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All These Things That I've Done	By : undeademopixi Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 3840 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, Jo Rowling does. I make no money off writing this, I just like to mess with the character's lives.

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Ch2. This House of Dust.

“Never contend with a man who has nothing to lose.”

--Baltasar Gracian

Draco recognized the three voices that were whispering urgently to each other, not ten feet away from him. His head was aching, and he was very cold and thirsty, and through his discomfort and confusion, he could not make out exactly what their voices were saying, but there was no mistaking them.

Inwardly, Draco groaned. He had so hoped that he could escape into the forest and bleed to death in peace and quiet. It wasn’t like he had anything left anyways, and the thought of a permanent, peaceful sleep seemed so alluring at the moment, he could think of almost nothing else. Still though, he had to appreciate the irony. Of all the sad little campsites in all the forests in the world, he had apparated into theirs!

He decided to ignore the golden trio for the time being in favor of evaluating the damage done to his own body in the escape from his home. The anti-apparition spells had been crumbling, but they were still strong enough that he had managed to splinch himself, leaving a healthy chunk of his left side behind. His ribs and his left leg were indeed very sore and tight, but it was as if totally new skin had grown there, pulling the gruesome wound back together.

‘They have dittany with them… That’ll have been the mud-blood’s idea. She’s far more clever than the other two half-wits.’

He would never have acknowledged that before, but if nothing else, Draco’s life was a fine lesson in just how quickly one’s entire world can change.

After deciding that there was nothing immediately life threatening wrong with him, he pushed away all lingering thoughts of his home, and exactly how much things HAD changed for him, and decided to focus instead on what was going on around him. Dwelling on loss would not bring his family back, and now he needed to know what he was up against. He focused on what the Chosen Gryffindor’s were saying. Or rather, what the Chosen Weasel was SHOUTING.

“He can NOT stay with us Harry! I don’t trust him as far as HE could throw ME! This whole thing just smells like a trap! You get a vision about Malfoy Manor, then that little prat just shows up right outside our camp?! You-Know-Who is fucking with you again! He knows you can’t help but try and save people, as soon as that ferret wakes up, he’s going to have his entire fucking army right outside our wards!!!”

Typical. He could have guessed that the blood-traitor would want him gone, not that it bothered him. He would want the same thing of Ron if the roles were reversed. What did surprise him though, was the mud-bloods response. Hermione’s voice was low and dangerous, and if Malfoy’s pride had not survived the night, he may have shuddered at the sound of it.

“Ronald Bilius Weasley, how dare you! I don’t trust that little snake any more than you do, and I certainly remember how dangerous it is to trust You-Know-Who’s visions, AS DOES HARRY, I am sure… But you are talking about abandoning a helpless boy to the wrath of a mad-man! He came here, injured, after losing everything to the same enemy we are trying to destroy, and you would have us abandon him to his fate?!”

Draco felt his chest tighten in discomfort and fear. How did they know all of that? They had mentioned something about Harry having a vision. Was it true then? Was Potter really connected to the dark lord’s mind. In the pit of his stomach, Draco felt the revenge monster stir it’s battered head. As much as he hated owing his life to this ragtag group of misfits, he suddenly realized that if he were to truly avenge the death of his family, there was no better place to do it than with these people whom he despised. Draco sent up a silent prayer to whatever gods would listen to someone like him that Potter, ridiculous, trusting, sanctimonious Potter, would allow him to stay.

“Regardless of what he has done, I can’t allow Vol- You .Know Who, to take another innocent life.”

And Draco could hear the weariness in Potter’s voice at the very thought. Draco held his breath.

“Mate, he’s a death eater…”

He heard Potter move until it seemed like he was very close to where Draco was laying, almost as if he were trying to shield him from his friend’s gaze.

“Not anymore. He looks more like one of us now.”

Draco tried not to let the shudder crawl over his skin at the thought.

~*~*~*~*~*~

It was quite some time later that evening. The weasel was outside on guard duty, and Granger was sleeping fitfully two cots over from Draco… He was surprised that it didn’t bother him, laying so close to a mud blood, but learning exactly what Voldemort was had forced him to hastily revaluate the many opinions he had held dear for so long.

Voldemort had spilled so much magical blood in his campaign. Even Draco’s own parents, whose blood had been purer than the dark lord’s himself (if the rumors were true) had not been spared from his cruelty. Yet here in this little tent, a girl with no blood ties to the magical world was risking her life to defend theirs… strange.

Though his body was still very stiff, Draco had grown restless, and he just couldn’t lay there a moment longer. Groaning, he forced himself to slowly sit up.

“I’m not sure you should be sitting up yet Malfoy.” Draco started, and jerked around to see Potter sitting in an old worn down arm chair in the pitiful excuse for a living room, and watching Draco with tired suspicion in his emerald eyes. Sitting there in the half lit room, the other young man looked utterly haunted.

“Do you actually care, or do you just enjoy being bossy?” Draco bit back rudely, then winced. Harry raised his eyebrows at the rude response but shrugged as if it didn’t truly bother him. Draco took a deep breath and tried to force as much civility into his voice as he could muster.

“Old habits Potter, don’t mind me.”

