Fic: September Morn (Part Seven)
This is almost coming to an end now. I'm not quite sure if this will be the penultimate chapter or if there are two more still to come.
Enjoy! Comments are always welcome.
Part One ... Part Two ... Part Three ... Part Four ... Part Five ... Part Six
September Morn
A post-Hogwarts H/D story
Rating PG (at the moment)
Part Seven of Eight or Nine
Beta-ed by the Lovely olivia_lupin, who has helped make this story much better than it otherwise would have been.
********************
“It looks like a ruin.”
“That’s what my parents said it always looked like whenever they visited ... at least until they got through the wards.”
“But they’re Muggles. It’s just weird to think there might be new wards stopping us from seeing it....”
Off to one side, Draco half-listened to the conversation, his eyes fixed on the ruins of Hogwarts visible through the trees. He’d only been to the castle once since the battle which had ended in Dumbledore’s death and the Order fleeing to lick their wounds while Voldemort started his meteoric rise back to power. Hogwarts had been damaged during the battle but afterwards, the Dark Lord had taken the opportunity to show his power by reducing the icon to nothing but a ruin.
Or so people had thought.
Draco was now convinced that it had all been an illusion and that the castle was intact behind the wards, which scared people away. Since he’d arrived here with Longbottom, Finnigan and Creevey, he’d felt a growing need to get out of the area. It touched on everything that he feared, building in the pit of his stomach to the point it would have been easy to just turn and run. It was affecting the others as well; he could see they were becoming fidgety and unsettled.
Eye narrowing, he took a breath. If Pansy was right (and he’d never known her to be wrong since she’d swapped sides and started spying for the Order), then Harry was being held in the Room of Requirement; her husband was one of the guards watching over him. Draco had tried to get Pansy to leave Warrington, concerned that she was putting her life at risk, but she wouldn’t and now he was worried she might have gone too far. If Harry was being held here, it wouldn’t take Voldemort long to find out who had leaked the information to the Order and Pansy wouldn’t stand a chance. Warrington certainly wouldn’t protect her if it came to having to choose between his master and his wife.
And now here he was, with Harry’s Wild Boys attempting a rescue from a building warded more strongly than Gringotts Bank.
Draco reached down and began to unbuckle his leg protectors. He couldn’t remember just who had first suggested wearing something similar to Quidditch gear when flying missions, but he could clearly recall the day Longbottom, Finnigan, Thomas, Weasley and Creevey had arrived at Harry’s office with their new gear on. Harry had stared at the boys for a moment before turning to Hermione, who was trying to hide her amusement behind her hand, and saying that the group looked like something out of a Duran Duran video. Longbottom and Weasley had looked at each other in non-comprehension, while those brought up in Muggle households had joined in with the laughter.
Once the laughter had subsided, Harry explained and since then the little group of Gryffindors had been known as The Wild Boys. Their outfits had become more and more bizarre over time ... leather jackets, little plaits in some of the boys’ hair and occasionally even face painting which Longbottom had assured Draco was camouflage. Over the months that followed the Quidditch gear had been refined into lightweight charm-enhanced flying gear.
Draco had to admit the clothing worked. Not having to fly in heavy, full robes was always a bonus, and besides he rather liked seeing Harry in it.
Of course he’d never really been part of the group, even though he’d flown with them. Oh, they never questioned him being on any of the missions with them; it was just that he wasn’t part of the Gryffindor elite. Once or twice he’d thought to argue the point, but knew that if the group had been comprised of Slytherins, it would have been the same for any outsider.
With a quick spell, Draco shrank the discarded clothing to a manageable bundle and pulled on a lightweight plain black robe over his shirt and trousers.
Neville Longbottom had crept over to him and the pair stared out at the ruin. “There are new wards in place. Walking up to where the main entrance used to be isn’t an option anymore.”
Draco glanced sideways. “I never really considered that an option.”
“I know, but it does mean that there’s something hidden in there. Why ward it like that if all you want to do is keep Muggles away?”
