Second Mission | By : KitBaiu Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 6740 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
The days of the Easter Holidays passed only too slowly for Harry's liking. Of course, he figured had he got to spend them with Malfoy, they'd fly by only too fast.
The majority of the hours were taken up on his bed. He frequently laid there dwelling on thoughts of desire and self-pity. Occasionally, Harry would call for Kreacher and have him bring him barely enough food to live off of. But, the only time he'd actually leave his bed was when he either had to use the restroom or serve his detention with Snape. The former Death Eater would smugly watch him write Just because my arrogant father's vocabulary was limited, doesn't mean mine has to be. over and over again for many hours on end.
Ron and Hermione barely acknowledged his existence. He understood why they were angry with him. What he didn't understand is why Draco didn't tell him that he had to go home. He felt hurt by the lack of consideration. Then, he also wondered why, exactly, Draco’s mother insisted he had to go home in the first place.
On Wednesday, Harry found himself awake early and sitting at the foot of Ron's bed. He was long since overdue for an apology. Not daring to wake up the redhead, Harry waited patiently.
"Harry?" Ron sat up when he finally woke. Wiping his eyes with his fists, he then looked at Harry curiously, "Why are you sitting on my bed?"
"Hi Ron," Harry sighed. His thumbs twiddled nervously, and his gaze remained glued to the floor, "I know I was being a prat. I don't know what came over me."
"Don't worry about it, mate." Ron stretched. He really didn't seem as upset as Harry had expected him to be, "I get it; you're stressed. Every time you come back from Dumbledore's office with more information on You-Know-Who, it gets more. . . real, you know? When you first told us about the prophecy, I guess, I just didn't take it that seriously. Like it was just a story, it wasn't real. But lately, the more real it gets--it's even been stressing me out. I shouldn't have been so hard on you."
"No." Harry's face fell into his hands, if only that was it. Hermione was right when she said a relationship was the last thing he needed to be worried about. Perhaps, he should just tell Ron the truth. But, would that just make him even madder that he had been lying for so long?
"Look," Harry said, lifting his head toward Ron, "you don't have to apologize. You didn't do anything wrong. I was out of line. I-"
"You don't have to explain yourself, Harry." Ron shook his head, "We're blokes. We say rude things. We get over it just as quickly. Hermione, though. . ."
"How angry is she?" Harry reluctantly asked, not sure if he wanted to hear the answer.
"She's been crying on and off for the past few days." Ron said with a grimace.
"Oh no." Harry's face fell back in his palms.
"'Said you said some pretty nasty things." Ron slid off the side of his bed and opened his trunk.
"Yeah. . ." Harry shamefully admitted.
"I would've talked to you sooner, but she's been wanting my comfort and such. Buck up, mate." Ron stood up and tossed some clothes on his bed. He patted Harry on the back in a very friendly manner, "She'll come 'round. I'm sure if you just apologize to her, say you'll make it up to her or somethin'. Why don't you go do that? I'll meet you in the common room after I get dressed."
"Alright." Harry nodded, hoping that Hermione would be as forgiving as Ron.
Harry descended to the common room. Hermione was her usual self, secluding herself with a book in her hands.
"Hermione?" Harry sat on a chair right next to her.
"I am not speaking to you, Harry." Her eyes didn't stray for even a moment from her book.
"Please," he pleaded, "I really am sorry."
"Of course you're sorry, after the fact." Hermione casually turned a page, putting particular emphasis in her tone on 'after the fact'.
"Ron forgave me." Harry hastily replied, regretting his choice of a statement immediately.
"I don't care!" She snapped her book shut, "I'm not Ron!" She quickly stood up and walked to the portrait hole.
"Wait, where are you going?" He quickly followed her.
"Never you mind!" She stomped into the corridors.
"Hermione, listen!" Harry shouted when he was outside of the common room.
"No, you listen!" She turned around and marched straight up to him, "I have been covering for you! Lying for you! You're just ungrateful and selfish!"
"Excuse me?!" Harry's eyes opened wide, shocked at the accusation.
"You heard me!" Hermione snarled, "You have been really selfish lately! All you care about is yourself! I'm sick of it! You're like a. . . Malfoy-clone!"
"That's out of line, Hermione!" Harry snapped back.
"No, it's not!" She shrieked, "You've certainly put him before us!"
"You were the one who stood up for him when-"
"Look at the big picture, Harry!" Hermione interrupted, using her arms to physically depict the 'big picture', "You're so focused on little details, that you don't see the grand scheme of things!" Hermione tutted and continued down the corridor.
