Carpe Draconis Act VIII
Jun. 24th, 2006 01:37 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aoifeneTitle: Carpe Draconis
Author: Aoife Malfoy![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
aoifene
Pairing: H/D
Rating: NC-17 for violence and language
Genre: Angst, Action/Adventure
Warnings: AU, No HBP Spoilers. Post Hogwarts, Second War Era
Disclaimer: Property of JK Rowling. Only borrowing for my own amusement.
Beta: the wonderfulmicolerose
Summary: Is it possible to capture a dragon when you suddenly find one within your reach?
Author's note: I think this story has earned its rating in this Act.
Act VIII.
Nihil lacrima citius arescit.
Nothing dries more quickly than a tear.
Albus Dumbledore stared at the boy for a good minute, for he felt something he hadn’t in a long time, confusion. He studied the bewildered young man before him and asked, “I beg your pardon?”
Draco rubbed a fist over his eyes gently, trying to clear his vision. He had woken up, extremely out of sorts in the Infirmary of all places. Last thing he remembered was eating breakfast in the Great Hall. He really hoped to Merlin he didn’t do something as embarrassing as like say faint like a girl. He knew he was stressed out and on the brink of a nervous breakdown but this was simply ridiculous! Malfoys don’t faint like pansies! He seriously hoped that his father wouldn’t have to hear of this or else he’d be in for a long lecture about Malfoy etiquette…again. He shuddered. Merlin, the last one lasted for hours!
“You fell unconscious. It was lucky Mr. Potter was able to catch you before your head hit the ground.” Albus answered cautiously, afraid to reveal too much. He didn’t want to traumatize the boy any further.
Blushing furiously, Draco stared hard at the floor. He had fainted then, although the headmaster had tactfully veered from calling it that, and not only did he do so in front of the whole sodding school as it seems, but he also had to be saved by bloody Potter and probably landed in his arms like some storybook princess or one of his gaudy fangirls! Draco shuddered. Well isn’t that just peachy? The last day of school and everyone would remember him as the Malfoy with the weak constitution who goes about fainting into the arms of stupid heroic Gryffindors! He covered his face with his hands. He’d never live this down! He’d have to run away to Ethiopia, take to wearing Saffron robes and live in a remote hut. Well, or not. He never really did fancy wildlife, Saffron grated on his fragile skin and let’s face it, Daddy dearest would have kittens and drag him all the way back to this side of the pond. He was about to contemplate the pros and cons of living in Istanbul instead when he realized Dumbledore was actually talking to him and from the tired expression on the old fogey’s face, it seemed as if he’d been trying to get his attention for awhile now. “Er- sorry?” He mumbled, cringing at the incoherent level his communication skills had been reduced to.
“I was just asking if you felt any better. Do you remember what happened at all?” Albus asked gently.
“Well, clearly not or the words 'WHAT HAPPENED TO ME, HEADMASTER?' wouldn’t have come out of my mouth!” Draco snapped, confused and more than a little bit scared about what exactly could have shocked him enough to faint in the first place.
Albus smiled tiredly at the boy, focusing on the boy’s nervous state rather than his angry words. The Slytherin had gone through a very rough time, enough to lock away the painful moments from this morning and it only served to add to his agitation. “Forgive me, child. I know it has been a very taxing morning.” Albus tried to placate the boy.
“Something tells me, it’s about to become even more so.” Draco sighed as he eased back down on his pillows. “Now please tell me what happened to me. Why am I in the infirmary? And why the hell is my whole torso covered with gauze?”
He winced suddenly and clutched his head as a barrage of sounds and sensations assaulted his mind.
“Will you lie then with these mongrels? Will you fight for their cause and slay your friends in the heat of battle? All because you are too cowardly to take power when it is rightfully yours? You disgust me.”
Draco shook his head as he desperately tried to shake away the remnants of that daze. What was that? Was it a memory? Who was that speaking with so much anger and derision?
“Draco? Draco? Are you alright, my boy?” Albus called out in concern. Perhaps he should have gotten Poppy after all. Surely the boy needed more treatments. He was just about to call for the nurse when Draco cut him off.
“I’m alright, headmaster. I’m just a bit tired. What is it that you were saying?” Draco asked softly, refusing to meet the old wizard’s anxious gaze. He was beyond humiliated that he had been caught with his mind wandering like a doddering fool.
Albus hesitated in answering. He was originally going to narrate the events that happened before but now seeing how fragile Draco truly was and how affected he was by the whole thing, he changed his mind. It seemed cruel to subject the boy to it again, especially since he didn’t seem to be able to cope with it the first time around. Wouldn’t it be a kinder to leave the boy in the dark right now? Oh he was sure the boy would find out eventually. The curse scar on his chest would take care of that, not to mention the papers were filled with Lucius’ acquittal, but for now he was willing to let the truth slide, if it meant seeing the boy’s face peaceful and unguarded like it was when he was asleep. “There was an incident at the Great Hall. You were hurt by an aimed hex and had collapsed in pain. Mr. Potter took you here immediately.”
Draco flinched at the mention of his rival’s role in all this but he staunchly ignored it. Instead he barreled on. “Well? Who was it? I hope they were severely punished!” Already Draco could name more than a handful of people who would love to see him suffer. He hadn’t necessarily retained many friends with his reclusive attitude this year. “When my father hears of this I’m sure he’ll be livid! Imprisoned or not, he will not stand to have his only son assaulted mindlessly!” He huffed in indignation.
“I am sure that in due time the perpetrator shall reap his own punishment. But I shall not say anything further. This is clearly aggravating you and your wounds cannot stand such a thing.” Albus placated him kindly.
“What? No! I demand to know what happened to me! You cannot withhold this information! Why? Was it one of your precious Gryffindors? Did one of them finally snap and took one last shot at the good old Junior Death Eater? Is this why you won’t tell me? Protecting your cubs once again?” Draco snarled heatedly, furious that Dumbledore was hiding it from him. He wanted to know why his head was aching and sore. He needed to find out why there was an almost overwhelming, not to mention unexplainable, sense of loss and bitterness welling up inside of him.
But most of all, he desperately wanted to figure out why the minute he woke up, he suddenly felt the urge to break down and cry.
Fucking Merlin on a broomstick! He didn’t even know why he felt that way! He hadn’t experienced this much utter loss and devastation since his father was taken away. None of it made sense for if he was just hexed by a fellow student, it shouldn’t have irked him this badly. Suddenly tired and weary, Draco sat back, deflated. Confused and badly shaken, he finally mumbled. “Just tell me.”
