Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Masks of Real Heroes	By : Aelys_Althea Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 17641 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: Many thanks to the wonderful J. K. Rowling who offered such a beautiful world for amateurs such as myself to frolick in. This is a not-for-profit fanfiction and all characters and original storylines of Harry Potter belong to her!

Chapter List
- 27
- 28
- 29
Chapter 27: Leaping Each Hurdle
Of course, it was only when they'd made it halfway to the reported 'bathroom' that they realised the flaw in their plan.
"Fuck!" Draco skidded to a halt, nearly tugging Harry off his feet with his abruptness. "We can't bloody well get in"
Harry turned to him questioningly, panting silently for a moment before comprehension dawned. "Neville said –"
"Parseltongue. Opening up the Chamber of Secrets needs the request of a Parseltongue." He huffed a bark of mirthless laughter. "Of course it would."
"What do we do?" Harry's eyes were steadily widening behind glasses faintly fogged in dust. "Should we look for Neville?"
"I don't know any other Parseltongue's around. Do you?" Draco turned in a circle, dragging his gaze over the empty hallways as though he could hope to summon Neville with the mere thought of him. "Though how we're supposed to find him is beyond me. Where did Snape even take him, anyway?" He knew his voice was more of a whine than anything else, but he was too frantic, too highly strung, to care.
"Can we fake it somehow?"
Draco glanced towards Harry. He too looked to be growing in panic, though looked more on the verge of emptying his stomach contents onto the floor rather than playing host to the overwhelming urge to strike something as Draco was. "What do you mean?"
Harry flung his arms in the air in an uncharacteristically verbose display of distress. "I don't know! Pretend Parseltongue? Is there something you can say that's similar to it? How does someone even learn Parseltongue?"
"You don't learn it; you're born with it." Draco raked a hand through his hair. "And no, I don't think so. Unless we got, I don't know, a snake or something? Made it talk for us?" It was an utterly ridiculous notion, but Draco was desperate.
"Where would we possibly get a snake? Un serpent dans une ecole? How would you even get a snake to talk to a door?!" Harry's hands clutched at Lyssy, still miraculously clinging to his shoulder, and grasped her like a lifeline.
At least he's not scratching his neck again, Draco thought. That was something. Some positive in the disaster rapidly settling upon them. Still, Harry's distress was evident; Draco's brief experiences with his discomfort generally showed an erratic switching between languages as one of the more noticeable symptoms. Not that, at least in this instance, the translation wasn't basically self-explanatory.
"I don't know," Draco growled, tugging at his hair once more. "I've hardly even seen a snake before! Maybe we could bait it or some –" Draco's voice abruptly cut off as he stared at Lyssy. It was both so obvious and so ridiculous that he was surprised and a little relieved that he hadn't thought if before. "The collar. We could use the collar."
Harry dropped his eyes to the cat pressed against his shoulder. His fingers brushed over the woven band of cyanogriffin thread and apatite studs. "Would that work?"
"It should do," Draco asserted excitedly. "It's supposed to work for any animal large enough to wear the collar. The bigger the better." At least, that's what the salesman had said. It could have been a boast, a marketing ploy, but Draco considered himself fairly adept at discerning such underhanded ploys. "Come on, it's the best we've got."
He stumbled to a halt in his enthusiasm, however, when the absence of a key subject in the plan failed to present itself. "Oh, bloody hell. We still need a snake." He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as his fingers locked into his hair once more. A crazed part of him mind shook its head in horror at the mess he was making of his hairstyle, but it was only a small part. At this rate, he was set to tear it all out.
Hopeless. Utterly hopeless. Oh yes, it was such a great idea, until you take into account that one needed a bloody snake.
"Wait, what if... not a snake... what if...?"
Draco opened his eyes. A thoughtful gleam in Harry's eyes made him cringe internally. They held the same consideration Draco recognised from experience, the thoughtfulness of when he was nine and thought to trick himself into casting accidental magic by jumping off the manor roof. It hadn't ended so well.
"What?"
"It's not a snake, but... Squirt speaks Parseltongue."
When Draco finally realised that Harry spoke of he hydra, it was too late to change his mind. He had to sprint to chase after him as Harry disappeared down the hallway at a run.

It could never have been as easy as simply marching down to Hagrid's hut, though in retrospect Draco supposed they were lucky to get most of the way unchallenged. It was only when they breached the outer walls of the castle that confrontation arose.
Draco was almost too slow to respond when the first curse shot their way. It came in a blast of unexpectedness, diagonal rather than front on. The assailant was so well-hidden by the darkness of the night that only the flare of the spell cast them into visibility. Draco's lurching leap, crashing into Harry and dragging them both to the ground, spared them. Rolling hastily to his feet, he whipped his wand from the pocket of his cowled robe and pointed it towards the broad, imposing figure striding towards him.