It was not really an apology, but Harry understood it to be the closest thing he would receive, and truthfully, given their pasts, he found it more than sufficient.

“Hey, we’re still us right? A lot of things have changed, but I would hate to think that you and I would never be able to be rude to one another again… that would just be earth shattering.”

And much to Draco’s surprise, he found himself working to keep himself from grinning.

“Right then, you have earned my gratitude, and I seemed to have earned your mercy, but you are still Harry Potter, and I am still Draco Malfoy… bitter enemies to the very end!”

Harry did not bother trying to hide his smile. How strange, it seemed that Gryffindors were not at all ashamed of showing their emotions as they felt them, even the ones that could make them vulnerable. Draco marked that as a mental note for further consideration.

“So Potter, where exactly are we? I don’t fancy camping at the best of times, and certainly not in an unknown forest with three people, SOME of whom not being so inclined to leave me alive as you are.”

Here, Draco glared at the entrance of the tent as if to send his ill will out to meet the offending Weasel. Harry rolled his eyes.

“Nice to know you were ease-dropping Malfoy. That really inspires trust. As for where we are, don’t you know? I mean, you aparated here, I just assumed you knew where you were going to appear.”

Draco looked at the thin blanket that someone, probably Granger, had placed on his lap when he had been unconscious, deciding how much he wanted to say. He was not ready yet to talk fully about what happened at the manor, and he doubted he would ever want to discuss it with POTTER of all people, but if what the golden trio had been discussing before were true, then there were some things he could not keep secret from the Chosen One. The key was to tell the truth, without giving away too much.

“…I don’t know exactly where we are. When the wards around the manor began to fall, I knew that my mother-”

Damn his treacherous voice for cracking! Why did his chest have to tighten up right now?! One thing was for certain. He would NOT succumb to his grief in front of the boy who wouldn’t bloody die!

Draco took a few deep steadying breaths, and Potter waited politely for him to continue, gracefully not commenting on Draco’s brief loss of control.

“When the wards were weak enough for me to aparate away, all I could think of was that I had to get to someone who could help them. It was ridiculous, I knew they were beyond help, but I just spun and thought ’Somewhere there is help.’… The wards weren’t quite weak enough for a successful disaparation, that’s how I got splinched. I found myself in this forest. It seemed empty, so I was going to try somewhere else. That’s when I realized how bad off I was. If I had disaparated then, it probably would have killed me. I stumbled around for a minute losing blood, and I was sure I was going to die… That is until I was knocked to the ground by a lumbering reckless Gryffindor.”

And once again, Draco found himself amused by the simple irony. Potter laughed, and there was a stunning (and rather beautiful) mixture of amusement and remorse in the sound.

‘I don’t understand..’ Draco found himself thinking ‘He’s treating me like a friend!’

“I am sorry about that Malfoy, but you really should be careful whose campsites you stumble into! Almost all Gryffindors are just as lumbering and reckless!”

“Oh no Potter, that may be true, but I am certain you are the worst!”

How could this be happening?! Draco found Potter… amusing. And not necessarily in the “I enjoy laughing at your stupidity” way either! For now Draco could chalk it up to being in shock after what had happened, but he desperately hoped this confusing amusement would not persist.

When Harry had stopped laughing he stood and stretched, then reached down and picked up a small rucksack, Draco immediately recognized it as his own, and tensed suspiciously.

“We found this in the forest after we healed you up. Ron wanted to search it, but Hermione wouldn’t let him… “

And he brought the bag over and placed it beside Draco’s cot.

“You’re staying with us until you can aparate on your own, and then what you’ll do with yourself is entirely up to you. As far as I’m concerned, if you can dedicate yourself to what we’re doing, and can prove yourself trustworthy, you can stick this war out with us ‘till the end… “

Harry’s voice took on a quieter tone, and he looked straight into Draco’s eyes with an intensity that Draco had never seen in anyone before. Draco knew with unflinching certainty, that he meant what he was about to say.

“”If you betray our kindness, or if you are uncertain and that uncertainty results in Ron or Hermione getting hurt, you will wish that You Know Who had gotten to you faster. You may be incapable of killing Draco, but I am not. Do not make me regret trusting you.”

Then the Golden Boy turned to walk outside and relieve Ron.

“Potter?”

Draco spoke up without giving the instructions to his voice. Harry turned, his eyes searching for honesty in Draco’s, and Draco brought forth all of his anguish and rage to be sure that Potter knew… he meant what he was about to say with the same passion and commitment that Potter himself had used moments before.

“What you’re doing here… It will kill him?”

Silently Harry nodded.

“…I’m in. All in. More than anything in this world I want that bastard dead. I want him to regret the Day he killed my family and left me alive to remember it!”

His voice was shaking but his eyes were clear and focused. He watched as a grim, understanding smile crawled onto Harry’s face, and the Gryffindor nodded. Now THAT he could believe!

A.N Hey guys, so what do you think? I want lots of feedback, because while I have a good idea of where I want this to go, but as different as this is, I still want the characters to be believable as much as they can in the plot line! Let me know what you think, and I shall give virtual cookies and coffee to all!
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All These Things That I've Done