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For the Want of a Nail	By : thewickednix Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 4934 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. This is made for fun, not profit.

Chapter List
- 21
- 22
- 23
Chapter 22. Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down

"I'm not sure about anything anymore." he croaks, staring out though the window into the light summer night. I sigh, marvelling at the fact that such seemingly small things can break us. Walking up to him, I lean against his back and wrap my arms around his chest, burying my head into his neck. He sighs deeply and relaxes back against me, remaining silent.
I don't know what to say either. What can I say?
I don't know why he fears going back to his home so much. As much as I have knowledge of the matter, Draco seems to have had a perspectively happy childhood. What has changed so?
And suddenly I realise, it's Malfoy.
During his time here, he has just been 'Draco'. Draco who is nice and sweet and funny, at least to those closest to him. And now, he has to go back to Malfoy Manor and become a Malfoy again. True Malfoys do not follow Dumbledore and the Light. True Malfoys do not mingle with half-bloods or Wealseys. True Malfoys do not sleep with Harry Potter.

True Malfoys are not vampires.

Most times I have managed to separate my thoughts of Draco with those of that ominous name. But once in a while, in times like these, I have a hard time distinguishing the difference. For with all the lies that I may be telling myself, that name still is, and perhaps will always be, a part of Draco.
His childhood, being raised as the perfect little Malfoy heir, I now realise will follow him throughout life.
Like our inheritage, our origin, our values will never be quite alike. Even though his family might no longer recognize him as their kin, even if I were able to completely overlook his past, there will always be a void to separate us.
His name.
He fears, as much as I do, perhaps even more, that that house will change him. Who am I to say it won't? Who is he to promise it won't?
"I'll miss you." I whisper against his back. That is the only thing I can say. The only certain truth. I will miss him when he goes. And I will miss him if he leaves me.
He turns around, looking down at me seriously. "I know."
They are not words confessing affection or love. And yet I love him the more for it.

___________________________________________________________________

I kiss him softly on the forehead, and he murmurs something in his sleep. It feels almost heartbreakingly intimate. I hurry to leave the room before he wakes and stops me. Because in this instant I'm certain he could.
I hurry to my room, where I quickly grab the notes I have made from texts I've found in the Black library. Walking back downstairs and to the drawing room, I can't but cast a longing glance to the North Wing. Hoping that he would be here to stop me. Breaking my heart with my own foolish illusions when, of course, he is not.
Dumbledore turns to me from where he has been studying the family tree, smiling encouragingly. "Are you ready, Draco?"
I nod stiffly. "Yes, sir. The Floo is open, I take it?"
The Headmaster smiles. "Indeed it is. I will close it within a minute after your departure, and it will be opened again the 6th of July, at 5pm. You'd better be on time, it will only stay open for three minutes."
I hurriedly thank the Headmaster and reach for the jar of Floo-powder. Taking a deep breath, embracing myself for what is to come, I step into the green flames.

___________________________________________________________________

The drawing room is as I last left it. The house elves have cleaned away the cups and the tea pot, but the air feels just the same. I half expect to see Mother's reflection behind me in one of the mirrors on the East wall. In a hurry I exit the room and close the doors behind me.
I listen quietly for presences in the house besides my own, but the only living beings here seem to be the house elves. The spells on the house tell me of no intruder, and I breathe out.
So I am alone. Good. Now I just have to remain sane.
I cross the hall to the library immediately, determined to find something useful as soon as possible so that I can get the hell out of here.
As a child I always feared this room, almost as much as I feared Father's study. The magnificent, beautifully decorated thick wooden doors, the high roof, the tiny windows with the curtains drawn. The dark crooks and corners of the room, stocked with books of all shapes and sizes. The screaming silence, punctuated only by my steps echoing on the stone floor.
Even now, grown up and faced with so many things worse than a silly library, it is still not a pleasant place. It is beautiful and majestic, but cold and eerie compared to the one at the old Black House. I hurry to search through all the hidden corners of the room, just to make sure that there are no unpleasant surprised waiting for me. Granted, unpleasantries are not uncommon in this house. But I truly do hate surprises.
After finding nothing too disturbing, I seat myself in a hidden corner by a small window, a place where no one can sneak up on me from behind. The passage between the shelves to my sanctuary is small enough so that most people would pass by it without even noticing it. I quickly gather an armful of books and seat myself in my chair. With my back against the wall, I feel even remotely safe for the first time in this room.