“True. What about Harry’s trackers?”
“Nothing definite. He could have been here, but....” Neville shrugged. “We need to get past the wards to be sure.”
“But not through the front door.”
“Ron said there used to be a secret passage from the cellar in Honeyduke’s.”
Draco raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Supposedly Harry used it during our third year. It comes out on the third floor next to the statue of the one-eyed humpbacked witch.”
“I remember the statue, it was near the trophy room.” Draco frowned; he had no idea of that particular secret passage.
“Now that Hogsmeade’s deserted, it shouldn’t be hard to find the entrance in the old Honeyduke’s building. If the tunnel hasn’t collapsed then you should be able to get in through there. The password used to be ‘Dissendium’, so we’ll just hope it hasn’t been changed. Got everything?”
Draco reached down to the small pouch hanging from his belt. “Yes. Everything.”
********************
Harry didn’t bother trying to move unless he had to. He felt too tired to bother and, besides, it hurt too much. His scar seemed to hurt all the time now and he’d forgotten what it felt like to be warm.
At least he wasn’t tied down any longer, but that could be Lucius playing tricks with his mind again. He wasn’t even sure if he was naked or clothed anymore. His skin prickled with the cold as if he were bare, but when he closed his eyes and reached for his shirt, he could feel the cloth between his fingers.
As for where he was, it could be almost anywhere. The room changed all the time now. When he’d gone to sleep, it had been the dungeon. It was still the same dungeon, but bits of it seemed different, as though it hadn’t been reconstructed in his mind the way it had originally.
Everything was turning out to be an illusion ... even the grand dining room he’d thought had been at Malfoy Manor. He rubbed briefly at his scar. And Voldemort was somewhere very close.
Voices sounded outside of his prison and Harry tensed as he recognised Lucius Malfoy’s voice. The man was angry again. He wasn’t shouting though. ‘Shouting’ wasn’t a word Harry equated with Lucius; Lucius could make people take notice with a gesture and the angrier he got the quieter his voice became.
And the quieter it got, the more people shut up, listened and got scared.
Draco was the same, Harry remembered with a half-hearted snort. Like father ... like son.
The door finally opened and Harry looked up as the tall blond strode into the room. Even with his blurred vision, Harry could tell the man was dressed plainly today, which meant he’d probably find something physical to do to his prisoner. Lucius didn’t like getting blood on his fancy clothes.
Plus he’d sent away the guards ... not a good sign. Even before the man was half way across the room, Harry began curling up, wanting to protect himself against the toecap of Lucius’ boot.
But nothing happened.
Instead the man stood there, looking at him, and Harry thought Lucius’ hands were clenching and opening reflexively. It had happened before ... Lucius would just stand watching him as if he knew his piercing grey gaze was completely unsettling. Harry would end up squirming under it, his mind full of what his captor might be planning for him this time. Then, just as Harry was at the point of screaming “Fucking get on with it!” Lucius would smirk and walk out, leaving Harry almost weeping with both frustration and relief.
Today there was something else in the man’s stance and his expression was different ... a cross between concern and fury.
Harry watched as the other man looked back at the still open door, then at Harry again. Grey eyes still blazing, he dropped to his knees and reached out a hand. “Harry!” the familiar voice hissed. “Oh god, what’s he done to you?” Long fingers curled around Harry’s shoulder.
Days ... weeks? ... of abuse underlined Harry’s reaction to the touch and he tried to scoot away.
But the fingers held onto his shivering frame and he didn’t have the strength to pull away as arms enfolded him in the warmth of soft robes. “Harry ... it’s me ... Draco.”
For a second, Harry just looked up at the man as if trying to comprehend the words. “Draco?”
“Yes ... yes. I used Polyjuice to get in here. We’ve got about thirty minutes. Can you walk?”
