(no subject)

[aoifene]

Title: Carpe Draconis
Author: Aoife Malfoy aoifeism
Pairing: H/D
Rating: NC-17 for violence
Genre: Angst, Action/Adventure, Humour, Romance, Smut
Warnings: AU. Written before HBP. No HBP Spoilers. Post Hogwarts, Second War Era, Draco-centric
Disclaimer: Property of JK Rowling. Only borrowing for my own amusement.
Beta: the lovely micolerose
Summary: Is it possible to capture a dragon when you suddenly find one within your reach?
Author's note: This story is not particularly fast paced.

 

Act VII.

 

Si vis pacem, para bellum.

 

If you want peace, prepare for war.

 

Harry woke up that day with a sense of deep-seated trepidation. He had never been good at Divination but the feeling in the pit of his stomach weighed down on him as he continued through his last morning ritual and he couldn’t help but predict that something big was going to happen today. Of course, that feeling could very well be just because it was his last full day as a student at Hogwarts. However, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was something more than that. It could also be because of how shaken he still was from his most recent encounter with a certain Slytherin last night. He shook his head. He didn’t want to go down that road again. He had stayed up almost all night thinking about that confrontation and his subsequent embarrassing problem he’d incurred and he didn’t want to dwell on it for a second longer. After all, what else could it do but rob him of whatever piece of mind he was able to purchase this morning when he decided to push all those confusing feelings aside. It wouldn’t do him any good any way. Malfoy hated his guts. He wasn’t queer. That was the end of that.

 

The sinking feeling prevailed as he went about his day. It followed him all the way to breakfast as he watched all the happy smiling faces, the cooing lovers and the boisterous friends. He couldn’t help feeling like a morose idiot amidst the gaggle of happy teenagers. What was wrong with him? It’s bad enough that he felt like he had an ever-present target attached to his back that attracts dangerous situations left and right but now he couldn’t even manage a smile for his Year mates on the last day of school? He was free now! No more Snape to yell at him and deduct points. No more stupid exams to cram for with Hermione’s lectures about procrastination providing background noise. He was well on his way to becoming a full-fledged wizard in the eyes of the Wizarding World. Surely that warranted a cause for celebration? Or at least a smile for fuck’s sake! But here he was moping like some dour Gryffindor version of Snape. He sighed. He knew he was in trouble when even that didn’t stir him from his mood. His housemates hadn’t even dined to converse with him, recognizing correctly that he was brooding. Ron wasn’t even making a sad attempt to lift his spirits with a flat joke. Perhaps he’d finally learned something. After all, living seven years with a person, a bloke learns a thing or two.

 

He was about to continue brooding when the Hall’s doors flew open with a bang. Turning his head to search for the cause of the commotion, his jaw dropped at the sight that met his eyes. For there, framed amidst the sunshine of the early morning, was Lucius Malfoy.

 

Growling low in his throat, he watched the poncy bastard make his way through the hall. He was just about to demand what the bloody hell Lucius was doing here when Ron beat him to it. He almost hit the roof when he heard the wanker’s reply. How could Fudge fail the Wizarding World yet again? And letting go Voldemort’s right hand man at that? Why doesn’t he just hand over the Wizarding World on a silver platter while he’s at it? What could have possibly trumped his Veritaserum verified testimony and made it possible to let the Death Eater go? He was just about to rip the smug bastard a new one when the git turned away from them, his steps measured and set clearly on one goal.

 

Harry stiffened visibly when the realization of just who Lucius was heading for permeated his furious rage. He was here to take Draco away! He balled his fists and closed his eyes, desperately trying to control his anger. He could already feel his innate magic becoming increasingly volatile and he didn’t want to make a scene. It had been awhile since he’d been this angry, the last would probably at the end of his fifth year and he had shamelessly succumbed to his raw anger then, he would not let it occur again. Besides he didn’t think it would help anybody, especially Draco, if he decked the Slytherin’s bastard of a father flat on his back. He was also quite sure that it would land him in hot water so he hastened to calm himself but he found it to be increasingly hard with each step Lucius took that brought him closer to his son. It also didn’t help that Draco, that scared lost boy he was talking to last night, was nowhere to be found. The boy that was staring fixedly at his father approaching was now undeniably the Malfoy of old. His grey eyes glinting with coldness and his face a mask of unreadable emotion. For some reason that hurt more than it should and that bewildered him to no end. Draco-no-Malfoy had said himself that they would never be friends and that this was his birth right. Should he really be this surprised that Draco-Malfoy damnit!- was going to follow his father? But even though he was berating himself for being stupid enough to get his hopes up over the blond, his eyes were still searching for cool grey. And when he did finally find them gazing back at him, he didn’t break this precious contact, fearing that it would be the last time. Don't go! Don't follow him! You're worth more than that! Harry thought desperately but the blond looked away. Working his jaw tensely, he was about to open his mouth and express his volatile objection when a whisper of a voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

