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The Curse	By : Samaelthekind Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 2828 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: JK Rowling's Harry Potter series and its associated works and characters are not mine, and I do not profit from their use!

Chapter List
- 1-The Curse
- 2-Part 2
- 3-Part 3
- 4-Part 4
- 5-Part 5
- 6-Part 6
- 7-Part 7
- 1
- 2
Draco looked at the squat little house on the other end of the busy street, squinting with concentration. It took considerable talent to pierce the veil of illusions and wards that ringed and guarded it so carefully. It wasn't a place that invited being found, and the resident had made sure that anyone not intended to see it would pass it by without a second thought.

Anyone who wasn't very good at seeing what was hidden, perhaps, but Draco was surprisingly observant even by the standards of wizards. It wasn't one of the talents he bragged about loudly. It was one of the gifts he kept to himself, not letting on that he was conscious of even small or subtle signals that people gave away every day. These were the tiny facts he clutched to himself as they were revealed, letting these tidbits of gleaned wisdom guide him in his dealings with others.

He had other talents he bragged of loudly, not that many listened. In the nearly six years since the wars end he'd taken the mantle of the Malfoy name despite the damage done to it and not given a damn if his conduct injured it any further. He had his own interests at the forefront of his mind, and with his parents dearly departed in the chaos of those final days, he'd simply shuttered and locked the mansion and moved to London where he could pursue his own interests at his leisure.

His interests, of course, were unsavory by some people's standards, but it didn't bother him. Being thought of as perverted, cruel and self indulgent was an acceptable price for the kind of freedom the city brought him. He could glut his lusts as he saw fit...always skirting the edge of Muggle and Wizarding laws...and if he could relieve himself in fits of violent ardor with young men of negotiable virtue and thoroughly questionable character, so much the better. Truthfully, he WAS perverted, cruel and self indulgent...the difference was that he was proud of it. He saw himself as a top tier predator in a world of herd animals. He found what he wanted, from those desiring to give it, and took it with pleasure.

The Wizarding world hadn't thought highly of his habits back when he'd first taken over the manor and only sought out partners inside the tight knit community of those gifted with magic. After a string of exhausted and repulsed former partners let rumors slip regarding Draco's predilection for sexual violence, the papers and rumormongers would only hint in vague ways at the last heir of the Malfoys being cursed. They were all too polite to reveal the more scandalous details...but only because they found it more entertaining to let people's imaginations fill in the blanks with notions that were probably far more lurid than the reality.

Reality. That was what had brought him here, to this appallingly quiet little neighborhood with its bustling locals and squat little houses crammed in side by side. It wasn't easy to admit that he needed someone's help...and far less easy to admit that the help he needed had to come from someone who felt a certain mutual loathing at the sight of him. There was scarcely any point in waiting longer, so he crossed the street at the first break in traffic and made his way up the steps to the fine old door with brass knockers. It wasn't much of a house, but it wasn't surprising that the person who dwelt within would choose to live surrounded by Muggles instead of enjoying the limelight of the Wizarding world. War 'heroes' were still fresh in the minds of most witches and wizards...and there wasn't likely to be any peace or quiet for the hapless Hogwart's graduates who had made such a difference in the war against Voldemort.

There was no way this would be comfortable meeting. Too much water under the bridge, too many uncomfortable memories, too much bad blood between both sides. Still, it had to be done. There was something larger at stake than pride...and that was saying something when it was Malfoy pride being weighed against it. The wards were the sort that only a Muggle-lover would have used...mild and inoffensive, sure to deter and distract the accidental passerby, and alert the resident of any presence that lingered near the house...but nothing potentially lethal or even harmful. Draco took one of the brass knockers in one hand and let it boom an announcement of his presence. As for the Muggles wandering by...once Draco had gone up the steps and off the street, the wards here had folded in around him and not a single person passing on the busy street behind noticed him anymore.

No one answered. Time passed and Draco irritably let the knocker thunder his request for entry. It was late afternoon. Eventually he'd run out of daylight, and he had no interest in being away from his flat longer than was necessary. This social call would already require a lot of time for explanations...more time than he'd wanted to spend, but necessity was at play here, not comfort. Still no one answered. His patience wore thin, as it often did, and with pure spite on his mind he let the knocker slam without stop, likely echoing through the house unless it was warded for silence, letting his unexpected host know that this was one visitor who wouldn't just quit and depart at the first sign of...

The door snapped open suddenly, jerking the knocker from Draco's hand. The face that peered out and squinted in the sunlight was pale and drawn, eyes haunted by grief and alight with anger at the sight of the intruder on the doorstep.

