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The Heart of the Matter	By : Jad Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 7323 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
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
- 19
- 20
- 21
Chapter Twenty

Men occasionally stumble over the truth,

but most of them pick themselves up and hurry on as if nothing had happened.

- Winston Churchill

: : :

'Get some sleep, you'll be leaving early for the train in the morning,' Snape told him. Looking over Draco's shoulder, he added, 'And do make sure that he doesn't go anywhere.'

Draco looked behind him at Potter, who was sitting on the end of his bed, systematically packing his trunk and completely ignoring them both. He hadn't said a word since Draco had found him, but Snape seemed to know what was going on, though he wasn't about to share. When Draco had asked why they weren't looking for Theodore, and for that matter why no one had told Lupin, and where was that man anyway, Snape had told him to shut up and worry about his own arse.

Draco turned back around. 'But Professor—' and stopped when he saw he was facing an empty hallway. Scowling, he slammed the door, condemned to a night of babysitting.

Draco sat on the edge of his bed, facing Potter and staring at him with an intensity that he hoped fully conveyed his irritability. Potter continued to stuff things haphazardly in his trunk. It was quickly becoming a tangled mound of robes, quills and unfortunate books that would never allow the lid to close.

'You know,' Draco began, 'there's a very simple spell that—'

'I can do it myself, thanks,' Potter interrupted.

'Right,' Draco said. 'I can see as much.'

The mound was currently in the process of falling out of the trunk; Potter picked up what had fallen out, shoved it back in, which only made something else fall out. Unfortunately, Potter didn't rise to the bait and Draco was left to sit in the uneasy silence to watch.

In went a book, out went a sock and a quill; in went the sock and quill, out went a jumper; and so on. The process wasn't helped by the fact that Potter would drop half the things he picked up due to the fact that his hands were shaking. It was driving Draco mad. Potter still had to pack his new spell books that had arrived from Diagon Alley and already his trunk was spitting out its contents.

'Oh, will you let me, for Merlin's sake,' Draco snapped, pulling out his wand. 'This is ridiculous.'

Potter reacted in a flash, dropping the jumper in his hand and drawing his own wand so quickly that Draco had missed it all in-between a blink.

'I said I've got it,' Potter snarled at him.

'You've gone mad is what you have,' Draco responded sourly, not lowering his wand. It was surprisingly easy to slip back into the nastier, fifteen-year-old version of himself. 'But then you always have been, haven't you, what with—'

'I would shut up if I were you, right the fuck now,' Potter snapped, wand held steady. It was surprising how the extension of power the wand represented removed any unsteadiness in Potter whatsoever. The transformation from confused, adolescent boy to an armed and dangerous wizard was practically seamless.

'Well this is certainly productive,' Draco said after a moment. Wands still drawn on one another neither had yet made a move to surrender. 'Almost as productive as your packing.'

'You just don't get it, do you?' Potter demanded. 'I don't give a damn about the packing. I especially don't give a damn about what you think about anything. None of it bloody matters.'

'As I said, productive,' Draco muttered, rolling his eyes. 'If none of it matters, then why do you bother at all?'

'Shut up,' Potter snapped again. 'Why do you care what I do, anyway?'

Draco didn't bother to point out that he couldn't rightly shut up and answer the question. 'I think a lot of people care about what you do, Potter,' he sneered, hearing his own voice rising with every word. 'In case you've forgotten, we're kind of at war here, and the only hope most wizards have is in some emotionally deranged teenager who doesn't seem to give a damn about anyone else, let alone himself!'

'Well then they shouldn't!' Potter shouted back, rising up from the side of his bed. Draco followed. 'I don't even know why! You all have this chocked-up image of me as a hero or something, and its all bollocks! I can't protect anybody better than anyone else! Look what happened to Cedric, for fucks' sake! Look what happened to your mum!'

This time, it was Potter who missed the movement when he blinked: Draco had moved so quickly that he was hardly aware of where he was going and with what intent before he found himself shoving Potter into the nearest wall, his free hand pressing against Potter's chest and wand at his throat.

'My mother was my own fault, Potter,' he snarled. 'Kindly take blame only when it's due. And I think I speak for the rest of the wizarding world when I say we'd appreciate not suffering genocide because you were feeling too sorry for yourself to do shit about it!'

Potter grit his teeth and shoved the point of his wand into Draco's ribs, hard enough to hurt. 'Is that it, then? I'm not self-sacrificing enough for you, Malfoy?'

Draco felt the surge of rage fading away the longer he held onto Potter's glare, for no matter how sharply those green eyes could cut into him, they held no conviction. Even now, Potter's mind was elsewhere. Wondering, worrying, infuriated that he could do nothing about it.

Draco knew the feeling. He'd wondered, worried and torn himself apart with his own anger all over the past year. It was the most identifying moment Draco had had with anyone, ever—and with Potter, of all people.

