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I Give You a Wondrous Mirror	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 17806 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- 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.

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
- 15
Thank you again for all the reviews!

Just a warning: Both this chapter and Chapter 15 are not the
nicest chapters. There�s no graphic gore, but there is emotional torture and
extreme angst.

Chapter Fourteen�The Box

�� Harry woke
so slowly that he had the impression he was walking down a dark road long
before he opened his eyes. Oddly enough, there was softness beneath his head,
but when he shifted, the softness squirmed and kicked him.

�� Get off
me, Potter,� Draco hissed, and Harry shut his just-opened eyes in sheer relief.
Draco was well enough to complain. That was an excellent sign. �They put us
here and dumped you on top of me, and now that you can hold your own head up,
you can damn well get off me.�

�� Harry sat
up and felt at his face. They had left him his glasses. Of course, the reason
they had done that soon became obvious, since he and Draco were in darkness so
thick he couldn�t see anyway, but that didn�t change the sense of relief he
felt at the discovery.

�� Couldn�t
let poor Harry Potter be uncomfortable, could you, Draco-Waco?� he murmured.

�� If you�ll
stop your childish insults,� Draco said, his voice calm and intense, �you might
realize we�re in a spot of trouble here.�

�� Harry blew
away the impulse to make another morbid joke. It would have helped ease Ron�s
stress, but he wasn�t in this bad situation with Ron. More�s the pity. He felt more comfortable planning an escape with
his best friend than he did with Draco.

�� But needs
must. He slapped his hand down on the floor, confirming it was smooth, fitted
stone, and began to feel ahead of him, to estimate how large the cell was.
About fifteen paces by twenty, he thought, though why they should have given
prisoners a room so large he didn�t know. But it couldn�t have been more than a
temporary holding place, with the lack of anything to eat and a place to
relieve themselves.

�� Unless they just don�t care whether this
room stinks.

�� Harry
closed his eyes, trying to remember what he�d heard of the methods of Salazar�s
Snakes. They did the usual busywork that most of the pure-blood supremacist
groups indulged in, of course: threatening letters to politically prominent
Muggleborns, odd prank spells going off at all hours of the day and night
around their targets� homes, their symbol�a green snake clutching a bleeding
hand in its mouth�left here and there on walls. But they didn�t take credit for
as much blood magic and wide-scale terror as the other groups did.

�� Hermione
had thought it was because Salazar�s Snakes were more disaffected than hateful.
Harry was inclined to doubt that now. Instead, they probably wanted to keep
their strength and their usual behaviors secret, hidden from expectations, so that
when they finally acted it would come as a surprise.

�� Their
capture in Diagon Alley had certainly been smooth, he thought with a certain
reluctant admiration. They had probably played the part of mediwizards from St.
Mungo�s rushing to the sides of accident victims, or of concerned bystanders
who had volunteered to take Harry and Draco to the hospital. Move quickly
enough, close around them thoroughly enough, and no one would have noticed that
the victims were Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy.

�� No one
might even have noticed they were missing, yet.

�� As he felt
for wounds they might have inflicted on him, Harry asked, �Do you know how long
we�ve been here, Draco?�

�� Yes,�
Draco said solemnly. �I have a pocket-watch that begins ticking when I�m
captured by my enemies, and chirps every five minutes to helpfully tell me how
much time has passed since the capture.�

�� Harry
rolled his eyes, but didn�t comment. Obviously, Ron dealt with captivity by
joking, and Draco dealt with captivity by being a prat. �Are you hurt?�

�� Not as much
as I should be after taking a faceful of glass.�

�� There was a
question in Draco�s voice, and Harry told himself that he owed it to the other
man to answer it. He forced himself to sit flat on the floor and turn around.
His back was comfortably against a wall, though since he hadn�t yet located any
door, it might open behind him at any time. �The curse took over again,� he
admitted, �just like that night the mirror slashed your arm open. I saw golden
light, and my touch seemed to heal the wound. But I think you have a scar on
your forehead now.�

�� He could
feel Draco�s tension humming through the darkness, but he said nothing for some
time. Harry felt cautiously across the wall behind him. Nothing.

�� You mean,�
Draco said, his voice so thick and fierce that it took Harry a long moment to
understand the words, �that I have a scar on my forehead�just like you?�

�� And the
insight that had been trying to surface in Harry�s mind when Salazar�s Snakes sneaked
up on them came to him at last. He clapped his hands together, and heard Draco
make a startled sound. Harry ignored it, his mind racing back across what had
happened the night Draco ended up in front of the exploding mirror, and what
Draco had already told him about the operation of the curse on his part.

