Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Darkness Within The Light	By : crimson96 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 8759 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 18
- 19
- 20
Author Notes: Hello once more. Well, another chapter down, but plenty more to go. Coming off of the very tense emotions from chapter 18, this chapter is a little bit of a journey with bits of humor and drama while deepening Harry and Draco's relationship just a bit more. For me and Eris, it was a lot of fun to write and we both are pleased with the final product. So I hope that everyone who reads it, enjoys it, and you all are more than welcome to leave feedback. There is some outstanding dialogue in here and a few moments that would make any wizard or witch blush.

Chapter 19: No Longer Safe

They materialized in a narrow alley, the residual force of the apparition causing the wizards to lose their grip on one another's hands. Draco's back smashed into the stone wall with a hard thud, forcing him to slump to the ground in pain. Trying to fight the effects of the spinning motion that his body had been in, Harry stumbled backwards and fell over two aluminum trash cans. A loud screech filled Harry's ears, and something small and dark shot past his ankles with a hiss. Apparently, a black cat had been trying to find its evening dinner within one of the bins before Harry had interrupted it.

"Bloody cat!" Harry said as he got to his feet, brushing chunks of used coffee grounds from the front of his robe. His hand touched something slimy, and he flicked away a piece of banana peel. He spotted Draco against the opposite wall and gently grabbed the Slytherin's elbow, helping him to his feet.

Draco rose slowly, lightly moaning, and rubbed theatrically at the back of his neck. "I told you, Potter, you needed more apparition lessons!" Draco hissed as he tugged his arm away from Harry's grip.

"Yeah, well, between taking you everywhere and narrowly escaping your father's wrath, I haven't had much time to fit that into my schedule," Harry said. "The least you could do would be to say, 'thank you for saving my life.' Again."

"And I thought you were tired of playing hero. Bloody Gryffindor," Draco muttered, still catching his breath.

"What?" Harry asked stepping closer to Draco.

Draco rose up to his full height, and his next words came in a near shout. "I said where the hell are we?"

Harry stopped before he got any closer. A piece of him wanted to take his fist and pound it into Draco's stomach for his attitude and ungratefulness, yet the monster inside of Harry backed away as quickly as it had roared, and Harry's rational aspect took control. He studied Draco carefully, forcing himself to note every detail of the Slytherin's expression and posture. Draco's eyes darted everywhere, perhaps in expectation of an attack, or maybe to seek an escape route. Noting all of this, Harry remembered what he had always unconsciously known about Draco; the Slytherin's obnoxious bravado was his way of hiding the fact that he was scared, hurt, or both.

"London. That's where we are."

"London?" Draco asked, the pitch of his voice rising just as Lucius' voice had risen, and dripping with the same amount of contempt. "Why are we still in London? Couldn't you have taken us someplace else?"

"Look!" Harry said. "It was the first place that I thought of when your father tried to kill me in my own house! It's not like I had plenty of time to stand there and choose a nice plush home to apparate to."

"Alright then," Draco started, "what are we going to do? What are you going to do about Mother?"

Harry's nostrils flared a bit as he turned away from Draco and looked at the street. Leaning back against the wall, he closed his eyes and slowly exhaled, trying to think clearly about what to do next. "Right now, we cannot do anything about Narcissa."

"Are you insane? You heard what Father-"

"Look, Draco!" Harry said as he spun around and came face to face with Draco. "We are in no position to help your mother right now! Maybe you didn't notice it, but your father just tried to kill us both!"

Draco scoffed. "You're mental, Potter! Father would never try to-"

"Oh, no? Then I suppose what you saw was not a Killing Curse that was coming directly at the both of us?" Harry countered. "If it hadn't been for Kreacher…"

Yet, Harry could not finish the rest of his words. He knew that Kreacher had sacrificed his life so that he and Draco could escape, just as Dobby had sacrificed himself for Harry, Ron, and Hermione. I should be crying now, Harry thought. I should be beating myself up because he died for me, and I should be raging at Lucius. Kreacher deserved at least some emotion, but Harry found himself numb, thinking only of where they would go next and how they would survive.

"Potter…Potter!"

Harry failed to register the sound of Draco's voice. He was lost in a morbid reverie, probing at his memories of Dobby.

"Potter!"

A sharp pain and a loud smack filled Harry's ears, and suddenly the side of his face felt as if it were on fire. This brought Harry out of his brooding, and he instinctively reacted by pulling the wand from his back pocket and thrusting it into Draco's neck.

Draco griped Harry's wrist, squeezing painfully. "Don't point your bloody wand at me, Potter. You were staring into space like Loony Lovegood; I was only trying to bring you back to your senses."

Reality flooded Harry's brain like a tidal wave crashing onto a beach. He shook off Draco's hand and slowly lowered his wand while rubbing the side of his face with the back of his hand. "Alright, fine, but not so hard next time."

"Fine. I'll practice until I have the proper amount of force."

"You would do that wouldn't you?" Harry muttered as he slid his fingers over the side of his face. The sting of the blow had all but gone, and perversely, he wished it would have lasted longer. Even being hit was better than not being touched at all.