"Expulsio!"
The spell burst from the tip of Draco's wand and smacked into the black-robed figure. He was flung backwards, tumbling across the expanse of lawn into the distance. The slight bouncing, as though the ground were made of sponge, was almost comical.
Draco didn't have time to congratulate himself for his swift spell work. As though drawn by the prospect of a fight, two more figures suddenly appeared from the gloom.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here? Two little canaries, flying the coup?"
The grumbling words of the taller figure were accompanied by a high chuckle of his companion. Draco wasn't entirely certain but for an instant the voice sounded horribly familiar.
"Would you care to do the honours, Meera?" Extending his wand hand, the speaker gestured to the figure at his side. Though they both too were hooded, it was apparent she was a woman.
"Love two," Meera purred, and Draco barely had time to throw up a shield before vibrant orange light shot towards him. It spread like liquid fire across the glassy surface of his defences.
Thus ensued both the fastest and slowest battle of Draco's life. Grounding his feet, he flung up shield after shield as they were torn down ad blasted aside, firing a wayward curse when possible but focusing almost entirely upon protection. Meera and her male companion - and the third figure, when he finally regained his feet - fired mercilessly. There was no rhythm to their casting, no gentlemanly taking of turns. They struck with intent, to banish and puncture Draco's wearying defences. Not a one-stepped forward, however. They appeared content to wear him down at a distance.
The only thought that passed through his mind was that he had to protect Harry. He didn't glance behind him to see if the other boy had regained his feet from where he'd thrown him to the ground; he didn't have a moment to spare. Certainly, had Harry been able to help him, to cast a shield or fire off a few spells of his own, it would have provided just that little bit of extra support. But Draco knew it was impossible. Harry had never been able to cast such spells, offensive or defensive. He could hardly expect him to help. Draco didn't feel even the slightest regret for the fact. He didn't have even a moment to consider it.
With the collapse of his latest shield, Draco took the opportunity to fire another offensive spell. Perhaps they were distracted, or perhaps it had been a lucky strike, but for whatever reason the Expelliarmus struck the tallest man with a crunch of impact. His own shields must have been up, however, for he only stumbled back a few paces, hood falling back. The sight it presented cause Draco to freeze, choking on his breath.
"Mr Crabbe?"
The face was familiar, even in at a distance, even in the gloom. The same wide flatness of his son, the cropped hair and short stubble that Draco recalled from his childhood. It hurt, more than he could say, that this man, this familiar man whom he had known for so long, would rain down magical assault upon him without a second thought.
He was distracted. That was the main reason he forgot to reaffirm his shield. That, and his wand arm felt jarringly immobilised. It was only when a burst of redness sprung from the woman's wand and soared like a falcon towards him that he recalled the gravity of his situation. He raised his arm protectively against the spell -
- too slow -
- flinched, and stumbled backwards as the sparks collided with a thick, translucent shield. Like a firework, the redness pooled in the darkness of the night in an explosion of colours.
A firm grasp latched onto Draco's forearm, catching him as he fought to regain his footing. He spun wildly to face Harry, who met his eyes with his own, widened with terror.
"D-Draco?! Are you alright? You're not –"
Glancing between the shield and Harry, the firework fading from its trembling surface, understanding dawned. "Harry, you...?"
"Are you hurt? What happened, did something hit you? I didn't see." Harry's voice cracked, pitched thin and high with worry.
Fumbling to grasp his fingers in reassurance, Draco shook his head hastily. "I'm fine, I- I was just… just distracted." His own voice caught on the word as he glanced towards Mr Crabbe. The shock had retreated but the pain still held. "Sorry."
Harry didn't get a chance to reply before another round of spells fired towards them. Draco felt him flinch into him upon contact, but otherwise the impact of the trio of spells didn't appear to have any effect. As the spells cleared, the faintly purplish shield, almost lost in the darkness of night, remained. Not a crack or dent could be seen.
It's strong, Draco thought, surprise washing away the last of his horrified shock. "How are you doing that?"
Shaking his head, Harry clutched more tightly to Draco's arm. His fingers trembled slightly. "I-I'm not sure. I just thought you were going to get hit, so somehow... I've never done that before. I didn't think I could."
Shaking his own head, Draco choked out an incredulous laugh. "Well, whatever you're doing, don't stop." And with a deep breath, Draco raised his wand to attack.
It was pure luck, really, that his spell passed through the shield. It wasn't his own shield that he would know its individual properties, and more simplistic protective charms worked both ways: while attacks couldn't penetrate, neither could they escape. But like light passing through glass, the propulsion charm speared towards the Death Eaters and struck Mr Crabbe in the chest. Draco must have put more force behind it than he realised.
