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The Principle of Sympathy	By : heerayni Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 5831 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not Own any part or character from The Harry Potter series, Or The Master of Magics Trilogy, They belong to J.k. Rowling and Lyndon Hardy, i make no money from this.

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Author's Note:

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Disclaimer : I do not own anything from the HP universe. Only the plot and elements to this story.

CHAPTER 2 : Unwarranted Nobility

Jab ishq sikhâta hai âdâb-e-khudagâhi;

Khultay hain Ghulâmon per isrâr-e-shehenshâhi. (Iqbal)

(When devotion teaches one the manners of divine submission,

The slaves find themselves revealing the secrets of the colossus)

xxxxxx

"What were you thinking?" The tall man turned around to face him with unnatural speed and black robes flapping around him in the raging wind, while the sea thrashes across the rocks somewhere down below the craggy rocky hill they stand on.

"I wasn't.." The thin blond-haired pale-skinned boy felt himself rattle to the depth of his bones as he saw the absolute rage on the face of his mentor.

"Silence!" the tall dark-haired wizard spat. Gnashing his teeth in frustration and resentment. The disappointment of the harsh face so acute that for a moment the young blond did think that he had really done something wrong.

"You have the audacity to look me in the eye, knowing, that what just happened by the stones could bring about the death of not only you but me and everyone you have ever held dear!"

The young man pursed his lips looking into the eyes of his mentor, not defiantly but gravely. The mentor did not fail to notice the exact emotion playing in those beautiful grey eyes. This young man, his protégé was one of the very few remaining reasons that egged on the dark haired mentor to hold on to life and duty even as everything fell apart around him. He could suddenly see so much of himself in this young boy who looked exhausted and grim, yet as determined as ever. And like the sun is undeniable at the time of dawn, the realization came.

"Why? Draco, why him? Of all the people in the world, you give this gift to him?" he pleaded with the young man, taking the pale thin face in his hands. The expression on the older man's face was of pure agony. Raw and unmasked. It only helped the conviction of the young man to grow.

"Can you tell me of a single person that needs this more than him? I took from him Severus! I was weak and I made a mistake! No one but us knows the truth! This is not the end of the things for him Severus and you know it, the end of The Dark Lord will not be the end of Potter's strife. It is a Truth no one knows but you and I" answered the young man as he clasped his cold hands above the warm ones that were encasing his face. Severus turned away, unable to cope with the conviction on Draco's face. He fumbled for some reason; any reason to stop Draco from what he is planning on doing.

"The Dark Lord will…" Severus started in an already losing tone.

"Don't you see? If I do this, if I am successful in this, The Dark Lord will be vanquished, there is no other way Severus, for what is now and what is later, would you…."Draco paused for a second before gathering enough courage to continue what he knew would be the breaking point for Severus.

"Did you not betray everything you believed in, to save her? Did you not lay your life, your soul to be controlled for the sake of saving the one you loved?" Draco's eyes were now fixed at Severus' turned back.

"I did…" whispered the tormented man, his voice a mere gasp. He had, he had done everything, beg, bow, betray, all of it he had done for her, but he had been weak and so wrong and he had trusted evil to be merciful, and merciful to be careful. He had been wrong in both instances. Evil is never merciful and the merciful is never careful. Though all of his wrongs brought him strength. Strength to face the repetition of history once again.

"I did and…" now a bit stronger.

"I would never wish that situation to fall on someone I loved, someone I have always valued as I would have my own son, more than son, my successor. The pain alone is enough to die over a hundred times Draco… I would give my own life to save you from that pain."

Severus gazed into the deep mercurial eyes of the boy that stood by him. The boy who was so capable of hiding in plain sight, very much like Severus himself. The boy who was resiliently following in his footsteps, going towards inevitable destruction. The boy he had held in his arms and promised to nurture and bestow everything he had to spare once.