 

Did he just- Did he hear him right? Did the blond just say No? Heart in his mouth, blood racing, Harry strained to hear better and when he caught those words of outright refusal; he nearly couldn’t curb his urge to exclaim in relief. “Oh thank Merlin!” he breathed as his body that was taut as a bowstring, relaxed. He started to make his way closer to the two blonds who were now conversing in rapid fire French but he stopped when he caught sight of Ron getting ready to cast what seemed to be a translation spell. “Ron?! Stop that!” Harry admonished him, swatting Ron’s wand that the redhead was currently pointing at himself.

 

“Huh? What? I just wanted to understand what the hell is going on!” Ron protested, disgruntled.

 

“Well, there’s a reason why they’re speaking in French and that’s because they don’t want anybody listening in on their conversation!” Harry explained to him in a scandalized tone.

 

“So? It’s just Malfoy!” Ron retorted, unimpressed.

 

Scoffing, Harry shot back heatedly, “Even Draco deserves some privacy! It can’t be easy defying his father especially when it’s in front of the whole school!”

 

Snorting, Ron crossed his arms over his chest. “Fine. I won’t use the spell. I don’t know what’s got your knickers in a twist, defending Malfoy of all people.”

 

He was about to go on and demand that Harry explain himself more thoroughly and explain to him why exactly he was using Malfoy’s given name like they were bosom buddies or some such when he realized something.

 

Harry was no longer beside him.

 

“Where the hell do you think you’re going, Harry?” Ron demanded as he caught the brunette’s sleeve. Harry was acting very peculiar ever since he woke up today. At first he just chalked it up to nostalgia since it was the end of a chapter in their lives but he could see now that it was different. He saw the way his best mate was looking at the younger Malfoy earlier, and again just now, with his fiery defense of the Slytherin. Something was definitely up and he didn’t like it one bit if it involved a Malfoy, even one that currently seemed to be defying his own father.

 

“Where do you think, Ron? I want to keep an eye on Malfoy.” Harry cocked his head to the side to indicate the taller sneering blond that was currently wielding his ridiculous cane with malice. “Who knows what he might do especially now that Draco has finally defied him?” Harry broke free of his mate’s grip, only to find himself ensnared once more.

 

“Draco? Finally defied him? Harry, what the hell? You talk as if you’re chums with him!” Ron accused, bewildered by the cordial fashion that Harry was using with Malfoy. Last time he checked the blond could not stand the Boy Who Lived. Harry was actually the only one he refused to be civil to. The Slytherin was even courteous to him for fuck’s sake! What the bloody hell was going on here?

 

“I just want to keep an eye on Lucius.” Harry retorted, fighting to keep from snapping at the redhead that was making it near impossible for him to be closer to the confrontation at the Slytherin Table.

 

“I think you want to keep an eye on Draco.” Ron scoffed, unimpressed by the boy’s excuses. Honestly! He wasn’t as oblivious as some people accused him to be. He had seen the anguished misery that would flit through his best mate’s eyes whenever Malfoy still slighted him. He had noticed the boy’s overt glances at the Slytherin and the faraway look that would sometimes seep into emerald eyes when the blond was mentioned in passing conversation. It was clear to anyone who bothered to look. Harry was itching to defend and protect the younger Malfoy. Now all he needed was to know why.

 

“And what if I do? You can’t tell me you’re not relieved that he’s not going with his father.” Harry shot back.

 

“Of course I am. One less git to fight, that’s what I say but it still doesn’t explain you preoccupation with him. Besides he looks like he’s doing just fine.” Ron remarked as he watched Draco snarl at his father about Merlin knows what.

 

“Yeah well that’s still Lucius Malfoy, in case you’ve forgotten, and he has just proven he’s as slippery as an eel. I wouldn’t put it past him if he hexed his son into submission.” Harry replied quietly as he watched the Malfoy men in battle.

 

“I know. But I don’t think it’s your battle to fight. Besides, Draco might hex you for even trying it. You’re not exactly his favorite person.” Ron protested.

