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Where’s My Dragon?	By : ZooArmy Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 49553 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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.

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
- 15
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Finally beta’d by IBelieveInMaryWorth

Doesn’t she make an amazing job?

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Where’s My Dragon? |
Part Thirteen | Slytherin Dungeons – It’s quite nice here!

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Harry woke
up feeling like a truck had driven over him and then reversed back again. His
head hurt in every way imaginable and his eyes felt like they would explode if
he opened them. He felt the warmth of a fireplace close to him and tried to
relax. His brain felt like a popcorn machine and he winced inwardly with every
new grain that popped. One of these grains was the thought that he was lying
somewhere he wasn’t sure of.

Pictures of
a terribly angry Draco flashed through his mind and random thoughts came back
to him. The Great Hall. A
girl…Pansy? Draco crying, smacking him and telling him
that he hates him. The dungeons and his involuntary
rest. Harry’s hand wandered up to his head and he hissed in pain when he
touched the huge bump he found there.

“Ah, Mr Potter, you’re awake. How nice.”

Harry
tensed and tried to calm down from the shock that he wasn’t alone, wherever he
was right now. He cracked one eye open and saw – nothing. The room he was in
was dimly lit; only the flames in the fireplace gave illumination and wrapped
everything mostly in shadows. Besides, he wasn’t wearing his glasses.

The leather
couch he was lying on creaked when he pushed himself up on his elbows. A hand
came close to his face and he took the glasses it held. His blurry vision
cleared and the darkness appeared in sharp contours. His eyes got used to the
semi-darkness and he saw Snape sitting at his feet in a black leather armchair
that matched the couch he was lying on.

The Potions
Master looked at him condescendingly and he immediately felt sick again. Snape
rested his elbows on the armrests and tapped his fingers against each other in
front of his face.

“So, Mr Potter, thanks to your thick skull
making such a din when hitting the ground, I found you easily. Although since
you vomited right in front of my private rooms I would have found you one way
or another.”

Harry
looked at him apologetically, but wondered why Snape had let him stay in his
rooms instead of taking him to the infirmary. And then he remembered:
godfather. He had made Draco cry, the precious godson of Severus Snape. God,
this couldn’t mean anything good. The dark haired boy moved suddenly and fell from
the couch. Still kneeling on the ground he looked up at Snape, who watched him
with a raised eyebrow.

“Thank you for letting me stay here, Professor,
but I need to find Draco now.” he jumped up, swaying slightly. “I need to
apologize.”

“Potter, lay down on the couch again.”

“Professor, I need to…” his hasty movements had
made him feel dizzy again and the black dots appeared again in his vision. He
fell down on the couch, still swaying back and forth. “Okay, maybe you’re
right.”

Snape
sneered at him, making clear that he was always right. Harry lay back down on
the couch and covered his face with his hands. He felt his nose and realised it
no longer hurt. Again, he shot his head up, regretting it instantly when he
felt the pain return.

“Ugn, that was not a good idea.”

He fell
back down and faced the ceiling instead of Snape.

“You healed my nose.”

“Of course I did. Do you think I want my couch
covered with blood?”

“But…but…why didn’t you stop my wrists from
bleeding when…when…you know…”

Snape
pursed his lips and resumed tapping his fingers against one another in the same
steady rhythm.

“Mr Potter, are you insinuating that I let you
bleed on purpose? Or perhaps just that I am incompetent?”

Harry twitched, his mouth opening and closing silently. He was
relieved that he could get away with staring at the ceiling instead of looking
at Snape. Every time he and the Potions Master were in the same room, he
screwed up – ALWAYS! And now that they were alone, there was no one to save his
butt if he pushed the Slytherin too far.

“No, no, Professor, I would never…”

Snape
interrupted his squeaking with his deep, calm voice.

“I would hope not, Mr Potter. But that isn’t
important right now. Do you know what happened at lunch and why you’re here?”