Draco turned in a circle, surveying the alley and wrinkling his nose in disgust. "Where do we go now?"

Once again, Harry walked over to the stone wall. He leaned his back against it for a moment, letting the cold surface comfort and soothe his skin and muscles while he closed his eyes and concentrated on answering Draco's question.

Half a minute later Harry's green eyes greeted the world once more. "Well," Harry started, moving away from the wall and stepping over in front of Draco. "Grimmauld Place is compromised, so we can't go back there."

"What about Andromeda?" Draco asked.

Harry thought for a moment before deciding. "No. I would not place her or Teddy in any kind of danger. We don't know what Lucius will do next." He saw Draco's lips beginning to form the next question, but answered before it could be asked. "Your mother survived-what?-twenty years with your father? I think she can handle him until the trial."

Draco did not argue with Harry this time, but instead stuffed his hands into his pockets, drooped his head down and proceeded to kick at a half-crushed can that lay upon the alley floor. Harry reached forward and lightly touched the tip of Draco's chin with his index finger, raising it up to look into those blue eyes.

"Hey, I promise you we will go and help her, but right now we must survive for a few days and regroup," Harry said softly.

Draco nodded his head. "So what do we do now?" he asked.

Harry exhaled, and turned his gaze toward the city street at the end of the alley. "Right now, we need to try and blend in with the Muggles, and lay low for a bit."

Draco's face looked as if he had eaten a year-old treacle tart. "I wouldn't even know how to behave like a Muggle. I'd be like one of you lot coming to Hogwarts for the first time not knowing a damn thing. It's so humiliating, so-"

"So beneath you?" Harry finished. "Look, whether you like it or not, Draco, that is the only option right now. I'm sorry if it doesn't suit you, but we have no choice," Harry paused before continuing. "Or you could wave your wand, board the Knight Bus, and let it take you back home to your father, who I am sure would be waiting at the front door with open arms and Avada Kedavra."

"Alright, Potter," Draco wearily spoke, "That's enough already, I get the point. You sound worse than Mother when she's scolding me."

"Really? I didn't realize that you were ever scolded," Harry said as he smirked at Draco.

"Bloody Gryffindors! Always so damned cheeky," Draco said, as the corners of his mouth twitched upward for a moment before going back down to their usual Malfoy surl. "So what do we do?"

Harry walked to the end of the alley and peered out at the world, studying it until he decided upon a plan. He turned and once more came face to face with Draco, who had walked up behind Harry while he was looking at the shops and street.

"Oh, sorry," Harry apologized as he turned and was almost lip to lip with Draco. "Last year, Ron, Hermione and I came to this same alley after the Death Eaters attacked The Burrow. As a matter of fact we changed clothes right..." Harry trailed off as he pointed to the area where he and Draco had apparated to. "Right, there."

"What made you think I needed to know that? Now I'm picturing you taking your clothes off in a filthy alley. Thanks for that, Potter." Draco shook his head as if to clear it. "Do you remember anything useful?"

"Um. There is a café around the corner where we could get something to eat once we had some money. Look there!" Harry said pointing to a small shop window advertisement. "That shop takes gold."

"And?" Draco questioned.

"And we are going to sell some of our gold for Muggle money."

"Our gold?" Draco asked, his eyebrows rising up on his brow in defiance.

"Yes, our gold, specifically gold galleons," Harry emphasized. "I have a few in my pocket, along with a few Muggle pound notes in my wallet, but that won't be enough for us. I need some of your gold so that we can sell it."

"I don't have any galleons on me, Potter! What do I look like, a walking Gringots?" Draco replied as he stepped back away from Harry.

"Arguing about it won't get you anywhere. I know that you have it on you because I can hear it jingle a bit when you walk. It's the only way, unless you want to sell yourself on a street corner," Harry said as he pointed at the shop.

"You're disgusting, Potter!" Draco replied, "Now I see where your mind is all of the time."

Harry smiled at the look on Draco's face. "Yeah, it's what all of us Gryffindors think about-seeing a Slytherin have to compromise himself. Now hand over some of your gold," Harry finished as he held out his hand.

Draco stood there mumbling to himself before he finally reached into his left inner robe pocket and extracted a dark green pouch that had a silver ribbon tied around the top. He untied the ribbon and emptied the contents of the pouch into Harry's hand.

Harry had to place his hands together to cradle all of the gold galleons that slipped out of the pouch. He looked in amazement at the pile of galleons that lay in his hand. "Merlin's beard, Draco, how much do you keep in there?"

"Enough!" Draco huffed as he placed the empty pouch back into his pocket.

Harry stuffed the gold galleons into his front pocket, adding them to his few Wizarding coins that he had. "Alright, let's go do this, but whatever you do, let me do all of the talking."

"Alright," Draco said.

"And, don't touch anything."

"Alright, Potter!" Draco grumbled. "You sound like my father!"

"And try to look inconspicuous," Harry finished as they exited the alley.