Harry sighed and shook his head, "Hermione, please," he followed her, "I need someone to talk to, and you're-"
"Oh, so the truth comes out." Hermione muttered, coming to a halt.
"What?" Harry asked, completely oblivious to what she referred to.
"You're not actually sorry; you're just sorry that I'm not there to listen to you cry about Malfoy. Oh, poor you. Malfoy left." She said with mock-pity, "Well, you certainly weren't so caring for him for the past five years!"
"Just a few days ago, you said-"
"I know what I said, and now I think I was wrong!" Hermione turned back to face him, "I've had a lot of time to think it over the past couple days. Malfoy is a cruel boy! Look what he's turned you into!"
"Well, I guess the truth comes out on both sides, then!" Harry shouted.
"I guess so!" She shouted back, "If you want to cry to someone, why don't you have a little honor, and tell Ron the truth!"
Hermione turned on her heel and marched away. Harry didn't bother following. He really didn't know what he could do to resolve the issue. He wasn't just trying to apologize to have someone to talk to. He felt genuinely remorseful for his behavior. Walking back to the Gryffindor common room, Harry found Ron looking particularly confused.
"There you are!" he exclaimed, "Where's Hermione?"
"I tried to apologize. She's still mad at me." Harry sighed.
"Ah, she'll come around, Harry." Ron threw an arm around his shoulder amicably.
"If you say so." Harry forced a smile.
His mind still lingered on the last comment Hermione made. Of all the things he faced in the past, why was telling Ron the truth about Malfoy the only thing he wasn't brave enough to do?
"After breakfast, we can go nick some brandy from the kitchens. Interested?" Ron asked with a wry grin.
"Sure, why not?" Harry shrugged with a sigh.
"You are late, Potter." Snape sat at the front of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Flickering torch brackets added minuscule light about the dimly lit room. A single large desk sat in the center of the room, the others nowhere to be found.
"Sorry." Harry grumbled, standing right next to the door. His eyes strayed to the spot on the wall where Malfoy once thrust him, and they had a short-lived snogging session. He shifted uncomfortably. Having an erection right in front of Snape was the last thing he wanted.
"I didn't expect you to be on time, of course. You are such an exceptional wizard, after all, that you don't need to be on time. Isn't that right?" Snape stood with a twisted smile.
"Yeah, that's right." Harry rolled his eyes.
"Watch your lip, Potter." Snape slowly strolled over to him, "Do you have your wand?"
"Yes." he mumbled, not making eye contact with the DADA teacher.
"Good. Give it to me." Snape ordered.
"What?" Harry's eyes opened wide, "No!"
"Give it to me now, Potter!" he demanded.
Harry groaned and reached into his pocket. Pulling out his wand, he handed it to Snape.
"You will not be using magic for your punishment today. I don't want you to even be tempted. When you are finished with your task, I will give you your wand back." he explained.
"And when's that going to be?" Harry asked, knowing it would be foolish to assume it would be quick work.
"When I feel that you have sufficiently learned just how foul, foul mouths are. The lines, I have realized, are teaching you nothing." Snape paced, starring at the walls rather than Harry, "But, I think this will teach even you to learn some basic respect."
Snape spun around and marched over to the large desk in the center of the room and turned back around to face Harry. He drew his own wand and waved it in the air. A large object appeared on the desk out of thin air, a green satin sheet draped over it, "Do you know what this is?" he asked.
"Green material?" Harry guessed with a smart-aleck tone.
"Very observant, Potter." Snape replied with dry sarcasm, "But, I meant do you know what's underneath?"
"Obviously not, seeing as it's covered." Harry muttered.
With another wave of his wand, Snape lifted the satin sheet off the object. Harry's face twisted with disgust at the very sight.
"Do you know what it is, now?" Snape asked, a wicked smile curling across his face.
"A dead goat." Harry replied in a monotone.
"That is correct. It would seem your simple brain is capable of basic comprehension, yet. I trust you know what a bezoar is? Even first years know-"
"Yes, I know what a bezoar is!" Harry snapped, his nose crinkled in disgust at the sight of the goat corpse. His hand covered his mouth. He didn't know why, but he had always assumed that bezoars were somehow extracted magically from live goats.
"Do NOT interrupt me, Potter!" Snape hissed, "Professor Slughorn needed assistance with obtaining potion ingredients. As I was the Potions Master, and you are currently serving me detentions, the timing was only too perfect." He walked around the desk and back to his seat at the front of the classroom.
"There are many more goats, and Horace asked for many bezoars." Snape continued, "I think you know what to do. There may or may not be one in this goat's stomach. You can check if you use the spell- Oh, that's right." Snape grinned, "No magic. You'll just have to go in manually and hope one is there. You didn't bring gloves, did you? Pity."
