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The Stag and The Snake	By : JBankai89 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 9713 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter, I gain nothing from this but a way to pass the time.

Chapter List
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Chapter 12 – Reintroductions

Knock, knock

Sirius groaned. He felt sticky and warm, but in the best possible way. Remus was draped casually on top of him, dead to the world, and their limbs were a tangled, comfortable mess. Sirius lifted his head a few scant millimetres off the pillow, before allowing it to flop back down. He could feel the cool air against his skin. It seemed that somewhere along the way their bedcovers had been knocked away, not that Sirius was complaining. He hadn't felt so good, so complete, in a very long time.

Knock, knock

Before Sirius could even properly rouse himself, he heard their door creak open with Draco's accompanying voice. “Sirius, I was just wondering—oh good Gods!” the door slammed loudly and he heard the heavy footfalls of the young man hurrying down the hall faster than was probably wise, given his injuries. Remus groaned and stirred.

“Where's the cannon?” he mumbled sleepily, while Sirius reluctantly untangled himself from his Bonded. His mouth twitched at the corner into a small smirk of amusement.

“I think we may have scarred our future Son-In-Law for life, but don't worry about it.” He rested a hand on the back of Remus's neck and kissed his temple lightly. In an instant, the werewolf was out like a light. Still snickering to himself, he pulled on a pair of drawstring pyjama bottoms and a maroon muggle T-shirt.

He padded out into the hall and poked his head into Harry's room. Draco was so red that it looked as though the flush might ignite his hair. “You were wondering something, Draco?” He couldn't completely erase the grin from his face, and the bandaged youth's face went, if possible, even redder. Sirius glanced to the side table, “Did you take your potion? Madam Pomfrey will have my guts for garters if you miss a dose.” Draco nodded mutely, while he eased back into the bed next to Harry and took his hand. The faint perspiration upon Draco's forehead indicated how much the little outburst had affected him.

“I—I was just was wondering if my parents had been by?” He was looking anywhere but at Sirius. Had the boy's tone been anything but a combination of despondency and absolute mortification, Sirius might have chuckled at how embarrassed the young man was. “I found that when I woke up,” he motioned towards a large case at the foot of the bed, his initials in silver indented on the side. It looked as though hadn't touched it.

“They came by last night,” Sirius replied, frowning a little at the look on Draco's face. “They were almost beside themselves with worry. They promised to come back today and see you.” Draco nodded faintly at Sirius's words, but didn't respond. He looked as though he did not entirely believe what he was being told.

“Draco, the only reason we didn't wake you to see them last night was because you needed your rest. You were in no condition for visitors. They will be back.” Something in his tone seemed to cheer Draco, and he finally turned to look at Sirius and nodded slightly, a small smile playing across his lips.

“Oh, here,” he picked up a stirring spoon off the night table and handed it to Sirius. He blinked.

“And what's this for?”

“For you to gouge my eyes out.” Draco smirked a little, and Sirius laughed.

~*~
Draco was running through the forest. How had he gotten here? He couldn't remember. He looked down at his hands and realized that he was carrying a bloody sword in one hand, his wand in the other. Before Draco had a chance to fathom where he had gotten a sword, he felt himself collide with something solid. He didn't fall, cold hands gripping him tightly by the shoulders.
Draco looked up and saw Severus Snape. The skin of his face had rotted away on one side, and Draco could see the rounded edge of an eye, and the white of his skull and jaw. The black eyes blazed with hatred. Horrified and disgusted, Draco tried to look away, only to realize that the sword had plunged into the man's chest. The dead man's blood stained Draco's skin, and he cried out as he tried to lurch away. “Congratulations,” the gurgling, dead voice hissed in his ear. “You are a murderer.” Draco screamed.