"Potter!" Draco groaned, as he wheeled to face Harry and lowered his voice to a whisper. "We are two wizards, wearing black robes, and in the middle of Muggle London. Trying to be inconspicuous is going to be a bit futile at this point."

"All the same, keep your wand in your pocket, your mouth closed, and your hands to yourself."

Draco followed Harry across the street and stopped in front of the small shop.

"McKnight's Buy, Sell, and Trade. London's Finest Used Emporium," Harry read as he looked through the glass windows and door.

"Why do they have bars over the windows?" Draco wondered aloud. "It looks like a prison cell."

Harry looked at the bars as his mind fluttered back to when his Uncle Vernon placed bars over his bedroom window. He remembered the feeling of helplessness, and solitude.

"Potter?" Draco prompted.

"Huh?"

"Are we going in or are we going to stand here all day?"

"Oh yeah, come on," Harry said as he placed his hand on the door handle, but unexpectedly the door opened toward the inside. A tall young man stepped out holding a small, glowing silver device in his hand.

"Hey guys," the young man said as he placed the Muggle thing to his ear and began talking to it.

Harry watched Draco gape at the youth as he walked down the sidewalk carrying on a conversation between himself and the object.

Draco grabbed Harry's arm before he could enter the shop. "What the hell was that thing, and who was he talking to? Idiot Muggle! There was nobody there walking beside him to speak with."

Harry glanced down the street at the young man and then at Draco. "I thought you weren't interested in Muggle devices. Come on, let's go inside."

The two entered the store and were cheerfully greeted by the older man standing behind the counter.

"Welcome, lads, to McKnight's Emporium. We buy, sell, and trade. How can I help you two today?"

Harry walked to the counter, but instead of following him, Draco traversed the perimeter of the store, letting his fingers trace over glass cases and frowning in puzzlement at some of the contents. An array of rings and watches failed to catch his interest, but he stopped to stare at an assortment of rectangular objects with colorful labels.

"Nin-ten-do," Draco read as he pieced the word together.

"That's right, son," the shopkeeper said. "All Nintendo video games are on sale this week. You buy one and get the other for half price."

"What are they?" Draco asked.

"They're games, sort of like interactive moving photographs," Harry explained, recalling how Dudley had sat on the couch for hours, nearly catatonic save for his thumbs, which moved with surprising deftness on the controller.

Draco looked up as the light from inside the store reflected on something very shiny above their heads. Harry followed his gaze upwards to the row of guitars that were hanging from the side of the wall, remembering the Yule Ball and the instruments that The Weird Sisters had played that night.

The shopkeeper leaned forward on the counter and frowned at Harry. "Your friend's never heard of a video game?"

"He had a deprived childhood," Harry explained, smiling as he watched Draco continue his explorations.

"Probably better off for it. Those blasted video games will ruin brain cells." The shopkeeper grunted, "Now nothing against you two, but I just don't know about kids these days. Take that bloke that walked out just before you came in- always dresses up like it's Halloween with his black clothes and white make-up. And what with him wearing that black nail polish, he looks like a bleedin' freak. However he comes in here and buys things properly, so he's alright in my books, but still, I hate to know he goes home to his parents and says hello to his mum and dad dressed like that."

"He looked like a bloody idiot," Draco agreed from across the store.

"Goth, they call it," the store owner continued, snorting to show what he thought of that. "I'd say from the looks of things that you two would fit right in with that lot. Just look at yourselves, you both already have the black robes on, all's you need is the white make-up on your face."

"Yeah…well…where we come from this is pretty normal," Harry said, hoping he could steer the conversation away from their clothing and toward a business transaction.

"Oh? And where is that at, if I may ask?"

"It's up north," Harry said quickly, "but look, sir, the reason why we are here is that we want to sell you something."

Harry reached into his pocket, pulled out a single, gold galleon, and placed it upon the counter.

"Blimey, son!" the old man exclaimed. "Where the ruddy hell did you get something like that?" He quickly reached into his vest pocket and whipped out a small jeweler's scope in his hand. He placed the small black scope on his right eye and held the coin very close, examining it thoroughly.

"Is this pure gold?" The old man quivered with excitement as he gently placed the galleon back onto the counter.

"Yes, it is. And there's more where that came from if you're willing to-Draco!" Harry swiftly crossed the room to where Draco stood peering into the barrel of an antique revolver, his fingers dangerously close to the trigger. "Get away from that!" he ordered.

"Don't worry, son, it's not loaded!" the shopkeeper called cheerfully. "No worries."

"It had better not be!" Harry snapped, carefully peeling Draco's fingers off the gun and hanging the weapon back on its peg on the wall.

"What is it?" Draco asked. "It didn't look that dangerous to me."

"It-" Harry paused for a moment, trying to think how to explain. "It fires a bullet, that is, a tiny bit of metal, fast enough to go through anything. The bit of metal can go quite a ways, so it works from a distance. People use it for hunting, or for defending themselves."

"You mean for killing people." Draco said quietly. "It's like being able to cast Avada Kedavra, then?"