Harry approached the desk, his nose still crinkled. Any time he thought he hated Snape more in his life, he was wrong. Now was the time that he hated Snape more than ever.
It didn't matter how many times Harry cast Scourgify on his arms, the pungent smell from the goats innards refused to dissipate. It must have been close to midnight by the time Harry reached the common room. It was completely deserted.
Ron snored loudly as Harry entered the dark dormitory. Being careful not to wake him, Harry quietly walked over to his four poster and sat down.
Harry reached into his pocket. He had taken off the bracelet that Malfoy gave him before going through the line of work he had to do for Snape. After clasping it on his wrist, he looked at it curiously.
Pansy Parkinson had been very upset to see that Harry had it. Did that mean she recognized that Draco gave it to him? And even if so, it was engraved for him, why would she recognize it in the first place?
Flopping onto his four poster, he set his glasses aside. Harry was so tired that he didn't even feel like changing into his pajamas. With his eyes closed, he could only hope that he would fall to sleep soon and not have to think about goat corpses. Which, by the way, was so disturbing, he would never look at goats the same again.
He shuddered. The soulless glaze over all the dead goats' eyes burned into his mind, haunting him. The way the bones felt when he'd have to break their jaw, the way their esophagus suctioned to his arm, not to mention the horrible squishing sounds it made. Harry didn't know how many times he vomited. Snape, of course, only snarled when he did so rather than helping him. He knew Snape was angry and bitter over his childhood, but that entire experience seemed even a little too cruel for him.
Harry thought of anything he could to try and block out the grotesque images of the goats. Sirius, Grimmauld Place, The Burrow, The Three Broomsticks, Flying, Quidditch, Ron, Hermione, dead goat. . . Ack! It wasn't working. Sirius, Sirius' eyes, Draco Malfoy's eyes, Draco's pretty blond hair, Draco's fine features, Draco's scent, Draco's flavor. . . Yes, these thoughts were nice. How Harry hoped that when the Slytherin returned, they could just continue where they left off before the Easter Holidays.
FLASH!
Details were hard to make out in the dim room, but he definitely could see something. It appeared to be two figures, but where were they? What were they doing? They looked like they were surrounded by bubbles. Perhaps, they were in a giant tub. The image was too blurry to be sure.
FLASH!
This room was even darker. Once again, it was blurry; the details were hard to see. Two figures, were they the same? Yes, these definitely were the same people. But, where were they, now? It looked like there was a mirror. What are they doing?
FLASH!
This area was darkest of all. But, the images weren't as blurry. Fine details were still difficult to make out, but he definitely could see more than he could with the previous images. The same figures were there. They were young boys. One was blond; the other had black hair. The blond was holding an illuminating wand. But, what were they doing?
FLASH!
Harry found himself in a room. It looked familiar. The green shone with silver highlights. The room held fine furniture, portraits and a fireplace. In front of him to the left, a dark woman stood with her arms crossed. On the right, a light woman stood with her face in her hands. Directly in front of him, a boy sat huddled over on his knees, gasping desperately for breath.
But, this room was not an image for Harry to behold. It felt like he was physically there.
"You dare use Occlumency against Lord Voldemort?" Harry hissed. But, it wasn't his own voice. This voice was cruel and high-pitched.
The boy looked up with a scowl across his face. His face was pale and his blond hair a mess. Tears streaked down his cheeks.
"Draco!" The dark woman ran up to the boy in the middle, pulling him to his feet, "Your hesitation dishonors the entire family! You tell the Dark Lord! Tell him everything you know! Now!"
"Stand aside, Bellatrix!" Harry ordered the woman. She obliged immediately.
"Draco, your Occlumency skills are truly exceptional," Harry walked over to the crestfallen boy. He slowly paced around him, quietly continuing, "especially for a wizard so young." He lifted a thin, pale arm draped in heavy black robes. He pointed his wand directly at the blond’s face, "But, they are not good enough for me. Crucio!"
Draco's body twisted and contorted. The horrific cries breaking from his throat mixed with the echoes of a woman's scream.
Harry woke suddenly, grunting in pain. He clutched a hand to his forehead. The scar on his head burned white hot.
It could not be. It was impossible. Dumbledore had told him it wouldn't happen before the beginning of the school year.
A/N: thrnbrooke - Oh yes, and how! ^.^;; Thanks for reviewing!
kawanale - Thank you. I appreciate you honesty. :) I ultimately prefer Dom!Draco, so that's how I write them.
Ero - You write so little, yet I'm delighted to read your review. I truly have no logical explanation. Thanks for reading. :3
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