Albus sighed. He was really tempted to tell the boy. He had flinched when Draco had mentioned his father during his trademark flaunting of Lucius’ former glory. It saddened him that he would have to take that illusion away from him, a second time. His eyes softened as he gazed at the defeated boy. His shoulders were slumped and his head bowed, something that was starkly different from the way the boy usually carried himself. It dawned on him that right this second, the boy might very well be at his breaking point. One more push could be all he needed to the edge of hysteria. The action of blocking out this memory was his mind’s way of shielding itself until it could cope with it. Albus shook his head sorrowfully. “I can’t.”
Enraged by the headmaster’s refusal and not to mention his own visible vulnerability, Draco demanded. “And why the hell not? You think I can’t handle whatever it is that you’re keeping from me? You think I’m too weak?”
Albus shook his head sadly. “No child, I think you too precious. Too dear for me to subject you to that horror the second you’ve managed to escape from it.”
Draco snorted as he crossed his arms in front of his chest, unsure of what to make of such tender proclamation. He was saved from answering when Madam Pomfrey bustled through the door.
“Albus! Headmaster or not, you should have alerted me immediately when my patient woke up!” Madam Pomfrey admonished the old wizard severely. “And what is with all the yelling going on in this room? This is an Infirmary, not a Quidditch game! I will have your hide if you aggravated my patient!”
“My apologies, Poppy.” Albus offered simply. “Draco and I were too caught up in our conversation to notice.”
Scoffing, the nurse quickly bustled over to her patient, checking Draco’s temperature hurriedly and casting diagnostic spells on him.
“I’m alright. Really, quit coddling me! My head is just a touch sore that’s all!” Draco grumbled, trying to swat the woman’s attempts to manhandle his person. The usually cold and professional nurse was actually cooing at him as she tended to him for fuck’s sake! What the hell was going on here?
“I just wanted to check on your bandages but it can wait. Here have some chocolate, child. There’s a good boy.” Madam Pomfrey smiled softly at the blond. Her usual brisk attitude softened radically by the memory of him looking pale and wan, with that cursed word branded into his skin. She could still remember vividly the acrid smell of burnt flesh when she had tended to him.
Glaring at this uncomfortable and unusual treatment, Draco chewed angrily on the slab of chocolate that the pushy woman had shoveled in his mouth. Insufferable woman! Manhandling a Malfoy! I will lodge a complaint! When my Father hears- His thoughts were cut off abruptly as the Sleeping draught in the chocolate hit finally him. “Blasted candy!” He cursed and then he fell into blessed sleep.
“Thank you, Poppy.” Albus smiled gratefully at the now docile blond. He was running out of excuses of what to say to the boy. He didn’t think Draco should be told about the events this morning just yet. The Slytherin was clearly still shaken up and his nervous system had received quite a jolt with the sensory overload it got from Lucius’ ancient curse.
“How could Lucius be so heartless, Albus? To his own son?” Poppy asked him softly, afraid to wake the exhausted boy as she followed the old wizard to a far corner in the room. Her eyes were shining with newfound worry and concern for the sleeping blond. As a rule she never got emotionally involved with any of her patients but she couldn’t help but be emotional over the sight of the usually aloof boy mutilated by his own father, especially when she learned that Draco had sustained such a curse because of his refusal of the Dark Mark. What he did was nothing short of heroic and even she was moved.
Albus sighed. The man was really heartless, using such a dark and painful hex on his son. The Curse of Judecca or the Traitor’s Curse was one of the oldest and darkest hexes around. It was very popular during the First Rising and it was actually one of Voldemort’s favourite tools in punishing his deserters. The curse coupled with the rite was one of the most despicable things Albus had ever heard of. For after the branding of the curse scar, the Death Eaters would then proceed to cut out the traitor’s tongue, making him mute and then they would string him up and light him on fire, ensuring a slow excruciating death. Could it be that this was what Lucius had in mind for his son? Surely even he couldn’t be that cruel? Albus shook his head. He knew the answer to that and he wasn’t naïve enough to deny it. The boy must be moved, somewhere safe where his father could not touch him.
“I’m afraid that Azkaban did him more harm than good, Poppy. It seems as if he is more cruel and aggressive than ever before.” Albus said sadly.
“Can’t we press charges against him? He’d already disowned Draco by then. He can’t claim it as a discipline method or any such nonsense!” Poppy asked, bristling at the mere thought.
Albus shook his head. “Although he is ruthless in his anger, he is not stupid. He was a good distance away from Draco with his back to the boy and his wand in his pocket. There is no way we could verify that it was he who cursed Draco.”
“But that’s ridiculous! Who else could it be?” Poppy snorted angrily.
“A handful of students come to mind, especially after Draco had renounced Voldemort’s side so publicly. I have no doubt any lawyer worth his salt would be able to win that argument.” Albus explained tiredly. It was times like this when he really hated politics and the Ministry.
“There is really nothing we can do then?” Poppy asked desolately.
“Protect him. Care for him. Tend to him. Make sure Lucius never gets near him again.” Albus instructed firmly. “He cannot stay here for long. He must be moved.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Nothing concrete as of yet. I have to make arrangements and then we shall see.” Albus answered her kindly. “Please alert me when he wakes. He has no recollection of what happened to him so it would not be wise to talk about anything pertaining to this morning.”
Poppy nodded sadly as she watched the headmaster leave then she turned her soft gaze on her patient, wishing she had the power to mend hearts as well as bodies.
-----------------------
Earlier in the waiting room, just outside the Infirmary, an anxious party awaited nervously.
“Christ, Harry! Will you sit down for a minute? You’re making me dizzy!” Ron snapped at his friend who was driving him barmy with his continuous frantic pacing.
“Huh? Wha? Oh.” Harry stopped, finally noticing the redhead trying to get his attention and he reluctantly sat down. But soon enough, he was twitching nervously.
“Ron! Harry! I just heard about what happened! Is it true?” Hermione called out as she ran towards them. “Did Malfoy really defy his father?”
Harry nodded grimly. “And got hexed to hell and back in the process.”
Hermione gasped. She heard snatches of something like that happening but she figured it would just be an exaggeration. After all Malfoy Senior had always spoiled his son. But then again she never thought Malfoy would defy his father either. “What happened to him?”
“Judecca’s Curse.” Ron answered softly, remembering the anguished screams that emanated from the blond. Even he wouldn’t have wished that on the annoying prat and to think it was his own father that had put it on him.
“What is that?” Hermione asked curiously, her pride smarting a little at not being able to recognize the hex.