"Exactly." Harry sighed with relief that he had made Draco understand. "That's why I don't want you touching things here! You don't know what anything is or how dangerous it might be." He stifled an urge to take Draco by the hand as a father might do with a dangerously inquisitive child.

When Harry returned to the counter, the shopkeeper was holding the galleon in his hand, looking from it to Draco and back. "What's wrong with your friend?" he asked Harry. "Something's not right about that one."

"You have no idea!" Harry agreed. "It's not his fault, though. The, ah, village we come from, he's lived there his whole life and never been to a regular school."

"Hmph." The shopkeeper traced his finger over the surface of the galleon. "Something's not right about this money, neither. I've sold my share of old coins, but I've never seen aught like these markings."

"They're, er, family heirlooms, and the marking are my friend's family crest." Seeing the shopkeeper's eyes narrow with skepticism, Harry continued quickly, "Sir, I am not trying to deceive you, but we do need the money! It's for his mother. She's fallen ill, and they're very poor, that is, except for the old family coins, of course, and my friend isn't bright enough to count, or much less try to sell anything, so I came to help him sell what they have."

"I see," the man said as he focused on Harry, but glanced up to see Draco holding up a glass water globe, shaking it, and watching in fascination as the glitter swirled inside it. "Well, gold is gold." He shrugged. "You said you had more?"

Harry nodded, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a handful of galleons. The shopkeeper broke into a broad grin, his eyes widening at the sight of so much gold. As the old man opened his cash register, Harry glanced at Draco, who had come to stand beside him, still holding the glass globe. "What is that you found?" Harry asked him.

"I'm not completely sure, but I like it," Draco said as he ran his fingers over the black dragon that surrounded the globe. "The castle inside of the globe reminds me of Durmstrang, and the dragon could be a Hebridean Black Dragon."

"Fine, whatever, Draco," Harry replied as he just wanted to be rid of Draco at least until he could complete this transaction. Harry turned toward the man as Draco walked away again. "I'm sorry. I have a few more of these," Harry said as he emptied the remaining contents of his pocket, and placed the gold onto the countertop. "That makes twenty in all. Twenty gold coins that you will not find elsewhere in London, or anywhere, for that matter."

"Alright. A hundred pounds, and it is a deal," the man said reaching across the counter and shaking Harry's hand.

"Thank you, sir," Harry replied as he shook the man's hand.

"Potter!" Draco hissed as the man had his back to the duo. "One hundred, is that a lot in Muggle money?"

"It's enough," Harry whispered.

"You want that old globe, son?" The old man asked as he turned around handing Harry the money and a receipt to sign. "You can have it. Call it a condolence gift from me to your family, and to your sick mother."

"Thank you, sir," Harry hastily said as he grabbed Draco by the arm before Draco or the storeowner could ask any further questions. The two walked out of the shop and back onto the sidewalk as Draco continually muttered questions.

"Alright look, shut up Draco!" Harry said once they were outside of the shop. "Look, I'm sorry that I had to bring your mother into the conversation, but he was not going to buy the gold unless I made it into some sort of a sad story."

Draco looked puzzled at Harry's outburst. "I wasn't going to ask you about that. I knew you were lying to the idiot from the beginning. In a way, Potter, you are becoming more like a Slytherin every single day. I wanted you to look at this dragon; it looks like you when you get mad!"

"Bloody brilliant, Malfoy!" Harry sniped shaking his head in puzzlement at Draco's fascination with the gaudy little object. "Come on, we still have to find something more inconspicuous to wear, some food to eat and a place to sleep for the night."

"And where will we get new clothes?" Draco asked.

Harry stood there thinking for a moment. He scratched the back of his head, messing up his hair as he thought. "I got it. I remember my Aunt Petunia buying clothes for Dudley in a store. I know where it is, so we can go there and buy what we need." He took Draco's hand, pulled him into the alley, and looked around to make sure that no one was watching. When he was satisfied that they were alone, he pulled out his wand.

They apparated onto the asphalt near the loading dock of the store and made their way around the cheap cinder-block building to the front, where the automatic doors opened to admit them. Once inside, Draco planted his feet and stood gawking openly at the people and things in the store. Harry tried to follow Draco's gaze, wondering what exactly had caught his attention, but everything looked so ordinary that Harry could only shake his head in frustration.

"You're calling attention to us!" Harry hissed, tugging at the sleeve of Draco's robe. "That's the last thing we need. You can stare all you like once we're inconspicuous."

Draco nodded and followed Harry farther into the store, although he continued to wrinkle his nose as if the entire place were covered in Stinksap. Harry proceeded to the part of the store that sold school supplies and found two knapsacks like those that Aunt Petunia had purchased for Dudley each year. As far as Harry knew, Dudley had never carried a book in his life, but that hadn't mattered to Petunia. Harry had never gotten so much as a box of crayons, and though they held no interest for him now, the sight of the colored sticks of wax stirred up more feelings than it should.

"What are the sacks for?" Draco asked, following Harry toward the racks of clothing in the far corner of the store.

"To carry everything we need with us. We can't keep apparating and disapparating every time we need something. We have to blend in well enough to stay hidden until your father is safely in Azkaban."