Had he looked like that when he had been standing on this particular bend of fate? Had he looked so desperate, determined…insane? No, he had been distraught and devastated, Draco was not weak, despite what everyone thought. The boy was much more than what met the eye, and only three people in the world were aware of that. No, Draco was not Severus. Draco was in a class of his own. The perfect and just as powerful anti-hero to Potter's hero. Veiled and masked with arrogance, cowardice, selfishness and bigotry, but that was all it was, a veil, a mask, an illusion. The boy hid in plain sight. He was much stronger than Severus ever was.

Despite all these reassurance Severus couldn't help his fear. Couldn't help is regret.

Had he known that he would unknowingly pose the curse he suffered from body and soul every night of his life upon the boy, he would have moved to another part of the world and never laid eyes on him again. He could only get furious at the universe that allowed such cruelty.

"You know he will never see you as a friend… You will never be to him what he is to you, you know this Draco don't you? I hope it's not some heroism or idea of glory that leads you to do this…" the menace in Severus' voice was back, but Draco was not entirely sure who it was directed at.

"I know that well enough Severus, I might be optimistic, but I am not a fool. I know there is no return and no reward only that he lives and breathes through what he must do and I have no illusions about heroism, my reasons for doing this are purely selfish, I only need him to survive, no matter the outcome of the war." Draco answered firmly, ignoring the way something twisted in his throat and chest at the admittance.

"You also realize that 'if' you are successful in your endeavor that there is no turning back from the power and the curse that comes with it?" Severus' eyes were now piercing like shards of a blind black glass.

"A Malfoy always considers the consequences of his actions. Always makes his decision fully understanding the repercussions." Draco said proudly. Defiant for the first time.

"So this is what your reputed Malfoy deliberation has resulted in?" Severus sneered at Draco, looming over him.

"There is no deliberation Severus, just like you told me ten years ago when I was only seven and you took me to the Stones for the first time. In what I need to do, there will only be my instinct."

Severus felt like laughing and bleeding at the same time.

"One wrong move Draco and there can be unfathomable disaster! I beseech you! Put aside that arrogance that is so blatantly inherent in your blood and be sensible about this Draco." Severus implored. His tone resigned but strong.

"I am not being arrogant, I am just certain that this is the only way." And Draco showed as much in his stance.

"At least take your mother into confidence Draco, she has a right to know. I betrayed a friend once and I regret it until today, I would not betray another, if you have not told her about this decision of yours by the time I am back in a few days, I swear to the Gods that I will tell her myself." Severus saw a flicker of anxiety in the Silver eyes before it was completely washed away by renewed determination.

"I promise that she will know everything." Draco nodded curtly.

Something has woken me from my… sleep.

But then again I don't really sleep, do I? No, I gave up the right to sleep eight years ago.

Now I go into a deep state of suspension at most. I rest my body but, I never sleep.

Something has brought me out of my rest. Some change inside me that echoes some difference outside.

I take a deep breath. Checking all my faculties. Sight, sound, taste, balance, Magic? All there. Sharp and ready, but what is different is that I feel somewhat…warm. I gave up the right to warmth eight years ago. So it is indeed strange. It's a soft simmering warmth deep inside my chest. Pleasant and aching. I haven't felt like this since…

Since the final battle at Hogwarts.

I feel my body freeze in sheer contrast to that addictive, achy warmth in my chest. I want to bang my head against something hard. I haven't been back for Seven hours yet and already all the reasons I wanted to stay away are coming to knock on my door.

He is close and I can only regret my decision for coming back. He is closer, unknowing and uncaring of how he is tormenting me

The last night I had spent in this bed, had also been a torment, just like right now. It was the night I came to painful conclusions and made drastic decisions.

So, I am back to where I began. So much for progress!

I wonder if I have come full circle. Running around the infinite circumference.

I hope I have not missed chunks and pieces of the circumference of this particular circle.

Circle. That has no start, no end, it's infinite in its limits. Yet it never strays. Never finds other possibilities. It just keeps going round and round and round. Can you understand the justice of the omnipotent? The game he plays? The tricks up his sleeve? The paradox that a simple circle is.

