Where the wizards bite back

it's finally done! it's not 100% betaed, but i didn't want to miss the deadline for the challenge.

Author/Artist: qs_slytherin
Title: All His Worth
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC 17 for violence.
Word Count: 13620
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, I just like to play with the characters.
Warnings: Character death, rape, abuse, violence, suicide attempts and blood sucking.
Summary: Harry disappears for almost 10 years. What happens to Draco when the center of his universe is gone?
Archive?: Yes, but ask first please.
Other notes from the author: This started as a take off on frulie's story I Thought of You Tonight, and grew from there. I did ask if I could use her story and she said yes, so this is a sanctioned rip off. It gets really dark and angsty, but if you like Angsty!Draco you'll love this. Oh, and Eurydice is pronounced ‘you-RID-i-see’.



“I used to walk. I would apparate to Diagon, go past that bakery that made the pastries you liked. They stopped making them after you disappeared, you know.”

A pause as the full scent of the intruder hit him. Oh, how he ached for that scent! How it made his blood boil,but he had to know, needed to know, so he continued.

“Always the same route, day after day. Fortescue’s Ice Cream, past Quality Quiddich Supplies, down to the bakery, around the fountain, up past Gringott’s, ending up at Flourish and Blotts. Every evening.”

“Every evening since the day you went away.”

Draco stopped talking, turning from the beautiful sunrise framed by his bedroom window to focus on the man across the room. The black hair was longer, shaggier, like it hadn’t been cut for too long. He liked it. It gave the man rugged look and hid the tell-tale scar.

There was a new scar. It ran the length of his face from the left temple, across the cheek to the corner of the mouth and down his chin. It was clean, not puckered or jagged, so it must have come from a blade of some sort not a claw or fang. Still, someone had marked his property, even if said property no longer wanted to be his, and that someone would have to die. Draco put it on his to do list.

The face itself was older, wiser, rougher. There were lines, creases, where once there had only been smooth skin. It looked like the past nine years hadn’t been easy on him. A lot can happen to a person in nine years, Draco should know.

The glasses had changed, now slimmer, squared off, but still there. As were the green eyes he had longed for. The eyes that always told Draco the truth, no matter what the lie on the lips was saying. The eyes that would shine when he was held, glow when he was kissed, close so tightly when he came. Eyes that had trapped Draco, held him down and made him scream, begging for more. Eyes that saw through all his facades, that tore him down and built him up. Eyes that cried so bitterly when he was hurting and danced with mischief when he was happy. The eyes that shone in the darkness and gave Draco a reason to live. Harry Potter’s eyes.

“When I started, I would leave right after supper. It was so quiet in the house, I had to get out. I did it every time you left, actually. I never told you. I knew you would worry about me when you should have had your mind on more important thing like coming back to me.”

“But that time you didn’t come back, did you?”

Tears. Tears in the green eyes. Sorrow and guilt for hurting Draco, for making him suffer. The part of Draco that hated Harry crowed in triumph, but the part that loved Harry ached to kiss those tears away. Battling both sides, the pale blond continued his story.

“Sometimes I would go as myself, sometimes a simple glamour and I would be someone else. I know what you mean now when you would laud the benefits of anonymity. Some things are so much easier when no one knows who you are.”

Harry’s lips twitched up at the corners. Draco wondered if Harry was pleased that he remembered his rants about privacy or found it amusing that the vain blond would hide behind a different face.

“As time wore on, I think it was about sixteen months after you left, I started walking later, longer. My path changed, wandering closer to Knockturn Alley every night. I didn’t know why I was doing it, but it felt good to get closer to that darkness, that evil and anger. At first I was afraid. Knockturn isn’t the safest place, even when you’re not considered a turn coat. But every night I got bolder, went a few steps closer.”

“The first night I went down the Alley I wore a different face. I dressed in black, wore my father’s old Death Eater cloak, took one of his old walking sticks. You know, it’s true what he said ‘No one fucks about with you when you carry a big heavy stick.’ No one bothered me. I walked the whole Alley, beginning to end and back again. The few who approached backed off with only a slightly raised eyebrow. I suppose it could have been the yellow eyes, but who am I to know? I do know this: I was terrified. My wand was in my hand the whole time, I was sweating, my heart was beating so hard I thought everyone could hear it. But I made it out alive.”

“I apparated home from the mouth of the Alley. Exhausted. Exhilarated. The next night I went back. And the next, and the next. Soon I gave up on Diagon and walked only in Knockturn. It
reminded me of my father, of home, of a time when I was younger and only ever hated you because it was all I was taught. A time before I trusted you. The darkness was coming back and I
welcomed it. You were my light, Harry. You pulled me from the mouth of darkness when I was about to submit to it and showed me the joy of light. Your light and your love saved me from
Voldemort, from the other Death Eaters, from my father. You were my light and you were gone. I wanted to return to the darkness.”

Harry stood rigidly. He had filled out in the years he had been gone. The shoulders and chest were broader, more muscular than before. Draco liked that too. He liked thinking of how Harry had gotten those muscles. Working out in a muggle gym, working on a ship, fighting his way back to Draco. Anything that involved a lot of sweat and very little clothing. Putting aside his pleasurable thoughts, the Slytherin focussed on the tension in the other man’s broad shoulders. Harry was practically shaking with it. His fists were clenched at his sides, he stood ram rod straight in the door and his breathing was coming in short, forced breaths. He did not like the way the tale was
unfolding, but there was nothing Draco could do about that. ‘Not true,’ said a little voice inside him, ‘you could make it easier on him. Go to him, take him in your arms and kiss him. Take him to bed and finish the story while you get him out of those annoying clothes. It won’t hurt him as much if he knows you still love him.’

Draco told the voice to piss off. How did he know Harry still felt the same for him, even if he appeared to? Besides, he had a story to tell.

“The day I decided to go down Knockturn as myself Granger showed up. There was a raid planned for that night at some obscure warehouse in Muggle London. Supposedly some renegade
Death Eaters had regrouped there and the Ministry thought it would be fun to use me as bait. Granger was dead set against the idea and told me to refuse to participate,” a small smile graced Draco’s lips as he remembered, “She was livid. Pacing back and forth in front of the windows in the study, ranting at the injustice of it all. How you would have never stood for it, how inappropriate it was for me to be asked, how I should have been in on everything since the beginning if they were going to force me to help. I remember it like yesterday. The way the light glinted off her wedding ring, how her robes flowed out behind her at every turn, the look of horror on her face when she realized she’d let slip that the search for you had been called off.”

He said it calmly, casually, but Harry still winced. ‘Poor boy,’ thought Draco, ‘so tough and still so tender inside. Is it any wonder I fell for him.’