"So that's your brilliant plan, then? We live like Muggles for the next eleven days?" Draco's voice came from behind Harry, and Harry turned to see that Draco had paused beside a rack of colorful women's nightwear.

"I don't have any brilliant plans other than to survive, and hopefully to avoid killing anyone, even..." he trailed off as he noted Draco had selected a purple muumuu with large black followers embroidered around the hem. "Put that back," Harry advised.

"You said we need to dress like Muggles."

"Put it back, now." Harry snatched the garment out of Draco's hand and hung it back on the rack. The thought of Draco in the muumuu made him want to laugh, but he bit his tongue.

The next rack to catch Draco's interest had short-sleeved satin bathrobes, including one in emerald green. "No," Harry said firmly, as Draco had placed his hand upon the garment, although in truth the robe would have looked quite nice on Draco. "You could never be seen in public wearing any of that. You need something ordinary, like a pair of blue jeans and a tee shirt." After selecting a pair of jeans and a shirt for himself, he draped the clothes over his arm and motioned for Draco to do the same.

"Fine." Draco chose a dark pair of jeans but refused the tee shirts, opting instead for a plain white button-up shirt.

"Good." Harry nodded his approval and proceeded to another section of the store, where he grabbed an armload of beef jerky, granola bars, and bottled drinks.

At the checkout, he payed for the items with a few of the pound notes from his wallet and winced at the cost. He wondered if he would have enough Muggle currency to last them until the trial.

Draco headed toward the door of the store, but Harry stopped him, steering him instead to the washroom near the entrance. After setting all of the purchases on the counter top, he divided the food between the two knapsacks and tore the tags from the clothing. He also remembered to place Draco's water globe into one of the sacks so that no Muggle would accuse them of stealing the item. "Change in a stall, roll up your robe and put it in your bag." He advised Draco, handing him the jeans and shirt.

Inside the cramped stall, Harry took off his robe and tossed it over the door. As he changed into his new set of clothes, he heard Draco complaining from the stall next to him.

"I suppose this is what it smells like when you don't have house elfs? Or do Muggles lack a sense of smell as well as the ability to do magic?"

"Stop talking like that!" Harry growled. "If you insist on flapping your jaw, talk about something normal, like…" He paused, unable to finish the sentence. He had been going to say "football" or "cricket," or "tele" but none of the words would mean anything to Draco. "Just don't advertise who we are," he finished lamely.

Harry finished changing, but when he exited the stall, he saw that Draco was still inside the one next to it. Draco's robe was thrown over the side of the stall, his shoes were off, and he stood in his stockings, facing the door. After a long silence during which Draco did nothing but shuffle his feet Harry's patience had began to wane.

"Hurry up! What's taking you so long in there?"

"Are these bloody pants supposed to close?" Draco asked.

"That's what the zipper is for, yes." Harry grinned, remembering how many times he had felt a fool for failing to know some mundane detail of wizarding life.

"Well, this one is defective!" Draco shouted.

"What do you mean it's defective? Only someone like you would not know how to work a zipper," Harry said as he set his bag under the counter and then opened the door to Draco's stall. He bit down hard on his lower lip to keep from smiling, and he stepped inside the tiny space, trying not to chortle and snicker while closing the door. With the door closed behind him, Harry turned to face Draco and quickly realized that he was no longer in the mood for laughing.

Draco had put on the white button-up shirt, but it hung open, exposing the pale, soft skin of Draco's chest. Also open was the fly of the blue jeans that revealed the garment that Draco wore under the jeans. It was dark green, and the fabric had a soft sheen to it. In the tiny stall, they had so little room to stand that the ends of Harry's shoes touched Draco's toes.

"Well? Stop staring and help me, Potter!" Draco ordered.

"The zipper pull sometimes gets stuck," Harry explained, only half aware of the words coming out of his mouth. He heard the sound of the washroom door opening and closing, followed by the sound of a stall door, but it hardly registered. His eyes were glued to Draco's lower body, and the sight filled his brain, dulling his other senses. "Sometimes it's hard to get it to go up like it should."

"Just do it, and get it over with!" Draco prompted.

"Alright," Harry replied, but he remained frozen in place, staring. His face burned; he was sure that if he looked in the mirror that hung outside the stall, he would find himself an ugly beet red. Draco, on the other hand, flushed only in spots along his cheek bones that made him even more attractive.

"Merlin's Beard, Potter, just grab it and get this over with! Hurry up and pull it up! I'm getting tired of standing here with my pants open," Draco said as he crossed his arms.

"The head seems to be stuck. It's difficult to reach it, hang on, it might work if I tug on it a bit," Harry said as he maneuvered himself in the cramped space to grip the zipper a bit better.

"Ouch! Watch what you're doing there," Draco hissed as the zipper had snagged a piece of the soft green garment and possibly some of the skin underneath it. "I know you know how to do it-you did your own!"

"It's not exactly easy to do this from where I'm standing," Harry irritably replied. "Besides, if you would learn to do things for yourself, I wouldn't have to take care of you every single time."