The paradox my life is. A life borrowed from the dead.

I have travelled to places people can't even imagine in past Seven years. Seen the miraculous wonders the world has to offer. In landscape, in spirit, in magic. All through those years, witnessing all those miracles of life, only made the inevitability of death more clear to me. Death, who I had conquered, death who was my friend and a death that told me it was time for me to return to face it one more time.

Death for me comes in the color green.

The curtains around my bed are green. A beautiful emerald Green. Eight years ago it had been an inspired choice. Now it is just another reminder of the torment I suffer that needs no reminders. I don't like this green anymore. This green for me represents loss of power, loss of control. Why? That's a long story.

As if on a cue the wards I cast around the manor as soon I got back, tinge.

I wonder if what woke me up and the way my wards have just indicated foreign presence is linked. It's far-fetched. No one knows I am back. The Wake is not until tomorrow. I choose to observe rather than confront. If I want I can send the intruders apparating against their wills to any destination I prefer But even for them to get to the wards in the first place, of this unplottable manor. Well… it is curious. I get up from the bed and walk towards the window that faces the entrance gate. Wards indicate the foreign magic's presence near the Main entrance gate. I want to stop myself. I really do, but I ask myself what harm a little peek could do? It's unnerving; there is so much history here. I wonder who I would see if I take a peek. I hesitate for a minute looking out. Taking a deep breath I close my eyes to feel out what is happening with the wards.

Someone is fiddling around for sure. Not trying to get through, which is odd, but definitely trying to investigate. Intention benign. I cast a look toward the clock with its round dark green marble dial on which silver numbers glitter. Its half past midnight. A little late for visitors. I finally decide against my better judgment and look out the window. I narrow my eyes to make out three shapes standing just outside the wrought-iron gate.

I watch in horror as one of the figures walks through the wrought-iron gate and strides forwards the gravel walk way. I stand frozen, watching, in shock feeling the warmth inside my chest flutter and become more potent, like a solid balloon.

No one is invited inside the wards I erected just a few hours ago. Wards that are impossible to get through by anyone in this part of the world. No one can cross the Iron gate, no one, except perhaps… I am appalled that it has taken me this long to make the connection. It's him.

What is he doing here? Is he here to see me? I shake my head at my own stupidity. My hand goes to my cheek. Remembering the ghost of the injury that was inflicted on me the last time I was in his presence.

I have not kept in touch with this world, in which I once fit so perfectly. I have not asked any questions since I have been back. I am sure I have not been seen. How could I? I can undo any magic I see fit to undo, I can undo it if it is to harm me even without knowing that it's there.

No one knows I am back. I have ordered the House-elves not to say anything about my return, No one can get through my wards. I know this. So it is him, and he is always going to be able to get through any wards I lay down. He is the only exception that I can't undo. Why would he come here though? What purpose does he have coming here? Why on the very night of my return?

The figure walks a few more leisurely steps towards the manor and then swiftly turns around to walk back out through the gate. My heart is now beating ferociously in my throat.

I am torn between staying fixed on the spot to observe further and apparating just by the gate to investigate about this sudden and unexpected visit.

The magic decides for me. As I feel the wards reacting to protective magic. But it's not his. I peer at the three figures standing outside my gate and I can see the tips of their wands joined and glowing. The wards give me the identification of the two others that stand outside my door.

Ah! It's the Golden Trio… and…

They are trying to ward the manor against intruders.

Fucking Gryffindors! So noble and kind as to Ward the home of their worst enemy.

Something twists in my gut. It makes me sick how noble and self-less and forgiving they are. I had almost forgotten. I had almost hoped, reflexively, when it's the last thing I need. I don't need hope! I have taken seven years to just stifle that hope. I thought I was immune to it.

"FUCKING GRYFFINDORS!" I hiss at my full yet empty room before I mentally command the ward to dissolve the one that is being cast right now.