“Draco, Draco!” He thrashed, someone was grabbing onto him. Draco twisted, trying desperately to get away. He could still feel the clammy, dead skin against his flesh. “Draco please! Calm down!” The blankets twisted around him, inhibiting his movements even further and making his panic worsen. He felt his breath hitch as he bucked, trying to throw the weight of the person off. “Draco, it's me, Remus! I'm not going to hurt you.” The voice was calmer but firm, and through the fog of his terror, he realized that it was Remus. He wasn't in a forest, but in a warm bed. Slowly, his eyes opened. It was only then that he noticed that his throat felt raw. Had he screamed? He couldn't remember.

“Remus?” His voice sounded hoarse as he spoke. Draco noticed with a sudden jolt that he was drenched in cold sweat and he was trembling. “What—what happened?”

“You were having a nightmare,” Remus frowned and looked down at him. Draco followed the older man's gaze and felt the bile rise in his throat. He had torn open more than one of his flesh wounds, and the pyjama top was dotted with red. Draco tilted his head back and took several deep breaths, but the nauseated panic did not fade. Without a word, Remus took away the shirt, redressed the injuries with a more expert hand than Sirius had, and handed the top back to him after cleaning it with a few charms. Draco shrugged into it, grimacing a little as he moved, but it wasn't enough to cause any further damage.

Once he had settled back into the bed, Remus pressed a vial of potion into his hand. He accepted it and tossed it back without comment. “I didn't want to wake you,” Remus said after Draco had handed back the empty vessel, “but your parents are here to see you.” The news did not surprise him, but it filled him with a strange sense of apprehension. He had not seen his mother or father since before The Forest. Were they cross with him for leaving like that? He didn't know what to expect. All the same, they were his parents, and he wasn't about to turn them away. Draco reached out and grasped Harry's hand gently, the contact strengthened his resolve and washed away some of his nervousness. He looked back to Remus and nodded silently.

Remus stood and walked to the door, opening it as he said, “He's ready to see you now.” From Draco's place in the bed, he couldn't see Lucius or Narcissa. Remus opened the door wider, and conjured two chairs near to the bedside with a quick flick of his wand before he slipped out as his parents stepped in. Draco sucked the left side of his lower lip into his mouth and held it between his teeth, while the pair stepped hesitantly into the room.

Draco had no idea how he looked, but he had a feeling it must have been fairly bad. This assumption was validated by his mother at once, as she clapped a hand to her mouth to stifle a small, anguished cry. She hurried forward and sat at his bedside, the chairs Remus had left completely ignored. Lucius followed more slowly, his wide eyes the only indication to Draco that he was feeling anything at all while looked down at his bedridden son. He sat down slowly in one of the provided chairs, his cool and collected demeanour a stark contrast to his wife's distraught one.

“Oh Draco, what happened to you?” She looked close to tears, and she reached forward to brush her fingers along his uninjured cheek, one of the few places he was unharmed. He flinched away from her touch, the aftereffects of his nightmare clinging to him like an ink stain, and the sudden contact made his stomach roil. Narcissa retracted her hand, though he didn't have it in him to feel guilty at her wounded expression. “Lupin and Black told us of course, but...” she trailed off, frowning. Draco didn't know what to say. Did she think that Sirius and Remus had lied?

“Snape, he...” his voice caught in his throat. The images of his nightmare came back to him and he shivered, trying to keep himself from being sick. “I—” he tried again, but his voice refused to cooperate. He let go of Harry and buried his face in his hands. His shoulders trembled as he struggled to reign in his emotions. Despite his best efforts, he felt tears sting his eyes. “I k-killed him. Gods, I killed someone.” Somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt the smallest twinge of shame at falling to pieces in front of them, but the feeling was fleeting. He hadn't the energy to maintain any sense of dignity, it was simply too exhausting to maintain after everything that had happened.

“He left you with no choice Draco,” Narcissa said softly, reaching out to brush her hand against his shoulder consolingly. This time, he did not cringe away. Draco looked up, his breathing ragged as he tried to calm down. “He would have taken Mr Potter's life, had he lived. You needed to make a choice.”

