Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Of Butterflies in a Hurricane	By : roxierose13 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 11464 -:- 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
- 16
- 17
- 18
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Harry spent several days holed up in Grimmauld Place, talking rarely and eating just as much. He preferred to sit on his bed, alternately searching the Pensieve or berating himself for staying safely in this house while he could be trying to find Draco.

Several more members of the Order had come to "visit" him. More likely, they had come to check up on him. Every time he heard a knock on the door (they had finally learned not to ring the bell), he would retreat further into the house.

On the third day of his seclusion, Harry heard a quiet knock on his bedroom door. He closed the spell book he'd been reading with a sigh and reluctantly granted admission.

Hermione came in, a look of apprehension and worry on her face. She was clutching what looked like a newspaper in her hands as she moved closer to Harry.

"What is it?" Harry asked. Everyday, the paper reported more deaths, attacks. He had learned to block it out as time had gone on.

"It's... there was another death," she said slowly.

Harry supposed it must be important if she was so worried. He sat up straighter on his bed and scooted forward to the edge. "Who?"

"Michael Corner," Hermione said. "He was in the Order, just joined. And they don't think it was a random attack."

"Why not?" Harry knew of Michael Corner; Ginny had dated him his fifth year.

"Well, Michael had some papers from the Order, and they can't find them anywhere."

"Papers? What kind of papers?!" Harry asked pressingly.

"I--I don't know. The whole Order is being very tight-lipped about the whole thing. I really can't tell how important the papers were."

"Oh," Harry said, feeling deflated. Obviously, it was important if someone, most likely Death Eaters, had wanted the papers. Or maybe they had simply taken the opportunity to kill a member of the Order.

Hermione gave him an odd look and moved to sit down next to him on the bed. He gave her a questioning look as she studied him. "What?"

"Harry," she said softly. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

Harry hesitated a second, thoughts flashing through his head. He had a mental image of Draco standing before the weak-kneed Dumbledore, wand poised and ready; Draco lying in his bed, his eyes showing his true emotions, Rose telling him that not all was lost. In the end, he shook his head and sighed. "No, nothing."

"Well, Harry," she said, clearly not believing him but seemingly letting it go, "you need to eat something or at least get out of this room."

Harry sighed again. He didn't want to see anybody. He dreaded the thought of going downstairs and having to talk with people; pretend to be a well-adjusted boy for one more night.

"Come on," Hermione wheedled. "Just come to the kitchen with me. I'll make you something."

Harry glanced at her, his expression now skeptical. He didn't believe she had ever cooked for them and wasn't exactly sure how well she would do. She seemed to know his thoughts as she put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "I can cook better than I can knit!"

"I should hope so," Harry muttered then grinned as she continued to look indignant. "Alright, alright, I'll come."

She looked a bit happier as he heaved himself to the floor, hoping there wouldn't be a party downstairs to receive him. He followed Hermione out to the landing and down the stairs to the kitchen.

To his great relief, there was no one in the kitchen but Ron. He looked surprised to see Hermione come in with Harry.

"Hey, mate! You're alive!" he said jokingly. Harry gave him a half-smile and Ron frowned, discouraged.

Hermione instructed him to sit at the table and went about the kitchen, finding things to cook for lunch. Harry and Ron sat in silence for a while, each trying to find someway to break the awkwardness that had been procured.

All of a sudden, Harry gave a small yelp. "Ouch!"

Ron and Hermione turned to him sharply, both looking at him worriedly. "What's wrong?" Hermione asked immediately.

"It's nothing," Harry said dismissively, rubbing his wrist. "I got a splinter from the table."

Ron and Hermione didn't look appeased but said nothing more. Hermione returned to her cooking and Ron went back to staring at the table morosely.

Harry, meanwhile, glared down at the tiny snake on his wrist. It was slithering around the bracelet, appearing quite agitated. Harry wondered if this snake was charmed to follow his emotions. Then again, it always seemed to know when he was doing something he oughtn't.

The snake had taken to nipping him suddenly in the last few days. He would be doing absolutely nothing and the snake would sink its tiny fangs into Harry's wrist. He disliked this constant reminder of how badly a job he was doing of finding Draco. But the snake brought him a kind of comfort; something to remind him that Draco was still out there somewhere. He just had to find him.

Harry looked up as Hermione set down a plate of food in front of him. He poked at it experimentally for a second and Hermione scoffed indignantly. "Just try it, why don't you?"