Take that you noble dunderheads!

I watch the trio stand for a ten more minutes outside the gate before they disapparate.

The warmth in my chest starts to fade, until it leaves me cold, as usual. I go and lay back down on my bed draped in green. I rub my hand against my chest aware of the cold. The cold that has become such an important part of who I am. Only the cold is starting to hurt again. Making me wonder, do I really hurt this much all the time?

I do, don't I?

So while I already hurt, I decided to hurt some more and allow myself indulgence. It is only fitting to review all events that lead to this. I have stifled my memories, my feelings for too long, despite what I am now. I am not a corpse. I still live and breathe.

I go back to lie on the bed. It makes no difference to me. I do not feel it's softness, warmth or comfort. I stopped caring. From jagged stone to moist grass, from woven chaarpai to tatami mats. From haystack to cotton filled mattress. I have lied for rest on so many surfaces. They were never comfort to me, neither is this luxurious bed. With its fluffy feather-fed pillows and silk and velvet duvet.

I think it's finally time to think of my mother. My mother, my beautiful mother who traded everything for the sake of my survival just like I traded everything for the sake of Potter's survival. She always told me when I was young, that she learned something new every day since I was born. My beautiful mother, Delicate daffodil of a woman who turned out to be a steel magnolia when the time came. My beautiful mother who lies frozen in the Ceremonial Hall. At peace. Finally at peace.

I fancy myself ready for the onslaught of observation, curiosity and criticism I will have to face tomorrow. It is no small feat, returning from the dead mind you. I have obviously a proper contingency plan. I am a Malfoy after all. A proper one, not like the weakling my father was. They will come flooding at me. They would suspect me, be intrigued by me, be wary of me, but I'll be hot news, and a Malfoy never takes being hot news for granted. I'll charm them of course. And I will lie through my teeth.

My story has to be perfect. My intentions clear. My position respectable. I would have to answer questions, make quotes, and restore the Malfoy pride. I sigh at the damage a few bad decisions can do. In my mind, it's hard to come to terms with these petty little things again. It's going to be even harder for me to acclimatize myself after seven years of exploratory isolation.

So I'll have to come off as the Rich, reformed, mysterious Lord Malfoy. Sincere but intriguingly silent. Mask behind mask behind mask. The sheer amount of hypocrisy involved in maintaining the necessary façade is daunting. This world, when I was last time an active part of it was very pre-occupied. So it let discrepancies pass most of the time. Now I am sure this world has grown lax but is more cautious than ever. The war is still too recent.

So many deaths, so many lives half lived, all for what? Delusions of a mad man? A mad man afraid to die? Were Voldemort not so bent on avoiding death, he could have lived much longer than he did. I think back to the days when Voldemort was residing in my home. I hardly slept, always watching out, trying to listen in to conversations, like a perfect Slytherin that I was. Not that I did not make mistakes. I made mistakes, of the irreversible kind, like taking the Dark Mark. It was the one mistake that lead to my destruction and salvation at the same time. I was distraught. Given an assignment i was sure to fail I was sent back to school All through my sixth year at Hogwarts I was plagued by depression and hopelessness and sheer exasperation at my own stupidity. In a bout of what I can only now refer to as teenage angst I had taken the dark mark in wake of my father's failure at the Ministry of Magic and now my family was under-threat.

Not to mention the constant pressure of being followed by the one person I wanted to avoid. Every turn I took there he was, in my face, watching, waiting, taunting as I grew weaker and weaker under pressure. I would have basked in the pleasure of his attention once upon a time, I would have responded, fought, snarled. It had always been the game I forced him to play. I the snotty Slytherin and he the insufferable Gryffindor. Always fighting, sneering and making him react to me. I'd lead the dance for five years and wished he would lead it, now he was, I had his full undivided attention when I wanted it the least and it was probably going to take me straight to hell.