Hermione Granger looked a fright. Her hair was a wild mass, her clothes a rumpled collection of whatever had looked comfortable or nearby at the moment. Her complexion was sallow...except for the reddening of the cheeks that came from anger. Her voice was the husky growl of someone who hadn't spoken to others in a long while...and it was directed with intensity at Draco.

"What...do...you...want?!" Her expression was one of incredulity and disgust, which, had she but known of the way it amused Draco when people thought ill of him, she might well have tried to hide. There was the matter of the wand in her hand, and her reputation as a superb witch of considerable power, so Draco quashed the urge to bait her with insults.

"Granger. You should already know that if I'm here, on your doorstep, that I have a reason significant enough to merit putting aside our differences. You are widely thought of as clever, and I'm not here to dispute that...so don't shut that door and stop pointing that wand at me. Invite me in. We need to talk. I'd fancy a chair and a cup of tea while we talk...because there's a lot to be said...more than we can cover on a doorstep...and you might want to be sitting for some it."

Hermione's mouth narrowed with distaste. "No. I can't even imagine what your warped brain could cook up that might even interest or involve me. I've no need for company...and less need than that for company like you. If you haven't got anything but that infamous bluster and prattle...then piss off and get off my steps...or I'll hex you until parts fall off on the way home."

Draco leaned just his face forward, lowered his voice, and smirked. "Oh, I didn't cook this up. How about some hospitality...for news of Harry Potter?" The look in Hermione's eyes told him that he'd struck the mark, but the woman was stubborn just the same. It couldn't be helped...they really did have a fair measure of bad blood between them.

"To blazes with him. Who cares? If he wants so badly to be lost and forgotten, let him be lost and forgotten. It's no concern of mine."

Draco was a little surprised by the witch's apparent lack of concern...but he wasn't going to show it. He knew there had been a falling out between Harry and Hermione at the war's end, shortly after the death of Ron Weasley during the now legendary fight to free Harry from Bellatrix Lestrange, but he'd rather thought that after Potter had been unaccounted for and sought after by all and sundry for so many years that, just maybe, news of his existence would be greeted with less disregard.

"I do understand that you two fell out. I also don't care. He's alive, I know where he is, and there are things you need to hear that I don't feel like doling out while standing on a doorstep in the middle of the afternoon. If you want to hear me say it, I'll say it. I need your help. There's something I have to do...I can't do it without your help...and you won't give that help unless I explain it in detail. Now stop being tiresome and let me have a chair and some tea, alright?"

"Do you think his name is some magic passcode for my home and into my life? You're kidding yourself. Harry made his wishes plain years ago. His life isn't my problem anymore. Go find someone else to annoy and patronize. Asking nicely won't change that neither you, nor he, are welcome here. This conversation is over."

Hermione had already begun to pull the door shut when Draco jammed his foot into the way and blurted out one last gamble for her invitation. "I apologize! If it will get you to hear this out...I'll apologize in detail for everything...all of it...the things I said, the things I did in school...the whole lot of it! I'm sorry I hurt you...can't change that...but if you'll listen to me for just an hour I'll apologize a hundred times, just let me in and hear me out!"

She looked ready to explode into spells over Draco's temerity at first, but something crept over her features. Shock, wariness, curiosity...and then she spoke, wistfully for the first time.

"Malfoy...you've never apologized for anything in your life. I doubt that you mean it...but still...what on earth would you consider important enough to make throwing around words like those worthwhile? "

Draco knew the matter was closed. He'd get what he wanted, and the rest of this was pure formality, but he was committed to this already and a lot more truthfulness than this was about to take place. She needed more, and he'd give it if it would make her stop quibbling and just let him in.

"It's Harry. He's dying. Not fast...but I don't think he's got all that much time left. I need you to help me heal him. This isn't something the clowns in St. Mungo's would understand. It isn't some case of the sniffles. I'm talking about a curse so complex that if you didn't know what to look for, you wouldn't even believe it was there. There has to be a way to unravel it and break it, and between my knowledge of dark curses, and your famous gift for theoretical magic and spell creation, we can do it. Hate him if you like, but if I can be arsed to take time to do this, the least you can do is let me explain it in full."

The will to resist seemed to sap from Hermione's bones. She blinked owlishly in the daylight and shrugged in defeat.

"Fine. Come in, then. But when this is done I want that apology. I still can't believe you're serious, but if you're willing to put yourself through this much just for the chance to explain it...follow me."

TBC
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The Curse