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A Vicious Tangle (Complete)	By : Tommy-Lane Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 13085 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any charactors from the books and I am not making any money off of this.

Chapter List
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Draco felt odd.
No not odd....he felt...like someone had reached inside him and shifted all his vital organ's about, doused them with a rough cleaner, and sewed him back up. His tired eyes were still dusted closed but even without cracking them open he could tell that he was in St. Mungo's. The bed he was lying on was too hard, the sheets too starched, and whatever the hell they had clothed him in was abysmal. While he doubted that anyone actually liked hospitals Draco was fairly sure that he abhorred them above the socially acceptable norm.
Hospitals were on the same level as bodies of water to him - both seemingly innocent, both housing far too much power.
He gritted his teeth and tried not to move even a single inch. His heart felt hollowed out, a severally odd sensation. Still even with the oddness and the pain Draco firmly believed that he wasn't ill enough to be in the hospital in the first place. Probably Harry just overreacting yet again. It always seemed to be the man's fault whenever he found himself here and Draco figured it was about time to remind him that the only time it was acceptable to drag him through the magical doors was if he was hanging on death's door.
Though...perhaps he had been? He didn't remember much of what Astoria had done. Mostly he remembered fiery pain, shattering heartbreak that he was pretty sure was Astoria's, a swell of protective magic that felt like Harry's, and the other man's hands gripping him tight. Then the wand had dropped from her hand and she had collapsed into a ball and wept, the image searing itself into Draco's mind forever right before he blacked out.
"Are you finished over-analyzing everything now? It's growing rather tedious watching your eyelids twitch about."
Pansy, of course it was Pansy.
"Nothing? You do realize that I know you're awake right?" She huffed.
And where the hell was Harry? If he thought him bad enough to warrant a hospital visit shouldn't he have stayed? Bloody prat.
"You know you make this rather obnoxious face when you're thinking about Potter? All pinched around the nose..."
Everything was coming back to him in slow waves, reminding him that it was entirely possible that Harry had admitted to loving him at some point and that he had begged the man to fuck him. In hindsight, knowing what he knew now, it made perfect sense why Harry had been so conflicted, why he didn't want to go through with it. Of course that hadn't stopped Draco. He could almost still feel the ache of Harry pushing inside him and he doubted that it would go away anytime soon – real or imaged, it seemed burn into him at the moment.
Unexpectedly enough, he didn't actually mind, in fact he now knew why Harry was typically a top - the man was fucking brilliant at it.
"Are you thinking dirty thoughts now? Merlin Draco you're in the hospital for gods sake, when in the world would you have had time to...oh lord. You didn't? Only you, I swear, would shag Potter while a madwoman was holding you captive. Your obsession with that man is truly unhealthy."
Draco silently agreed with her, he truly was in way over his head. He hated to think how he must have come across in those moments, what Harry must have thought of him.
"Is this silence some sort of punishment for telling Millicent and Tracy and Katy about your Potter fixation? Because I only told them some of the details, I left out all the sappy wall kissing and stuck strictly to the desk humping. They rather enjoyed themselves...Millicent a bit too much really...if that helps?"
Draco scowled, lifting a weak hand to rub at his temple.
"No point getting all tetchy love, it's not as if it was a secret considering only you and Potter seem to be under the impression that you two are still in the closet. It's rather obvious to anyone with two sets of eyes or even just a rather keen sense of hearing..."
"Are you done yet?" He ground out, cracking one eye open to glare at her, her shrill voice making it hard to categorize and analyze his thoughts.
"Ah look at that, he lives." She smirked and tapped her purple tipped fingernails against her cheek.
"Hand me my chart." He ordered, pointing to the metal clipboard at the end of his bed, ignoring her sarcasm which tended to be her default setting whenever she got overly worried.
"So you can stare at it in incomprehension?" She snickered but did as he asked anyway.
"No, so I can see if I can strangle you without it killing me." He flipped it open and frowned at the date on the top, well damn, he'd been there for two days already - two whole days filled with Merlin knew what, while his body floated between this world and the next. With a grumble he ran his eyes down the long technical names and list of potions they had given him, all of it basically amounting to one thing - his body had been sent through one crazy lope with all the strong magic that had been forced into him but all in all he was fine...well mostly. There were two pesky words at the bottom that made his stomach knot: Inconclusive Damage. What the hell did that even mean?