“Your mother is right Draco,” Lucius spoke in his usual drawl, as though entirely indifferent to Draco's breakdown. He didn't feel upset by this, it was just how Lucius was. “You were left with no alternative, and to allow yourself to be consumed by guilt at your actions will only inhibit your recovery.”

“I'll be myself soon,” he replied, reaching down to clasp Harry's hand again. “Madam Pomfrey left some potion for me to take, and I don't think there will be any lasting damage.” At his words, his mother's eyes grew teary, and she smoothed down the bed covers unnecessarily.

At the end of the visit, he bid his parents as polite a goodbye as he could from the bed. While he was in significantly better shape than Harry, he still tired quickly. After he heard the woosh of them departing by Floo, he curled on his side and shifted closer to Harry.

His parents came to see him for at least an hour a day. It was the most stiff, awkward conversation he could ever recall exchanging with them. Each time, Draco watched them intently, and they never once glanced in the direction of his comatose partner, and treated Draco as though he was the only one present. It infuriated him, but he had no idea how to address it. Did they think he'd leave Harry now that he was found, or were they simply unsettled by the sight of his lover's still form? He was almost afraid to ask.

In between their visits, Draco found that a week seemed much longer than it usually did. He watched over Harry with hawk-like attentiveness, though he was careful to keep from disturbing him too much. Draco would brush the hair from his eyes, adjust the pillows beneath him, and change his pyjamas as needed. While Sirius and Remus never commented on his focus on Harry, the look in their eyes when they caught him at it was not entirely one of disapproval.

In addition to the frequent appearance of his parents, he received a number of letters from Granger, practically having kittens at the news that Harry was alive.

Draco,

I am so, so sorry for everything. Are you and Harry all right? Sirius told us some of what happened, but he was pretty vague. When can we come visit with you and Harry? I still can't believe that Professor Snape would so such a thing, it's just too awful to think about. Are you doing okay? I can only imagine what you had to do wasn't easy. Please know that if you ever need to talk, Ron and I will be here.('Like I have anything to say to you,' he thought)

Love from Hermione

Draco wrinkled his nose at the familiarity of her letter, and the near-daily ones that followed pestered him endlessly about visiting plans. Each one made him groan with frustration at her never-ending persistence. As if Harry would have much to say to his so-called friends in his state anyway! Following each letter, he sent his owl back to her with varying forms of,

He is in a magically-induced coma. I shall tell you when Harry is awake. Now stop badgering me.

The harsh words did little to deter her, and eventually he had Sirius turn away Granger's owl.

Of course, Draco should have known that this wouldn't stop her. On Wednesday afternoon, he was roused from his peaceful sleep by a shouting match taking place just beyond the closed door. The voices were so loud that he did not need to strain his ears to decipher the words.

“Sirius, get out of the way! He's our friend, just let us see him!” Granger, typical. He rolled his eyes. Draco knew that Harry's magically-induced coma wouldn't be broken by the girl's caterwauling shrieks, but it didn't make it any more tolerable, and by the plural, it was safe to assume that that lollygagging ginger was with her.

“What part of 'No' are you not getting? Get out of here. We've told you a hundred times—we will send you an owl when he's awake and ready for visitors.” It sounded as though it was not the first time in the conversation Sirius had said that; his exasperation with the muggle-born was painfully obvious.

“Sirius, c'mon,” Ah, there's the Weasley. “He's our best mate, we just want to know that he's okay!” His voice was calmer than Granger's, though not by much.

“Ron, he's fine. He needs to rest, and you two pestering Draco by owl and yelling at me is not helping. Get out of here, and we will tell you when he's ready for visitors.” There was a low growl that edged Sirius's words, and Draco smiled a little. The man's protectiveness of his adoptive son could be overdone at times, but in that moment Draco was deeply grateful for it.