Night dawns. Not that it matters. Without Potter, it's not like I could sleep anyway. At least not here. It's better to just stay busy. Incredulously, I go through the circumstances that I know yet again.

Number 1. -The Dark Lord did not die when the Killing Curse jumped off Potter and hit him. Why?

Number 2. -Can I truly buy this crap that it was Potter's mother's love that saved him that time?

Number 3. -Potter has to kill the Dark Lord. Horrible, yes. Unfortunate, yes. Hence, we will ignore this note for as long as we can.

Number 4. -If not even that old fool Dumbledore can off the Dark Lord, how is Potter supposed to do it? What does he have that Dumbledore hasn't?

Reading book through book I ask myself that question. What does Potter have that Dumbledore hasn't? What is Potter's weapon? A weapon that not even he himself is aware of?
The days crawl by. Soon I will have to leave empty handed yet again, forced to return here in three days time. I plunge my mind frantically around the issue, cursing the hours slipping past, the countdown to my doom. In the morning of July the 5th, I still have not found anything. Powerful spells, yes. Hundreds of dark curses, yes. But what spell is more powerful and dark than Avada Kedavra? I grip the bridge of my nose as I walk back and forth over the floor, thinking desperately. What am I missing?
Dumbledore is the most brilliant wizard in a century. (If one chooses to believe such things about the old coot.) Potter on the other hand is a sixteen year-old foolish whelp. How could he possibly beat the most powerful dark wizard of all times? He has no special talents, except Quidditch. He isn't even an Animorphagus! He is not particularly skilled in spells or charms, he can barely wave a wand better than the Weasel...!
I stop in my tracks and drop the book I am holding. Potter's wand!
Father once told me that during the battle in Little Hangleton during the Triwizard Tournament, the Dark Lord could not kill Potter because their wands connected in some way. 'Twin-core wands' what is I think that he called the phenomenon.

Why didn't I think about this before? I curse myself as I eye through the book shelf, searching for-
"Ah-haa!" I exclaim out loud as I find what I am looking for, grabbing "Connections of the Wand" and dragging the heavy book with me to my seat. Shuffling through the pages, I feel incredibly stupid for not realising this earlier.
I finally find the chapter of twin-core wands, Priori Incantatem. The book calls it an "extension to the spell Prior Incantato", a spell which causes the targeted wand to recall its last spells. Reading on, I realise that Priori Incantatem is exactly the phenomenon Father described.

Priori Incantatem is called "the reverse-spell effect". It happens during a wand combat, when a simultaneous spell-casting by two parties triggers an effect where both wands become linked through a golden thread of energy. The two wand holders then compete in a battle of wills, in which the loser's wand is forced to display in ghostly form the spells which had been cast by the aforesaid wand. It occurs only when two wands which share the same source of their cores are forced to duel.

Twin-core wands. So Potter and the Dark Lord have the same core to their wands. I suppress the will to cheer. Finally, I have found something useful! Nearly ecstatic, I read forward, searching for charms connected to this spell. There are but a few, most of them are only different versions and extensions of Prior Incantato. But just as my hope starts to flail, there is one that catches my eye.
"Contandem Recolo" I read half aloud to myself. The name itself has the distinctions of a dark curse, but luckily I am not one to dismiss it only based on that. I read forth.

The Contandem Recolo is a rarely used spell, invented in 1012 by Count Mauriz Grim, a wealthy wizard in the Sweden of that time. One night a burglar entered his house and he caught the man, but found he couldn't capture him because their simultaneously cast spells triggered Priori Incantetem. When the spell finally broke, the burglar fled.