“I’d never seen her cry before. She hadn’t shed a tear during the siege at Hogwarts, or after your disappearance. I wasn’t sure she was capable of crying. I was wrong. She cried for hours. At times she sobbed, choking on explanations and apologies, other times she just shook quietly. She shook so hard I thought she would have fallen apart if I hadn’t been holding her. Yes, love, I held her while she cried. After word got out about the Ministry calling off the search I found myself holding a lot of crying women. Tonks, Ginny, Molly, the Patel twins, Percy. Percy and the twins tried to get me into bed. Separately, not as a group thing,” he chuckled, “Even stoic old McGonagall lost her composure at the funeral. I didn’t want to go but Granger threatened me with the Imperious... but I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I?”

Taking a deep breath on the pretext of continuing his story, Draco took in Harry’s scent again. The mixture of spice, musk and that undefinable that was pure Harry made his head swim. He
could taste the longing and sorrow the other man felt. And the love, it was still there, but the Gryffindor’s insatiable curiosity was starting to overpower his other emotions. ‘Some things never change,’ the blond laughed to himself though his face showed nothing of his mirth. One of Lucius’ old tricks that still came in handy. He was about to use another Lucius-ism, impeccable manners, when Harry spoke for the first time.

“Draco, the sun! You’ll burn! Move!” Harry swished his wand, suddenly in his hand, and the heavy drapes pulled themselves over the windows leaving the room dark but for the light coming
in from the still open hall door. Amused, the blond raised an eyebrow, a witty retort on his tongue, but he was cut off by an irate Harry.

“What the hell were you thinking? The sun is up and you’re just standing there waiting for it to hit you and burn you up? Have you lost your mind?” Harry was yelling, striding across the room, taking Draco by the shoulders and shaking him. “Do you have a death wish or something?”

For a few moment’s Draco could do nothing but look into those deep pools of emerald that were burning with anger. After so long the first thing Harry thought about was his safety. It was sweet, really. But with his lost love so close now thoughts of sweetness left his head, replaced with thoughts of hunger, sweat and long awaited punishment. Realizing this, Draco let the Malfoy side of him take over before the squishy-hearted Gryffindor became too much for him to handle.

“I’m already dead, Harry. I died the day you left, and a million times more since then.”

Admittedly, it was over dramatic in the worst way, but it worked. Harry let go of him and stumbled a few steps back as if he’d been hit, his face a mask of horror and guilt. Draco resisted the urge to reach out and steady the other man, and instead reached inside his robes for his wand. One flick of his wrist opened the curtains while another summoned a house elf.

“What can Dudley get for Master Draco?” squeaked the ugly brown creature with large cinnamon eyes.

“Breakfast, Dudley, and coffee. For two,” Draco replied, turning to face his servant, thus blocking his view of Harry.

“For two....” the elf’s voice trailed off as he poked his head around Draco’s legs and saw Harry standing dazedly a few feet off.

“Master Harry! Master Harry is alive! And back! Master Harry is back!” The excited elf then threw himself at Harry’s legs and hugged for all he was worth.

The elf’s attack brought Harry out of his stupor with a laugh. Draco watched amusedly while Dudley was gently pried off Harry’s legs and pulled into a warm embrace as Harry knelt on the plush carpet. Dudley sobbed with happiness, jabbering non-sense “Dudley was so afraid for Master Harry *sob* Master Draco was so sad *sob* where was Master Harry? *snuffle* we is so happy he is back, *snort* isn’t we Master Draco? *sob*” which caused the two men to share an incredulous look before Draco cleared his throat.

“Dudley, breakfast.”

Huge brown eyes dripped happy tears onto the carpet as Dudley pulled away from Harry and nodded. “It will be a few minutes, Master Draco, with the extra food. Dudley will bring the coffee
and pops first.” With one last joyous look at Harry, the house elf disappeared to fetch the food.

“You kept him,” Harry’s voice was questioning and more than a bit amused, “I thought you would have killed him, or at least given him clothes at the earliest opportunity.” He was still
kneeling looking up at Draco, something the Slytherin found terribly distracting especially when the green eyes turned solemn and an earnest, “Thank you,” issued from the lips of the man on the floor. Suppressing a shiver Draco gestured to the two chairs in front of the fireplace.

“Of course I kept him. What was I going to do, turn him out? Give him to Hogwarts or the Order? He may have been your cousin once, but he doesn’t remember anything before working in
this house. He doesn’t remember being Dudley Dursley, only Dudley the house elf of Malfoy Manner. To turn him out would be cruel beyond belief,” the blond sat in his chair with an easy
grace born of an aristocratic upbringing and watched as Harry settled himself into the matching chair several feet away. “Besides,” he added, “ there are still those out there who would attempt to use him against me if they got their hands on him. It’s in my best interests to keep him.”

“What about Vernon and Petunia?”

“Still where they were before you....” the word ‘left’ hung heavy in the air between the two chairs but Draco pushed on, “Vernon is still at Hogwarts, and from what I’ve heard he has more or less become Severus’ personal servant. Petunia is still with Molly Weasley, splitting her time between the Burrow and Order headquarters.”

“Do they remember anything?”

“No, the spell has held despite their muggle blood. Plus Minerva checks up on them all the time. They remember nothing about the muggle world, raising the Boy Who Lived, or being taken and tortured by Death Eaters. They are happy, busy house elves. You have nothing to worry about.”

Harry nodded, then grinned. “Severus?” With a smirk of his own Draco replied “Severus.” Harry burst out laughing, no doubt imagining the horrified and annoyed faces the Potions Master would be throwing at his new admirer.

Dudley popped back into the room carrying a tray of coffee, cream, sugar and a dish of what looked suspiciously like red lollipops, and set it on the table. He looked overjoyed to see Harry laughing and burst into tears again when his cousin pulled him into another hug. Draco watched bemused for a few seconds before grabbing one of the red candies from the tray and popping it in his mouth.

Almost instantly the taste and aroma flooded his senses. Dudley had gotten out the good ones. A low moan escaped his lips and he threw his head back against the tall leather chair, revelling in ecstasy the slowly melting candy brought him. Heat, colours, smells, sounds. The donor had been young, happy, a girl who smelled like apples and cherries with a soft, lilting laugh. His hands clenched on his armrests and he could almost feel her soft, sun warmed skin.

He reminded himself to get this flavour more often.

Draco was so enraptured with his treat he forgot he had company. He sucked hungrily on the bloody lollipop, tasting the wonders of another’s life, until the weight of Harry’s stare brought him back to the present. Slowly pulling the candy from his mouth, Draco met Harry’s eyes. Sadly, the green eyes had a carefully guarded look about them, as did the face around them. Draco’s heart clenched painfully, but outside he gave no sign.

“Blood flavoured lollipops?”

“Blood lollipops.”

“Ah, that explains the trance-like state.”