Harry continued to stare and then he began to laugh with a strength coming from god-knew-where. “Oh, Lucius, you never cease to amaze me. I have to admit Polyjuice is a nifty idea, but wouldn’t it have been better if you’d become your son?” He forced a scowl. “Now either kick me or piss off so I can sleep.” He pushed at the man’s chest, trying to disentangle himself. “And stop pretending you care ... it doesn’t go with your evil minion persona.”
To Harry’s surprise, the only response he got was a chuckle, and the voice now sounded almost genuinely amused. “Only you could talk to my father like that when you’re in such dire straights.” Harry was released suddenly, and as he watched, the man quickly stripped off his robes. He pulled them around Harry’s shivering shoulders and then glanced quickly at his watch. “But I haven’t got time to discuss his finer points right now.”
The robe fabric felt so good against his cold skin and for a moment Harry wanted nothing more than to hug himself tightly into the warmth. But he was used to Lucius’ tricks and illusions, and he was sure this was just another one.
Harry closed his eyes momentarily. He’d reached the end of his strength and he wasn’t sure he could be brave anymore. The sigh, when it finally came, was heart-felt. “Okay, we’ve been through this before with your other games. If you really are Draco, then tell me something only he and I would know.”
“We haven’t got time for this, Harry.” The voice was exasperated, now, and he glanced again at his watch. “Please!”
“Then let’s wait for the Polyjuice to wear off, shall we?”
“Sure, and how the fuck do you expect to walk out of here with Draco Malfoy at your side?”
“Now that isn’t like you, Draco, to only bring one dose.”
The older man glared. “It’s not the Polyjuice, Harry, I only had enough of my father’s hair for one go.”
“Then just tell me something only we would know... the quicker you do, the sooner we can get out of here. And there’s no way I want to stay here any longer than I need to.”
“Okay, okay.” The blond man twisted from his knees to sit on the floor. “We first met at Madam Malkin’s in Diagon Alley.”
“Not good enough, Lucius.” Harry smirked. “Your son’s had years to tell you about that. In fact, knowing Draco, he probably told you that when you got back from buying his books.”
“Then what, Harry? What the fuck am I supposed to tell you that he might not know?” Suddenly the grey eyes widened, lighting with an inner glow as if a mental light bulb had been switched on. “You kissed me once.” The words were a whisper.
“Did I?” Harry had pulled his knees up to his chest, trying to hug warmth into them.
“It was.... It was the New Year’s party when Melissa and I announced we were getting married. After we’d told everyone, I remember looking around at all the people there and at you. You know, Harry, for a moment ... just the briefest instant ... you looked as if the bottom had dropped out of your world. Then you smiled and slapped me on the shoulder and told us how happy you were for us.”
The grey eyes looked at him and Harry thought he saw the other person who might be hidden inside the Polyjuiced body.
“Everything got hectic after that. People wanting to talk and things and I was pretty inebriated with all those congratulatory drinks they kept handing me. Then someone ... Weasley I think ... asked where you were because it was coming up to midnight and no one had seen you for a while. So I went to look.”
“And you found me.”
“Yes, I did ... out in the garden with the weirdest warming spell cast around you. It was like you were surrounded by moon beams.” He gave a little smile. “Must be all the alcohol you’d drunk.”
“Mmm. I liked that spell ... all the pretty lights that went with it. And I was pretty smashed by then I seem to remember.”
“Going by the empty bottle at your feet and the half-empty one in your hand, I think that was an understatement. I sat down next to you, there on the ground and we just waited for midnight.”
“What did we talk about?”
“Nothing.” He sighed. “Nothing at all. Then midnight came and you ... you kissed me.”
Harry disentangled his hand from the robes and reached for the other man’s knee. “Did you like it, Draco?”
For a moment, Draco just stared at Harry’s hand as it rested on his leg. “Yes ... yes I did.” Then, looking back up, he briefly touched a fingertip to Harry’s lips. “You tasted of brandy and starlight.” Shifting abruptly back onto his knees, he reached for Harry. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
We’ve travelled halfway ’round the world
To find ourselves again
~~~ End of Part Seven
16th September 2004
Lyrics - September Morn by Neil Diamond
Enjoy! Comments are always welcome.