Draco scoffed. "Trust me, this is the first and last time I'll ask you to do this! You're not even any good at it."

"Well if you'd stop fidgeting and squirming about, it would come-"

"Just shut up and finish it off, Potter!" Draco snarled.

"Hey, mates?" A voice from outside of the stall brought the argument to a stop, and both flushed as deeply as they possibly could. "Not to get into your business or anything, but there is a place just down the street where you could get a room, instead of doing it in a bathroom stall."

Draco opened his mouth, but Harry put a finger on his lips, silencing him before he could tell the Muggle stranger where to go. "Yeah, thanks." Harry called, careful to keep his voice neutral. "We'll remember that." The sound of water running was followed by the door opening and shutting, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

Deciding it was better not to look, Harry reached down, found the cold metal teeth of the zipper, and followed them down to the zipper pull with his fingers. Along the way, his knuckles brushed soft fabric. He recoiled, muttered an apology, and decided it was better to watch what he was doing after all. He dug at the edges of the pull with his fingernails, but Draco's pants didn't fit as well as they had a moment ago. No matter how much Harry tried to avoid it, his knuckles continued to slide over the green cloth, and he found it increasingly difficult to concentrate on the problematic bit of metal. He could hear Draco's breathing growing louder, as if he were struggling for air, and in fact he could feel Draco's breath on his cheeks. He was ready to give up, both on the zipper and on his self control, when the zipper pull flipped up. Harry tugged upward and finished by buttoning Draco's jeans for him.

Almost of their own violation, his hands started on the shirt, buttoning from the bottom up. He expected Draco to protest that he could do this himself, but instead he watched Harry with glassy, dilated eyes and leaned back against the wall of the stall. As Harry reached for each button, his fingers brushed the skin under the shirt. Each moment of contact was like an electric shock that made Draco twitch and sent a jolt of sensation through Harry's fingertips. Once finished with the buttons, Harry took one of Draco's arms and began rolling up the cuff of the shirt until it reached just below Draco's elbow. He gave the other sleeve the same treatment and then leaned against the opposite wall, admiring his work. Draco's eyes traveled down, then up, and down again, and he wore a more intense version of the expression that Ron had had in Fleur's presence.

Without warning, Draco lunged forward and put his left hand on Harry's throat. Their two bodies ground together, and Draco's lips were close to Harry's ear when he said, "If you ever tell anyone about this…" His fingers tensed, completing the threat without truly hurting.

"Like it's such as honor to help you put on your clothes that I'm going to go bragging about it!"

"You're enjoying it," Draco accused, his right hand sliding between their bodies and moving down Harry's chest, then to the front of his pants.

Not here, Harry told himself. For Merlin's sake, not here, not in a damned public toilet! Have some dignity!

"You're a bloody hypocrite, Malfoy," Harry muttered, his own hand sliding downward. His inner voice of reason continued to drone about their current location, but other, louder thoughts drowned it out.

Before Harry could reach his goal, Draco grabbed his wrist and slammed it against the wall. He flattened his palm against Harry's, pressing the back of his hand hard against the cold metal. "Don't touch me, Potter!"

Harry could feel the strong pulse in Draco's wrist and it sent a wave of ecstasy through his body, even in this uncomfortable position. Harry thought of several ways to respond to Draco's words, but they all became irrelevant when he heard the sound of the unoiled hinges screaming in protest, followed by the thud of the door hitting the rubber doorstop. They were no longer alone in the washroom, and the remembered sound of the stranger's voice rang in his ears, ruining the moment. The next sound was a metallic clank followed by the sound of shuffling feet.

Without a word, Draco bent over, picked up his shoes and rushed out of the stall, tossing the robe over his shoulder. Harry followed close behind and winced when he saw an elderly man struggling across the washroom on his walker. The man glared from Harry to Draco, shaking his head and muttering something about what the world was coming to.

"It's not what you're thinking," Draco spat, shouldering his bag and answering the man's glare with his own look of contempt. "My zipper was stuck-"

"Don't bother." Harry sighed and reached under the counter to retrieve his own knapsack. When he had the pack settled on his shoulders, he stood in front of the sink and splashed water on his face. In the mirror, he could see the old man turn and shuffle away, clearly not needing to use the toilet badly enough to warrant tolerating the presence of Draco and Harry.

Draco twisted and turned in front of the mirror, giving himself an appraising look as he posed in various positions. Harry came to stand beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder, liking the view of the two of them together.

"You look…" Amazing, fantastic, beautiful. Harry swallowed hard, biting back all of the words that came to mind. "Inconspicuous, he finished aloud.

Draco reached up and covered Harry's hand with his own, squeezing for a moment before brushing it away. "What did I tell you about touching me, Potter?"

As they exited the washroom, they saw the old man standing with a pair of girls, perhaps his granddaughters. The older girl bent to whisper loudly to the younger, "It's too bad, really. The one with glasses is cute." Both girls burst out in a fit of giggles.