Smirking slightly at being able to get one over his brainy friend, Ron hastened to explain. “It’s not a well-known curse because it’s highly illegal and it’s some really dark stuff. You won’t be able to find it any books unless you go to the Restricted section or have seen it yourself. It’s a mark that Death Eaters used to put on traitors before they killed them. You-Know-Who used it a lot the first time around. I overheard Dad talking about it when I was younger. He said that the worst victims of the war where the ones who died by the rites of Judecca. I don’t know what that means though.”
“So how was Malfoy marked by his father? Was it like the Dark Mark or something?” Hermione asked, inwardly berating the fact that she missed all this.
Ron was about to answer her but Harry cut him off as he was already in a bad mood because nobody would tell him how the hell Draco was and now one of his best friends seemed to a be just a touch too fascinated with Draco’s mutilation. “A pity, you weren’t there, Hermione. You would have seen how an invisible knife gutted Draco open, mutilating his chest until he screamed, branding him forever with a nifty little curse scar that reads TRAITOR. Wouldn’t that have been fascinating? Something worthy for Hogwarts: A History?”
Hermione gasped, her hand on her mouth, looking quite ready to faint.
Ron shoved him hard. “Hey! You can be a bastard to me all you want but don’t you dare take it out on Hermione! She was just asking a question! Remember she wasn’t there! There’s no need to be so ruthless about it, you dick!”
“Well, I’m sorry but she was looking too fascinated by the whole thing!” Harry snarled, glad to be able to take out his rage on something.
“Fucking Hell Harry! So would you if you never heard of it before and hadn’t witnessed it first-hand! We’re both sickened by it and so is she now that she’s been told. Leave off! I know you’re mad as a rabid hippogriff right now over Malfoy. So am I but at least have half the brain not to take it out on us!” Ron shot back, unwilling to be the punching bag Harry hit to make himself feel better.
Harry was about to retort angrily when suddenly the Infirmary’s doors burst open to admit a somber looking Albus Dumbledore.
“Professor Dumbledore! Professor!” Harry called out, scrambling to catch up with the man but all the headmaster did was smile wanly and nod at him in acknowledgement. He didn’t even break his stride and he quickly disappeared behind the door of the room Draco was sequestered in.
“Fucking Hell!” Harry growled, his frustration and anger exploding at being ignored once again. He wanted to find out what the hell was going on but no one would stop and tell him! Was Draco okay? Did Lucius’ curse do more damage than the scar? “Augh!” He yelled in frustration as he soundly kicked a chair.
Ron nudged Hermione and tilted his head to motion Harry in what he thought was a completely discreet way. He was done dealing with the git. He didn’t want his head bitten off a third time. Bloody hell! Harry was impossible today especially over this whole Draco business. Sure even he was horrified at what the blond had gone through and he was now seeing the Slytherin in a completely different light but surely it wasn’t cause for such dramatics? Besides he wasn’t really good with handling the mushy stuff. He was once accused of having the emotional range of a teaspoon, after all. Granted he’d like to think he’d changed a lot since then, but that still didn’t mean he’d go on hankering for the role of the sensitive friend.
Hermione rolled her eyes. Boys! She grimaced as she bravely walked over to the frustrated Boy Who Lived who was still taking out his ire on several inanimate objects. “Harry? Calm down, okay? Take a deep breath. This isn’t good for you. Plus you’re scaring me.” Hermione said with a placating smile.
Harry whirled around to face her, ready to fly off into another burst of expletives when the look on her face stopped him. She was genuinely concerned for him. They both were. Suddenly, the fight went out of his body as he sagged down towards the chair he was abusing. “Sorry.” He mumbled as he cradled his head in his hands.
“It’s okay. I can see you’re really upset. We all are.” Hermione said soothingly as she rubbed calming circles on his back. “What happened today was really upsetting. First with Lucius being let loose, then this whole mess with Draco. It’s been a very emotional morning,”
“You-you said his name.” Harry looked up in wonder. Could it be that his friends now saw what he discovered as well? Harry blushed. Hopefully, without the erotic leanings he was experiencing because that did not go over well with him.
Hermione snorted. “Of course I did. That is his name, isn’t it? Plus he threw away his last name, Harry. He made a choice between his family and his own life, that couldn’t have been easy. Now tell me what’s gotten you so upset besides the obvious. You really scared me there for a minute.”
Harry sighed. “Sorry. It just makes me so mad! With Lucius then with Draco getting hurt-” Harry trailed off as he looked at the closed door once again, silently willing for it to open and let somebody out so he’d know what the fuck was happening.
“You care about him.” Hermione stated as this realization dawned on her.
“I-uh-um.” Harry stuttered, his face beet red, unsure of what to make of that statement.
Hermione smiled at the incoherent noises her friend was making. It was just like Harry to feel this way. “Oh Harry, don’t be embarrassed!”
What the fuck? Am I that transparent? Harry thought in shock. She couldn’t have figured it out! I mean even I haven’t figured out what the hell is happening to me whenever I’m near Draco! I mean it’s perfectly normal to want to comfort an upset person, right? Or to want to save someone from a horrible fate? Standard Harry Potter behavior, surely! He rushed to reassure himself, ignoring the squeaking voice that reminded him that while that was normal, his fascination with the blonde’s ethereal beauty and body was not something that say someone like Ron would have. He shuddered at the thought.
“Oh Harry, calm down! I just meant that it is so like you to care about everyone, even someone who’s tormented you for years!” Hermione said with an indulgent smile. “Comes with the whole saving people thing, I suppose.” She chuckled wryly.
Harry laughed weakly in response. Oh thank Merlin! He was about to steer the conversation away from this touchy subject when Dumbledore walked out of Draco’s room. Hastening to get on his feet, he rushed towards the old wizard quickly, unwilling to let him escape again without getting some answers. “Professor Dumbledore! How’s Draco doing?” He burst out anxiously.
Dumbledore smiled tiredly at the apprehensive boy in front of him. He really was quite proud of this young man who cared about everyone indiscriminately, even his supposed archrival. “He is doing better, Harry. He’s resting right now for he’s had quite the ordeal. Thank you for your assistance in getting him to the Infirmary. If you were still a student, I’d be awarding you a hundred House points right now, my boy!” He commended him with a small laugh, his azure eyes resuming their old twinkling. It looked like convincing the boy of his plan wouldn’t be a hardship and he was glad for that.
Harry waved the compliment away. He didn’t care about House points! He wanted to see if Draco was truly alright. “Can I see him soon?” Harry asked anxiously, wanting to see for himself that the boy was really okay. He had looked a fright the last time he saw him and the image of a broken and bleeding Draco Malfoy would not erase itself from his mind anytime soon.
