He felt a hand settle on his hip, the other one wrap around his arm, dislodging his own hand. He moved that hand up into the unruly black hair and opened his mouth, tongue snaking out, tracing the contours and lines of Harry’s lips and he fought back a whimper of need as those green lips fluttered shut and the pink lips opened up tentatively. He tightened his grip, holding Harry’s head steady as he took charge, kissing the man he loved for all his worth. He explored Harry’s mouth once more, running along the familiar ridges and bumps, taking in the same taste, fighting back the urge to come right then and there out of the simple pleasure of being close to his lover.
He gasped, feeling the tongue his was sliding against begin to move, caressing his own as he turned, slamming Harry against the wall, his hand cushioning the brunet’s head. The grip on his hip tightened and he felt Harry shift, legs spreading, allowing him to settle in the cradle of Harry’s thighs.
He could feel Harry’s erection press against his own and before he knew what he was doing, he was grinding against Harry. He heard a moan, and he opened his eyes from where they had slid shut and pulled away. He looked at Harry, whose cheeks were stained red and his glasses were crooked. His mind screamed at him then, telling him to get away, leave before you get any further, and pass it off as a drunken mistake.
However, at the same time, Harry decided to take matters into his own hand, a leg coming up to wrap around his thigh as began to grind against Draco, animalistic lust taking over and making him want more and more. Draco felt the heat emanating from Harry onto his own, teamed with that delicious friction and he closed his eyes with a cry of defeat and latched onto the scar around Harry’s neck, sucking and biting gently, knowing it was a sensitive place. He was rewarded with a moan and a low growl, the hand around his neck sliding into his hair and tugging. Draco shuddered at the bittersweet pain that came from the roots of his hair being tugged gently from his hypersensitive scalp. He moaned, pressing the brunet back against the door for all he was worth, hips moving in desperate circles.
He felt Harry stiffen and the small half-whimper in the back of his throat sounded and Draco knew he was going to come a second before he felt warmth bloom between them. He fought to keep from coming, a desperate attempt to regain control of the situation. However, for all his mind was thirty, his body was still seventeen and it only took one more gasp, one more lust-filled sound to send him over the edge, muscles contracting, tingles of something running up and down his spine and teeth sinking into the bumpy flesh under his mouth. He moaned softly, panting as he kept his head down, eyes squeezed shut, his mind slowly coming down from his lust-induced haze and reality set in, making him nervous and jittery.
He could feel Harry’s rapid pulse beat against his forehead and he kept his eyes close hearing the small chuckle.
“That … was … I mean … wow,” Harry said, sounding awed.
Draco squeezed his eyes shut and before he knew what he was doing, a whispered Stupefy had Harry collapsing into his arms, eyes closed and sleeping. He felt the other man carefully, somehow getting the both of them over so he could put Harry back down in the chair.
With one last lingering kiss against the slack lips he stood back, reaching for his wand on the desk. Looking at Harry, he closed his eyes and waved his wand, casting two cleaning spells, removing any traces. A few spells later, the kissed lips and the teeth marks along his neck were gone, leaving him looking as normal as ever. Draco leaned in closely, pressing his wand against Harry’s temple. Closing his eyes he concentrated carefully and cast the Obliviate, removing the memory from Harry’s conscious mind, hiding it until Draco himself released it.
Draco leaned back, looking at Harry sitting there sleeping, and he fought back tears as he went back around his side of the desk and sat down much like he had before and with a muttered spell, forced himself into indifference and watched as Harry slowly woke up.
“I think that is all, Mr Potter,” he said, fighting against his voice.
Harry looked confused for a moment before the frown cleared, and he nodded. “Thank you, Professor.”
Draco nodded. “Have a nice night.”
Draco watched as Harry turned and walked out the door. He waited until the door was closed and then grabbed the first sheet of parchment he could find. He wrote a short note, folding it and sending it to Dumbledore before he dropped his head into his hands and for the second time this year, cried.
We’re done, we’re done with Hogwarts.
That is what usually happens when one leaves, you know.
I know that, you prat. But I mean. We’re done, seven years of schooling, and it was over with a smile, a handshake and a quick photo. It makes it seem meaningless. Like it was only a moment in time, a short breath from Father Time’s mouth, a simple blink.
You’ve been drinking.
No! That’s silly. I only had a couple glasses of the punch.
It was spiked.
Really? Wonder who did that. Bet it was … ouchy. It hurt me, kiss me and make it better! I mean, kiss it!
I don’t even know who you are.
I’m … ouchy. I have … ouchy … I like to drink punch. The red punch is good, yummy yummy. You shouldn’t eat the yellow snow.
I’ll keep that in mind for the future. Meanwhile, find one of your dormmates and get him to help you because I think you’re going to puke soon.
No, I’m not! Don’t be silly. I am perfectly fine! Really I am. Maybe maybe, baby baby, I might be drunk. I was born on … ouchy.
Go to bed. You’ll regret this in the morning.
It erases it all! It goes away! Bye bye birdy. Bye, bye, bye. I think I’m happy now!
You can go back and read on it. Just write the date and then the word read after it. He explained it in last class.
Class, class, classy class ,class. I’m not classy. I fall over everything and I’m always bruises. Are you classy?
Yes. Now, bed, now.
I think you’re pretty.
You don’t even know what I look like.
I think I’m gay. Can we kiss?
M’not drunk, wanna kiss you!
Go to bed, we’ll talk tomorrow.
Night Alex! I love you Alexy, Alex, Alex!
Night, Robin. Drink Coffee in the morning. The caffeine helps.
Okie dokie, Alex ponikey. I love you!