Draco grinned wickedly, “Virgin blood. Would you like one?”

“I’ll stick with coffee thanks,” Harry’s reply was as guarded as his face. Even his scent was guarded, giving nothing away. Evidently he had gotten over his homecoming shock already. A
deep sense of failure swept through Draco’s already barren soul, ripping open old wounds, setting free old doubts, chilling him through to the core. ‘I’ve lost him,’ repeated like a mantra in his head, and yet he remained unmoved to the outside world.

After one last lick, very deliberate, Draco set his blood pop on the plate and began pouring the coffee. “So,” he said, voice taking on the neutral tone he used at the beginning of the encounter, “where were we?”

“The raid.”

“Yes, the raid,” Draco passed Harry’s coffee to him, lots of cream and one sugar the way he liked it, and didn’t even acknowledge the brush of fingers that occurred at the transfer. He took a sip of his own coffee, black as usual, before setting the mug on his armrest and resuming his story.

“Before I sent Granger home, much later than either of us had expected, she told me again to refuse to cooperate with the Ministry. I assured her I would tell the Ministry where it could shove it’s noble intentions. A short time later a ministry lackey showed up, with four friendly looking and rather large aurors, to ask me to accompany him to the Ministry for a ‘small matter, but one that should really be cleared up.’ I was more than inclined to tell them to piss off, but I decided that was probably the wrong thing to say when all five of them had their wands pointed at me. Instead, I smiled politely and thanked them for personally making sure the matter was being looked after.”

“Minutes later I was standing in the office of the auror in charge of the raid. Justin Finch-Fletchley,” Draco paused for a sip of coffee, but made no further attempts to gage Harry’s
reactions. He was very quickly becoming too numb to care.

“Finch-Fletchley. A Hufflepuff auror. Needless to say the plan was simplistic. I was to go in with the first team and we were to purposely trip the alarms. I was then going to let myself be taken, claiming I had been under the Imperious the whole time I was spying. I was to stall them long enough for the rest of the team to get into place, then get the hell out of the way when the fighting started. I had no choice but to cooperate, which chaffed like an unpolished broomstick. I took my orders without complaint, put on the black robes and white mask, and refrained from ridiculing, ripping apart and pointing out the utter stupidity of Finch-Fletchley’s plan.”

“At precisely ten o’clock we apparated to a loft opposite the warehouse. The first team was about to leave when Finch-Fletchley called me over and demanded I hand over my wand. ‘They’ll trust you more if you’re unarmed’ he said,” Draco smiled grimly and stared deep into his coffee as the
memory came over him. “‘It also makes me easier to kill if you decide I’m on the other side,’ I tried to counter, but he only laughed. We both knew any fight I might have put up was useless. There were twenty-one aurors in the room with me, all itching to kill Death Eaters, current or former. I handed the auror-puff my wand and apparated to the warehouse.”

“Finch-Fletchley’s plan was pathetic at worst and iffy at best. What he didn’t know was one of his aurors was a Death Eater spy. Not only did they expect us, they knew the whole plan. They let it play out, though, lulling the aurors into a false sense of secrity. I knew something was wrong the second I got there. Must have been that danger sense I picked up from you. I knew something was off, but I couldn’t say what until my father approached me.”

“That he knew it was me behind the mask was chance, that he knew I was without my wand was not. When he handed me my wand I knew we had been set up, but by that time I was surrounded
by Death Eaters and was powerless to stop the attack.” Draco’s voice wavered and he paused again. He had told this part of the story only once before and it had take Hermione well over two
years to get it out of him. He hadn’t wanted to tell it then and he didn’t want to tell it now, but he felt he owed Harry the whole story. The blond aristocrat lifted his coffee mug to his lips and took a draught of courage from the liquid inside. He watched as both his pale hands wrapped around the warm ceramic, now sitting in his lap, and focussed his gaze on the seemingly endless interior.

Here he could hide while baring his soul. This would work. He continued.

“They made me stay to watch the massacre. Lucius stood beside me, gloating at the ineptitude of the attack. Some of his comments mirrored my own thoughts about Finch-Fletchley’s plan. You can’t begin to comprehend how disgusted I was by that. It didn’t last very long, twenty minutes or less. The small group of renegades turned out to be the whole inner circle plus a few new recruits. Finch-Fletchley didn’t stand a chance, but he was the last to die.”

“I killed him.”

“He was brought to Lucius by a masked Death Eater and of course thought I had betrayed him, standing like I was with my father, wand in my hand. I ignored him, but I still felt his words. Once his last auror was killed Lucius ordered Finch-Fletchley’s captor to remove her mask. It was Penelope Clearwater, Percy’s ex and Finch-Fletchley’s lieutenant. She knelt at Lucius’ side and glared holes in Finch-Fletchley. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such rampant hate in anyone, not even my father. It was awe inspiring in the most terrifying way.”

“Lucius took his time gloating, insulting, and all around being a bad winner. When he tired of that he began to describe the kinds of things Voldemort,” the name slid from Draco’s lips with an icy hate and contempt, “liked to do to aurors, then he moved on to what he would do to Finch-Fletchley when his turn came. I have to give him credit, Finch-Fletchley may have been
white as a ghost but he looked Lucius in the eye the whole time without flinching. The only time he showed surprise was when Lucius spoke to me. ‘This is also your fate, my faithless son, for turning your back on your lord and your family and running straight into the bed of their worst enemy. But, since you are still my son, I will be lenient with you this one last time. I will allow you one last spell from your wand before I break it. You may do the honourable thing, or the selfish thing. Let’s see if fucking a Gryffindor has turned you into a total waste of breeding.’”

“My choice was made long before he asked me. I knew what Lucius had so gleefully described was only a hint of the torture in store for Finch-Fletchley and myself. I did the only thing I could do and turned my wand on Justin. Just before I said Avada Kedavara he nodded at me.”

“Then he was gone and Lucius was laughing at me. ‘I knew you were ruined’ he said ‘but I never knew how pathetic you were.’ Then he did something I never would have expected of him, ever.
He hit me. Then he hit me again. And again. He kept hitting me. At a certain point I fell to the floor and he started kicking me, hitting me with his cane. Lucius Malfoy is not lightly
disappointed.”

“None of the watching Death Eaters made a move to stop him. It’s more likely that they had a great deal of trouble stopping themselves from joining in. Lucius was Voldemort’s right hand and I was to be my father’s protégé. Pampered and privileged, I was supposed to lead the new generation of Death Eaters and seduce new comers to the cause. I was the prince of Slytherin and the Malfoy heir. My path had been decided for me. I was as much of an icon as you were, then I had to go and…. switch sides. It threw the whole dynamic off track and I was going to pay for it dearly.”