“I’m afraid not. He is still asleep and has not yet recovered from all this fully.” Dumbledore smiled apologetically. “However, there is something you can do for him.”
“What is it?” Harry asked, barely able to conceal his frustration about being denied.
Dumbledore held his smile. “I was wondering if it would be okay to have Draco moved to Grimmauld Place. He is not safe here. It is only a matter of time before Lucius tries something else. I wouldn’t put it past him to do so. The most practical thing to do is to house him in Order Headquarters.” He explained.
“Of course he can move in! You don’t even need to ask!” Harry burst out, hardly managing to conceal his delight. Now I don’t have to worry about his safety! He’ll be right under my roof! And no I’m not going to think about those bad thoughts over this. No, sir! Not at all. Harry thought to himself as he blushed a curious red.
“Wonderful!” Dumbeldore exclaimed, his twinkling blue eyes sparkled annoyingly. “But however, there is one more thing I must ask you, something that I must ask all of you.” He instructed firmly, looking to Ron and Hermione as well who were obviously eavesdropping on their whole conversation.
“Eh.” Ron blushed at being caught.
Smiling, Hermione asked. “What is it, Professor?”
“You must not mention anything about this morning to Draco. Not a word about his father or the curse or his disownment. Nothing at all.” Dumbledore asked them sternly.
“Huh? Why?” Harry asked, bewildered by the odd request.
Dumbledore sighed tiredly. He really didn’t like this at all but what else could he do? “Draco has blocked out the memory of this morning. He doesn’t remember a single thing and has no recollection of Lucius or of his deflecting from their side. And I think that it is for the best that we don’t remind him just yet.” Dumbledore explained carefully.
They all gasped at the news. How horrible! Draco didn’t remember anything about the ordeal?
Harry could not believe his ears! Dumbledore wanted them to lie to the boy lying there broken and scarred in the Hospital Wing? He laughed hollowly as he shook his head. The old man hadn’t changed a bit. Manipulative conniving bastard! How could he just gloss over what happened? To deny Draco of the memory of his heroic act was despicable and it reignited his bitter anger. “So you want us to lie to him? To completely ignore what he went though? To go on as if his sacrifice didn’t happen? Merlin! I thought you learned by now!” Harry snarled, incensed at the man for wanting to manipulate Draco, the way he had Harry.
Dumbledore was taken aback by the bitterness and anger that was coming from the boy in waves. He was about to ask him for an explanation when the boy cut him off.
“When will you learn, Professor? I thought you already learned that lies will get you nowhere! Look at what happened to me!” Harry spat, inwardly glad to have found an outlet for his anger at last.
“I am not asking you to lie to him, Harry. He is still quite weak and cannot handle being reminded of his ordeal.” Dumbledore explained patiently, although his insides were churning slowly at the return of the resentful tone he remembered the boy using on him during his disastrous Fifth Year. This cut more deeply than he could have ever imagined.
“A half truth is a whole lie! Merlin, even small children know that! If you keep this from him the way you kept everything from me, you will lose him. He has already chosen our side whether he remembers it or not. If you manipulate him any further, you’d be no better than Lucius!” Harry shot back.
“Harry, it is not my intent to do so.” The headmaster tried to placate him but Harry was having none of it.
“I know that! I know you mean well but that’s not enough!” Harry cried out, suddenly so very tired of the old wizard’s naivety. “Don’t let what happened to me, happen to him. He needs you to be the superhero I thought you once were. He needs to believe you’re infallible, better, and stronger than Voldemort. He needs that even if he doesn’t know it yet. It’s the only way for him to stay on our side. Don’t mess that up for him.” Harry choked out, tears welling up in his eyes. He never really did get over the betrayal he felt in his Fifth Year. That, coupled with the fact that it was Dumbledore that sent him to live with people who hated him, had shattered his faith in the old wizard.
“I’ll never forgive you if you do.” He whispered softly, refusing to meet the headmaster’s eyes and see the now familiar stirrings of regret, weariness and sadness that would be in them. He knew that his all too forgiving heart would falter at the sight of a distressed Albus Dumbledore and he didn’t want to feel sorry for the old man. Unleashing the anger inside his heart felt good because it easily overshadowed the helplessness he’d felt since yesterday and he did not want to feel that particular emotion again any time soon.
“Harry, my boy, you should know that-” Albus started to say, wanting desperately to explain himself to the boy but Harry never gave him the chance.
“Don’t. I know what you’re going to say so just don’t. Yes, you’ve made another mistake and yes it may be because of your age. I know you’re old and I know you’re sorry. Lately that’s all you’ve been, sir.” Harry said wearily. He was tired of all the old man’s excuses.
A lone tear trickled down the old man’s face and disappeared into his beard. Harry was right and it seemed that there was nothing else he could do. “Very well. I understand. I was planning on telling him when he’d recuperated but I can see the logic in your argument. Perhaps it is better then, if you were the one to tell him.” Dumbledore sighed softly, suddenly very tired and feeling his one hundred and fifty years.
“Huh? What?” Harry was startled out of his dark thoughts.
Dumbledore smiled kindly at the boy, wanting more than anything to erase the lingering bitterness and betrayal he saw there. He knew it would take time but he could wait. He loved the boy too dearly now to lose faith in him. “You’re right. It would solve nothing if we all lied to him and it might be better if the truth came from someone he already trusted.”
“What?” Harry goggled at the headmaster once more. “You think he trusts me?”
Dumbledore nodded his head. “Of course, he does. For the two of you might have fought all these seven years but honesty is always something he has come to expect from you and you of him.”
Harry nodded dazedly. Well that was true but...
“So it’s decided then. I will talk to you all again soon. There are some arrangements I must make especially since it is the last day of school.” Dumbledore smiled at the trio as he made his leave but before he left, he looked at Harry sadly. “I know there is nothing in this world that I can do to erase the pain you feel, Harry. But I hope you know that if there was anything that I could do to make it better, it would’ve already been done. I hope one day you can find it in your heart to forgive an old man his mistakes.”
Harry sighed tiredly as he watched the headmaster leave. He sat down heavily on one of the chairs and breathed deeply. The responsibility of telling Draco was now resting heavily on his shoulders. A fierce sense of protectiveness and possession took over him. He had no idea what to say to the boy but he’d make damn sure that Draco wouldn’t be hurt needlessly ever again.
Perrectum.