Potter seemed taken aback by the thoughtful silence and the intense stare Draco had focused on him. Rage and bemusement quickly turned to discomfort. 'Er. Malfoy?'

Draco released him, staring and still trying to catch up with his own thoughts, which were under about as much control as the contents of Potter's trunk lying forgotten on the floor. Potter rubbed the spot on his neck left red by the tip of Draco's wand, and that broke him out of it.

'Stop rubbing it, idiot,' Draco said, grabbing his wrist. Potter immediately tensed, preparing to defend himself, but seemed to force himself to relax when he realised Draco wasn't attacking him. A gentle tap of his wand and Draco righted the red welt he'd left. Potter blinked at him.

'Are you going to let go, now?' Potter asked after a moment. 'I promise not to hit you.'

Draco dropped his wrist, and he raised an eyebrow. 'Ever?'

'For now,' Potter amended. He tried to step back, then realised he was still up against a wall. He cleared his throat and lowered his eyes to the trunk on the floor behind them. 'So, um, you said you knew a spell?'

: : :

It was still inky dark when Draco awoke with a jerk. His heart was pounding while thoughts raced wildly around his head until he realized that it was just the curtains over the open window rustling noisily. Potter was breathing in slow, deep breaths beside him, his back pressing solid and warm against Draco's chest. Instead of panicking, he was just feeling slightly disoriented; he wasn't used to waking up with company, and yet this was the second time since he'd left Hogwarts that he'd woken up in the same bed with Potter.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Draco was able to make out the vague outline of their trunks, piled haphazardly across the room on his own bed. He had a fragmented memory of sitting on the edge of that bed, their collective miscellaneous objects zooming about their heads as Draco attempted to teach Potter how to properly use a packing-charm. After half an hour, Potter had gotten frustrated and given up, probably because he was sick of Draco dissolving into a sniggering fit whenever his socks wiggled feebly against the side of his trunk, unable to tuck themselves in. What had transpired after that—

There was a quiet shuffle by the door. Draco held his breath, realising the real reason why he'd woken so suddenly—someone else was in the room.

Draco's open eyes were mostly hidden by the mass of messy hair in front of him, but he lowered his lids just in case whoever had entered the room was paying close attention. Draco unfurled his fingers and placed them along the ridge of Potter's spine poking out through his t-shirt. When Potter snored on, Draco pressed his fingertips harder; the snore went uneven, and then broke off completely.

Draco placed his mouth were he approximated Potter's ear to be hidden beneath his hair and whispered, 'Listen.'

Potter's back tensed as Draco spoke and his breathing became shallow and erratic. Draco removed his fingers just as a small, red-orange flare spurted to life at the far end of the room. The brief light from the tip of a wand vanished, leaving behind a pulsating, glowing bud in its wake. By the time the figure had stepped close enough for Draco to smell the cigarette, both he and Potter had their fingers clamped around their wands beneath the duvet.

By the glow of the cigarette and the moonlight filtering through the window, Draco could see a vague outline of the intruder: short, lanky figure, probably male. He stopped by Draco's bed first, gave one of the trunks a prod with his wand.

The door opened again, and a moment later he heard Tonks' whispered voice. 'Why aren't they up yet?' Draco heard the door close as she stepped into the room. 'You know, Molly would have kittens if she caught you smoking inside again.'

Both boys relaxed simultaneously; if Tonks knew this guy, he wasn't the enemy—or at least, not for the time being. The man turned around to face her.

'Malfoy's not in bed,' he said, coming over to Potter's bed. Draco quickly closed his eyes, and assumed Potter had done the same, because then Draco felt a jostle as the man gave the mattress a shove with his boot. 'Nevermind,' he said to Tonks, as she ran over to double-check Draco's empty bed. 'Oi, you two. Get up.'

In the midst of rustling sheets and pajamas, Tonks managed to light a few candles around the room to provide more light. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Draco could see the new man clearly now: the black hair and grey eyes looked strangely familiar. The disdainful look he was wearing was also ringing alarm bells—he'd seen this man somewhere before, he just couldn't put his wand on it.

'Get dressed,' the guy ordered. 'Make it quick.'

'What's going on?' Potter asked through a yawn while tugging on a pair of jeans. 'We don't have to be at King's Cross until eleven. It's not even dawn.'

'Your classmates don't need to be there until eleven,' the man retorted. 'Just get dressed.'

'Who the hell are you, anyway?' Potter snapped.

'Harry, this is Jack,' Tonks said quickly, tossing Draco a fresh pair of clothes to borrow. 'He's part of the Order.'

'Since when?' Potter demanded, shoving on his glasses and eyeing Jack sourly.

'None of your business, specs. Now are you going to finish dressing, or do you need some help?' Jack sneered.