Harry
closed his eyes and tried to remember. Something must have happened, or Draco
wouldn’t have…

He shot up
again and promptly threw up next to the couch. Snape just rolled his eyes and
sighed. Why exactly was he trying to help this boy? He spoke a quick
‘scourgify’ and focused his attention back on the Gryffindor. The Golden Boy
pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them, rocking back and forth.
He didn’t care that it made his head hurt even more. He deserved the pain, in
his own opinion, and actually it didn’t hurt enough compared to how he felt
inside. For the first time that day it sank in that Draco had left him again. And once again, it was his own fault. Tears were streaming down his face and his
hand wandered back to the bandages on his wrist. His fingers touched the
healing wounds that he had clawed open successfully once before, and it
occurred to him that it would work a second time.

“Don’t you dare!”
Snape boomed, pulling out his wand.

Harry found
his hands completely wrapped in bandages so that he couldn’t scratch open his
wounds again. He looked at the Potions Master with pleading eyes.

“I need to, sir. Take them off, please.”

Snape stood
up and vanished into another room. He came back with a small vial, which he
held up in front of Harry’s face.

“Take this and we can talk.”

“Verita…”

“No, you dunderhead. It’s a calming draught.”

The
Slytherin head of house had to help Harry to drink it, since the boy couldn’t
hold the vial with his wrapped hands. Just seconds went by and Harry began to
feel more relaxed. He still scratched with his bandaged hands over his lower
arm, but he left the wounds alone. Snape sat back down in the armchair and
looked at Harry. His almost black eyes scanned over Potter’s small form and,
entwining his fingers, he rested his elbows on the armrest again.

“Do you know what happened?”

“Draco broke up with me.” Harry felt numb
because of the potion and only the twinge in his heart told him that he was
still alive, unfortunately.

“Do you remember why,
or anything that happened at lunch?”

The Gryffindor
looked up and wondered why Snape was asking him so many questions. Not that he
could answer them anyway, but surely the greasy git was supposed to sneer at
him and do a tap dance. After all, he, Harry, was no longer with his godson.
Well, maybe the tap dance was too much to expect from someone like Snape, but
still the current situation was more than confusing. Harry shrugged inwardly.
He had nothing left to lose, so he might as well tell the truth.

“No, Sir, I just remember waking up on the
floor and seeing Draco crying…then he punched me and left. He said something
about killing someone, but I can’t remember too well.” it surprised him that
his voice sounded so indifferent; he was crying inside and breaking slowly
apart.

“Well, Mr Potter, I think there are a lot of
things you missed while you were out of control. I talked to Miss Granger and she…”

“Excuse me, Professor…out of control? What do
you mean?”

Snape
sneered at him again and Harry felt almost relieved that one thing would never
change no matter what happened.

“I mean exactly what I said. And if you
wouldn’t keep interrupting me, I could continue telling you what happened.”

Harry tried
to suppress a glare, fighting the urge to tell Snape to piss off. After all, he
wanted to know what happened. Snape noticed the inner struggle and his sneer
got even more pronounced. This boy had guts, but knew when to shut up. He
appreciated that and gave him credit – mentally. He would never actually say it
out loud.

“As I already said” the Potions Master went on.
“I talked to Miss Granger and she told me that she had seen you lose control
before, but never strongly enough to purposely harm another person.”

Harry’s
mouth fell wide open and his throat felt dry like sandpaper. He swallowed
painfully and tried to get rid of the lump that formed in his throat.

“I… I…I hurt someone? Who? Why? How is he? God,
I didn’t…did I?”

“No, you didn’t kill her, but it was close. Can
you remember what you saw that caused your power to break free like that?”

“Her? It’s a she? Who?”

“Mr Potter, I asked you a question.”

