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A Vicious Tangle (Complete)	By : Tommy-Lane Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 13087 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any charactors from the books and I am not making any money off of this.

Chapter List
- 17
- 18
- 19
The coffee more closely resembled dirty dishwater than anything else - looking pathetically weak in the squat white mug. Draco grimaced at it with his arms crossed over his chest, Potter's voice a drone in the back of his head. He didn't even really need to listen anymore to know what was being said - the exact same things that they had gone over at least a dozen times already. His hand clenched against his side as he slipped his eyes closed.
Olivia was gone.
A Healer had went to her room to check on her status (which hadn't changed since Draco had visited her in the hospital) only to find the room exactly the same but missing the body of one young comatose, perpetually drenched woman. There wasn't any sign of a struggle, no over turned equipment, the bed still made nice and neat except for the tiniest wrinkle in the upper corner.
And the disk.
Draco felt the vein in his temple throb as he opened his eyes to look over at the bed again - the black and green disk that had been fixed inside Olivia's mouth was lying innocently in the center of the mattress. Or at least they all assumed that it was the same disk but really for all they knew it could be a new one - placed there by the murderer. But that made as little sense as Olivia randomly waking, taking it out, and leaving without a word - like a ghost in the night. No one could even remember seeing anyone remotely resembling her wandering down the halls. She just up and vanished.
Yet that was simply impossible given the wards placed around the hospital.
It begged the question of why the murderer would return. Was he worried that Olivia would come to and spill his identity? Was he simply deranged enough to need the woman dead no matter what? But then he hadn't killed her and left her body to be found like usual - no all that was left was the bloody disk, like a cruel taunt that only seemed to be making Draco's eye twitch and stomach churn. Except that wasn't true, he reminded himself. He knew that despite the fact that Potter looked perfectly composed and professional that his wand hand was flexing over the length of his power, that he was as desperate as Draco to abandon the questioning and get his hands dirty.
Draco had never thought the day would come when Potter would be the one holding them back - the one to do the cautious protocol while Draco wanted to simply leap.
He glanced up and over at Potter and Weasley - both looking far too worn and tired - in the middle of yet another round of questioning with yet another Healer. They would be here all night at this rate and if Draco's hunch was correct nowhere nearer finding out what had happened. He sighed and took a step closer to the bed. Potter had ordered him not to touch it and after allowing him a few brief preliminary spells (which yielded nothing) had told him to let it be for the time being until they had a better handle on the situation. But that had been hours ago and Draco felt like there was a burning itch running up his leg every time he looked at it, a bucket of ice water rushing down his spine each time he looked away.
"All exits were locked or warded?" Potter asked and Draco mentally answered him before the Healer could.
"No unusual visitors logged in?" Weasley added his required question to check off their list.
Useless. This was all useless. It was tedium and coughing smoke, the questions only pushing everything further away from them. Draco only knew three things for certain. One, Olivia was in great danger. Two, the disk was calling to him. And three, they were wasting time.
So before he could change his mind and let the list of possible ramifications wash over him, Draco scooped up the disk, dropped it into the dirty water parading as coffee, and heard the soft trickle of water flood his ears moments before one long tentacle reached out to his outstretched hand and tugged him under.
It was different this time. The squeezing was there, the pain in this head and the cold through his blood still present, but time didn't feel eclipsed and off balance like the memories usually did - instead he felt compressed, like squeezing through a tight tube. In fact as Draco found himself standing on the shore of a bright, crystal blue lake he had the feeling that he wasn't in a memory at all. He blinked in the blinding sunlight and peered around himself, the sand beneath his feet wet and squishy. He recognized the body of water and the surrounding hills, the scent of lavender filling his nostrils as a breeze blew around him - lifting his hair and robes. It hadn't been that long ago that he had stood in this exact spot, holding the first of the disks and hoping to god that his instinct was leading him in the right direction. He took a tentative step and his feet sunk deep into the sand, water seeping into the cuff of his trousers.