And then came my salvation. It came to me as I lay bleeding on the abandoned girl's lavatory floor with him staring down at me. His mind open like a book. Such profound beauty and horror in those green eyes, I realized that I would not mind dying at that moment very much and I knew, I knew then that I could not die when I was finally unafraid of death. All because of him. I gave myself away in that moment. Promised myself that I would protect this beautiful creature if I lived. In that moment I discovered what exactly leads Slytherin to greatness. Submission, devotion and focus. I had heard Severus say it a million times; I only understood it at that moment. In that moment I shed the skin of vulnerability finally, like the snake I was. In that moment I knew what I had to live for.

And so I forged the most Slytherin plan of them all and then an even more Slytherin backup plan and then a downright Gryffindor one, just for the sake of unpredictability.

My failure at killing Dumbledore helped a lot in keeping the façade of a weakling. I did absolutely everything to keep it that way. Acting timid and vulnerable, letting my psychopathic Aunt Bellatrix torture me mercilessly in the name of teaching me legilimency, only to gain free access to her mind as she plowed through mine was easy. She was after all his most loyal and ardent servant. Her jumbled mess of a mind and a penchant for simple mindless torture made it quite easy for me to gain access to her. It was painful, but what was a little pain in the grand scheme of things?

It was a technique invented accidently by me whilst I was being taught occlumency and legilimency from Severus, summer before my sixth year. The fact of the matter was I only needed very slight guidance, I was sort of a prodigy when it came to mind magic. Something to do with being the seventh generation pure-blood heir. Some ancient family magic.

We called this technique leeching amongst ourselves as the technique involved just that. Leeching. In place of trying to block out the offensive force of legilimency, I accidently latched on to the offensive force and broke through the attacking mind force. So whilst the legilimens sifted through my memories, I could sift unnoticed through theirs. Now it was a tricky situation since forced legilimency is painful and makes leeching almost impossible. So one had to occlude, only not in the typical way.

First step was creating one mock and two real defenses. It involved some serious compartmentalization of one's mind. Once the legilimens was trapped between two layers of real defenses, thinking that the mock defense was the breech inside, you leeched on to the magical source pushing in.

Oh I remember how proud I was of my accomplishment. Such small joys. Being so skilled at Mind magic made me feel almost larger than life. I was so sure I could accomplish anything.

Creating layers after layers of illusions. Sneaking, tiptoeing, discovering, eavesdropping, gathering clue, after clue, after clue. Proving my worth as the true apprentice and God son of one of the greatest wizards of all time, Severus Snape.

Were they really proper Slytherin, they would have sensed it right through. It was their pride and ignorance that would become their downfall. Their pride made them want things black and white they were just as full of flaws as those that called themselves the Light side. No foresight.

My father already in disgrace and my mother considered too delicate and proper to be anything but the perfect hostess to our unwanted guests. It was all coming together. I knew of all the strong holds of the death eaters, I knew their apparition co-ordinates, I learnt of the kind of wards surrounding them. I had the schedule of further attacks and rank information. It took me a few months, but I was studious my goal set, I had a perfect plan, that with enough evidence and information gathered, I would escape the manor with my parents, Secure them at our Norwegian property and then go find the hard-to-find-boy-who-lived. Ask for the second chance that Dumbledore promised. Offer my service and loyalty.

Yes, it was a perfect plan. Until, I found out about the Horcruxes.

I toss in remembrance of that event. It was during my last leeching practice session with Severus that I broke through his mind and found out what Potter was and what lay in his future. The revelation was like lance impaling me, but I had come too far to give up then. My Slytherin pride won't let me.

There are times when I think I might regret what I did. What I lost, what I gained in return and then the flash of emerald green eyes looking down upon me frozen in horror and concern goes through my mind like a thunderbolt, and I sigh deeply, knowing, I would go through it all a million times over.

I rest my body with a purpose, tomorrow is a big day I tell myself as I let my mind go blank. Breathing slow and deep now as I retreat into my subconscious.

"Harry Potter" my lips move.

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The Principle of Sympathy