 

Don’t I know it! Harry thought bitterly but he nodded his acquiescence. After all, he was pretty sure the younger Slytherin wouldn’t take kindly to his interference about what he probably considered as his family’s business. Why else would the boy switch to his native language therefore excluding the majority of the population? He’d have to respect that.

 

“You have to admit though, he’s got balls. Not everyone can stand up to Lucius.” Ron admitted begrudgingly. “But still it’s just Malfoy. You shouldn’t be so eager to play hero for the likes of him.”

 

Harry sighed and merely nodded, finding that agreeing with his hot tempered friend was better than getting into a fight with him. However, as he watched the two blonds, his wand was still at the ready in case the elder Malfoy did anything underhanded.

 

A collection of gasps was heard then as Lucius’ cruel voice resounded throughout the Hall, declaring for all and sundry that Draco was no longer his son. Stunned silence prevailed as he continued to strip Draco of his name, fortune and possessions. He even went so far as to destroy the boy’s wand. Harry could not help the intense rage that resurged through his body. How dare he! How dare Lucius cause his own son so much grief and humiliation? His body shook with anger as he tried once again to regain control, already several glass cups were shattering nearby. He took a step forward but was once again stopped by a restraining hand. He glared at Ron but the boy merely shook his head and reminded him again, “It’s not your fight.”

 

“I don’t care!” Harry growled. “I knew the bastard was going to try something! He just publicly disowned his son, what else is he capable of doing?”

 

“What could you do? Force Malfoy to take his son back? Fight the git’s battles for him? You will only get a hex in return from either of them! Besides don’t you think the wanker deserves it? He’s made our lives miserable for years, Harry! One year of his silence doesn’t erase that for me! And you, he hasn’t even let up on you! ” Ron shot back, still unwilling to let his best mate go.

 

Harry worked his jaw, his hands still balled into fists. He knew Ron was right but really there was nothing else he’d rather do than beat the sadistic bastard’s face into the ground. That’s why he was relieved when Lucius suddenly turned away without giving his son a second look. Tension eased from his body as he started to relax, happy that the ordeal looked to be over. He was just making his way over to the hunched blond to make sure he was alright when the boy suddenly erupted into blood curdling screams. Heart racing, he didn’t even have time to think, his feet were already obeying him as he ran to the tortured boy. He caught the Slytherin as he fell into deep unconsciousness, but not before he saw pained grey eyes locked onto his own.

 

--------------------------

 

An hour later, Albus Dumbledore strode quickly through the ancient halls of his school, face lined hard and eyes starkly absent of their gentle twinkling. He reached the Infirmary not long after, bursting through the closed doors, he spared the occupants of the outer room a brief nod and a wan smile. But he didn't stay to chat with them, his mind set on a certain blond. He opened the door to one of the Infirmary's private wards slowly, careful not to disturb its occupant lest he was awake. He stepped inside and was greeted by the sight of a sleeping Draco Malfoy. His eyes softened as he surveyed the Slytherin. The boy's face was relaxed in slumber, devoid of even a hint of negative emotion but as Albus drew closer he could see the lines of exhaustion on the boy's face. He sighed, cursing once more the wasted morning he spent in the Ministry trying to dispute Lucius Malfoy's acquittal. He should have known the bastard would come for his son the second he was able to. But alas, he didn't listen to his gut and had tried to expedite the matter in a more diplomatic fashion.

 

"Forgive me, Draco." He whispered softly, his old heart breaking at the price the boy had to pay for choosing his own path.

 

"What is it about Gryffindors that compels them to self-flagellation in times of despair? Is it acquired from Godric's genetic code or something?"

 

"Severus." Albus greeted the sour man framed in the doorway.

 

"Besides if there is anybody in this room that should be apologizing,” Severus interjected as he moved to stand beside the headmaster, “It should be me. After all, I am the boy's godfather." His hard face softened slightly as he took in the sight of his injured godson, his face paler than he'd ever seen it, his body looking frail and weak. Lastly his gaze fell on the raised mound of tortured flesh that formed that hateful word.

 

“I will kill him.” He vowed with venom and for the first time in twenty years, he was glad he was a Death Eater.

 

“And wound your godson even more? I think not, Severus.” Albus chided him solemnly from atop his half–moon glasses.

 

“What would you have me do then, Headmaster?” He gritted through his teeth. “Stand aside and do nothing? Cower back into the shadows and scrounge for scraps of information? Smile at that bastard like I don’t detest the very air he breathes?”