Part One ... Part Two ... Part Three ... Part Four ... Part Five ... Part Six
September Morn
A post-Hogwarts H/D story
Rating PG (at the moment)
Part Seven of Eight or Nine
Beta-ed by the Lovely olivia_lupin, who has helped make this story much better than it otherwise would have been.
********************
“It looks like a ruin.”
“That’s what my parents said it always looked like whenever they visited ... at least until they got through the wards.”
“But they’re Muggles. It’s just weird to think there might be new wards stopping us from seeing it....”
Off to one side, Draco half-listened to the conversation, his eyes fixed on the ruins of Hogwarts visible through the trees. He’d only been to the castle once since the battle which had ended in Dumbledore’s death and the Order fleeing to lick their wounds while Voldemort started his meteoric rise back to power. Hogwarts had been damaged during the battle but afterwards, the Dark Lord had taken the opportunity to show his power by reducing the icon to nothing but a ruin.
Or so people had thought.
Draco was now convinced that it had all been an illusion and that the castle was intact behind the wards, which scared people away. Since he’d arrived here with Longbottom, Finnigan and Creevey, he’d felt a growing need to get out of the area. It touched on everything that he feared, building in the pit of his stomach to the point it would have been easy to just turn and run. It was affecting the others as well; he could see they were becoming fidgety and unsettled.
Eye narrowing, he took a breath. If Pansy was right (and he’d never known her to be wrong since she’d swapped sides and started spying for the Order), then Harry was being held in the Room of Requirement; her husband was one of the guards watching over him. Draco had tried to get Pansy to leave Warrington, concerned that she was putting her life at risk, but she wouldn’t and now he was worried she might have gone too far. If Harry was being held here, it wouldn’t take Voldemort long to find out who had leaked the information to the Order and Pansy wouldn’t stand a chance. Warrington certainly wouldn’t protect her if it came to having to choose between his master and his wife.
And now here he was, with Harry’s Wild Boys attempting a rescue from a building warded more strongly than Gringotts Bank.
Draco reached down and began to unbuckle his leg protectors. He couldn’t remember just who had first suggested wearing something similar to Quidditch gear when flying missions, but he could clearly recall the day Longbottom, Finnigan, Thomas, Weasley and Creevey had arrived at Harry’s office with their new gear on. Harry had stared at the boys for a moment before turning to Hermione, who was trying to hide her amusement behind her hand, and saying that the group looked like something out of a Duran Duran video. Longbottom and Weasley had looked at each other in non-comprehension, while those brought up in Muggle households had joined in with the laughter.
Once the laughter had subsided, Harry explained and since then the little group of Gryffindors had been known as The Wild Boys. Their outfits had become more and more bizarre over time ... leather jackets, little plaits in some of the boys’ hair and occasionally even face painting which Longbottom had assured Draco was camouflage. Over the months that followed the Quidditch gear had been refined into lightweight charm-enhanced flying gear.
Draco had to admit the clothing worked. Not having to fly in heavy, full robes was always a bonus, and besides he rather liked seeing Harry in it.
Of course he’d never really been part of the group, even though he’d flown with them. Oh, they never questioned him being on any of the missions with them; it was just that he wasn’t part of the Gryffindor elite. Once or twice he’d thought to argue the point, but knew that if the group had been comprised of Slytherins, it would have been the same for any outsider.
With a quick spell, Draco shrank the discarded clothing to a manageable bundle and pulled on a lightweight plain black robe over his shirt and trousers.
Neville Longbottom had crept over to him and the pair stared out at the ruin. “There are new wards in place. Walking up to where the main entrance used to be isn’t an option anymore.”
Draco glanced sideways. “I never really considered that an option.”
“I know, but it does mean that there’s something hidden in there. Why ward it like that if all you want to do is keep Muggles away?”
“True. What about Harry’s trackers?”