�� That�s
exactly what it�s trying to do,� he whispered. �Mark us in the same ways.�

�� Is there
any chance of your sharing the meaning of your idiotic babble with me today,
Potter?�

�� The scars,�
Harry said. �You told me that the scars from the spell I cast at you in sixth
year still tingle.�

�� Yes,�
Draco said, in a querulous tone.

�� I�m marked
in four places,� Harry said softly. �My forehead, yes, but also on my hand, my
forearm, and over my heart.�

�� More tense
silence, and Harry passed the time by feeling for his wand, even though he was
sure that it had been taken from him. It had. And Draco couldn�t have his,
either, or he would have least cast a Lumos
or tried to alert someone to their predicament.

�� I�m marked
on my arm, my chest, and my forehead now,� he said, sounding strangled.

�� Exactly,�
said Harry, giving up the search and making his way back across the cell towards
Draco�s voice. He took the other man�s hand, ignoring his startled jerk. It
seemed that Draco was, if not actively afraid of the darkness, at least not
comfortable in it. Yes, he would have definitely
called for light if he had his wand. �That means that you have three scars,
and when you have four��

�� We can
expect something else disgusting to happen,� Draco snarled.

�� Disgusting?�
Harry could understand why Draco might be upset or frightened of the curse�what
would happen if he endured another accident and Harry was not near at hand to
heal the wounds to a scar?�but disgusted was a new reaction.

�� Yes.�
Draco�s hand closed into a fist within his, and then pulled roughly away. �I
endured enough of things like this when
the Dark Lord was alive, Harry. I have no wish to endure more.�

�� I
understand that,� Harry said, as calmly as he could, �but this might give us a
clue to the operation of the curse.�

�� Draco said
nothing.

�� Harry
stifled the impulse to touch him again, and listened in silence to his
breathing. It had grown louder�more ragged, quicker. Harry bit his lip
thoughtfully. He knew the signs of fear, but he wondered what it was Draco
remembered to make him sound like that.

�� It�s not my place to ask, and I won�t insist
on knowing unless it becomes vital to our survival. �We�ll do what we can
about it when we escape,� he said.

�� Draco
laughed, then, a sound that seemed just as jerked out of his lungs as his
breathing had become. �And how do you think we�ll do that?� he asked. �They
took our wands, Harry. And they�ll
want to kill me, at least, if Marian is with them. That had to be the price of
her aid.�

�� Why would
a pure-blood supremacist group want to kill you?�
Harry asked. Maybe Draco was so frightened at the moment that he needed the
simplest truths spelled out for him. Once again, Harry could not really blame
him. �You�re a pure-blood.�

�� And yet, I
have received threats, and here we
are,� Draco said, and by the sound of it, he�d risen to his feet and was
pacing. Harry opened his mouth to give a warning, and then shut it. If the
floor was utterly smooth, the way it had felt, Draco wouldn�t trip on anything.

�� And since when am I so solicitous for Draco,
anyway?

�� But he�d
felt the same way for Ron the times that he and Ron had worked on Auror cases
that crossed the work of the Blood Reparations Department and been captured
together. By now, it was almost a routine for them. Ron would joke and hatch
useless plans that would only work if they had their wands back, and Harry
would listen to the jokes, wait for an opportunity to challenge their captors,
and protect his friend from his own hot temper.

�� Draco might
need protection from his own nervousness. Harry forced himself to concentrate
on the sound of the other man�s breathing as much as the sound of the words.

�� I don�t
think it�s a coincidence that they have us, pure-blood group or not,� Draco was
saying. �Unless you want to propose a conspiracy
of groups working against me, which frankly is laughable.�

�� I know,�
Harry said, but he tucked the thought away to think about later. �Have you
heard anything? Laughter, conversations? How soon did you wake up?�

�� Not long
after they took us, I think.� Draco gave a loud, gusty sigh, which only
trembled a bit at the end. Perhaps he was better at controlling his fear now
that he knew someone else was awake and with him. �But we were already alone. And
I think there are sound-proofing spells on the walls of this room. I leaned my
ear against the stone as long as I could bear it, but nothing. And focusing my
magic as much as possible��

�� There are
magic-deadening charms, too,� Harry said knowledgably. If there had not been,
then he would have felt the surge of power within him. He couldn�t do much that
was focused without his wand, but he could achieve some spectacular rough
effects. �They were taking no chances on us escaping.�

�� How did
they know we would be in Diagon Alley?� Draco asked. �Do you think Marian set a
trap for us?�

�� Maybe.�
Harry jolted his mind out of thoughts of worry over Draco and tried to make
himself think rationally. �She certainly could have showed herself to
shopkeepers in altered guises, or paid people to spread rumors. On the other
hand, we were in the Alley for three hours before they attacked. And I doubt
they could have known that the window would explode before we did. They took
advantage of the chance quickly and smoothly, I agree, but their attack doesn�t
make much sense.�

�� No, it
doesn�t��

�� The sound
of a door sliding open across the room stung Harry like a whip. He was up and
between Draco and the door before he had stopped blinking in the positive dazzle
of lamplight that whipped at his eyes in turn. He spread his arms wide,
offering Draco as much protection as he could, and looked steadily at the wizard
who had intruded.

�� The woman
merely stood still, however, and studied him. She wore a hooded cloak and green
mask, and Harry could only tell she was a woman from the way she walked and
balanced. Either she had extremely short hair or she�d charmed it to lie flat
under the hood. She drew a wand and gestured once towards the room beyond her.

�� The meaning
was unmistakable. Harry shuffled forwards closely, turning so that he was
always between Draco and the witch. He thought he heard her chuckle as they
passed. Though he strained his ears, he still couldn�t recognize her voice.

�� She walked
closely behind them as they passed into the next room. Harry immediately tried
to will his wand to come to him, but the same charms must have covered the
entire building; his magic lay sleeping within him.

�� The room
was large, enough that Harry thought it was probably in another manor house
somewhere. The walls had been disguised with ripples of watery illusion,
however, so that all Harry saw when he looked at them were glints of green and
blue. Perhaps a portrait frame or a curtain gleamed free here and there; none
of it would be enough to identify the room for certain if he saw it again. Even
what might have been a chandelier hanging from the ceiling was clad in a
glamour like an enormous spiderweb.

�� The Salazar�s
Snakes waited about the room in a circle. All were hooded and cloaked. No one
said anything. Harry wanted to snort. Elementary intimidation tactics. Many of
the supremacist groups he�d opposed did them much better.

�� The woman
who�d guided them in moved to stand at the far point of the circle, and the
others shifted apart to let her through. Harry raised his eyebrows, and still
they continued to stare. Harry cocked his head and wondered if they were also breathing in unison.

�� Well, if no
one else planned to speak, he would.

�� You really
don�t want to be present when Hermione finds out what you�ve done,� he said
conversationally. �She generally doesn�t react well when someone kidnaps her best
friend. Why don�t you give us back our wands and let us go before she does find out? It would be the smartest
thing you�ve done since you captured us in Diagon Alley.�

*

�� Draco
hissed between his teeth. Does he want
to die? You don�t speak like that to
someone with power over you.

�� It was a
lesson he had learned well during the year the Dark Lord spent so much of his
time in Malfoy Manor. Sarcasm had to be given up. Since the Dark Lord was a
Legilimens, Draco couldn�t even think
the many things he would have liked to say at first. So he kept his eyes on the
floor, and learned to do what he was told when he was told to do it, no matter
how distasteful it was, and spent little time with his parents, so as not to
render them targets if the Dark Lord grew angry at him.

�� And Harry
glared at their silent, motionless captors as if he were perfectly in control
of the situation.

�� Draco could
now believe the stories that Harry had spat at the Dark Lord�s face and
challenged him with insults. It was a stupid thing to do, but Harry carried
courage into the definition of stupid.

�� I assure
you,� he said quietly, �I have not changed my mind as radically as you seem to
think I have. No Mudblood will walk on the grounds of Malfoy Manor while I live.
And I do still have money�plenty of it. My mother can arrange ransom
procedures.� It wasn�t really that long ago�a few centuries only�that pure-blood
families had sometimes kidnapped the heirs of other prominent lines, usually
for money, sometimes for revenge, sometimes for marriage partners. Because anyone
who cared to inquire would know that Draco was already married, it couldn�t be
the last of those purposes, and Draco couldn�t conceive what they would want
revenge on him for. Money, though, was a constant concern of groups like this
one, who were hardly able to ask for funding from the Ministry.

�� We know
about your crimes, Draco Malfoy,� said a disembodied voice that reminded Draco
of the voice of the Bloody Baron. He was almost sure it was, in fact. There was
a spell that could make the speaker�s voice sound like a ghost�s. Criminals
commonly employed it when they didn�t want to be recognized. �We know that for
the past ten years, you have fattened yourself on the remains of a pardon and made
no effort to relieve the suffering of your father in prison.�

�� My father
is completing his assigned sentence,� Draco said stiffly. Despite everything,
that accusation stung. �Trying to talk the Ministry into lightening it would
have jeopardized the future of the family.�

�� Excuses,�
said the same voice, but perhaps not the same person, since it was coming from
elsewhere in the circle now. �Always excuses. Your father was a hero.�

�� Draco
thought of the way his father�s face had looked when the Dark Lord took first
his wand and then his home, and bit his tongue, hard. At least there didn�t
appear to be a Legilimens among them.