Exinde:
Act IX
Prius:
Act VII
Act VI
Act V
Act IV
Act III
Act II
Act I
AN: Okay, remember in this fic, HBP never happened. Harry still harbors the resentment that we saw at the end of Ootp and that had festered over the years. But not to fear, both of them will have their H/C in due time :)
Author: Aoife Malfoy
aoifenePairing: H/D
Rating: NC-17 for violence and language
Genre: Angst, Action/Adventure
Warnings: AU, No HBP Spoilers. Post Hogwarts, Second War Era
Disclaimer: Property of JK Rowling. Only borrowing for my own amusement.
Beta: the wonderful
micoleroseSummary: Is it possible to capture a dragon when you suddenly find one within your reach?
Author's note: I think this story has earned its rating in this Act.
Act VIII.
Nihil lacrima citius arescit.
Nothing dries more quickly than a tear.
Albus Dumbledore stared at the boy for a good minute, for he felt something he hadn’t in a long time, confusion. He studied the bewildered young man before him and asked, “I beg your pardon?”
Draco rubbed a fist over his eyes gently, trying to clear his vision. He had woken up, extremely out of sorts in the Infirmary of all places. Last thing he remembered was eating breakfast in the Great Hall. He really hoped to Merlin he didn’t do something as embarrassing as like say faint like a girl. He knew he was stressed out and on the brink of a nervous breakdown but this was simply ridiculous! Malfoys don’t faint like pansies! He seriously hoped that his father wouldn’t have to hear of this or else he’d be in for a long lecture about Malfoy etiquette…again. He shuddered. Merlin, the last one lasted for hours!
“You fell unconscious. It was lucky Mr. Potter was able to catch you before your head hit the ground.” Albus answered cautiously, afraid to reveal too much. He didn’t want to traumatize the boy any further.
Blushing furiously, Draco stared hard at the floor. He had fainted then, although the headmaster had tactfully veered from calling it that, and not only did he do so in front of the whole sodding school as it seems, but he also had to be saved by bloody Potter and probably landed in his arms like some storybook princess or one of his gaudy fangirls! Draco shuddered. Well isn’t that just peachy? The last day of school and everyone would remember him as the Malfoy with the weak constitution who goes about fainting into the arms of stupid heroic Gryffindors! He covered his face with his hands. He’d never live this down! He’d have to run away to Ethiopia, take to wearing Saffron robes and live in a remote hut. Well, or not. He never really did fancy wildlife, Saffron grated on his fragile skin and let’s face it, Daddy dearest would have kittens and drag him all the way back to this side of the pond. He was about to contemplate the pros and cons of living in Istanbul instead when he realized Dumbledore was actually talking to him and from the tired expression on the old fogey’s face, it seemed as if he’d been trying to get his attention for awhile now. “Er- sorry?” He mumbled, cringing at the incoherent level his communication skills had been reduced to.
“I was just asking if you felt any better. Do you remember what happened at all?” Albus asked gently.
“Well, clearly not or the words 'WHAT HAPPENED TO ME, HEADMASTER?' wouldn’t have come out of my mouth!” Draco snapped, confused and more than a little bit scared about what exactly could have shocked him enough to faint in the first place.
Albus smiled tiredly at the boy, focusing on the boy’s nervous state rather than his angry words. The Slytherin had gone through a very rough time, enough to lock away the painful moments from this morning and it only served to add to his agitation. “Forgive me, child. I know it has been a very taxing morning.” Albus tried to placate the boy.
“Something tells me, it’s about to become even more so.” Draco sighed as he eased back down on his pillows. “Now please tell me what happened to me. Why am I in the infirmary? And why the hell is my whole torso covered with gauze?”
He winced suddenly and clutched his head as a barrage of sounds and sensations assaulted his mind.
“Will you lie then with these mongrels? Will you fight for their cause and slay your friends in the heat of battle? All because you are too cowardly to take power when it is rightfully yours? You disgust me.”
Draco shook his head as he desperately tried to shake away the remnants of that daze. What was that? Was it a memory? Who was that speaking with so much anger and derision?
“Draco? Draco? Are you alright, my boy?” Albus called out in concern. Perhaps he should have gotten Poppy after all. Surely the boy needed more treatments. He was just about to call for the nurse when Draco cut him off.
“I’m alright, headmaster. I’m just a bit tired. What is it that you were saying?” Draco asked softly, refusing to meet the old wizard’s anxious gaze. He was beyond humiliated that he had been caught with his mind wandering like a doddering fool.
Albus hesitated in answering. He was originally going to narrate the events that happened before but now seeing how fragile Draco truly was and how affected he was by the whole thing, he changed his mind. It seemed cruel to subject the boy to it again, especially since he didn’t seem to be able to cope with it the first time around. Wouldn’t it be a kinder to leave the boy in the dark right now? Oh he was sure the boy would find out eventually. The curse scar on his chest would take care of that, not to mention the papers were filled with Lucius’ acquittal, but for now he was willing to let the truth slide, if it meant seeing the boy’s face peaceful and unguarded like it was when he was asleep. “There was an incident at the Great Hall. You were hurt by an aimed hex and had collapsed in pain. Mr. Potter took you here immediately.”
Draco flinched at the mention of his rival’s role in all this but he staunchly ignored it. Instead he barreled on. “Well? Who was it? I hope they were severely punished!” Already Draco could name more than a handful of people who would love to see him suffer. He hadn’t necessarily retained many friends with his reclusive attitude this year. “When my father hears of this I’m sure he’ll be livid! Imprisoned or not, he will not stand to have his only son assaulted mindlessly!” He huffed in indignation.
“I am sure that in due time the perpetrator shall reap his own punishment. But I shall not say anything further. This is clearly aggravating you and your wounds cannot stand such a thing.” Albus placated him kindly.
“What? No! I demand to know what happened to me! You cannot withhold this information! Why? Was it one of your precious Gryffindors? Did one of them finally snap and took one last shot at the good old Junior Death Eater? Is this why you won’t tell me? Protecting your cubs once again?” Draco snarled heatedly, furious that Dumbledore was hiding it from him. He wanted to know why his head was aching and sore. He needed to find out why there was an almost overwhelming, not to mention unexplainable, sense of loss and bitterness welling up inside of him.
But most of all, he desperately wanted to figure out why the minute he woke up, he suddenly felt the urge to break down and cry.
Fucking Merlin on a broomstick! He didn’t even know why he felt that way! He hadn’t experienced this much utter loss and devastation since his father was taken away. None of it made sense for if he was just hexed by a fellow student, it shouldn’t have irked him this badly. Suddenly tired and weary, Draco sat back, deflated. Confused and badly shaken, he finally mumbled. “Just tell me.”