Draco knew that sneer. 'McKinnon?' he asked, squinting.

Jack turned to look at him, smirking. 'Finally joined us, have you? I've no problem with dragging you both out in your knickers, but it'll be a long, cold trip and I really don't want to listen to your whinging. Get dressed.'

'You know him?' Potter asked, looking over at him.

'I was in Slytherin,' Jack supplied before Draco could.

'Slytherin?' Potter spat in disbelief.

'"Was" being the operative word.'

'And you're in the Order?'

'So?' Tonks and Draco said together.

Jack smiled. 'Looks like you're out-numbered Potter.' He took a long drag from his cigarette, and then tapped his foot. 'I wasn't kidding, you know. It's quite nippy this morning.'

Draco frowned and reached for the jacket Tonks had tossed him. It was thin, but leather—enough to keep him warm. Potter continued to viciously tie his trainers while Jack and Tonks unloaded their trunks onto the floor and spelled them to float a few inches off the floor.

'Everyone else is going to meet us there,' Tonks explained while attempting to smooth down Potter's hair while he tied his other shoe. 'You two have to leave early. Dumbledore doesn't want any incidents on the way.'

'I've got to go with a guard again?' Potter asked irritably.

'Yep,' Tonks confirmed. 'Just like fifth year.'

Potter let out a long sigh. 'At least fifth year I got a full night's sleep.'

Tonks smiled and ruffled the hair she just combed before coming over to see how Draco was doing. She leaned down to smooth out the shoulders of the jacket. 'Does it fit alright?'

He stood up and gave it an experimental tug. 'Yeah,' he said, shrugging it back into place. 'Thanks.'

'Looks good on you,' she said, winking. 'Keep it.'

'Sure?'

'Sirius had it sent to me for my fifteenth birthday,' she explained, looking reminiscent. 'And I got to enjoy it for a whole year, and then I grew breasts and it didn't fit any more. Leather doesn't fix so well with magic, so it's just been sitting in my closet because I've been too attached to it to throw it away.'

'I wasn't aware you could send Owl-orders from Azkaban,' Jack commented from the background.

'Shut up,' Tonks responded airily. 'You two about ready? You're gonna have to skip breakfast, I'm afraid. Get your brooms, then. Jack and Moody'll see you safely off.'

'You're not coming?' Draco asked sourly.

'I've gotta help with the others, but I'll see you around, don't worry,' she assured him, planting a kiss on his forehead. Draco recoiled, and she laughed. 'Regular Auror patrols are part of the increased security at Hogwarts.'

'The sun's coming up,' Jack said impatiently. He was waiting by the door, the trunks at his heels. 'If we're any later, Moody's going to throw a fit.'

'When isn't Moody throwing a fit?' she muttered, rolling her eyes, but quickly ushered both boys towards the door nonetheless. 'And keep it down in the hall; everyone else is still asleep. Safe trip, to the both of you.'

Tonks went back upstairs instead of following them down, where Moody was already waiting and looking impatient. 'Took you lot long enough,' he growled. 'McKinnon, leave their things in the hall, Molly'll send 'em along. And take this,' he added, throwing a silvery cloak at Potter. 'S'my spare, we don't have time to dig yours out. Put it over you both, now.'

Potter threw the Invisibility Cloak over them both, knocking their shoulders together as he scooted close enough that the cloak still touched the floor. Draco grimaced.

'Right,' said Moody, opening the door with a swing of his wand. The sun was just barely peeking out in-between the row of homes across from Headquarters, casting long, soft rectangles of yellow light across the ragged lawn. 'Remember, keep close and quiet, and your wands at ready. Let's go.'

'You heard the nutcase,' Draco drawled, looking sideways. 'Wands out.'

Potter snorted. 'I don't need to have my wand in my hand to have it ready,' he remarked snidely. 'You of all people should know.'

Draco stopped walking halfway down the stairs, nearly tripping Potter and Jack, who was walking behind them both. Potter cursed and glared at him from under the cloak, opening his mouth to say something, but stopped as he saw Draco's eyes clench shut and hand jump to his throat.

'What's wrong?' Jack said, clearly unable to see what was transpiring under the cloak. Moody turned had stopped, probably watching them with his magic eye.

'Er,' Potter said after a moment. 'Sorry, I didn't mean—'

'Don't,' Draco snapped, dropping his hand. He started forward so fast that it nearly took the cloak off Potter, who had to jog to catch up.

Potter gave him a look. 'I said I was sorry, Malfoy.'

'And I said to don't,' Draco bit back.

'Quiet, both of you,' Moody growled. 'It's our job to get you both to the station on-schedule, undetected and in one piece.'

'Yeah,' Jack said from behind, smirking. 'So once you're back at school you two can go back to killing each other. But for now, just shut up and move.'

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The Heart of the Matter