Count Grim became very frightened of the occurrence, and in time grew paranoid that the thief would return. Afraid that if such an event would occur he would not be able to defend himself, Count Grim set his mind on creating a spell that if used in a situation of Priori Incantatem, would cause the opponent's spell to reverse and blast back upon it's caster.
Mauriz Grim created the spell and set out to find the man with his wand's brother. After searching for several years, Count Grim finally found the burglar. The thief attempted to cast a simple Stunning Charm on Grim, and as Count Grim now made use of his new spell, something unexpected happened.

Instead of reflecting the thief's Stunning Charm back at it's caster like intended, or simply forming a golden thread of energy like during Priori Incantatem, the spells met with a crash mid air and the energy blasted back upon both Grim and his opponent. Stunned and unconscious, they fell to the ground and awoke no more in this life. That, incidentally, had little to do with the spell and more to do with the fact that lying unconscious in the middle of a street, they were both robbed and killed.
Mauriz Grim was only a mediocre magician, but he did succeed in creating a very powerful spell. Of course, it didn't work as he had planned because he had no opportunity to test it, but the spell can be very useful if used right.

Contandem Recolo only works between duelers with twin-core wands. It has the effect that whichever spell your opponent casts at you, if met with Contandem Recolo, will blast back at it's caster with both his own magical energy and yours.

The downside is of course that it will either way hit you.

Somehow, I do not find the book's sarcasm particularly amusing.
Of course it would work. That much is obvious to me even now. The Dark Lord would cast the Killing Curse, and Potter would answer with Contandem Recolo. The spell would blast back to the Dark Lord with double its original force, and he would fall. Not even the Dark Lord could survive that amount of magic. The wizarding world would celebrate, and Potter would be called a hero for all eternity because he sacrificed himself for the cause.
I feel as if someone just poured a gallon of iced water over me. For all this time I have been conscious of the fact that Potter most likely will not survive to see the end of this war. But to see it written down like this, to be expected to hand him his death sentence...
Because that's just what this is. A clear way to defeat the Dark Lord. A death sentence for Harry Potter.

___________________________________________________________________

There is nothing more. Nothing more about Priori Incantatem. Nothing about Twin-core wands. Nothing.
When the clock strikes 4:30pm, I find myself on my knees in the middle of the floor, and I realise I have failed. I feel tears of desperation and hysteria burning behind my eyes, but despite them I cannot cry. Malfoys do not cry.
Feeling my last shreds of hope jerked out from under me, I put the books back into their places and drag my feet towards the drawing room. I keep only "Connections of the Wand", which I shrink and put into my pocket, creating a glamour of the book in its place on the shelf. Just in case.
I stare with tears in my eyes at the ashes in the fireplace as the five strikes of the clock sound through the room. I blink my feelings away and light the fire, stepping into the flames and throwing the Floo powder to my feet.

___________________________________________________________________

For three days I stroll around Grimmauld Place. Searching for something to do. Searching for a purpose. Seeking him. Looking for any traces of him; a mirthless laugh, an insulted Weasley.
Nothing. It feels as if he has disappeared from the face of the earth.
He has taken nothing from his room. Why would he, he is home now. He needs nothing from here that he hasn't got there. I lie on his bed, counting the minutes to his arrival as I stare up at the cracked ceiling. Reading the patterns which I've learned by heart in all the time I've spent on these sheets.
I wonder where everyone else is at. I've never heard the house this unnaturally quiet. But I guess it's the fact that Draco's room is on the third floor that makes the difference, the noises from the twins' experiments and Ron and Hermione arguing don't reach this far.
There is only silence. An empty, expectant silence that seems only to be waiting for something bad to happen. It's eerie.