“The beating lasted quite some time. Evidently they weren’t worried about being discovered very quickly. I managed to block out Lucius’ voice after the first few insults, but I felt every blow. I felt my flesh tear apart, my blood flow on my skin, my bones break under my father’s fury, but I heard and said nothing. Not one sound escaped to betray me. I was proud of myself in a twisted way. Just as suddenly as he began, Lucius stopped beating me. I felt something cold being poured down my throat, several incantations by a different voice and I began to heal. They couldn’t bring me before their lord half dead, but they could blame my injuries on the attack. So I was beaten, healed and taken to Voldemort.”

“Voldemort was not himself. Whatever you managed to do to him before you... had taken its toll. He was a shadow of his former self, but still powerful. In my time with him he regained much of his strength, but he would never have the power he had before. That made him all the more resentful and dangerous, though. He may not have had the magical power but he still had the cunning and skill to do what he wanted. And what he wanted was me to tell him where you were. ‘But first,’ he smiled at me, ‘first we will teach you what happens to deserters.’”

“They descended on me like starving dogs. Lucius stood at his master’s side and watched as they ripped at my robes and fought over who would be the first to punish me. I don’t know who it
was, but I very nearly bled to death. They must have used an engorgement charm. It was like before, I could hear nothing but feel everything. I felt him slamming into me, I felt myself ripping apart, I felt the others grabbing at me, scratching, biting, I felt blood on my skin again. I felt my father watching me.”

“They all had a go with me before one of them healed me up. Someone took me to a small room and left me there. I must have passed out. The amount of blood I managed to lose I was surprised I had stayed conscious as long as I did. The next thing I remember was waking up and someone was raping me again. I let myself black out. When I woke up the next time Voldemort was there. He let me eat and drink a little, then he used the Cruciatus. He was convinced that I knew where you were hiding. He promised that when I told him all I knew I would be welcomed back into the fold and my past would be erased. I said nothing and he made me scream until my throat bled.”

“It became the pattern, one of the inner circle would rape me, Voldemort would torture me and I would say nothing. After the first few months it got quite boring, though they never seemed to tire of it. Lucius would come in and beat me every once in a while, someone would clean me up once a week. It was a boring pattern, but I had nothing else. I had no hope for rescue, no one knew where I was or if I had escaped the raid and since only Death Eaters escaped the raid I would be counted among their numbers again. I knew no one was coming for me, least of all you. Even if you were still alive I knew you would see everything you were supposed to see and think I had betrayed you. It was part of the set up. If they couldn’t get me to say where you were hiding then they could use your over developed sense of honour and justice to bring you to me, for rescue or revenge, as long as they could get you.”

“I lost track of time after a while. There was no point in keeping it. My time was divided into pain felt when alone and pain felt when not alone. It’s a blur, most of it. I remember a few times Severus was allowed to see me. I never did ask if he told anyone in the Order at the time. I suppose he must have at some point or I wouldn’t be here now. He never used me like the others, he was gentle. He cleaned me up, healed what he could, made me eat, and never once did he speak. Oh, we talked, but never with words. His eyes would beg me to hold on, his actions told me someone still cared, his touch showed me there was still hope.”

“I gave him what he wanted. I held his gaze, accepted his kindness, responded to his ministrations, and silently promised to not give up. And it was all a lie. I was a pet and I did what I needed to please my masters, no more. Severus knew this, but there must have been enough there to keep him placated. It’s ironic you know. I was finally back in the heart of darkness and I was as far from home as I’d ever been.”

“Time passed. Voldemort continued to try and break me, find out where you were. He became more insistent and paranoid as time went by. At the time I didn’t realize it was happening but
looking back afterwards it’s clear. It was the time rumours surfaced of you being spotted in Sri Lanka.” A rueful laugh escaped Draco’s lips, “I’ve never seen anyone more frustrated in my life. Even Severus trying to teach Longbottom showed more poise than old Voldie at that time.”

“But he couldn’t break me. I was already broken. It started the day you left and finished when I killed Finch-Fletchley. I had nothing, therefore I had noting left to lose. You were gone, my light was gone, my dark was gone, my father had abandoned me, Severus left me in that hole, the Order had turned their backs on me. I was in the hell I felt I deserved.”

“Macnair was with me when the attack started. The building started to shake and the neanderthal thought it was him. Then the door blew up and Severus Avada Kedavaraed his sorry ass. He healed me, gave me a clean set of black robes, handed me my wand and told me the fastest path out of the compound. Then he threw an invisibility cloak over me and ran back out into the battle.”

“I tried to follow Severus’ directions, but too many of the corridors were occupied by the battle. There were curses flying everywhere, bouncing off the walls, ripping the place to shreds. At least three of the corridors I was supposed to take had collapsed. It was then I realized the entire structure was underground. And very close to collapsing.”

“If I had had any strength at all I could have blasted my way out, but being repeatedly raped and tortured tends to sap one’s energy and will to live. I hadn’t wanted to be rescued. I was content to stay in little personal hell until they killed me, but Severus’ urgency had infected me and I tried to save myself. In doing so I found myself trapped and lost in a crumbling underground fortress, surrounded by a battle between light and dark, both of whom thought I had betrayed them, with a wand I couldn’t use if I had wanted to and an invisibility cloak for protection. Everything seemed so utterly absurd and twisted and very, very funny. So I laughed. I laughed at the irony, the stupidity, the pain, the absurdness of it all. I’ve never laughed so long or so hard in my life, before or since, and I thought I’d finally lost my mind.”

“That was how she found me, sitting on the floor, getting covered in the dust falling from the crumbling walls, laughing my head off. At first I didn’t believe it was her, thought I was hallucinating, but when she landed on my shoulder and bunted my head I knew it was really her.” Draco’s little voice was back, berating him, ‘You still can’t say her name and it’s been what? Almost five years? Pathetic.’ The voice was starting to sound a lot like Lucius, but Draco stoically ignored it. “She looked at me through the cloak and bunted my head again. She wanted me to follow her. You know I could never say no to Hed- to her,” the blond silently cursed himself. He had almost said her name, sullying her very memory with his foul mouth, “so I got up. She lead me to a caved in tunnel where light was coming in from a hole at the top. It was a long climb, but
she stayed with me. She wouldn’t let me give up no matter how much I wanted to.”

“She let me rest at the top. I don’t think I’d ever tasted sweeter air, but the sunlight burned my eyes. We didn’t stay there long, there was a battle going on around us after all, and she made quite the choice target for the Death Eaters. We dodged in and out of duels, hid behind piles of thrown up dirt and bodies. The one time I tried to take my hood down she squawked at me furiously. I fell back to my knees and dropped my head instantly, waiting for my punishment. It’s something to say that I was so cowed an angry bird could have me bent to submission.” Using both hands Draco raised his mug to his lips. Most of the shaking was controlled, but he knew Harry’s keen eyes would catch the tremor. There was nothing to be done about it. Story telling was a thirsty business and this story needed to be told. He took a few sips from his still steaming mug, charms be blessed for that, before continuing.