"Oh I already know the answer to that, killing me would be utterly devastating for you and would slowly eat you up inside day by day until you could no longer take it and you'd embrace death just to see my lovely face again." She reached forward and plucked the clipboard from his stiff fingers, placing it out of easy reach before he could flip back the first page. "Stop scowling, you'll ruin your handsome face like that."
"I don't feel well." He grumbled as he sat up, the hard bed creaking beneath him.
"That would be because you almost bound yourself to a psychotic murderer and then tried to randomly switch it to Potter. Not all together wise don't you think dear?"
He peaked at her from a crack in his fingers, his head held tight in his hands, hearing it worded so bluntly and boiled down to its simplest explanation making an uncomfortable wave of nausea swim through him. What a fucked up situation. And despite of everything he still felt the need to check in on Astoria, to seek out where she was and make sure she got the help she needed. But even more than that he needed to see Harry. "How do you..."
"I am a very good listener...well technically it may be classified as eavesdropping but still." She shrugged. "I think you even died there for a moment, at least that's what I think Potter was sobbing about."
"So nice to see you care Pans." He drawled, dropping his clammy hand back to the starched blanket spread over his knees.
She flashed him a smile as she played with the hem of her skirt, her gaze taking on a sharp edge to it. "Draco...I'm...alright well, you see I don't think I can bare to lose you, you inconsiderate imbecile." She shifted her eyes down to her lap and took a deep breath before pinning him with a haughty you bettering fucking do as I say look. "So don't you ever do anything like that again, do you hear me? No more playing at being a Gryffindor. You are a Slytherin for Merlin's sake, sit back and direct your minions to do the gritty work or I'll have no choice but to disown you."
"I don't have minions." He murmured, his heart finding a fleck of peace at the obvious fear that she had been plagued with while worrying over him. God above help him but he did love her.
She sniffed and waved a hand over her head. "You have Potter, same thing."
"I'm sure he'll be thrilled to hear that." He shot her a smile before carefully reaching out and taking her hand. She reluctantly returned it - her fingers clasping his far tighter than need be, her knuckles whitening, cheeks pinking, and eyes glistening with unwanted tears. It reminded him that despite the hard, rather horrid, exterior that there was a bleeding heart beneath it all and Pansy would forever be on his side.
"Yes, well, like I give a fuck what he thinks." She scoffed, yanking her hand free and rising to her feet, her hands that looked a tad unsteady smoothing down her skirt. "The drooling sack of flesh that is my husband will be getting worried so I shall be going and since you're much too proud to ask, Potter's down the hall with Weasley, room 24, don't fuck it up." And with that she flipped her hair over her shoulder and sauntered out of the room, her jewel encrusted purse swinging at her hip.
"Weasley?" Draco repeated after her but she didn't respond, her heels clicking faintly down the hall as he silently cursed her love for dramatic exits.
There was a brief strangulation of worry over the thought that Harry had somehow ended up in the hospital as well but he quickly quelled it, swinging his legs off the bed and testing his weight on the cold floor. He had the vague memory of the man carrying him at some point, which was rather horrific and thus deserved no more thought, so if he was indeed a patient it was probably for superficial wounds or for some precautionary tests.
Right?
He felt a little shaky on his feet and he couldn't help but glare down at the atrocious white pants and shirt that seemed better suited to clothe Hagrid than himself as he hiked up the trousers legs to keep from tripping. He glanced around the bare little room, his gaze lingering on the line of potions on the bedside table, his feet ice cold on the tile as he took two careful steps, reached out, and grabbed the clipboard Pansy had snatched back from him. He wasn't sure if it was just his need to know all the facts about his condition, the realization that he may not be physically able to march down the hall like he had intended, or if perhaps he was simply stalling from finding out just why Harry and Weasley were in their own room - but his eyes seemed to snap back to those two little words like magnets, tethering him to his room for the time being.
Inconclusive Damage.
Never a good turn of phrase.
His memory of his time in the tunnel felt like a living, shifting thing - something that seemed bent on keeping him disoriented and confused above all else when he tried to concentrate on it. He could remember so much heartbreak - so much agony that had been Astoria's and then theirs and then his. He could remember the feeling of being overtaken, like someone was madly scribbling their life over the top of his until he couldn't be sure where his truth started and theirs began. He could remember his heart crying out for Harry and then he had just appeared, so sudden by his side while he warred and fought against Astoria, against himself, against the memories...
He wondered if Harry even knew. He wondered how much the other man had been able to glean about what had almost taken place.