�� He felt
Harry move closer to him, and just barely kept from shaking his head in
exasperation. What did Harry think he was going to do? Volunteer to take on any
pain curses that might be aimed at Draco? Draco knew how these things went.
Harry had been a captive, yes, but never for any length of time. Draco could
already feel his instincts shifting back towards what they�d been in that
dreadful year, when one denigrated oneself if one wanted to survive.

�� He may
have been,� he said, his eyes lowered, his voice meek. He need feel no dishonor.
He was sure that it was no Mudblood who lectured him, and submitting to the
person who held the power at the moment was sheer good sense. �But I like to
think that he would commend me for what I am doing: facing my enemies,
resisting baseless accusations of murder, and continuing to raise my son to
share in the Malfoy legacy, holding it secure for him.�

�� There is
someone among us who is concerned about the way you raise your son.�

�� Draco
restrained a grim smile. Marian. She is
one of them, then. Perhaps she was the one who had taunted him with this. Well,
she should have restrained the impulse. Perhaps she had gained some petty,
fleeting satisfaction from the maneuver, but Draco had gained far more valuable
information. �I know,� he said. �And I would welcome friends who could teach me
what my son has missed.�

�� The witch
who had guided them out into the room laughed, but even that was disguised, so
that it sounded like wind moaning through open windows. �We are not your
friends, Draco Malfoy. We are very far from being your friends.�

�� What are
you, then?� Draco asked, but the witch turned away and addressed Harry instead
of looking at him. Draco folded his hands tightly behind his back, though he
knew there were watchers behind them, too, and prayed that Harry wouldn�t say
anything too stupid.

�� We have
had enough of you, as well, Mr.
Potter,� she said. �Your �work� with the Blood Reparations Department has often
obstructed many of our dearest goals.�

�� Draco
sneaked a look at Harry. His face was bored, and his arms folded, as if he didn�t
care what anyone in the room might say. He shook his head slightly. �And I will
continue to do that,� he said. �Hermione even more. I keep trying to tell you,
when she finds out that you targeted one of her friends, she�s going to make a
target out of you.�

�� Draco
thought a few of the wizards shifted uneasily at that, but the witch in the
center simply stepped forwards. �The debt we owe you cannot simply be wiped out
by blood,� she whispered. �Not even the Cruciatus Curse will bring us the
satisfaction we desire.�

�� Let me
guess,� said Harry. �Each of you will slap me for my impertinence and recite
your family trees at me until I die of boredom.�

�� The witch
laughed again, and then took several more steps forwards, until she stood a few
inches away from Harry. Draco was suddenly sure that, whatever importance he might hold for the others, Harry was
this woman�s focus. She lifted a hand as if she would really slap him, but
turned it into a caress on his cheek. Harry jerked his face away, wrinkling his
lip in disgust, and Draco felt jealousy wake in him with a sudden snarl. It was
bad enough to think of Harry spending the nights with his legitimately bonded
wife.

�� We have
information on you,� she whispered. �We know things about you that would make
you tremble to know they were in our possession. How you laugh, how much you
like your job�and what your childhood was like.�

�� Draco
glanced at Harry. Harry�s eyes were narrow slits of green. If not for the
spells on the room that deadened their ability to perform magic, Draco thought
he would have felt Harry�s magic rising and raging around him. Of course, there
had been so many rumors in the Daily
Prophet about Harry�s less-than-desirable childhood that Draco wasn�t
entirely sure what the truth was, but
Harry didn�t look at all frightened. Only angry that they�d taken the liberty,
Draco supposed.

�� Ah,� Harry
said. �I understand now. You�ll simply recite insinuations at me until I die of boredom.�

�� The witch
chuckled again, infuriatingly, and glanced at Draco. �And we have information
on young Mr. Malfoy, as well,� she said. �From someone who has shared his life
for quite a while, and may know much
more than he wants her to, simply because she is a good observer.� She paused
dramatically. �Gentlemen, did you know that you share a phobia?�

�� Harry�s
eyes only widened in confusion, but Draco felt his heart suddenly leap like a
captured Snitch.