“I must have scared her terribly. She landed in front of me and hooted in that gentle voice of hers. She nibbled at the tips of my fingers where they stuck out from the cloak. She walked up my legs and poked her head under the cowl to bump her head against mine. She hopped to my shoulder, wrapped a wing around my head and cooed in my ear,” Draco’s voice was a bare whisper as he remembered his last sweet moments with the beautiful bird. Five years and the guilt had yet to lessen it’s hold on his heart. ‘You should have left me, my beauty,’ he thought yet again, for all the good it did.

“She got me going again, but it was too late. We had lingered too long and she had been spotted. I managed to dodge the first few curses, but one grazed my leg, ripping off all the skin and
freezing the flesh an inch deep. I was used to pain by then, but that hurt. I fell to the ground hoping she would finally leave me, but she dove. I did the only thing I could do and held up the cloak so she could hide with me. There was mass confusion when she disappeared. Someone ordered a clean sweep of the immediate area and then went back to the main battle which had moved away from us again.”

“We stayed on the ground where I had fallen. She must have known I couldn’t move, but when the search narrowed in on our location I got up and crawled to the far side of a low hill not far off. We passed right through their lines and they had no idea. She walked beneath me the whole way, quite annoyed that she couldn’t fly,” the hint of a smile played over Draco’s lips for a moment, “the look she gave me when I let her out of the cloak....she truly pitied those of us who can’t fly.”

“We rested there for a few minutes, but she seemed to have an agenda to keep to, so she got me going again. It finally dawned on me that she was leading me to the perimeter of the anti-
apparition wards. I tried to go faster thinking she would be safe on the other side, but my leg had started to thaw and bleed, slowing me down. We were steps away from the perimeter when I felt him. ‘A trail of blood and Harry Potter’s bird,’ he said, ‘you know, son, an invisibility cloak can’t hide everything.’ I turned and raised my wand, but he was quicker and stronger. He took my wand and tore the cloak from me. ‘Pathetic,’ he called me, ‘waste of breeding. You would give
your life to protect his owl.’”

“He threw me to the ground and levelled his wand at me. ‘Good bye, Draco.’ He said it as if he was leaving for work. I didn’t care. She was gone, safe I thought, and it seemed right for the man who made me to un-make me. I saw the green light come from his wand, then...” Draco steeled himself, “then I saw her fly in front of it.”

Silence. Draco bowed his head, eyes closed tight against the pain and willed himself not to cry. He struggled for a few moments and managed to control himself. Grey eyes sought the solace of his coffee mug before continuing.

“She fell to my arms. Lucius was saying something I ignored. I placed her gently on the ground and lunged at him. We struggled. He hadn’t expected my attack and I nearly managed to get my wand back. He threw me off eventually, but I did manage to bloody him up a bit,” a small smirk flitted across Draco’s pale face at the memory of Lucius’ broken nose and busted lip, “He sneered at me ‘If you wanted your wand, Draco, all you had to do was ask.’ My father threw my wand at me and transfigured it to a dagger.”

“I ducked it by millimetres and heard a pop behind me, followed by a hollow thud, like hitting a loose drum skin. Lucius was laughing so the spell caught him by surprise and his wand flew to Dumbledore’s waiting hand. ‘I believe that puts you on more equal ground, my boy,’ the old fool smiled at me. The dagger, my wand, was buried hilt deep in his chest.” Tears were threatening again and this time Draco gave in, letting the salty water flow slowly down his cheeks. He didn’t deserve to mourn the bird he loved, but the insane old man who welcomed him to the Order, who had been more of a father to him than Lucius had, who had trusted him with the greatest weapon
the Light had, Harry, Draco felt he had earned the right to mourn Albus Dumbledore if no one else.

“He dropped to his knees, grabbed my hands. I fell, blathering, begging him not to die, to stay with us, you needed him, anything to keep him from going. He only smiled that infuriating smile of his and with my hands on the hilt pulled the dagger out of his chest. ‘I’m sorry, my boy,’ he said ‘We should have looked out for you better. I’m sorry,’” Draco choked out a harsh laugh. “I killed him and he was sorry. Aggravating old fool.”

“Lucius was standing behind me, laughing again. ‘The great Dumbledore defeated. My lord will reward me well for this.’ I don’t think he realized I had the dagger until it went into his stomach. Did you know it can take hours to die from a stomach wound? I would have been worried about him trying to get up, running away to find help, but the dagger was long and my aim was perfect. I severed his spinal cord.”

“He fell on me, I pushed him off and he fell beside the old fool. I crawled over to her, brought her to Dumbledore, lay her beside him. Lucius was speaking, begging me to help him, heal him, save him, protesting he had never meant to hurt me, but one could not disobey the Dark Lord. I tuned him out after I pulled the dagger out. I sat by that manipulative old bastard’s head, lay the dagger across my knees, and waited.”

“The moon was up before they found me. Had it been one of the Order I’m sure I would have at least been able to explain myself, but I was found by aurors and taken into custody. It was the biggest scandal to come out of the Final Battle and the trials. Fudge kept me locked up tight, not even the Weasley’s or Granger could get in to see me. If I had had a sense of humour at the time I would have giggled myself silly because the good guys were treating me almost as horridly as the
bad guys had. I didn’t get raped or beaten as often, apparently perfectly legal things to do to former Death Eaters, and the food was more plentiful if of poor quality, but over all an
improvement over Voldemort’s pet keeping skills. ”

“Voldemort had me prisoner for almost a year and a half, Fudge had me for a year after that for the trials, then I was sent to Azkaban. I wasn’t allowed contact with the outside world, but I was allowed letters. Granger and Severus were the shit disturbers that managed to get me that privilege. The two of them, McGonagall, even the Weasleys and Lupin wrote to me. The letters were censored, of course, but I knew how to read between the lines. Evidently there was an effort afoot to have me released after I finished testifying, saying that I had more than done my duty to the Wizarding World, and to tell my story, not the twisted falsehood Fudge and The Prophet were feeding the world. That was effectively quashed when Fudge sent me to Azkaban without a trial.”

“The Order declared war on The Ministry after that. ‘Death Eaters got fair trials, but someone who had suffered at their hands for over a year, some one who risked his life spying on Voldemort and his minions for years before being discovered, the man who Albus Dumbledore died protecting is sent to Azkaban with out the decency we show the people who tried to rip our world apart,’” Draco mimicked Arthur Weasley’s voice before downing the last dregs from his mug and reaching for the coffee pot. On the way his hand brushed the plate of blood pops, drawing his eyes. For a long second the pale wizard stared at the treats before pushing the plate to the side to clear a path for the coffee pot.