He gave her an innocent smile before taking a bite. To his surprise, it wasn't half bad. He made an agreeable sound and she just rolled her eyes. He went on eating while Ron and Hermione watched him carefully.

They seemed to be steeling themselves to ask him something. He continued eating, oblivious to anything around him. Hermione sent Ron an imploring look and he shrugged slightly. She rolled her eyes and shook her head, and then plopped down in one of the chairs across from Harry at the scrubbed wooden table.

Harry felt her eyes growing on him as he bent his head. He said nothing, focusing on finishing the food she had given him. It had been, after all, several days since he'd had a real meal.

The intense staring grew worse as Harry continued to ignore Hermione's eyes. He concentrated on eating his meal, refusing to look up and meet her accusatory stare.

Finally, he could take it no more and looked up, giving a heavy sigh as he did so. "What is it, Hermione?" he asked.

�Well, Ron and I--" She cut herself off here as Ron gave her an angry glare. "Er, I mean, I," she continued, "was wondering if you'd had any thoughts on what to do next."

She bit her lip as she watched Harry apprehensively. He leaned back in his chair and said nothing for a few minutes, thinking hard. Over the past few days, many ideas had come to him, each more ludicrous than the last. He knew they were wasting time. The time had gone by so quickly that August was fading away and September was just around the corner.

Harry dreaded the thought of trudging around snow-covered fields looking for Horcruxes while on the constant look-out for Death Eaters. He knew that would be a horrible way to go about it, but, at the moment, he had absolutely no idea as to how to find another Horcrux. They had simply gotten lucky on the last one. It had, quite literally, fallen into their laps by way of the despised house-elf.

He knew they had to leave Grimmauld Place, and the fact of the matter was that he was eager to make some progress. He felt too cooped up and restrained inside the old, musty house. The problem was that he didn't know what to do or where to go. He had no clue as to where another Horcrux might be hidden.

"I don't have any thoughts," he replied finally. "I've tried to think of where Voldemort might have hidden another Horcrux, not to mention the fact that there's one that we don't even know what it is. It could be anything! But I'm at a loss. I have no idea what to do."

Hermione gave him a sympathetic look and Harry turned away from her, not wanting anymore sympathy. Ron was staring at the table, not saying anything. Harry wondered if he was even listening. But then Ron looked up, a slightly dazed expression on his face. He shook it away and turned to Harry.

"Have you tried the Pensieve?" he asked cautiously.

Harry visibly tensed at his words. They hadn't actually directly asked about the Pensieve since he had received it. "I--I've been looking. But there really isn't anything worthwhile, or if there is, I haven't seen it."

Ron nodded, seemingly embarrassed. He turned away and said nothing the rest of the time. Hermione, instead, seemed curious.

"How often do you look in there?" she asked lightly. She didn't want to upset him but she was interested to know.

"I dunno," Harry shrugged. "At least once a day, sometimes more."

Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment. "And do you go into the memories frequently?"

"Er... sometimes. I guess it depends."

She didn't go so far as to ask what it depended on. Instead, she fell into a thoughtful silence and they whiled away the afternoon in a semi-peaceful silence. Around dinner time, Hermione offered to make another meal but Harry declined. He excused himself from the table and retreated upstairs to his bedroom.

Once there, he followed his regular routine of lifting the Pensieve from his bag and placing it in the middle of his bed. He leaned over the swirling mass of silver and poked the top with his wand. It began swirling fast, making Harry slightly dizzy to watch it.

Finally, the mist cleared and Harry found himself looking down on an empty corridor at Hogwarts. He stared down at it curiously, wondering what it was. He glanced around quickly, looking to see if anyone was around. The dark outline of Phineas Niggelus was snoozing in his portrait and Harry felt it safe to take another venture inside the Pensieve.

He leant forward, his nose touching the surface and catapulting him forward into nothingness until his feet his solid ground. He looked around, confused. It was just an empty corridor across from the boy's bathroom on the sixth floor of the castle.

He was about to wonder why he had bothered coming when the sounds of footsteps behind him startled him. He turned around to see himself pelting down the marble stairs and right up to the bathroom door.

He watched himself for a moment, wondering what was going on. He saw Pensieve Harry press his ear up to the door then slowly push it open.

His eyes widened as he realized just what was going on. "Oh no," he said to himself. "Oh no, oh no!"