 

“If you love him then yes. That is what you will have to do.” Albus answered him carefully, his eyes filled with great sadness as he gazed at the patient on the bed.

 

Making a frustrated noise at the back of his throat, Severus threw up his hands and began to pace. “If you mean to tell me that you expect me to pat that wanker on the back and applaud him for doing a splendid job of abusing his child then you clearly are as batty as the portraits say! I am not that good of an actor! If he so much as mentions Draco’s name in front of me, I swear to you, Headmaster, the Killing Curse will not be the only thing passing through my lips!”

Sighing, Albus pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know how you feel, Severus and believe me I feel it as well. You know how I feel about child abuse, especially of those I consider my own but your position as a spy is too valuable. We cannot take any chances! Besides Draco will not take kindly to you killing his father.”

 

“Oh. I doubt that, especially after this.” Severus gazed at the scorched burn that marked his godson’s chest. How could Lucius be so ruthless? Especially to his own son whom he always bragged about?

 

Albus shook his head. “A moment of cruelty does not erase a lifetime of love. Draco loves his father. We both know this. I have seen how he struggled with his decision and now that he has made the right one, don’t make him think otherwise.”

 

“You don’t know what you ask of me, Headmaster.” Severus sighed in resignation.

 

Albus smiled sadly as he clapped a comforting hand on his Potion Master’s shoulder. “I do, which is why I am asking it of you. I know you can do it, Severus. You know you have to keep your distance from the boy and maintain your cover. It’s the best thing you can do to help him.”

 

“You put too much faith in my acting skills.” Severus stated with a wry smile.

 

“No, Severus.” Albus answered softly. “I place my trust in your love for him and that has always been a sound investment.”

 

“Then I must leave now. He cannot find me here.” Severus declared as he took one last glance at the frail boy, refusing to be sucked into one of the headmaster’s touchy feely moments that would no doubt reduce him to a bumbling teary-eyed idiot. “Take care of him.” He whispered softly.

 

“I will.” Albus vowed. Severus stared at the headmaster for a second longer, making sure he found what he was looking for and when he did, he swept out of the room, each step painfully hard, yet he held steadfast to his resolve, even when he knew that come tomorrow, Draco would begin to hate him. He accepted that, for he could handle the boy’s hate if it meant never bearing witness to his death.

 

Albus watched him go, his heart weighed down by what he had just done. A part of him always shattered whenever he had to send the man back into the Dark Lord’s clutches. Albus had vowed sixteen years ago that he would show him the way to a better life. Look at him now. His Potions Master was indeed older and wiser but he still retained the hurt, pain and guilt that had haunted him before. How was his life any different? Any better? And now he dared to add another load to the burden he was already carrying. How much more until he broke? And if he finally did could Albus really blame him? He shook his head wearily, drained by his dark thoughts. He had always trusted the man. He would not stop doing so now, especially mere minutes since he just reiterated it. They both knew that such a war, like the one that’d been brewing for over twenty years, required sacrifices such as this and that if they wanted any peace at all, they should be prepared to die for it. But it was still hard. Sacrifice was still a sacrifice and not even the best of all reasons behind it could make the cross easier to bear.

 

“Fascia.” Albus whispered as he cast a spell to bandage Draco’s marked torso. The wound was already sealed but it would be a cruel thing if the boy woke up to the sight of it. As Albus stood closer to the young boy that Severus had entrusted in his care, his dull blue eyes hardened into ice chips and the old face strengthened with rage. Albus swore quietly that no further harm would befall the Slytherin as his heart filled with fierce determination and protectiveness for the small broken boy. It would be a cold day in hell before Lucius got his clutches on him again.

 

Albus was startled out of his reverie when the boy shifted and began to show signs of regaining consciousness. He debated on whether he should get Poppy or not but ultimately decided against it. He didn’t want Draco to wake up all alone especially after the ordeal he went through. It wouldn’t do well if the boy began to feel even more abandoned than he already was and so he stepped closer, directly into the boy’s line of sight.

 

Slowly eyelids fluttered open to reveal hazy grey and Draco began to try to sit up, his movements stilted and weak. Albus quickly helped the boy into position and he smiled a little at the embarrassed flush that stained the boy’s cheeks. Once righted properly, the headmaster found himself staring at confused eyes and hearing a very peculiar question,

 

“What happened to me, Headmaster?”

 

 

Perrectum.

Exinde:

Act VIII

Prius:
Act VI
Act V
Act IV
Act III
Act II
Act I