Albus sighed. He was really tempted to tell the boy. He had flinched when Draco had mentioned his father during his trademark flaunting of Lucius’ former glory. It saddened him that he would have to take that illusion away from him, a second time. His eyes softened as he gazed at the defeated boy. His shoulders were slumped and his head bowed, something that was starkly different from the way the boy usually carried himself. It dawned on him that right this second, the boy might very well be at his breaking point. One more push could be all he needed to the edge of hysteria. The action of blocking out this memory was his mind’s way of shielding itself until it could cope with it. Albus shook his head sorrowfully. “I can’t.”
Enraged by the headmaster’s refusal and not to mention his own visible vulnerability, Draco demanded. “And why the hell not? You think I can’t handle whatever it is that you’re keeping from me? You think I’m too weak?”
Albus shook his head sadly. “No child, I think you too precious. Too dear for me to subject you to that horror the second you’ve managed to escape from it.”
Draco snorted as he crossed his arms in front of his chest, unsure of what to make of such tender proclamation. He was saved from answering when Madam Pomfrey bustled through the door.
“Albus! Headmaster or not, you should have alerted me immediately when my patient woke up!” Madam Pomfrey admonished the old wizard severely. “And what is with all the yelling going on in this room? This is an Infirmary, not a Quidditch game! I will have your hide if you aggravated my patient!”
“My apologies, Poppy.” Albus offered simply. “Draco and I were too caught up in our conversation to notice.”
Scoffing, the nurse quickly bustled over to her patient, checking Draco’s temperature hurriedly and casting diagnostic spells on him.
“I’m alright. Really, quit coddling me! My head is just a touch sore that’s all!” Draco grumbled, trying to swat the woman’s attempts to manhandle his person. The usually cold and professional nurse was actually cooing at him as she tended to him for fuck’s sake! What the hell was going on here?
“I just wanted to check on your bandages but it can wait. Here have some chocolate, child. There’s a good boy.” Madam Pomfrey smiled softly at the blond. Her usual brisk attitude softened radically by the memory of him looking pale and wan, with that cursed word branded into his skin. She could still remember vividly the acrid smell of burnt flesh when she had tended to him.
Glaring at this uncomfortable and unusual treatment, Draco chewed angrily on the slab of chocolate that the pushy woman had shoveled in his mouth. Insufferable woman! Manhandling a Malfoy! I will lodge a complaint! When my Father hears- His thoughts were cut off abruptly as the Sleeping draught in the chocolate hit finally him. “Blasted candy!” He cursed and then he fell into blessed sleep.
“Thank you, Poppy.” Albus smiled gratefully at the now docile blond. He was running out of excuses of what to say to the boy. He didn’t think Draco should be told about the events this morning just yet. The Slytherin was clearly still shaken up and his nervous system had received quite a jolt with the sensory overload it got from Lucius’ ancient curse.
“How could Lucius be so heartless, Albus? To his own son?” Poppy asked him softly, afraid to wake the exhausted boy as she followed the old wizard to a far corner in the room. Her eyes were shining with newfound worry and concern for the sleeping blond. As a rule she never got emotionally involved with any of her patients but she couldn’t help but be emotional over the sight of the usually aloof boy mutilated by his own father, especially when she learned that Draco had sustained such a curse because of his refusal of the Dark Mark. What he did was nothing short of heroic and even she was moved.
Albus sighed. The man was really heartless, using such a dark and painful hex on his son. The Curse of Judecca or the Traitor’s Curse was one of the oldest and darkest hexes around. It was very popular during the First Rising and it was actually one of Voldemort’s favourite tools in punishing his deserters. The curse coupled with the rite was one of the most despicable things Albus had ever heard of. For after the branding of the curse scar, the Death Eaters would then proceed to cut out the traitor’s tongue, making him mute and then they would string him up and light him on fire, ensuring a slow excruciating death. Could it be that this was what Lucius had in mind for his son? Surely even he couldn’t be that cruel? Albus shook his head. He knew the answer to that and he wasn’t naïve enough to deny it. The boy must be moved, somewhere safe where his father could not touch him.
“I’m afraid that Azkaban did him more harm than good, Poppy. It seems as if he is more cruel and aggressive than ever before.” Albus said sadly.
“Can’t we press charges against him? He’d already disowned Draco by then. He can’t claim it as a discipline method or any such nonsense!” Poppy asked, bristling at the mere thought.
Albus shook his head. “Although he is ruthless in his anger, he is not stupid. He was a good distance away from Draco with his back to the boy and his wand in his pocket. There is no way we could verify that it was he who cursed Draco.”
“But that’s ridiculous! Who else could it be?” Poppy snorted angrily.
“A handful of students come to mind, especially after Draco had renounced Voldemort’s side so publicly. I have no doubt any lawyer worth his salt would be able to win that argument.” Albus explained tiredly. It was times like this when he really hated politics and the Ministry.
“There is really nothing we can do then?” Poppy asked desolately.
“Protect him. Care for him. Tend to him. Make sure Lucius never gets near him again.” Albus instructed firmly. “He cannot stay here for long. He must be moved.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Nothing concrete as of yet. I have to make arrangements and then we shall see.” Albus answered her kindly. “Please alert me when he wakes. He has no recollection of what happened to him so it would not be wise to talk about anything pertaining to this morning.”
Poppy nodded sadly as she watched the headmaster leave then she turned her soft gaze on her patient, wishing she had the power to mend hearts as well as bodies.
-----------------------
Earlier in the waiting room, just outside the Infirmary, an anxious party awaited nervously.
“Christ, Harry! Will you sit down for a minute? You’re making me dizzy!” Ron snapped at his friend who was driving him barmy with his continuous frantic pacing.
“Huh? Wha? Oh.” Harry stopped, finally noticing the redhead trying to get his attention and he reluctantly sat down. But soon enough, he was twitching nervously.
“Ron! Harry! I just heard about what happened! Is it true?” Hermione called out as she ran towards them. “Did Malfoy really defy his father?”
Harry nodded grimly. “And got hexed to hell and back in the process.”
Hermione gasped. She heard snatches of something like that happening but she figured it would just be an exaggeration. After all Malfoy Senior had always spoiled his son. But then again she never thought Malfoy would defy his father either. “What happened to him?”
“Judecca’s Curse.” Ron answered softly, remembering the anguished screams that emanated from the blond. Even he wouldn’t have wished that on the annoying prat and to think it was his own father that had put it on him.
“What is that?” Hermione asked curiously, her pride smarting a little at not being able to recognize the hex.