Creeping up behind his Pensieve counterpart, he slipped in the door with him. There, he saw Draco, hunched over the sink, tears rolling down his cheeks. He could hear Moaning Myrtle talking to him in a soothing voice.

He saw himself watching Draco in wonderment as he stood at the sink. It was with a sinking feeling that Harry knew what was coming next.

Draco was talking to Myrtle, saying something about someone killing him when he looked up and saw Pensieve Harry in the mirror. His eyes widened and he whipped around, wand out and pointed at Harry.

Harry watched as curses flew through the air, shattering things left and right. Myrtle was screaming, the sound bouncing around the room and giving Harry a headache.

He saw Draco's face contort with fury as he raised his wand and yelled, "Cruci--"

"Sectum--"

"NO!" Harry cried, his unheard cry drowning out his counterpart�s words. It wasn't enough to stop it, though. The curse ripped through Draco's chest, blood spurting everywhere.

Harry could have sworn his heart stopped as he watched, for the second time in his life, Draco nearly die. He saw himself dropping to his knees, helpless to do anything against the wave of crimson that was pouring from Draco's chest.

His ears were so full of the pounding blood he barely heard Myrtle's shrieks or the crash of the doors. Snape rushed in, running straight through him and to Draco. He shoved Pensieve Harry away roughly and attended to Draco, stitching up his wounds as best he could.

Harry was in a daze as he watched Snape direct his counterpart to wait there in a dangerously quiet voice, full of punishment to come. Harry wanted to follow Snape but knew it was no use. He had no knowledge of what had happened to Draco after Snape had left, only what had happened to him. Doubtless, if he walked out that door, he would find only white mist as before.

So he waited with his horrified self. He remembered all too well the fear that had gripped him in those moments. He had been scared out of his wits of what he had done, and to whom.

In next to no time, Snape had returned and he was glaring down at Pensieve Harry, who quailed under his penetrating stare.

He asked him where he had learned the spell, what book. Harry saw himself lying, badly. He should have known Snape was smarter than that. Especially since he had written the spell, though Harry hadn't known that at the time.

He vaguely heard Snape ordering Pensieve Harry to bring him his school books. Harry didn't want to follow, but he had no choice as his counterpart flung himself from the room. Luckily, he didn't have to worry about running into people as they hurtled up the stairs and into the common room, up to the boy's dormitory and demanded Ron's potions book.

Harry wondered why he had thought Snape would believe him. He followed reluctantly as Pensieve Harry ran down the stairs and out the common room. He stopped suddenly in front of a blank space of wall and began walking quickly back and forth in front of it.

Harry was puzzled for a moment. This part of this memory seemed to have left his mind. He sort of remembered hiding the book but had little recollection of where he had done it.

In a moment, a door appeared in the stone wall and both Harry's went in. Harry looked around, amazed he had forgotten this place. Then again, he had been quite distracted by his impending doom to worry about it.

He followed his counterpart down rows of forgotten objects; books, clothes, banned objects. It would be Fred and George's playground, Harry thought randomly. His eyes traveled over the mountains of junk and possible treasures that surely lay hidden in the object-lined streets.

He followed his counterpart down a long aisle, past the Vanishing Cabinet. Harry's stomach gave an unpleasant lurch at the sight of it. It stood, quite alone, seemingly innocent. He tore his eyes from it as Pensieve Harry ran down to a large cabinet, shoving his book inside and placing a few objects on its top for easy location later.

While his counterpart was busy disguising his book, Harry looked around in wonder at the piles of rubbish. He thought that this would be the perfect place to hide anything. It wasn't like many people knew of this room, only those who knew the castle extremely well. And even so, most people probably forgot about what they had put in here in the first place, judging by the incredible amounts of books. It was very unlikely that many people returned to this particular room after they had used it once.

A sudden idea struck Harry as he gazed around the mountainous piles of junk. His mouth dropped open as the thought struck him. He barely noticed his counterpart sprinting back down the path and, before he knew it, all had turned to white mist and he was being thrown from the memory.

He landed haphazardly on his bed, his hair askew and his mouth still open. He hastily shrunk the Pensieve, shoving it back in his bag. Then he opened the door and sprinted downstairs, surprising Ron and Hermione as he slid into the kitchen.

"Ron, Hermione!" he panted. "I think I've figured out where to go."

~~**~~

A/N: Sadly, now I'm pretty sure this won't be all posted by July since I won't have internet in July or August. I'll try my best to get as much done beforehand, though :) Please review!

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Of Butterflies in a Hurricane