�� No. She wouldn�t. She doesn�t know�

�� But she
might have. She might have. She had shared his bed for years, and Draco had had
nightmares, and he might have cried out during them. And there had been the
period when Narcissa had been so anxious to make her daughter-in-law
comfortable in the Manor, and had thought the way to do it was to tell her more
about Draco�s history.

�� You�re
lying,� he said, and thought he did quite a good job of feigning coolness
around the sour taste in his mouth.

�� I am not,�
said the witch promptly, and then waved her wand. That made Draco wonder if the
magic-dampening spells were on him and Harry, instead of the building. It would
make sense, especially with the glamours shimmering on the walls�

�� He tried to
distract himself from what he knew was coming, but it was useless.

�� Especially
when the box floated into the center of the room.

�� It looked
like a coffin, though it was both wider and deeper. Draco stared at it the way
he imagined a toddler might regard a Dementor. It was made of some bright,
nearly red, polished wood, perhaps cherry. It had a hinged lid that would close
down on it�

�� On whoever lay inside�

�� He was
breathing so fast that he had already dried his mouth out. Harry turned to
stare at him uncomprehendingly.

�� The fear
of small, dark places,� the witch said, and chuckled again. �Mr. Potter grew up
in a cupboard, and Mr. Malfoy had a�shall we say, an experience, with a corner of his parents� cellar during the war? Provided
by his aunt Lestrange, of course. Quite an experience. It lasted three days.�
She cocked her head. �Our source of information says that he came out with his
sanity intact, but precariously balanced.�

�� Draco
turned to run, despite knowing it would do absolutely no good. A Tripping Jinx
closed on him at once, of course, and he pitched to the ground. Then he was
floating into the air, and the box�s lid was open, and he was squirming�

�� He was screaming, though it was high and thin and
soundless. His mind and his blood boiled with the memories of Bellatrix, locking
him into place with spells that damped all his senses, in a magic-created cell
so small he could barely stand up in it. And now he would be locked in a box
smaller than that, shared with Potter,
and there would be spells on the box to muffle noise and feeling, he knew there
would, and it would be dark�

�� Enjoy
prison, gentlemen,� the witch said, with a deep sigh, as they settled in and
the lid swung shut. The voice-altering charm could not disguise that the sound
was one of intense vindication.

*

�� Harry had
already seen what would need to be done.

�� Their
information on him was interesting, but incomplete. Harry had never
particularly liked his cupboard, but
neither had it given him claustrophobia. He had survived it, and sometimes it
had even provided him a safe space from the Dursleys, and that was more than
enough to dispel any fear.

�� Draco, on
the other hand, was struggling like a mad thing, keening, his fear all too much alive. Even if they were rescued
soon, Harry thought, he might very well come out of the box insane or
catatonic.

�� The box�s lid
sealed and locked. As Harry had anticipated, the inside was utterly dark,
without even a line of light to mark the top, and there was just barely room
enough for both of them to lie down, facing each other, with their legs tangled
together. Sound-proofing spells guarded them from hearing any sound their
captors might make or being heard if they screamed, the box�s wood felt like
nothing in particular, and other charms had removed any smell and taste from
the air. They were not going to suffocate, Harry discerned; a hidden vent gave
them fresh air. But it was going to be absolute and endless torture for Draco.

�� So Harry
did what needed to be done. He hummed, verifying to himself that no
sound-proofing spells had been cast on the inside
of the box, and then he slid forwards, turning so he was chest to chest with
Draco, and wrapped his arms around him. Draco didn�t seem to notice; he was
still caught in his silent, furious struggle, though his movements were more
restricted now.

�� Draco,�
Harry said, his voice as calm and deep as he could possibly make it. �Listen to
me, Draco. Focus on my voice. It will help you.�

�� And,
drawing his breath, he began to talk.

*

�� Amiyom,
Thrnbrooke: Thank you for reviewing!

�� Daft Fear:
I notice that wanting Ginny to leave seems to be a common theme of your
reviews. ;)

�� Crazy: I
can understand the feeling. I don�t think JKR did a good job of developing the
romance in canon, but I don�t particularly hate it. At least it gives me
something fun to play with in the fanfics.

�� Beautifullove348:
Ginny thought therapy was a better solution than having a screaming fit.

�� Mangacat:
As I hope Harry explained here, it�s likely that no one else realized it was a
kidnapping.

�� And you
were right about the scars!

�� Soria: Do
be stubborn!

�� Myra: Harry
just wants everything to go back to normal, which was the main reason he
agreed.

�� DWA: Will
do.
- 13
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I Give You a Wondrous Mirror