‘So did I’,
Harry added mentally, knowing that Snape would sense exactly what he was
thinking. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. So he had gone out of control,
although he couldn’t remember it, and had hurt some girl (he couldn’t remember
her either). Worse, he had hurt her on purpose. Snape was right, sad as it was;
he needed to remember what he had fucked up and why.

“Hermione, Ron and I went from the hospital wing down
to lunch. I just wanted to spend some time with my friends. Well, we entered
the hall and took our seats at Gryffindor table. I couldn’t see Draco
anywhere.” Harry’s eyes shot up to meet Snape’s. The thing with Draco probably
wasn’t something he should mention in front of Snape. “I mean, I…”

“I don’t care. Go on, Potter.”

The dark
haired boy scrunched his eyebrows in confusion but didn’t dare question the
Potions Master.

“I talked with some other Gryffindors and ate a
little bit, well and then… walked Draco in.”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, Draco walked in.”

Harry felt
his face burn with embarrassment and took up his old position again, lying on
the couch so he didn’t have to look at Snape. His mind wandered back to
lunchtime. Draco’s gorgeous looks and the wink and…and Pansy.
He shot up like an arrow and fell over the coffee table in front of the couch,
which collapsed under his weight.

Snape just
covered his eyes and shook his head in disbelief. Could this walking pile of
incompetence really save the entire wizarding world without killing himself
first? Harry crawled out of the remains of the coffee table and sat down on the
floor in front of the fireplace. Once again, he had proven that he always
screwed up.

“I’m sorry, Sir.”

“You had better be. You’ll buy me a new one.”

“Yes, Sir” Harry said humbly, feeling even more
stupid.

Snape could
sense the boy was mentally scolding himself and sighed. He called a house elf
ordered some tea for both of them. After the elf had brought the tea and left
them alone again, Snape handed Harry a cup and gestured for him to take his
seat on the couch again. The boy stared down at the ground submissively, not
daring to object.

The Professor
took a sip and reached out to put the cup down on…oh yes, no coffee table… He
kept the cup in his hand instead.

“Does your little performance just now mean
that you remember?”

Harry’s
stare went from the ground to the cup in his hands. His hands were shaking and
he gripped the cup more firmly to stop it falling – he had caused enough chaos
for one day.

“I…yes…well, kind of. I think Pansy was the one
that I hurt.”

“Yes, indeed. You almost asphyxiated her.”

“Oh, god.” Harry began to feel sick again, but
fortunately there was nothing left to throw up. His stomach cramped horribly
but nothing came up.

“Why?” He sounded pained.

“Well,” Snape took another sip of his tea
“Unless Miss Granger is mistaken, you wished her dead because she had touched
Draco in a rather familiar way.”

Harry’s
emotions went insane. The jealousy flared up again and crashed with the almost
unbearable pangs of conscience. His eyes shone and dulled every time the
emotions changed. His head ached from trying to control his feelings.

Snape
watched him intently, noting every small change in the Gryffindor’s posture,
look and behaviour. This boy needed his help and, like he had promised Lily, he
would give it. And now, sixteen years after her death, he kept his promise and
began to take his position as second godfather seriously. The first years of
Harry’s young life had been out of his hands; no matter how hard he had tried,
Dumbledore had kept the boy’s living situation and location secret.

When the
boy came to Hogwarts, he had secretly wanted to learn more about Harry, whose
eyes were so like his mother’s, and tell him at an appropriate time. The rough
treatment was just a façade to keep Voldemort and his followers at bay and
erase any slivers of megalomania that could maybe start to grow in the boy’s
brain.

But then
came Sirius Black and he knew he had missed his chance.

Even after
Black’s death, he still felt insecure. Of course, he never let Harry out of his
sight but a deep, trustful connection, like the one with his other godson
Draco, would never exist.

The
accident with the potion had been his chance.

His two
godsons being a couple would have made everything so much easier. He could have
treated Harry the same as Draco when alone, but the obstacles just kept
mounting up.