Except...he wasn't all too sure about that part either. He still didn't know how Astoria had managed everything she did, he still didn't understand the disks, or how she herself had ended up a near victim and in the hospital. He felt like he could drive himself mental with all he still didn't know - the mystery only seeming to expand in his heart and head until he felt light of air and brittle in bone.
"Bugger." He bit his lip and tugged a hand through his mangled hair, frowning at the crusty locks at the back of his head and the greasy strands on his brow. He glared once more at the two damning words and flipped the page over, his tired gray eyes scanning down the parchment - seeking answers he honestly wasn't sure he would ever receive.
Then he saw it and all he could do was blink, rub his eyes with the back of his hand, and narrow his gaze until the words were only a slivered line of black ink. "Bloody hell," he cursed. Astoria had confessed to her treatment of him, the things she had done to him listed clinically on the page with the Healer's prescribed remedies next to it. The list was long, longer than he would have ever thought possible and the reality of it made his stomach knot, but it was the blocked words in the middle that caught and held his attention above all else.
An incomplete/aborted attempt of an Aeternum Bond resulting in...

A fucking Aeternum Bond.

He knew Astoria was desperate, that she felt in some twisted way that Draco could bring about her freedom, he knew that she had tried to bond with him...but like this? Merlin she could have emptied him like a hallow vase and filled him however she saw fit, she could have poured out her terror and used Draco as the sponge to soak it up, she could have used him as a hide away - tucking herself into him until they were both just a knot of horror and deranged tendencies. She could have lost not only him but herself to the unbridled power of an ancient ritual like that...she could have killed them both.

And he had resisted it. He had resisted one of the most powerful of the ancient bonding rituals. How the fuck was that even possible? He should have been putty in her hand, he should have bent to anything she willed, he should have been able to walk through the steps needed with blind obedience. He by all rights should be bound irrevocably and eternally to her...
"Draco."
He glanced up sharply, his face deathly pale and hands sweaty, the floor swaying beneath him. Harry stood in the doorway, the darker man's hand still on the doorknob, his foot paused halfway into the room. He looked horrible - bloodshot eyes rimmed with purple, his skin pallid, dark and thick stubble shadowing his chin and cheeks in a stark contrast. He was still in his uniform, the shirt unbuttoned to reveal a dingy white tee underneath, the fabric rumpled so thoroughly that Draco knew the man had been sleeping in them since that day in the tunnel. Draco's eyes found Harry's hand on the brass knob, what looked like a deep bite wound on the juncture of his thumb and pointer finger.
Draco opened his mouth with his heart bursting through his chest in a frantic rhythm but before he could even form a single sound he found himself engulfed by solid, trembling warmth as he was pulled against Harry's body, the clipboard clattering to the floor. It only took him a moment to realize that the shaking was coming from him, his hands unsteady as he buried his face in the crook of Harry’s shoulder. He felt instantly weak with his arms full of the man he had almost lost forever, as if his body had been waiting to give into its exhaustion until that very moment, until he was surrounded by the man he desperately needed. He squeezed his eyes shut, unsure if he would ever feel strong enough to let go again, his lips finding the curve of Harry's neck and planting little kisses along the musky skin there that smelled like dried sweat and antiseptic.
He desperately wanted to shut off his mind and just sink completely but he couldn't stop the spinning in his head, the questions pressing hotly forward unceasingly. He had resisted that blasted bond but his chart said there was damage...unknown, inconclusive. Which meant that Astoria had accomplished something - but what?
"Harry...I..." His hands gripped the man's dirty and rumpled shirt between his shoulder blades, pulling like he was trying to dissolve into him, the beat of Harry's heart fast against his own. Harry nodded as if he understood all that Draco couldn't make his tongue form, his face pressing into the blonde’s unwashed hair.
Did he know what kind of bond Astoria had attempted? Did the heroic Auror understand just how close Draco had come to being washed out? Draco knew he should be asking, that he should be pulling back and seeking answers but instead he crushed himself against Harry, gripping so tightly with Harry's fingers mimicking his own that he wouldn't be surprised if they were leaving bruises on each other. He saw the briefest flash of green as Harry grasped his chin and pulled him up and into an urgent kiss - the touch of Harry's lips and the feel of his breath puffing against his cheek, one hand holding his neck and the other keeping him tightly in place around his back was like pure relief, tendrils of fear he hadn't let himself dwell on leaking away. He pressed closer and drowned in the warmth and safety that was Harry, his hands traveling over his back as he felt his knees wobble.
"Draco -" Harry pulled back, cupping his face and sighing long and low as he pressed wet kisses around his mouth. "God you're alright." It was more of a reassuring statement to himself than anything Draco distantly realized as Harry kept touching his face with his fingers and lips, breathing over him with rugged pants. He felt connected to the man's lingering anxiety over all that had happened right then - could feel it in the tight coil of his muscles and the strong brush of his fingers, he could hear it in his voice, and taste it on his lips. Harry may not have understood everything but he knew enough to know that holding Draco right then was a miracle in itself, knew what they shared had almost slipped like water through a cracked goblet. "You're alright." He murmured again before capturing his mouth once more.
He felt that ache that only Harry could ignite inside him spread through him and he threw himself at it - desperate to forget if only for a few blissful seconds that he was damaged. He was pretty sure that Harry was most likely supporting his entire body weight and that perhaps he should be laying down but Merlin help him, he couldn't stop. He let himself be devoured, his fingers gripping harshly in Harry's skin, because kissing Harry felt like reawakening - like something was trying to fill his oddly hollowed out being once more.
Perhaps that was part of the damage Astoria had left behind - perhaps she had left him empty, like a jar whisked clean and then sealed tightly, trapping the air and setting it useless and desolate on the shelf. Perhaps over time he'd turn into a replica of his mother, a frozen void of a man, walking aimless and passionless through life. He whimpered at the thought and tilted his head a little more, savoring the man's taste on his tongue.
Harry stopped kissing him slowly, reluctantly, keeping him in a tight embrace and his lips a carefully receding caress that Draco could feel he didn't want to end. "Sorry." He muttered with his forehead against Draco's, his mouth open and breathing heavily against Draco's tingling lips. His thumb moved to trace over the blondes wet bottom lip, his tired green eyes fluttering closed and open. "Do you need to lay down?"
Draco shook his head, unwilling to vacate Harry's arms just yet. "Tell me what happened." He murmured quietly, leaning into Harry's fingers. "I...know what she tried to do but I...how?"