“Dudley?” his voice was soft.

“Yes Master Draco, sir?” the house elf answered after popping into the room.

“Would you put those away, please? And bring Harry his breakfast. I’m sure he’s waited long enough.”

“Dudley did not want to disturb you, Master Draco.”

“It’s alright, Dudley. Please bring it now.”

“Yes, Master Draco.”

In quick succession the blood pops were cleared away and Harry’s breakfast brought in. Once assured nothing else was needed Dudley left the two former lovers alone. Once again Draco avoided looking at Harry, focussing on the brown liquid in his mug. When he had gathered his strength, Draco started up his story again.

“The way I heard it, it was Molly Weasley who finally got through to Fudge. Barged right into his office during a private meeting with some foreign leaders and let him have it. If that wasn’t enough to scare the man straight she then publicly called for my wand to be tested, to show that I was not the one who transfigured it and I did not murder Dumbledore. Fudge tried to ignore the public for a while, claiming that I signed away my rights after testifying against my brethren. His
word, not mine. But the Order had stirred up the public too much and Fudge had to give in or loose his job, especially when Herm- when Granger and Percy discovered all the paperwork
concerning my sentence and testimony was curiously missing.”

“I was brought before the Wizengamot again in the basement of the Ministry. The dagger was brought from storage by one of Fudge’s lackeys and McGonagall. Minerva did the spell and the
whole scene was played out for the Wizarding world to see. I was summarily cleared of all charges, given my wand, and released.”

“Severus took me home. Dudley was overjoyed. The poor boy had been very lonely without us around. He did his best to take care of me, but I’m not the best patient. Eventually we worked
things out. I don’t think I’d be able to get through a day without him anymore.”

“Now that I was free, now that I had been saved again when again I hadn’t wanted to be, I was expected to pick up where I left off. The Order had held off on funeral for her and Albus until I was released. You were nowhere to be found yet again, but they refused to have a funeral for you. ‘We only bury the people we know are dead,’ was the official line. But I had no desire to go. I was the reason they were dead, why should I be allowed to sully their memory with my presence. I didn’t say that, of course, Granger would have had a fit. Instead I told her, told all of them, that I didn’t feel up to leaving the house. It wasn’t a lie, it just wasn’t the whole truth.”

“Granger showed up the day of the funeral. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen her when she’s pregnant. She glows. She looked beautiful, but beauty was not going to sway me. I wanted no
part of the world outside the Manor, but she wasn’t about to let a little thing like what I wanted to stop her. She did threaten me with the Imperious, but eventually she promised that I would be asked to no more official or unofficial functions and I would be left alone once this funeral was
over. So I agreed to go.”

“We apparated to Hogsmead where a carriage was waiting to take us to Hogwarts. The funeral was held in the Great Hall, so many people were expected to show up. I knew they had something
planned for me, but I had no idea what. Granger and I were the last ones to arrive. She escorted me up to the front of the hall where a place of honour was reserved for me, beside Severus and your empty seat. Everyone in the Order was called upon to receive something Albus had left to them. Severus got his pensive, Fred and George his endless supply of lemon sherbets, Fawkes went to McGonagall and Granger got his personal library. Minerva then stood and called on me.
‘Albus Dumbledore was a wise man. He knew to trust in you and believe in you when everyone else despaired and called you traitor. He traded his life for yours because he believed you had a greater purpose to fulfill. But he worried about you being alone, so he left you this to remind you that no mater how alone you feel, there are always others who think of you and need you.’ She was crying when she handed me Dumbledore’s wand.”

“I didn’t want to accept it, but how could I refuse the last wish of that annoyingly knowing old bugger? I took the wand from Minerva and gave her a bit of a cuddle. I was going to head back to my seat when Granger stood up and asked me to stay where I was on the dias. McGonagall was holding my arm, trapping me quite efficiently, smiling, and Severus looked pleased so I knew I was in for something horrible. Granger picked up a long black velvet box from the table and turned to face the horde. ‘Draco Malfoy always has been and always will be a fighter, a hero, a champion. He saw the error of the ways of Voldemort and was the catalyst for the eventual downfall of his dark regime. Draco is also a dear friend of everyone Albus named and gifted here. He fought by our sides, healed our wounds and never gave up hope even when the rest of the
world gave up on him. To show our gratitude, our support and our love for Draco Malfoy, our brother, our friend, our personal pain in the arse, we give him this.’ She opened the box and I wanted to die."

"It was one of her feathers. Perfectly white, shining black, like an arrow to my heart.”

“I was numb. I thanked Granger and McGonagall and fled to my seat. I wanted to go straight home and hide, but I promised Granger I would stay for the whole thing. The ceremony disbursed shortly after that. There was a gathering in the Headmistresses office for Order members after the official business was over. It was hard to tell what flowed more freely, tears or fire whiskey. It was there that Minerva broke down and cried on my shoulder, and where Percy tried to pick me up after his tenth drink. She and Albus were remembered, stories were told and griping was heard about the cessation of the official look into your whereabouts, again. All in all, it was a fun,
torturous time. Very good whiskey, though.”

“Granger was true to her word. I was not asked to any more functions after that. I did start entertaining a lot, though. They worried about me, the Order members, and kept ‘dropping by’ to check up on me. Granger would come by with little Harry. They made me his godfather for some reason. I didn’t ask. Beautiful child, despite the Weasley blood. It shouldn’t have annoyed me so much, but after being alone for so long I was very used to my privacy. The constant intrusions are probably what caused me to start doing it in the first place.”Draco’s little voice was cackling. ‘Lies, lies, lies! Lies for the one you love!’ Draco mentally decked it and told it to fuck off. There were some things Harry didn’t need to hear, like just how suicidal he had been at the time.

“I knew about the beach because of a vacation Mother and I took the summer before I started Hogwarts. We rented a cottage on Skye overlooking the beach. We spent most of the days on it,
but Mother forbade me to go down after dusk. Lucius joined us for the last week and we had a fight. I ran from the house in a rage and ended up wandering for hours. I found myself sitting on the beach as night fell. At first I was still too angry to be afraid, but fear grew with the darkness. There was something unsettling about the beach in the dark. It felt like someone was watching me, but I couldn’t see them. I was afraid to move.”