With a deep frown he crouched down and let his fingers dip into the lake, its cool water a very real reality. Firmly grasping his wand with his other hand, Draco peered up through his fringe and all around him as his brain tried to piece it all together. This wasn't a memory at all, it wasn't even a vision, it was real - he was here, now, at the lake. Alone. The disk had been turned into a portkey and seeing as it hadn't done a single thing when Potter had probed it or when Draco had conducted his beginning investigation it must have been placed on the bed especially for him. Because who else would think to dump it in water, who else would willing grasp it's creepy tentacles?
His first gut reaction was to leave - as fast as he possibly could because this smelled strongly like a trap. He should think of the hospital and spin, he should get Potter and a plethora of his Auror comrades and come back to the lake with them all in tow.
"Draco."
He spun around at the soft whisper of his name only to find a blank landscape - beautiful but devoid of human life beyond himself. But he recognized that voice, it felt entwined with his very soul these days. "Astoria?" He called, his voice carrying on the wind and echoing around the hills. "Where are you?" He strained his ears and eyes, squinting in the blinding sunlight, his feet moving him forward in a sharp curve around the water’s edge as silence engulfed him - ringing in his head. "Astoria!" He shouted, feeling his pulse pick up and an urgency grip him. She was here, he knew she was, he could feel her.
He ran without direction, something pulling him forward and guiding his steps, the smallest whisper in his head quickening his movements with each inch gained. He felt like he was getting closer as he rounded a bend, busting through a tangle of bushes before slipping on an algae incrusted rock. He tumbled down a steep incline, bashing his knee on the stone and feeling blood seep into the fabric of his trousers. But he hardly noticed the pain or the way his mind had gone fuzzy as the air shifted and a tingle of magic washed over him. He blinked as his vision swam then cleared, stumbling to his feet and sliding to a stop before the opening to what looked to be a long, dark tunnel - a million little spiders crawling down his spine at the sight of its gaping mouth.
He sucked in a breath as he stared into the black, his fingers flexing over his wand. With a mutter a soft blue light was zipping into the tunnel, casting the smooth dank walls in gray tinged light before it disappeared as the tunnel curved sharply downwards. He felt frozen in that moment, vividly remembering the memory of Astoria running desperately from those very depths. He felt as if he could still hear it now, the thump thump thump of her feet on the stone and the rasp of her breath. Fear gripped him tightly, squeezing his lungs with sharp claws, making him feel like a torn, confused teenager amidst an insane war once more.
"Get Potter." He whispered the directions to himself after swallowing around a lump. He wasn't the type to go running face first into unknown danger, he wasn't the one who burst in with wand held high. He wasn't the damn hero. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, taking a small step backwards.
"Draco." Astoria's voice drifted up from the darkness to him, her voice breaking in what sounded like agony and before he knew it Draco was rushing forward - the borrowed memory of delivering the news of her capture by Death Eaters so many years ago making his feet fly faster than ever before. He had no idea what had transpired that night and it seemed likely he never would but he was determined to right a wrong that was too fuzzy to see but that threatened to break his heart anyway.

He ran and ran and ran, his steps ringing loudly all around him, the light from his wand barely managing to cast shadows on the curved walls encasing him. The air grew thicker as the tunnel curved and one misplaced step later and his feet were flying out from under him - his head connecting solidly against the hard stone floor, his wand clanking down the slope and out of reach as his skull throbbed and black dots encompassed his vision. He groaned and rolled to his knees, his forehead pressing down into the slick stone as he waited for the pain to subside.
A step echoed before him.
Glancing sharply up, Draco huffed out a pained breath, confusion picking its way through his already fretted mind as his gaze landed on the much too thin figure of Olivia still dressed in the white hospital gown, the blue tinge of her skin still startling clear. "Olivia?" He gasped, struggling to his feet and feeling himself waver on the spot - his hand coming away from the back of his head streaked in sticky red.
"You came." She said, her voice horse and barely above a whisper but startling familiar all the same.
Cold seeped into him, making his back straighten as her voice pierced him, his eyes widening. The fear that had held him at the mouth of the tunnel seized him completely, his gaze sliding sideways and over the woman's shoulder to the darkness beyond in search of his fallen wand and back again. Her large green eyes never wavered from his face, the orbs bright and covered with a thin sheen of unshed tears.