Smirking slightly at being able to get one over his brainy friend, Ron hastened to explain. “It’s not a well-known curse because it’s highly illegal and it’s some really dark stuff. You won’t be able to find it any books unless you go to the Restricted section or have seen it yourself. It’s a mark that Death Eaters used to put on traitors before they killed them. You-Know-Who used it a lot the first time around. I overheard Dad talking about it when I was younger. He said that the worst victims of the war where the ones who died by the rites of Judecca. I don’t know what that means though.”
“So how was Malfoy marked by his father? Was it like the Dark Mark or something?” Hermione asked, inwardly berating the fact that she missed all this.
Ron was about to answer her but Harry cut him off as he was already in a bad mood because nobody would tell him how the hell Draco was and now one of his best friends seemed to a be just a touch too fascinated with Draco’s mutilation. “A pity, you weren’t there, Hermione. You would have seen how an invisible knife gutted Draco open, mutilating his chest until he screamed, branding him forever with a nifty little curse scar that reads TRAITOR. Wouldn’t that have been fascinating? Something worthy for Hogwarts: A History?”
Hermione gasped, her hand on her mouth, looking quite ready to faint.
Ron shoved him hard. “Hey! You can be a bastard to me all you want but don’t you dare take it out on Hermione! She was just asking a question! Remember she wasn’t there! There’s no need to be so ruthless about it, you dick!”
“Well, I’m sorry but she was looking too fascinated by the whole thing!” Harry snarled, glad to be able to take out his rage on something.
“Fucking Hell Harry! So would you if you never heard of it before and hadn’t witnessed it first-hand! We’re both sickened by it and so is she now that she’s been told. Leave off! I know you’re mad as a rabid hippogriff right now over Malfoy. So am I but at least have half the brain not to take it out on us!” Ron shot back, unwilling to be the punching bag Harry hit to make himself feel better.
Harry was about to retort angrily when suddenly the Infirmary’s doors burst open to admit a somber looking Albus Dumbledore.
“Professor Dumbledore! Professor!” Harry called out, scrambling to catch up with the man but all the headmaster did was smile wanly and nod at him in acknowledgement. He didn’t even break his stride and he quickly disappeared behind the door of the room Draco was sequestered in.
“Fucking Hell!” Harry growled, his frustration and anger exploding at being ignored once again. He wanted to find out what the hell was going on but no one would stop and tell him! Was Draco okay? Did Lucius’ curse do more damage than the scar? “Augh!” He yelled in frustration as he soundly kicked a chair.
Ron nudged Hermione and tilted his head to motion Harry in what he thought was a completely discreet way. He was done dealing with the git. He didn’t want his head bitten off a third time. Bloody hell! Harry was impossible today especially over this whole Draco business. Sure even he was horrified at what the blond had gone through and he was now seeing the Slytherin in a completely different light but surely it wasn’t cause for such dramatics? Besides he wasn’t really good with handling the mushy stuff. He was once accused of having the emotional range of a teaspoon, after all. Granted he’d like to think he’d changed a lot since then, but that still didn’t mean he’d go on hankering for the role of the sensitive friend.
Hermione rolled her eyes. Boys! She grimaced as she bravely walked over to the frustrated Boy Who Lived who was still taking out his ire on several inanimate objects. “Harry? Calm down, okay? Take a deep breath. This isn’t good for you. Plus you’re scaring me.” Hermione said with a placating smile.
Harry whirled around to face her, ready to fly off into another burst of expletives when the look on her face stopped him. She was genuinely concerned for him. They both were. Suddenly, the fight went out of his body as he sagged down towards the chair he was abusing. “Sorry.” He mumbled as he cradled his head in his hands.
“It’s okay. I can see you’re really upset. We all are.” Hermione said soothingly as she rubbed calming circles on his back. “What happened today was really upsetting. First with Lucius being let loose, then this whole mess with Draco. It’s been a very emotional morning,”
“You-you said his name.” Harry looked up in wonder. Could it be that his friends now saw what he discovered as well? Harry blushed. Hopefully, without the erotic leanings he was experiencing because that did not go over well with him.
Hermione snorted. “Of course I did. That is his name, isn’t it? Plus he threw away his last name, Harry. He made a choice between his family and his own life, that couldn’t have been easy. Now tell me what’s gotten you so upset besides the obvious. You really scared me there for a minute.”
Harry sighed. “Sorry. It just makes me so mad! With Lucius then with Draco getting hurt-” Harry trailed off as he looked at the closed door once again, silently willing for it to open and let somebody out so he’d know what the fuck was happening.
“You care about him.” Hermione stated as this realization dawned on her.
“I-uh-um.” Harry stuttered, his face beet red, unsure of what to make of that statement.
Hermione smiled at the incoherent noises her friend was making. It was just like Harry to feel this way. “Oh Harry, don’t be embarrassed!”
What the fuck? Am I that transparent? Harry thought in shock. She couldn’t have figured it out! I mean even I haven’t figured out what the hell is happening to me whenever I’m near Draco! I mean it’s perfectly normal to want to comfort an upset person, right? Or to want to save someone from a horrible fate? Standard Harry Potter behavior, surely! He rushed to reassure himself, ignoring the squeaking voice that reminded him that while that was normal, his fascination with the blonde’s ethereal beauty and body was not something that say someone like Ron would have. He shuddered at the thought.
“Oh Harry, calm down! I just meant that it is so like you to care about everyone, even someone who’s tormented you for years!” Hermione said with an indulgent smile. “Comes with the whole saving people thing, I suppose.” She chuckled wryly.
Harry laughed weakly in response. Oh thank Merlin! He was about to steer the conversation away from this touchy subject when Dumbledore walked out of Draco’s room. Hastening to get on his feet, he rushed towards the old wizard quickly, unwilling to let him escape again without getting some answers. “Professor Dumbledore! How’s Draco doing?” He burst out anxiously.
Dumbledore smiled tiredly at the apprehensive boy in front of him. He really was quite proud of this young man who cared about everyone indiscriminately, even his supposed archrival. “He is doing better, Harry. He’s resting right now for he’s had quite the ordeal. Thank you for your assistance in getting him to the Infirmary. If you were still a student, I’d be awarding you a hundred House points right now, my boy!” He commended him with a small laugh, his azure eyes resuming their old twinkling. It looked like convincing the boy of his plan wouldn’t be a hardship and he was glad for that.
Harry waved the compliment away. He didn’t care about House points! He wanted to see if Draco was truly alright. “Can I see him soon?” Harry asked anxiously, wanting to see for himself that the boy was really okay. He had looked a fright the last time he saw him and the image of a broken and bleeding Draco Malfoy would not erase itself from his mind anytime soon.
“I’m afraid not. He is still asleep and has not yet recovered from all this fully.” Dumbledore smiled apologetically. “However, there is something you can do for him.”