He knew
Draco had had a thing for Harry since their first encounter at Mme Malkin’s, and the fact that after the ‘Accendo
Sponte’ mysteriously forced Harry to fall in love
with someone he had chosen Draco was entertaining and delighting. But Snape
couldn’t help but worry that maybe his feelings weren’t real. It was also of
concern that no one knew how long the potion would last and what would happen
once it’s effects wore off.

It occurred
to him that underneath the relatively normal exterior, Harry was a
self-conscious and self-destructive child who was ill equipped to handle
rejection. And to top it all off, he was developing a nasty habit of turning
into a jealous, possessive, powerful killing machine.

The Potions
Master snapped out of his deep thoughts and focused back on the boy. He was
still sitting on the couch with his cup of tea in both hands, but now silent
tears ran down his face. In the past, Snape had always turned away when he had
seen the boy upset as he didn’t know how to handle it. But now was no time to
look the other way, or the boy might not even make it through the night.

With the
gentlest voice he had ever used on the Golden Boy, he called him out of his
inner monologues of hate and pain.

“Harry.”

The dark
haired boy almost choked and looked at the tall Potions Master like he had gone
completely mad.

“You…?”

Snape
dismissed the topic with a wave of his hand.

“Yes, I know, but there’s no time to talk about
that now. We have a lot to discuss. You do…”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

The
Slytherin head of house gave Harry a disgruntled look for interrupting his
train of thoughts. He saw the small smile on Harry’s lips, but noticed that the
mistrust in his eyes remained.

“Why are you being so kind to me? Why are you
doing all of this for me?”

Severus
sighed and poured himself another cup of tea.

“That is of no importance now. It really
isn’t.”

“But…”

“I know, Potter, you want to know desperately.
And maybe I’ll tell you one day. Sometimes I think you’re as bad as Miss
Granger. For non book-related things, obviously.”

Harry blushed
slightly and turned his gaze back down. Snape had really managed to make him
forget who he was talking to for a moment, just through calling him by his
first name in that soft, gentle voice.

“Harry, you do regret what you’ve done, don’t
you?”

“I’m sorry for what happened with Pansy, but if
she hadn’t touched Draco, nothing would have happened. Professor,” the dark
haired boy looked up and tried the same pleading puppy look that had worked on
Draco. “Can I go now? I need to find Draco and tell him I’m sorry.”

The cup of tea
almost slipped out of Snape’s hand as he froze in disbelief. How could someone
be so inconsiderate? The potion that had made Harry the way he was right now
was really twisting him badly. For him, the whole world revolved around Draco.
The longhaired teacher balanced his cup on the armrest and stared at Harry
angrily.

“My God, Potter. Are you really that stupid?
Miss Parkinson was the one you hurt - badly, I might add - and all
you can think about is running to Draco and begging him for forgiveness?
Use your brains, boy. How about apologizing to the victim first? He will never
forgive you if she doesn’t. How would you have reacted if someone, in this case
your boyfriend, had almost killed Miss Granger?”

“I would’ve killed them. Maybe even Draco… I
would’ve punched him.” the boy answered, abashed but truthful.

Silence
arose and Harry watched the flames in the fireplace absentmindedly.

“I’m sorry, I hadn’t thought of it like that.”
I’m such a selfish person; it’s disgusting, he added silently. He turned back
to Snape “I want to apologize to Pansy.”

“But?” his secret godfather lifted a
questioning eyebrow.

“But I don’t know what I should say. And most
importantly…I don’t think she, not to mention Draco and Blaise, will want to
give me a chance to explain.”

Was Snape
trying to give him a fatherly smile? No, he wasn’t trying; he was indeed smiling at him warmly. And for
the first time Harry wondered if the tea had been spiked.

“Those are things we can think about. But at
the moment, the most important thing is that you want to apologize to Pansy and
understand why what you did was so wrong.”

Harry just
nodded.
- 13
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Where’s My Dragon?