Harry sighed and placing a light kiss on his lips led him back over to the bed, pulling him carefully down until they were lying side by side on the small mattress, their hands entwined on Harry's chest. Draco stared at the ceiling, somehow feeling emptier because of it, but he kept his eyes still on the white none the less - Harry's hand tightening around his as he began to talk.

He told Draco about tracking him down, about how Weasley had smeared his cut over the blood-arch and willingly took the curse into his body so Harry could get to him - the redhead currently critical but stable down the hall. He told him about finding him with an unconscious Astoria (something he couldn't remember doing, but he must have knocked her out somehow). "We can't figure out how you managed to resist or why you..." Reacted so strongly to me was the rest of the unspoken sentence, something Draco was glad for being left unsaid. "She barely managed to reverse the threads of the bond she had woven and what we had…almost completed. It drained her to do it and you were both drifting in and out of consciousness at the end. After a while she admitted to all that she had done and we quickly fed the information to the Healers who were stalling on working on you until they knew."

Draco glanced down to the bite mark on Harry's hand at the hard edge in his tone, seeing in his mind’s eye the tussle that must have ensued for him to wrangle the confession out of her while they were both so wound and strung out. "Where is she?" He asked quietly.

"Holding cell. She's been alternating between crying and violent outbursts so strong that they've had to add extra wards around her."

"Have they figured out how she managed to leave the hospital?" He asked as he turned towards Harry, seeking his warmth as coldness flooded him.

"No. She doesn't make a lot of sense, she tends to get lost in thought and forget where she is for a moment during the questionings, rambling nonsense." Harry shifted until he was lying on his side as well, their hands between them, Harry's thumb moving over the joints of his fingers. "Luckwood thinks it all has to with the disks somehow. There's a team of Healers and psychologists assigned to her case and her family has been informed."

Draco nodded. "That's good." He mumbled, the hollowness in his chest seeming to throb at the thought of her pain, almost like he was somehow connected to her on some level. It bloody hurt.

"Draco, I know you've been through hell but..." he sighed and shifted nearer." Don't own her pain or mistakes. It's not yours and I know you think you've failed her but you haven't. She needs help and she's going to get it now because of you."

"Azkaban?" Draco asked, closing his eyes tightly in preparation, unwilling to hear those kinds of words of comfort just yet.

Harry sighed and wrapped his arm around Draco's side, tugging him closer. "There will be a trial but I think it’s more likely she'll end up in a secure hospital so she can receive treatment."

"Will you request it?" Harry's name still held a tremendous amount of pull if he put enough pressure behind it and could very well be the swaying factor in Astoria's case.

"I already have."