"Shows that Muggles have no taste," Draco muttered, lengthening his stride. When they had exited the store, he looked over his shoulder at Harry. "You heard that, right? She called you the one with the glasses."

"So? I've been called a lot worse things. Usually by you. Your point is?"

"My point is you have to take the things off. Put them in your pack. As long as you're wearing them, we're not inconspicuous."

"I need them to see!" Harry protested. "Besides, a lot of people have glasses."

"And you won't be one of them, which will confuse anyone looking for us. You can follow me."

"Follow you?" Harry repeated, his words coming out louder than he had intended them. His outburst had caused people to pause and stare, then look away in embarrassment as they passed by. "You don't know anything! I had to-" he dropped his voice to a whisper and leaned close to Draco. "I had to help you zip up your damned pants!"

"I know that at least ten Muggles can now say with certainty that they saw two men around eighteen, one of them with glasses."

Reluctantly, Harry removed his glasses, folded them carefully, and put them in one of the outer pockets of his knapsack. The world became a blur of shapes with ill-defined edges.

"That's better." Draco nodded, satisfied. "You always did look like a prat in those things."

"Fine," Harry disgustedly said, "Just don't walk too fast."

Several hours and many arguments later, Harry and Draco still searched the streets of London as they attempted to find a suitable place to rest for the night. The locations that caught Draco's eye generally had crystal chandeliers hanging in the lobby and stone lions standing guard on the stoop, while the places Harry could afford made Draco shudder with disgust. Harry had gotten so frustrated with Draco that he had put his glasses back on and began selecting, much to Draco's dismay. A number of times their arguments grew so heated that people stopped to stare at the quarreling couple.

"Alright, look, I have the money, and I know how to spend Muggle currency," Harry grumbled after another argument, "the next place that we see is the one that we will go to. It's getting dark, so we have to go somewhere."

"Fine, whatever!" Draco angrily hissed.

Minutes later, both stood outside of a small building that simply said "Hotel Vacancy" on the sign in the window. "This will do," Harry said as he looked up at the sign, and placed his hand upon the door.

A bell jingled above the door as they entered the small lobby area, and a red haired woman who could have been a lost Weasley family member greeted the two. Her copper-colored curls were pinned and piled high on her head, and she wore enough make-up for a clown. "What can I do for you two lovelies this evening?" The woman glanced up from the magazine in her lap, a glossy, colorful thing with pictures of Muggle celebrities and articles about the Princes of England.

"We'd like a room for the night, ma'am," Harry said, smiling politely.

"Alright, I have one room left. A single bed; hope that's not a problem with either of you," she said as she gathered an old, dusty book from behind the counter and placed it in front of Harry. "That's twenty quid for one night."

"We'll take it," Harry replied and scribbled two false names in the registry before Draco could mutter in protest. The woman handed Harry the key to the room, as he handed her the money. "One more thing, um, where can we find a place to eat?"

She arched her eyebrow, and pointed a long acrylic fingernail past Harry and Draco toward a place across the street. "DeVandry's Café. He will be open for a little bit longer. You two can bottle over and eat, then come back for the night."

"Thank you," Harry said as he flashed a smile at the lady who went back to reading her celebrity magazine.

He had let Draco take a bath first, since he did not want to create yet another argument. A smile and small laugh escaped Harry as he heard Draco trying to navigate the hot and cold water handles of the shower stall, only to hear him scream as the cold water hit the naked Slytherin full force. A half hour later, once Draco had figured out how to use the cold and hot water, he opened the door and walked out of the bathroom fully clothed, and muttering about his lack of proper sleepwear.

"Just go to bed in your clothes that you have on," Harry said as he got up from the bed and made his way to the bathroom door. "I've done it before. It's not so bad."

Harry watched as Draco wrinkled his nose at the thought of having to sleep in a Muggle shirt and blue jeans. "Just make sure to take your shoes off first before you get into bed." Harry disappeared behind the door as Draco tossed his shoe at the door, striking it where Harry had been seconds before.

"Be sure to take your shoes off first," Draco mocked loudly. A moment later, Harry heard a thud as the other shoe struck the back of the door.

Harry stood leaning against the wall as the warm water gently pelted his body. It had been one of the longest days that he could ever remember, even longer than some of the days when he was hiding in the woods with Ron and Hermione. He closed his eyes and listened to the sound of the water as it flowed over him, soothing his aching muscles from the day's events. Feeling the sensation of coldness upon his skin, Harry came out of his daydream only to realize that the hot water had run out and pellets of cold water were stinging him. Quickly, he turned the water off and dried himself with the bath towel. Pulling back the shower curtain Harry reached for his glasses and clothes. Moments later, he emerged from the bathroom and stood gaping at the bed.

Draco lay there in the bed, still fully clothed while next to him he had pillows standing up on their sides, creating a barrier between himself and the space that Harry would occupy. He did not turn to look at Harry, but instead stared at the ceiling. "It's just to make sure that you stay on your side of the bed and don't touch me."

Harry scoffed. "And what am I supposed to use as a pillow?"

"I don't care," Draco replied while turning over on his side and facing away from Harry.