“I didn’t hear or see her approach, but I slowly became aware of her presence beside me. I’d never seen anything more beautiful. Long black hair, pale white skin my Mother would have killed for, and dark violet eyes that smouldered in the moonlight. ‘You shouldn’t be out here, young one,’she said. Her voice was soft, hypnotic, ‘There are those of my kind who would not hesitate to harm you and it is not your time yet. Shall I walk you home?’ It was more the quality of her voice that I listened to than the words, though the words stuck with me for a long time. I found myself nodding, trusting her for no reason. Thrall. It’s a very useful tool. She smiled when I
nodded and I saw her elongated, white canines in stark relief against her dark lips and wasn’t afraid. She took my hand and walked me back to the cottage, making me promise to never go to
the beach at night again, no matter how angry I was. ‘Stay safe for now, young one, and I will see you again,’ she kissed my forehead and left me on my doorstep. I forgot about her, but I did remember the beach.”

“I started apparating to the beach for walks when I couldn’t sleep,” the blond conveniently left out the horrible nightmares that were the cause of his insomnia, “once, maybe twice a week. Soon it became my nightly ritual. Walking along the beach calmed me, made me forget things, hypnotized me with the sound of waves and shore birds. I could walk for hours and not think of anything. It was a welcome release from my daily nuisances.”

“It wasn’t long before there were two sets of tracks marring the night beach. She had been waiting for me, all those years. She never interrupted me, just watched at first, following me. I knew she was there, but it didn’t bother me. She worked slowly, with the incredible patience only those who will live forever have, following closer, walking beside me, taking my hand. And she never said a word.”

“The first night we made love was when I learned her name. Eurydice. Even after we were lovers we hardly spoke. I didn’t love her, I found solace in her. When I was with her we were all there was in the world. There was no past, there was no future, there was only that moment, that escape, that release. It was the only thing that kept me going for a long time.”

Draco risked a glance at Harry through his lashes while he sipped his coffee. Surely the admission that he had taken another lover would produce some reaction in the other man, but The Man Who Kept Disappearing was staring quite intently into the fire and Draco could read nothing. ‘Oh well,’ he thought, ‘the best is yet to come.’

“It was exactly seven years to the day after you left that she turned me.” Draco felt the intensity of the green eyes on him at that little announcement, but he found his coffee terribly interesting so he refused to look up. “It didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. More of a burning than anything else, then it was over. We made love until the sun threatened, then I pulled her into the sea and made love to her under the water. She was furious and apparated to her place as soon as we were
done. I stayed. Sunlight played on the water, delving deeper than I would have thought. I played with it, daring myself to see how close I would get the golden streams when a current caught me and threw me above the water.”

“I felt nothing. The light was warm on my wet skin, but nothing else. I’m not sure if I was disappointed or not, but the fact that I wasn’t burning to a crisp peaked my curiosity. I swam
around for a little longer, testing myself to make sure it wasn’t a trick Eurydice had played on me, before swimming to the beach, collecting my clothes and apparating home. I spent the day in the library and finally found the reason. Back in the 1500's one of my ancestors delved into blood magic for purely cosmetic reasons. At the time white skin denoted status and class so she decided that everyone who followed her line would have perfectly white skin. She devised a spell that
would keep the light of the sun from touching the skin while still letting it’s warmth through. The spell is gone, I’ve spent many days looking for it at Granger’s request. Evidently it would be very helpful, but it has disappeared.”

“I continued to see Eurydice for another six months, but I no longer found the solace that drew me to her in the first place. She tried only once to convince me to hunt with her. I quickly
convinced her I wanted no part in more death. I had had my share,” an involuntary shudder ran through Draco’s body as he remembered the feeling of her bones breaking beneath his hands, the only way he had been able to make her stop taunting him. At the time his new found strength shocked him, but he learned to live with it. “Then one night Granger asked me to look after little Harry. The function she and Weasley went to ran late and I missed my rendevous with Eurydice.”

“I didn’t miss it. The sand, the sea, the sex, Eurydice. I looked at the child sleeping in my arms and it was enough. I haven’t see Eurydice since.”

“By that time the whole order knew I had been turned. They seemed to feel responsible, and to a point they were, but not in the way they think. I am still trusted, though. I have never, nor will I ever, hunt. The blood pops are enough to keep me sated. Since the sun cannot harm me I can continue on like I did before, with only the Order and Eurydice knowing the truth. Even so, I don’t go out much. To Diagon occasionally, Flourish and Blotts and the bakery,” he smirked, “They still makes my favourites. Sometimes I go up to Hogwarts to see Minerva and Severus, sometimes the Burrow or Weasley and Granger’s flat in Oxford, but mostly I stay home. I have nothing to offer the outside world and it has nothing for me.”

With a gulp Draco drained his mug and set it on the table. As far as he was concerned, he knew all he needed to know. “Which brings us up to today. Now, if that’s all, I have some pressing
business to attend to. Please do eat your breakfast. Dudley will be after me for months if he thinks you don’t like his cooking anymore. I trust you can see yourself out as easily as you saw yourself in.” As calmly and gracefully as he could, Draco stood and fled the room, leaving Harry behind.

Two flights of stairs down, Draco broke into a run. Up the corridor, to the right, second door on the right, through the secret door behind the fireplace, up three more flights to the long corridor at the back of the house and all along it to his private study at the far end of the Manor. The despair that had grown in him as he told his sorry tale threatened to over take him, and he was damned thrice over, again, if he was going to let Harry see that.

The study was huge, magically expanded to hold all Draco’s treasures, with a big picture window that followed the sun so the room was always bathed in golden light. He’d found it a long time ago when he was a child hiding from tutors and his father. He’d never told anyone about it, not even Harry. Everything that meant anything to the Malfoy heir was in that room. The first book he’d read by himself, his first broom, the letters he and Harry had sent back and forth in seventh year, the silver dragon Harry had given him on his twentieth birthday, the platinum rings he had intended to use as their wedding bands.

The last picture of his mother before Lucius killed her.

The invisibility cloak Ron Weasley had somehow saved from the battle field.

The dagger that killed Albus Dumbledore and Lucius Malfoy.

Her feather.

All of Draco’s treasures and tragedies housed in one place. How much time he had spent in that room since his final rescue from the Ministry, Draco couldn’t say. A lot was a sufficient estimate. Now as he looked around at the remnants of his life, his pathetic, sad, wasted life, Draco Malfoy broke.

The scream came out of the depths of his scarred soul, bringing with it all the pain, hopelessness, despair, sorrow, heartbreak and anger the shattered man held in for years. It ripped out of his mouth and decimated the calm of his sanctuary, echoing back to him, assaulting his ears, making him hurt all the more for finally being weak enough to give in. He screamed, again and again, until his throat was raw and he tasted his own blood in his mouth.

Draco gasped, trying to catch his breath in an attempt to regain control of himself. His watering eyes fell on the picture of little Harry at his second birthday party two months before. Fuzzy red brown hair, icing smears and wide hazel eyes looked back at him, then two arms with cake covered hands were reaching for him and the little mouth was forming the word ‘Up’. A sob escaped Draco’s lips and he crumpled to the ground.