“Sirius Black, you get out of the way right now or I swear I'll hex you!” Granger all but shrieked, and at her words, Draco had had enough. Groaning as he stood up, he picked up his wand off the side table and walked slowly towards the door. Draco clutched at his bandaged injuries as he moved, and he didn't need to look down to know that some of his wounds had re-opened.

He swung open the door and was quick to cast his charm. With a flick, he silenced Granger and Weasley, and they gaped at him in opened-mouthed horror. Sirius gave him a get-back-to-bed-right-now-or-Narcissa-will-murder-me look, but he ignored it. Draco stared down the two people Harry had once claimed to call his friends. He did his best to appear intimidating, despite the fact that he felt ready to keel over from pain.

“Listen to me you two,” Draco growled, flicking his wand again in a non-verbal spell to disarm Granger and stop her from firing a curse back at him. Her wand spiralled through the air and Remus caught it without a word. She shot the werewolf a nasty look, but didn't move to reclaim her wand. When Draco spoke again, he made his tone as even and dangerous as possible, commanding her full attention.

“Harry was through a terrible ordeal. I don't know how much Sirius told you,” Draco paused to wipe the perspiration from his face with the sleeve of his pyjamas, “but Harry is comatose. He will not wake up for another four days. What do you possibly have to gain from coming here and screaming at his parents?” He glared at them, his grip on his wand was so tight that his knuckles had gone white. Draco's other hand was braced against the door's frame as he tried to remain vertical. Finally, Granger broke the stare with a guilty look in her eyes. He flicked his wand to remove the charm so that she could speak.

“I'm sorry,” she said softly. “I just feel so awful about...about not believing you.” Her eyes became glassy, and he watched Weasley's gaze shift between his wife and Draco, then glancing toward Remus and Sirius. They were still blocking their passage into the room. Weasley seemed at a loss for what to say.

“If you really care about him,” Draco murmured through gritted teeth, struggling to ignore the waves of pain now rushing through him, “you will come back when we tell you that he is ready for visitors. Am I making myself perfectly clear?” Draco's tone was so reminiscent of McGonagall's that both of the ex-Gryffindors nodded, their eyes a little wide.

Draco didn't move until the couple moved over to the fireplace and disappeared into the Floo. His knees buckled and he coughed into the crook of his arm. Draco grimaced as the coppery taste of blood filled his mouth. “Come on,” Remus said, helping him back up and steering him back towards the room. “I know you're worried about Harry, but you have some healing to do too. Have you taken your potion?”

“Yes mother,” Draco mumbled as he climbed back into the bed.

“Don't you start,” he smirked a little, and cast a brief glance over to Harry. He was as still as the first day. Though Draco was starting to get used to the sight, it was still a little unsettling. They told themselves repeatedly that the state was helping Harry heal, but he still looked almost dead. Draco accepted a glass of water from Remus to wash the acrid taste out of his mouth, and he settled back onto the pillows. “Now don't move,” Remus gave him a dangerous look, as if daring Draco to contradict him. “If you need something, Sirius and I will be right outside.”

Draco huffed a little and nodded, rolling onto his side and taking Harry's hand. The warm skin settled his nerves, and he closed his eyes. Four days still seemed very far away.

~*~
Everything was white. Harry couldn't remember anything. Something had happened, something big. What was it? He tried to move, but it felt as though every inch of his body weighed as much as a hippogriff. Harry blinked a few times, and the blinding white had begun to recede into hazy blue and dark shadow. Where was he? He couldn't see. He tried to stay calm, but the lack of vision and memory had thrown him into a panic, and Harry felt his head spin as he began to hyperventilate. Someone touched him. Harry could hear his voice escape him in a frightened cry, but he couldn't lurch away from it, his body refusing to move. The contact seemed to jump-start his brain, and he began to remember.
Memory overwhelmed him, and like watching a film on fast-forward images, sounds, and smells filled his mind. Moonless sky, The Ball, Snape, Draco, Snape kissing Draco, agonizing pain, racing back to the farmhouse, and then...nothing. What had happened to him? Harry heard a strange noise, like someone speaking, but he couldn't make out the words. Was someone was above him, or was he imagining it? God, Harry thought as he squinted, trying to make them out as the fear bubbled up in his chest, please, please don't let it be Snape.