“Nothing definite. He could have been here, but....” Neville shrugged. “We need to get past the wards to be sure.”
“But not through the front door.”
“Ron said there used to be a secret passage from the cellar in Honeyduke’s.”
Draco raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Supposedly Harry used it during our third year. It comes out on the third floor next to the statue of the one-eyed humpbacked witch.”
“I remember the statue, it was near the trophy room.” Draco frowned; he had no idea of that particular secret passage.
“Now that Hogsmeade’s deserted, it shouldn’t be hard to find the entrance in the old Honeyduke’s building. If the tunnel hasn’t collapsed then you should be able to get in through there. The password used to be ‘Dissendium’, so we’ll just hope it hasn’t been changed. Got everything?”
Draco reached down to the small pouch hanging from his belt. “Yes. Everything.”
********************
Harry didn’t bother trying to move unless he had to. He felt too tired to bother and, besides, it hurt too much. His scar seemed to hurt all the time now and he’d forgotten what it felt like to be warm.
At least he wasn’t tied down any longer, but that could be Lucius playing tricks with his mind again. He wasn’t even sure if he was naked or clothed anymore. His skin prickled with the cold as if he were bare, but when he closed his eyes and reached for his shirt, he could feel the cloth between his fingers.
As for where he was, it could be almost anywhere. The room changed all the time now. When he’d gone to sleep, it had been the dungeon. It was still the same dungeon, but bits of it seemed different, as though it hadn’t been reconstructed in his mind the way it had originally.
Everything was turning out to be an illusion ... even the grand dining room he’d thought had been at Malfoy Manor. He rubbed briefly at his scar. And Voldemort was somewhere very close.
Voices sounded outside of his prison and Harry tensed as he recognised Lucius Malfoy’s voice. The man was angry again. He wasn’t shouting though. ‘Shouting’ wasn’t a word Harry equated with Lucius; Lucius could make people take notice with a gesture and the angrier he got the quieter his voice became.
And the quieter it got, the more people shut up, listened and got scared.
Draco was the same, Harry remembered with a half-hearted snort. Like father ... like son.
The door finally opened and Harry looked up as the tall blond strode into the room. Even with his blurred vision, Harry could tell the man was dressed plainly today, which meant he’d probably find something physical to do to his prisoner. Lucius didn’t like getting blood on his fancy clothes.
Plus he’d sent away the guards ... not a good sign. Even before the man was half way across the room, Harry began curling up, wanting to protect himself against the toecap of Lucius’ boot.
But nothing happened.
Instead the man stood there, looking at him, and Harry thought Lucius’ hands were clenching and opening reflexively. It had happened before ... Lucius would just stand watching him as if he knew his piercing grey gaze was completely unsettling. Harry would end up squirming under it, his mind full of what his captor might be planning for him this time. Then, just as Harry was at the point of screaming “Fucking get on with it!” Lucius would smirk and walk out, leaving Harry almost weeping with both frustration and relief.
Today there was something else in the man’s stance and his expression was different ... a cross between concern and fury.
Harry watched as the other man looked back at the still open door, then at Harry again. Grey eyes still blazing, he dropped to his knees and reached out a hand. “Harry!” the familiar voice hissed. “Oh god, what’s he done to you?” Long fingers curled around Harry’s shoulder.
Days ... weeks? ... of abuse underlined Harry’s reaction to the touch and he tried to scoot away.
But the fingers held onto his shivering frame and he didn’t have the strength to pull away as arms enfolded him in the warmth of soft robes. “Harry ... it’s me ... Draco.”
For a second, Harry just looked up at the man as if trying to comprehend the words. “Draco?”
“Yes ... yes. I used Polyjuice to get in here. We’ve got about thirty minutes. Can you walk?”
Harry continued to stare and then he began to laugh with a strength coming from god-knew-where. “Oh, Lucius, you never cease to amaze me. I have to admit Polyjuice is a nifty idea, but wouldn’t it have been better if you’d become your son?” He forced a scowl. “Now either kick me or piss off so I can sleep.” He pushed at the man’s chest, trying to disentangle himself. “And stop pretending you care ... it doesn’t go with your evil minion persona.”