"We should leave." He said as calmly as he could, taking a careful step forward.
The woman slid fluidly into his path, blocking his escape. "It's not safe." She said, her voice sending chills back down his spine.
"We can help you, you don't need to be afraid." He told her, searching the ground once more for his wand, cursing inwardly as he finally located it several paces down - out of easy reach. He quickly started formulating a plan in his mind, the idea of overtaking her physically leaving a sour taste in his mouth but it seemed his only option at the moment. "I'll keep you safe."
She nodded with a broken little smile, a single tear leaking down her pale cheek. "You will, won't you?"
They both moved in the next second, Draco's arms nearly around her before something hard and sharp was connecting with his skull - making him stumble and his feet nearly slip out from under him again before the instrument was connecting solidly once more against the back of his head. All colors seeped away from him, Olivia's long blond hair morphing into a single bouncing blob as he fell and struggled to stay awake, his hand groping at the wall.
Another hit was all it took to send him careening into the black.
****
He dreamed of Potter - of lying on soft grass with the man beneath him, a meadow filled with delicate yellow flowers and lazy clouds, Potter's laugh tinkling like some spell binding sound that held Draco captive. There was nothing else but Potter's smile, the touch of his fingers on the back of Draco's neck, and the gentle sound of his joy making his spirit soar. He couldn't recall the tribulation that he knew the day must have held, he couldn't picture the mess of things they were going to have to walk back into.
In that moment it was him and Potter and the meadow. He smiled as he closed his eyes and kissed the other man - small and chaste, his platinum locks getting pushed back from his face as Harry combed his fingers through them. "I love you." Draco whispered against his lips.
And as if his words had beckoned them, the sky rolled with dark gray clouds, the feeling of divine joy and contentment falling away like rocks down a tumbling cliff. He opened his eyes and Harry of years past glared up at him - his dull green eyes etched with barely concealed agony, his hand dropping from Draco's head covered in dirt from the graves he had just filled over his fallen loved ones. Potter's jaw clenched visibly, the purple under his eyes standing stark and clear against his ashen complexion.
"Harry-" He started, feeling like his heart had been put in a mortal and ground to bits of bloody sinew and muscle from just the hardness of his face - the man's body suddenly still and stiff as stone beneath him.
"Did you think you could hide her forever?" Potter hissed, his voice pure loathing and venom, using Draco's confused state to roll him quickly until Potter sat astride him. "Did you think we wouldn't find out? Did you think I wouldn't notice?"
"I - who?"
"You are a disgusting piece of shit Malfoy." He sneered and as he did Draco felt like bits of his body were cracking, running in spidery splinters over him, his very being dissolving into the earth beneath him.
"H-harr -" He choked on his own collapsing lungs, Potter's hand pressing down on his chest until all air was gone with no ability to ever return.
He felt himself sinking into a void unknown, his heart torn into complete anguish as Potter's face twisted into something ugly and foreign, the blurry vision of Astoria - still young and clad in dust eaten Hogwarts robes - appearing over his shoulder to watch with a face as blank as smooth wax as he turned to ash beneath them.
****
Draco's eyes sprang open as he struggled to breathe, the dream clinging to him as he shook and tried to dispel the look that had morphed Potter's face into something of nightmares. His hand gripped his chest over his heart - trying to lessen the ache that still throbbed there, his entire body shaking as he dragged in one painful breath after another.
"Just a dream" He told himself, much like he used to for years after the war when nightmares were part of his nightly routine. "Just a...fuck." He glanced up and with the glaring reality of where he was came the return of his throbbing knee and head in full force - emitting from a large lump crusted with dried blood on the back of his head.
He was underground still - that much he could tell from his slumped position against the smoothly cut stone wall - but who knew how far down the tunnel he had gone and if he was anywhere near the lake anymore. Flickering torch light lit the small space he was confined to that looked to be no bigger than five paces by five paces. Three smooth walls and one barring him off from the rest of the bare room with thick bars that looked to be carved from the same stone as the rest of his prison - trapping him like great rows of teeth. There was nothing inside his little cell and beyond it on the other side of the bars was a barren floor leading to a single wooden door.