As I finally leave Draco's room to go meet him when he arrives, I bump into the twins on the second floor. They look at me surprisedly, then cast a glance at the stairs from which I've just descended. I smile at them feebly and continue hurriedly past them, before they have time to ask me what business I could possibly have in the 3d story of the West Wing.
I cast tempus as I hurry down the stairs, and realise the clock has already struck five. Practically flying across the entrance hall, I enter the drawing room just in time to see Draco enter through green flames. I stop in the doorway, staring at the blonde before me.
Draco looks tired and ragged, dark bruises flawing the undersides of his eyes. He brushes off the soot from his clothes, and it seems to take a minute before he even notices me. I cannot but feel slightly hurt; here I've been, counting every minute we've been apart, and he doesn't even bother to recognize my presence?
The tears I've been holding back for days threaten to spill over, just when he lifts his face to look at me. He stares at me for a minute, looking much like he's seen a ghost or a phantom from a dream. "Harry," he croaks weakly, and the next thing I know I have my arms around his neck and I am kissing my name from his lips.
He answers just as desperately, claiming my lips forcefully as he pushes me back against the wall. I suddenly find myself with my back against the family portrait, and can but fight the urge to laugh at what Sirius would say of this if he'd known. Thoughts of laughing disappear immediately thought when Draco starts tugging at my clothes. He breaks the kiss to draw in a deep breath by my throat, nuzzling my ear. "I've missed you." he murmurs huskily, slipping his hands under my sweater as I weave my fingers into his hair.
"Draco!" I can but moan, my hands roaming over his body, grabbing for anything, everything. God, how I've missed his body, his scent, his presence. I am just starting to tug up the hem of shirt when I hear a slight creaking of the door. In the same instant Draco's body stiffens, and he jerks his face away from mine. We turn around to find two very surprised looking Weasleys staring at us from the doorway.
"Uhm..." Fred utters, slowly taking in the scene of Draco snogging me senseless against the drawing room wall. At the same time Draco seems to become aware of our compromising position, and pulls away immediately, straightening his clothes and coughing slightly.
"We- uhm..." George repeats his brother's sentiment, looking slightly less surprised and slightly more amused than Fred. I try to take advantage of their bemused silence, but I suddenly find my mouth very dry and can only come forth with single syllables.
"We.. uhm... you- uh... this 'sn't..." I stagger, biting my lower lip furiously. As I look to Draco for support, I find him looking only very grim and slightly bored.
"Can't any one of you form an actual sentence?" he asks incredulously, raising a mocking eyebrow at the three of us. I marvel at his ability to turn even this situation around for his own benefit. I swallow loudly and clear my throat to regain my ability to speak coherently. Though of course, Draco would say I never had one.
"Fred, George... We... I know that this is probably quite... surprising, but we would really appreciate it if-" I begin weakly, but a loud chuckle from the twins cuts me off.
"Surprising?!" George repeats with wide eyes and a mock serious face. "Surely not! Why would you think that this is surprising in any way?"
His brother catches on. "Yes, you foolish boy! How could finding a Malfoy snogging the breath out of Harry Potter against a bleedin' wall be in any sense surprising?!"
I see Draco's temper starting to boil at the twins' jokes already, but I myself am only happy that they are joking instead of running off writing letters to Rita Skeeter. The twins study us in silence for a minute, and after a while it starts to feel somewhat unnerving. "What?" I finally ask, the intense staring getting on my nerves.
"Oh, nothing," Fred grins, staring from me to Draco mischievously. "How long has this been

going on for?"
I look to Draco, trying to get some hint as to what he wants to tell the twins. But he keeps his eyes fastened on the twins. "A while," is his vague answer. And I guess that is the proper answer, as it is all a matter of from where one counts.
"So..." George snickers, eying the two of us. "the Boy Who Lived and the son of the most notorious Death Eater ever. Where the bloody fuck is my popcorn?" The twins burst out laughing, and Draco snorts at them irritatedly. But I can see the relief on his features, for whatever reason he has come to like the twins and seems to care much for what they think.
"Oh, by the way, Harry," Fred grins, raising an amused eyebrow at me. "Your fly is open."
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For the Want of a Nail