To Harry’s surprise, the only response he got was a chuckle, and the voice now sounded almost genuinely amused. “Only you could talk to my father like that when you’re in such dire straights.” Harry was released suddenly, and as he watched, the man quickly stripped off his robes. He pulled them around Harry’s shivering shoulders and then glanced quickly at his watch. “But I haven’t got time to discuss his finer points right now.”
The robe fabric felt so good against his cold skin and for a moment Harry wanted nothing more than to hug himself tightly into the warmth. But he was used to Lucius’ tricks and illusions, and he was sure this was just another one.
Harry closed his eyes momentarily. He’d reached the end of his strength and he wasn’t sure he could be brave anymore. The sigh, when it finally came, was heart-felt. “Okay, we’ve been through this before with your other games. If you really are Draco, then tell me something only he and I would know.”
“We haven’t got time for this, Harry.” The voice was exasperated, now, and he glanced again at his watch. “Please!”
“Then let’s wait for the Polyjuice to wear off, shall we?”
“Sure, and how the fuck do you expect to walk out of here with Draco Malfoy at your side?”
“Now that isn’t like you, Draco, to only bring one dose.”
The older man glared. “It’s not the Polyjuice, Harry, I only had enough of my father’s hair for one go.”
“Then just tell me something only we would know... the quicker you do, the sooner we can get out of here. And there’s no way I want to stay here any longer than I need to.”
“Okay, okay.” The blond man twisted from his knees to sit on the floor. “We first met at Madam Malkin’s in Diagon Alley.”
“Not good enough, Lucius.” Harry smirked. “Your son’s had years to tell you about that. In fact, knowing Draco, he probably told you that when you got back from buying his books.”
“Then what, Harry? What the fuck am I supposed to tell you that he might not know?” Suddenly the grey eyes widened, lighting with an inner glow as if a mental light bulb had been switched on. “You kissed me once.” The words were a whisper.
“Did I?” Harry had pulled his knees up to his chest, trying to hug warmth into them.
“It was.... It was the New Year’s party when Melissa and I announced we were getting married. After we’d told everyone, I remember looking around at all the people there and at you. You know, Harry, for a moment ... just the briefest instant ... you looked as if the bottom had dropped out of your world. Then you smiled and slapped me on the shoulder and told us how happy you were for us.”
The grey eyes looked at him and Harry thought he saw the other person who might be hidden inside the Polyjuiced body.
“Everything got hectic after that. People wanting to talk and things and I was pretty inebriated with all those congratulatory drinks they kept handing me. Then someone ... Weasley I think ... asked where you were because it was coming up to midnight and no one had seen you for a while. So I went to look.”
“And you found me.”
“Yes, I did ... out in the garden with the weirdest warming spell cast around you. It was like you were surrounded by moon beams.” He gave a little smile. “Must be all the alcohol you’d drunk.”
“Mmm. I liked that spell ... all the pretty lights that went with it. And I was pretty smashed by then I seem to remember.”
“Going by the empty bottle at your feet and the half-empty one in your hand, I think that was an understatement. I sat down next to you, there on the ground and we just waited for midnight.”
“What did we talk about?”
“Nothing.” He sighed. “Nothing at all. Then midnight came and you ... you kissed me.”
Harry disentangled his hand from the robes and reached for the other man’s knee. “Did you like it, Draco?”
For a moment, Draco just stared at Harry’s hand as it rested on his leg. “Yes ... yes I did.” Then, looking back up, he briefly touched a fingertip to Harry’s lips. “You tasted of brandy and starlight.” Shifting abruptly back onto his knees, he reached for Harry. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
We’ve travelled halfway ’round the world
To find ourselves again
~~~ End of Part Seven
16th September 2004
Lyrics - September Morn by Neil Diamond