Tucking his legs beneath him, he rose unsteadily to his feet, glancing up high on the walls with a small hope for a window to be fixed there but there was none - just more stone that went up and up before curving in on itself. His hand gripped one of the sturdy bars as he came to rest his full weight on his feet.
Don't panic, he repeated over in his head but it was doing little to help the fear overtaking him or to soften the way his lungs were constricting as claustrophobia seemed to press in all around him. He hated small spaces and knew that if he was left here much longer that the walls would start to move in on him like a living thing. He shook his fear back and forced himself to think. Firstly, he needed to go over his surroundings inch by inch to find a potential weakness - if there was any to be found. So with fingers that wanted to tremble, he slowly set himself to his task, refusing to let his mind dwell on Olivia and the fact that she was apparently no innocent as he worked. He meticulously searched every possible inch of wall and floor he could reach - running his fingers studiously over every nick of stone and around every single bar that held him from freedom.
And then he did it again.
And again.
He had no idea how long he had been there when he finally collapsed back to the floor, the pads of his fingers aching and over sensitive after probing along his cell for so long - his mind spinning into over activity, making it impossible to latch onto any one thought. Which would do him absolutely no good because his warden was sure to return - and probably sooner rather than later - and Draco felt like he was sure to dissolve into a puddle of hyperventilation if she did while he was so worked up.
Shutting his eyes and forcing his limbs perfectly still he slowed his mind and plucked out the most important details.
Olivia had captured him. She had most likely planted the disk at the hospital to transport him to the lake. She had somehow led him to the cave and drew him in. And yet still she looked...lost, confused, and desperate even when she had confronted him - at least she did before bludgeoning him.
He thought of how the Healers were astounded that she was withstanding all the magic they were using on her, a clear red flag that she had been more than she seemed. But he hadn't picked up on that - none of them had. And then there was the marking, the duplication of the disk on the inside of her wrist. What did that mean? Was it controlling her somehow? Was she honestly a poor muggle victim that the murderer was channeling his power through somehow?
Was that even possible?
And her voice...she had sounded just like Astoria but rawer.
His head fell forward into his hands as he mentally back pedaled over the last few weeks. The two woman had to be connected in some way, he just couldn't...
"It gets better."
Draco's head shot up at the softly uttered words to find Olivia sitting against the same wall as him on the other side of the bars, her knees drawn up into her chest with her arms wrapped snugly around them. He hadn't even heard her come in.
"What do you want?" He asked as she shot him a small, faltering smile.
"That's a story to be sure." She said, her cheek resting on her knee as she studied him. "But I can't tell you."
"Why is that?" He tried to keep the tightness out of his voice, tried to keep his tone as soft as he possibly could because the woman before him looked horribly fragile, like if he spoke a little too roughly that she'd dissolve into tears and waste completely away. And he needed her talking, needed her trust if there was any chance to puzzle everything out and make it out of this.
"He won't let me." Her voice quivered as she whispered her reply.
"Who won't?" Draco lowered his voice to match her just like he had seen Potter do when questioning a distraught victim.
"My husband." She bit into her pale bottom lip and turned her face halfway into her knee.
Draco racked his brain for any mention of Olivia's husband, vaguely remembering Weasley and Potter talking about a muggle boyfriend that the police had taken away for questioning. But his name wasn't forthcoming, his face never emerging from the depths of his memory except for... "The redhead?"
Olivia peaked up at him. "Jack? Sweet lad's Olivia's." Her dainty hand swung down over her bare foot, the blue lined marking on her wrist flashing at him for a brief second, her long blonde hair falling like a curtain over her features as she buried her face between her knees again.
"But you're..." He trailed off and swallowed thickly, his pulse thumping to the time of his whirling thoughts. "Who are you then?" He asked instead of challenging her odd statement straight out - an idea that seemed too surreal to possibly be true pricking him.
"You know that." She murmured, her voice muffled and distant.