“What is it?” Harry asked, barely able to conceal his frustration about being denied.
Dumbledore held his smile. “I was wondering if it would be okay to have Draco moved to Grimmauld Place. He is not safe here. It is only a matter of time before Lucius tries something else. I wouldn’t put it past him to do so. The most practical thing to do is to house him in Order Headquarters.” He explained.
“Of course he can move in! You don’t even need to ask!” Harry burst out, hardly managing to conceal his delight. Now I don’t have to worry about his safety! He’ll be right under my roof! And no I’m not going to think about those bad thoughts over this. No, sir! Not at all. Harry thought to himself as he blushed a curious red.
“Wonderful!” Dumbeldore exclaimed, his twinkling blue eyes sparkled annoyingly. “But however, there is one more thing I must ask you, something that I must ask all of you.” He instructed firmly, looking to Ron and Hermione as well who were obviously eavesdropping on their whole conversation.
“Eh.” Ron blushed at being caught.
Smiling, Hermione asked. “What is it, Professor?”
“You must not mention anything about this morning to Draco. Not a word about his father or the curse or his disownment. Nothing at all.” Dumbledore asked them sternly.
“Huh? Why?” Harry asked, bewildered by the odd request.
Dumbledore sighed tiredly. He really didn’t like this at all but what else could he do? “Draco has blocked out the memory of this morning. He doesn’t remember a single thing and has no recollection of Lucius or of his deflecting from their side. And I think that it is for the best that we don’t remind him just yet.” Dumbledore explained carefully.
They all gasped at the news. How horrible! Draco didn’t remember anything about the ordeal?
Harry could not believe his ears! Dumbledore wanted them to lie to the boy lying there broken and scarred in the Hospital Wing? He laughed hollowly as he shook his head. The old man hadn’t changed a bit. Manipulative conniving bastard! How could he just gloss over what happened? To deny Draco of the memory of his heroic act was despicable and it reignited his bitter anger. “So you want us to lie to him? To completely ignore what he went though? To go on as if his sacrifice didn’t happen? Merlin! I thought you learned by now!” Harry snarled, incensed at the man for wanting to manipulate Draco, the way he had Harry.
Dumbledore was taken aback by the bitterness and anger that was coming from the boy in waves. He was about to ask him for an explanation when the boy cut him off.
“When will you learn, Professor? I thought you already learned that lies will get you nowhere! Look at what happened to me!” Harry spat, inwardly glad to have found an outlet for his anger at last.
“I am not asking you to lie to him, Harry. He is still quite weak and cannot handle being reminded of his ordeal.” Dumbledore explained patiently, although his insides were churning slowly at the return of the resentful tone he remembered the boy using on him during his disastrous Fifth Year. This cut more deeply than he could have ever imagined.
“A half truth is a whole lie! Merlin, even small children know that! If you keep this from him the way you kept everything from me, you will lose him. He has already chosen our side whether he remembers it or not. If you manipulate him any further, you’d be no better than Lucius!” Harry shot back.
“Harry, it is not my intent to do so.” The headmaster tried to placate him but Harry was having none of it.
“I know that! I know you mean well but that’s not enough!” Harry cried out, suddenly so very tired of the old wizard’s naivety. “Don’t let what happened to me, happen to him. He needs you to be the superhero I thought you once were. He needs to believe you’re infallible, better, and stronger than Voldemort. He needs that even if he doesn’t know it yet. It’s the only way for him to stay on our side. Don’t mess that up for him.” Harry choked out, tears welling up in his eyes. He never really did get over the betrayal he felt in his Fifth Year. That, coupled with the fact that it was Dumbledore that sent him to live with people who hated him, had shattered his faith in the old wizard.
“I’ll never forgive you if you do.” He whispered softly, refusing to meet the headmaster’s eyes and see the now familiar stirrings of regret, weariness and sadness that would be in them. He knew that his all too forgiving heart would falter at the sight of a distressed Albus Dumbledore and he didn’t want to feel sorry for the old man. Unleashing the anger inside his heart felt good because it easily overshadowed the helplessness he’d felt since yesterday and he did not want to feel that particular emotion again any time soon.
“Harry, my boy, you should know that-” Albus started to say, wanting desperately to explain himself to the boy but Harry never gave him the chance.
“Don’t. I know what you’re going to say so just don’t. Yes, you’ve made another mistake and yes it may be because of your age. I know you’re old and I know you’re sorry. Lately that’s all you’ve been, sir.” Harry said wearily. He was tired of all the old man’s excuses.
A lone tear trickled down the old man’s face and disappeared into his beard. Harry was right and it seemed that there was nothing else he could do. “Very well. I understand. I was planning on telling him when he’d recuperated but I can see the logic in your argument. Perhaps it is better then, if you were the one to tell him.” Dumbledore sighed softly, suddenly very tired and feeling his one hundred and fifty years.
“Huh? What?” Harry was startled out of his dark thoughts.
Dumbledore smiled kindly at the boy, wanting more than anything to erase the lingering bitterness and betrayal he saw there. He knew it would take time but he could wait. He loved the boy too dearly now to lose faith in him. “You’re right. It would solve nothing if we all lied to him and it might be better if the truth came from someone he already trusted.”
“What?” Harry goggled at the headmaster once more. “You think he trusts me?”
Dumbledore nodded his head. “Of course, he does. For the two of you might have fought all these seven years but honesty is always something he has come to expect from you and you of him.”
Harry nodded dazedly. Well that was true but...
“So it’s decided then. I will talk to you all again soon. There are some arrangements I must make especially since it is the last day of school.” Dumbledore smiled at the trio as he made his leave but before he left, he looked at Harry sadly. “I know there is nothing in this world that I can do to erase the pain you feel, Harry. But I hope you know that if there was anything that I could do to make it better, it would’ve already been done. I hope one day you can find it in your heart to forgive an old man his mistakes.”
Harry sighed tiredly as he watched the headmaster leave. He sat down heavily on one of the chairs and breathed deeply. The responsibility of telling Draco was now resting heavily on his shoulders. A fierce sense of protectiveness and possession took over him. He had no idea what to say to the boy but he’d make damn sure that Draco wouldn’t be hurt needlessly ever again.
Perrectum.
Exinde:
Act IX
Prius:
Act VII
Act VI
Act V
Act IV
Act III
Act II
Act I
AN: Okay, remember in this fic, HBP never happened. Harry still harbors the resentment that we saw at the end of Ootp and that had festered over the years. But not to fear, both of them will have their H/C in due time :)
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Date: 2006-06-24 07:08 pm (UTC)