"Well, I do," Harry stated reaching for the last pillow that rested against Draco's feet. "You don't win this battle so easily." Harry threw the pillow down onto the bed and slowly edged his way into the small space that had been deemed his. He placed his glasses on the bedside table and reached upward to switch the light off. Seconds later he lay there in the darkness, listening to Draco breathe and remembering the feel of Draco's hands on him in the washroom.

It was Harry's first night alone with Draco, and sleeping in the same bed together. It wasn't supposed to be this way, not like this. Harry had seen it a thousand times before in his mind, but never in those times was it exactly as it was right now. They had been through so much together day; they had saved each other's lives! Given their narrow escape, they should be celebrating. Or, given that they were still in danger, perhaps they should be comforting each other. In either case, there shouldn't be a wall of stale-smelling old foam between them. He rolled over onto his side and gazed at the window that looked outside, wishing that everything could be just like his dreams. He wished that he could at least remove the pillow barrier and hold Draco while they both slept.

The smug smile had spread across Draco's lips as he had stood before the camera, holding his Nimbus 2001 broomstick. Lucius had gently placed his right hand upon Draco's right shoulder, standing tall behind his son. One flash later and the proud moment had been forever etched in time.

Lucius held the frame in his hand as he watched the photograph repeat itself. Each time it did, Lucius could feel life's cruel twist of fate stabbing a bit deeper into his heart. The bottle of firewhiskey sat upon the desk, emptied of its contents.

"My own son," Lucius spoke as he traced his fingertips over the photograph. "Betrayed by my own flesh and blood." He reached for the empty bottle and tried to pour the liquid into the glass, only to look through moist eyes at the empty container. A low growl escaped Lucius as he viciously threw the bottle against the wall and watched it shatter into many fragments.

"I give you the best years of my life, and this is how you repay me. You have turned your back upon your family, your heritage, and your very own name," Lucius said as he stared blankly at the photo. "The truth has made you a traitor. You had money, power, and wealth at your fingertips, and I tried to give you more. I offered you one last chance at glory, but you-" Lucius closed his eyes, seeing the silver mist dragon charging toward him as Draco and Potter joined hands. "You chose him!" Lucius finished angrily.

He looked again at the photograph as Draco flashed the smug smile upwards at Lucius. "Your fate is now connected with him. He will be your downfall." Lucius placed the picture on the desk and drew his wand. He paused briefly while looking at the picture for a last time. "Do you know what real love is, Draco? Sacrifice."

"Incendio." Lucius whispered the spell and watched as the picture quickly burned to a small pile of ashes.

A brief knock came from the other side of the door. "Enter," Lucius firmly spoke while continuing to watch the charred remains of the picture, not even looking up at the person who entered the room.

"You called for me, Lucius?" The deep voice came from the man as he entered the room.

Lucius sat down and briefly looked at the man in front of his desk. "The first plan is finished. It did not all go accordingly, but the next phase must continue on."

The man did not respond but simply nodded his head in agreement.

"There is, however, one small matter that I did overlook, and that is something that must be dealt with as soon as possible," Lucius said as he reached into the desk drawer and pulled out a small pouch. "I want you to bring me my son."

Lucius pushed the pouch to the end of the desk and waited as the man's hand picked it up, and placed it inside of his cloak. "Where shall I find him?"

Lucius turned in his chair and gazed out the window at Narcissa's gaudy, sprawling garden. Draco had hidden there as a child, but now he would not be so easy to locate. "Draco has made the mistake of attaching himself to Harry Potter. Like a fledgling, Potter will go to the places that are safest to him, or ones that he is familiar with. His home is no longer safe, as I have access to it. Hogwarts and Hogsmeade could be a possibilities as well as the Muggle home of his aunt and uncle. Through the Death Eaters, we have learned of several places that Potter was located throughout London as he was trying to hide. Potter will possibly be disguised in some manner; however Draco will be the one that gives him away. If you find Draco, then you have found Harry Potter. Use whatever tactics you see fit, but all that I order you to do is that you bring Draco and Potter to me; alive."

"This will cost extra, you know. I don't usually do nanny jobs." The man looked as if he might spit on the floor to show his contempt, but thought better of it.

"Yes, yes!" Lucius waved a hand impatiently. "Whatever you require, as long as my orders are followed."

"As you wish," the man said as he turned and left the room.

Lucius did not bother to show his guest to the door. Instead, he ran his finger through the pile of ashes on his desk, making dark circles on the polished wood. His head swum with the fading effects of the fire whiskey, and his thoughts ran in circles of their own. If he had been kinder to Draco- but no, the boy lacked discipline as it was. Perhaps if he hadn't given into Narcissa's pleading, if he had sent the boy to get a real education at Durmstrang... That, of course, assumed the boy could have survived the rigors of a classical wizarding school. His mistake, Lucius decided, had been made much earlier, the day he chose a bride from the weak and sickly house of Black. The whole Black family tree was rife with failures and blood-traitors, and once again it had borne rotten fruit.
- 18
- 19
- 20
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Darkness Within The Light