"Do I?"
She nodded but still didn't look up, her fingers playing idly with her toes - the swirling round mark turned fully to him now and Draco felt cold as he stared at it. There was no denying that she was the latest almost-victim in the string of murders, he himself had read report after report detailing her daily life as a coffee barista in a little cafe down the street from where she lived. Read all about the little tidbits of her life and tracked her lack of progression in her suspended state in the hospital. She was Olivia. Of that he was sure but she also seemed...confused, like someone being strung along the edge of the Imperius curse.
"Are you Olivia?" He asked carefully.
"Sometimes."
Draco was sure his heart was going to pound right out of his chest at her quiet reply. "Are you...are you now?" She shook her head. "Can you tell me your name then?" He tried to sound light and curious, scooting closer to the bars and grasping them in one hand, sure he already knew the answer but needing to hear it from her own lips - hoping to god that she would contradict what his mind had drawn as the only conclusion.
"Daphne always said you didn't notice me."
He had years of Malfoy breeding to thank for his carefully controlled reaction - nothing visible flicking across his face as her declaration fell in the damp air. Outwardly the only movement for her to pick up was the slight tip of his chin, inwardly he felt like having a nervous breakdown as he tried to place it all in an orderly fashion in his head. But nothing about this situation was orderly and he doubted he could find a label for it beyond pure insanity.
He took a careful moment to study her - the willowy frame, the blonde hair that looked like it could have been thick and lustrous in day’s bygone, the green eyes that while bright would never hold a candle to Potter's. He looked deeper and noticed the spider web of lines on the corner of her eyes, the deep furrow that marred her forehead whenever she frowned just a little, and the lips that looked like she had a bad habit of scrapping her teeth harshly over them day and night, night and day. Feet that looked like she never wore shoes, the toenails embedded with dirt.
"Astoria?" He asked carefully as he placed the woman before him with the mental image he had of Astoria from the memory Pansy had given them. They looked...similar. He could hardly believe the lovely young woman from Hogwarts was the same as the one next to him now but still...they could be. Astoria could have grown into Olivia if her life had been a hard one, full of horrors - it could be her if she had done small little things to shift her appearance. Perhaps with the goal to run away from something. From someone. That would explain some of the changes and the muggle life and boyfriend.
Astoria smiled at him like a young girl getting her crush to notice her for the first time, the expression making Draco's stomach sink. "You do remember me then."
With Astoria sitting bodily before him Draco felt as if a small crack had formed in the damn holding his memory of her back - allowing him to conjure her from the deepest recesses he hadn't realized had been missing until recently. It was distant still but there, her image an echo on the edge of his subconscious. He faintly remembered her being quiet and composed, sure footedly taking the high ground in a house of snakes was not an easy accomplishment yet she had somehow managed to do just that. But mostly he remembered her off in the shadows, always two steps behind his group of friends, always ready with a wide smile whenever his eyes did slide indifferently over her.
"Of course I do." Draco answered softly, knowing he needed to tread very carefully. She had obviously gone a bit mental, given the duel personalities and the fact that she alternately talked about him saving her and then had bashed him over the head with a rock before imprisoning him. "You went missing." He stated, clearly, matter of factually.
She nodded, a tremor racing up her limbs for a brief moment. "Yes."
"What happened?" He pushed, his voice a whisper.
"No, no!" She shut her eyes and started shaking her head, back and forth, back and forth, her hands gripping her scalp harshly. She started rocking to and fro and Draco felt his fear melt away into pure heartbreak. A girl, she had only been a girl, when she had been taken and the knowledge that whatever she went through had turned her into this making him physically ill.
And she had been clinging to his memory probably from the beginning - waiting for him to swoop in and rescue her. A childish fantasy her one grip on sanity it seemed.
"What can I do?" He asked and oddly enough when she stood and pointed his own wand at him he didn't flinch or try to escape it, he simply held her eye and thought maybe, just maybe, this would be how he could atone for not only being a part of her capture but for Theo's murder as well.
- 17
- 18
- 19
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A Vicious Tangle (Complete)