Draco looked up at that, staring into Harry's tired green eyes, wondering how the man had managed to plead Draco's case for Astoria while worrying and watching over him and Weasley - bouncing his time back and forth between the three of them. But it wasn't only that, he could see in the man's face that he was struggling with the elements surrounding her. He could see that there was a part of him that cried for justice for all the dead that her hands had unwilling accomplished, he could see his fierce anger over what she had done to Draco and subsequently Weasley as well, and he could see what the sight of her mangled soul did to him. He could see it weighing heavily on his heart but he had done what he knew Draco wanted because he knew how much it meant to the blonde.

He did it for him, of that Draco was sure.

"I love you Draco." Harry whispered, his nose bumping into his, almost as if he was suddenly unsure if he was allowed to kiss him.

So Draco did it for him, leaning forward and pressing his lips against his in a promise filled kiss as his words echoed and stretched through the hollowness inside him.

****

Draco wasn't sure what he was doing, why he was standing in front of room 24 in the middle of the night.

Harry was back in Draco’s hospital room, fast asleep on his bed, his arm clutching the sheets that were no doubt still warm from Draco's recently vacated body. And he should still be there as well, under that warm and comforting embrace, but instead his bare feet were cooling quickly on the squeaky clean floor as he stared at the closed door. With a deep breath he reached out and turned the knob, pushing the silent door in and revealing the dimness inside.

His eyes found the bed and the shock of red hair and pale sleeping face that peaked out from under the white covers, the sheets rising and falling in even shallow breathes - looking very much as if he was teetering between solidness and the misty haze of the ghost world. His stomach clenched as he stepped inside, softly shutting the door behind him, his toes pressing into the floor as he wavered on the spot.

He didn't know how to feel about what had happened and his eyes wanted nothing more than to flee from the sight of the man on the bed - fighting a horrible curse that he had willing taken upon himself.

For him.

An expression of gratitude, of apology, of reprimand stuck on his tongue as he visually traced the lines of Weasley's face. But above all else he couldn't help but wonder - why? Draco knew he wasn't worth the dark magic that was pumping through his blood - trying to pull him apart from the inside out - the man should have just let Draco rot in that tunnel, he shouldn't have risked it, he should have done anything but cut himself and smear his own blood.

But then Harry would have done something reckless and Merlin but he couldn't even let himself think about that.

Moving with careful, light steps to avoid waking Granger who was curled up asleep on an uncomfortable looking cot, Draco neared the bed without any purpose other than needing to do something. Perhaps he just needed to prove to himself that Weasley was alive, that he would blink those damn twinkling, knowing eyes open and use his too big mouth to interrupt any future fights he was bound to have with Harry.

"Reckless Gryffindor." He whispered to the sleeping man, his voice scratching in the silent room.

"Recklessly heroic I think you mean." Weasley murmured in a horribly weak voice that didn't sound remotely like him, his foggy blue eyes drifting half open and startling Draco so badly he nearly jumped and cursed. "How you feeling?"

Draco felt an unhinged laugh bubble in his throat but he swallowed it down before it could break free as he raked a hand through his hair. Weasley was asking him how he was doing? Merlin the man looked way too close to death and yet he was looking groggily up at Draco like he was worried for him.

It wasn't right. None of this was.

"Priorities Weasley, you should be demanding things for yourself not asking after me." He admonished, finding it hard to hold his gaze, guilt swamping him.

Weasley just stared and Draco shifted uneasily on his feet.

"I'm fine." He whispered when it became clear that he was waiting for an answer, his fingers playing with the too big band of his trousers. "You look like hell."

"Feel like it too." Weasley gave him a slow, painful looking smile that only lifted half his mouth. "And stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you've killed me." The redhead closed his eyes with a sigh. "I plan to be up and running tomorrow morning."

Draco bit his tongue and glanced away, knowing Weasley wasn't anywhere near being able to rise from his bed and it would probably be quite awhile before he could. If he ever even would. Merlin he couldn't stomach that, didn't know how he'd ever look at any of them ever again if he had been the reason the man was crippled for life.

"Or at least ordering you lot to fetch me a ginormous breakfast."

Letting out a soft, unsteady chuckle Draco glanced back at Granger before stepping slightly closer. "Look Weasley, I..."

"No need."

"But-"

"Seriously Malfoy, somethings are worth it." What he didn't say was that Harry was worth it, that his friendship with the raven haired man was worth any sacrifice - and that because of Harry, Draco was now a part of that list. It made him horribly uncomfortable.

"Right." Draco nodded absently, tugging at his hair once more as he shut his eyes against the press of emotions. Merlin he was strung too thin for this. "Weasley -" he started but when he opened his eyes it was to find the man fast asleep, breathing in and out softly once more. "Thank you." He whispered before turning and leaving, slipping through the door as quietly as he had come in.
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A Vicious Tangle (Complete)