Things slowly began to focus, he realized with a jolt that he was indoors. Why aren't I in the forest? Where am I? His breath hitched and he lurched when a hand touched him again. Tears sprang to his eyes before he could stop them, and the hand disappeared at once. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, trying to re-organize his memories, but it was still a mess of images and sensory overload. He couldn't make heads or tails of any of it. A shadow fell over his eyelids and he dared to look again. More shadows had joined the first. He blinked again, and slowly the veil lifted, the cloudy faces of his parents and Draco came into view.

“Harry, can you hear me?” He turned to the source of the voice. Draco. Harry felt his heart swell. Something cold was pressed into his hand, and it took him a moment to realize that it was his glasses. He tried to lift his arms to put them on, but he still felt so heavy, and so tired.

“Help me?” His voice sounded very hoarse, as though he had not spoken in a long time. He felt the glasses leave his hand, and with slow, feather-light contact they slid onto his face. Everything came into sharp focus, though it still made no sense to him. Beyond his loved ones, Harry could see the familiar, faded blue of his bedroom.

“How am I home?” He whispered after a moment of stunned silence. His throat ached, why did he feel so...strange? His brain felt foggy still, and his body was so heavy, why did he feel so heavy? “What—what happened? Where's Snape?” Above him, he watched them hesitate, and Draco's warm hand slipped into his. At that moment he realized that Draco was lying in bed with him and wearing a pair of pyjamas. Harry felt his confusion grow. What happened? Harry tried to focus as Sirius and Remus sat down on the edge of the bed, and with Draco's help they went through what happened that night.

Harry listened as the story came out. It filled in the blanks in his memory, at least until he vaguely recalled losing consciousness. The words that followed were both shocking and heartening. He never thought Draco would go to such lengths to save him. He squeezed Draco's hand minutely when the blond's voice caught, his eyes wide and overwhelmed with horror and guilt. “I—I killed him,” the words were barely above a whisper, and Harry felt his own stomach twist with anguish for him, wishing he could do more to ease Draco's pain. He squeezed Harry's hand back lightly.

Sirius took over telling the story when Draco's voice seemed to have failed him. It was a relief to know what he had missed, but at the same time it was so utterly exhausting Harry felt as though he was running a marathon, not listening to his family recount the tale of his rescue. He felt a little guilty as the words had began to bleed together, and he was unable to stifle a wide yawn. Sirius paused, and smiled down at Harry. “Maybe we should finish later?”

“Sorry,” he mumbled with a small nod. He looked back to Remus and Sirius, “I'm just really tired.”

“It's all right Harry,” Sirius said, reaching forward as though to grip his shoulder like he always did, but froze suddenly and retracted his hand. Harry eyed him quizzically, but his godfather did not explain himself.

“You've been through a terrible ordeal,” Remus said, covering up the awkward moment as best he could. “Your body and mind need time to heal. Don't rush yourself. Rest, and we'll be outside if either of you need anything.” Harry nodded, while Draco plucked his glasses off as another yawn overwhelmed him.

“'nks,” Harry mumbled, and with some difficulty he rolled onto his side. Why did he still feel so heavy? It reminded him of the heavy, sluggish movements after waking up from a deep sleep, but more extreme. Draco smiled a little, and even though he was little more than a blur to Harry's eyes, he could still see the expression easily. He shifted forward, and kissed Harry gently as soon as the door snapped shut. Harry reciprocated as best he could, though his movements were still slow and sluggish.

“Welcome home Harry.”
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The Stag and The Snake