Draco sobbed. Draco shook. He curled himself into a ball on the floor and cried out his sorrows to the empty room. There was no one there. No one to hold him, to whisper to him, stoke his
hair, tell him it would all be ok. There was no one there because Draco had no one. He had pushed them all away believing he wasn’t worth the trouble. He had left everything he had for
Harry, and Harry had left him. Twice. Once that day nearly nine years before, once a the Last Battle. Draco knew Harry had been at the Final Battle, even though he was left out of the official records, how else would Severus have had his invisibility cloak? He had left Draco to the tender mercies of Fudge and his lackeys. Draco believed all he was, all he had, all his worth, was nothing, and he tried his best to protect the people he cared about from his worthlessness. And so, Draco
cried alone in the sunny study, surrounded by his treasures.

Quite some time later, a few hours past noon, Draco heard it. His name being called urgently somewhere below him in the house. He laughed softly. No one would find him here. Not until he wanted them to. And that would be soon enough.

While he cried, Draco had had quite the fight with himself. That annoying little voice, which alternated between sounding like Albus and Lucius, had quite a few things to say to him. ‘Why did you lie to him?’ ‘Weakling, look at you now!’ ‘You did leave out some of the juicier parts. If you wanted him to suffer you would have told him, in graphic detail.’ ‘He’s only going to leave you again, why did you bother?’ ‘You know you’re not worth the space you take up. Why not end it and put everyone out of their misery?’

The last comment really got his attention. It wasn’t the first time, but it was different this time. Any hope Draco had clung to in the past was gone. Yes, Harry was back. He was searching the house for Draco at that very moment, but it didn’t matter. He was just going to leave again, something the pale wizard knew he couldn’t endure.

He decided it was about time he left Harry. For good.

A simple charm from his - Albus’- wand and any remnants of tears or red eyes were gone. He may be a messy corpse in the end, but he would be a good looking one. On unsteady legs he walked to the small wall vault where all his important papers were kept. He pulled out his will, the deed to the Manor and several other properties around the world, and the keys to the Malfoy vaults at Gringotts which he set on the large oak desk in the middle of the room. On the plush sofa he set Harry’s invisibility cloak and Dumbledore’s wand. Back at the desk he took a quill and wrote a quick note that he left to dry while he stepped to a small alcove beside the migrating window.
Inside was a long black velvet box. Grabbing the box and the note, Draco paced back to the sofa and opened the box.

The feather shone just as brightly as it had the day Hermione gave it to him. Soft and glossy, white and black. Perfect, just like she had been. At least now it was going back to someone who wouldn’t besmirch her memory with his mere presence. Reverently, Draco placed the box beside the wand and lay the note over it. ‘This belongs to you.’ was all it said.

With his preparations done, the last Malfoy walked over to the fire place and took down the still bloody dagger from it’s place of honour. He could smell the his father, Albus, even himself on the weapon. ‘It’s only right,’ he thought, ‘to be killed by the very thing that should have killed me years ago.’

Slowly, the self condemned man walked back to his desk and took a seat in the large leather chair situated behind it. He took one last look around at all his treasures, his eyes finally falling to the dagger sitting innocently in his hand.

It was time.

Draco raised the dagger to the level of his unbeating heart and paused for a second to remember the word that would change the metal back into wood, and in that second all his careful planning was undone.

“Draco! No!” Harry’s voice reverberated through the room. “Expelliarmus!” The dagger flew through the air to land safely in the hands of The Man Who Didn’t Know When To Quit.

Harry was furious. The power and anger radiated off of him like a small sun. He was flushed from running all over the Manor and his eyes glowed like pools of green fire, but Draco didn’t notice. He was looking at his empty hands, trying to comprehend what had just happened.

“This is your pressing business, is it? What the hell were you trying to do?!”

“I think that’s blatantly obvious, don’t you?”

“Then you’re going about it the wrong way, don’t you think?”

“What makes you say that?”

“This is a dagger, Draco. You need to put a wooden stake through your heart to kill yourself, or did you miss that day in DADA?”

“I never missed a DADA class.”

“Don’t change the subject!”

“I believe you were the one who brought up classes, not me. And really, Harry, aren’t we a bit old to be talking about Hogwarts classes?”

“Answer me!”

“I’m sorry, did you ask me a question?”

“Draco!”

“Must you shout? I’m right here.”

Harry’s glare had improved immensely over the years, something he chose that moment to demonstrate. Draco gave in.

“If you’ll care to notice that is not just any dagger. The blood on it happens to be that of Albus Dumbledore and Lucius Malfoy. It is the weapon that killed them, the one that was meant to kill me. That dagger is my wand, which can be turned back to wood with a word. Honestly, Harry, no wonder you did so poorly in transfiguration.”

Harry blanched. He looked at the weapon in his hand with new found horror, then back at the wizard across the room.

“Why?”

“I have my reasons. If you would kindly return my wand, I would like to get on with things.” Draco was in shock, running on pure instinct that came from years of banter with Harry. He was
quickly running out of patience, though.

“Get on with things?” Harry’s anger was coming back, “Get on with things! Get on with killing yourself, you mean! How long have you been planning this, Draco? Were you waiting for today,
or just for me to come back? Do you really hate me that much?”

“I don’t hate you,” it was barely a whisper.

“Really? You have a funny way of showing that, love!” Draco winced, but Harry wasn’t done, “Hedwig and Albus gave their lives for you, and what did you do? You threw it away! You ran to the first pair of willing arms you could find and you let her take your life! You owed them better!”

Harry dared to say her name. Harry blamed Draco for what had happened. Harry crossed a line with his last comment. Draco’s head snapped up, grey eyes flashing with anger and he let Harry
have it.

“I owe them?” he hissed, “I owe them? I owe nothing to no one. Any debts I had were erased when Voldemort and Fudge took me for their play thing. I owe them? For what? The beatings?
The rapes? For believing they would rescue me and that all my suffering meant something? Where were they when I still had the will to live? Where were they when I ran into the arms of a
vampire? Where were they when I returned to Knockturn ? Where were they when you were gone? Where were you?”

“I didn’t know, or I-“

“Bull shit! You didn’t know! You didn’t know what? That Lucius would have his lackeys hold me down while he raped me with the snake head of his cane? That Macnair liked to use two charms:
one to make me impossibly tight and one to make him huge? That Lestrange liked to cut me up before he fucked me senseless, using my own blood as lube? That Voldemort personally burnt the
Dark Mark off my skin with matches while his snake fucked me? That he would make me fuck him when he wore your face? That Fudge would come and watch me getting beaten to a bloody
pulp everyday before testifying? What didn’t you know, Harry? That I would scream until I couldn’t scream anymore, but I never said a word? That I tried to make them think I knew where
you were because I thought it would protect you?” Dra