Apparently comprehending the turn of events, the remaining Death Eaters shared a glance and rippled into action. Racing towards the shield, over the twenty meters between them, they were but a blur in the darkness, swathed as they were in black robes. Draco pointed his wand towards the other man, barking a hasty "Levicorpus". The attacker turned a somersault in the air before soaring into the distant sky.
Barely pausing to ensure the man's progress, Draco turned towards the woman just as she reached the shield. She was sprinting like a bounding deer, so fleet footed it was as though the heavy robes hardly impeded her. She leapt… and promptly slammed into the surface of the shield as though it were a brick wall. Reeling backwards, hood slipping off to reveal a shock of blonde hair and a nose crushed into a bloody mess, she wove dazedly for a moment before crumbling to the ground. She didn't rise again.
Draco and Harry were frozen. The lull after the fight seemed to be a cheap trick. But finally, with a ragged inhalation, Draco eased the tension from his muscles. "We..." His voice was barely a croak.
"Yeah," Harry replied. The hold he had on Draco's left arm hadn't loosened a bit.
"Your shield's physical, too?"
Harry glanced towards him, raising a questioning eyebrow. "Of course."
Of course it is. Draco shook his head. Harry didn't understand the rule of basic shield charms; that only the more complex allowed one-way magical passage, let alone providing a physical barrier too. It was almost funny. Draco had to bite back a near-hysterical outburst of laughter.
"Come on, then. Before anyone else shows up." Leading the way, Draco turned and started back onto the path to Hagrid's hut. Harry's shield still hung suspended in the air. Draco didn't question it, didn't tell him to drop it. It was miraculous that it even existed; best not to push the situation further than necessary.

They had to wade through the lake once more to access Hagrid's hut. The barrier of fire was closer to the school than it had been, but it also appeared to have died down. Not hugely, but enough to be noticeable. Draco could have attempted an Extinguishing Charm, but he didn't want to test his persisting luck. The fire danced in an oddly rhythmic dance of spits and flickers; it could have been balefyre for all he knew, which would only be exacerbated by attempts at smothering.
Plodding shivering from the lake, the sound of wet socks squelching in shoes was offset only by the chattering of teeth. Even with their Warming Charms in place, the cold could not be entirely deflected. Or maybe it was the nerves; approaching Hagrid's hut, nearing the wide pool and the curious heads of the hydra that poked over the edge and bared yellow fangs that gleamed in the firelight, Draco felt a chill run down his spine that had nothing to do with chilled feet.
"How are we even going to get that thing inside?" Draco spun frantically on the spot towards Harry. Now that they were here directly before the beast, their plan seemed decidedly less possible. Not to mention the very size of the hydra - it was at least as big as a hippogriff – Draco didn't even know if it had legs. Could a hydra even walk?
"We'll work it out," Harry replied in a small voice. He didn't sound particularly confident, though seemed slightly more so than Draco felt. "Let's just get the collar on him."
"And how do you propose we do that?" Draco wasn't sure, but he doubted the creature would turn down a meal that practically walked into its jaws. Even if said meal was a little bigger – and a little more alive – than that which it usually partook of.
Harry sucked in a shaky breath. "Um... there's fish. We could distract it?"
It seemed ludicrous. The hydra had three heads, how was feeding one of them supposed to be an adequate distraction. But even Draco had to admit that they were committed now. They were out of other options, unless seeking out Neville in the midst of the battle resounding distantly through the school was a feasible alternative. It wasn't. Draco didn't even know if Snape had relinquished his hold on the Gryffindor Golden Boy. For all he knew, the Potions Master had spirited Neville to the other side of the country. It seemed about as likely as the two of them sitting down for a civilised conversation on Parseltongue.
Even had he been tempted to suggest another option, it was too late by any consideration. Harry had finally released his tight grasp on his forearm – it felt like it had left bruises – and had dropped to his knees before what Draco spied as being his little familiar, nearly invisible in the darkness. He rose to his feet a moment later, collar loose in his hands. It looks ridiculously small to be fitting around the neck of a water-snake monster.
"It should extend its length when you're tying it on," Draco informed him, though he could hear the uncertainty in his own voice.
Harry only nodded in reply. Stepping towards the hydra's tub, he picked his way though discarded fish lying pale upon the night-blackened lawn. Within five feet of the creature, he stooped to scoop up a morsel. And was it Draco's imagination, or did it look like someone had taken a knife to the fish? What, they had to mutilate it before offering?
"Draco, I think... I need you to distract the other two heads."
What?! resounded like a gong of horror through Draco's head. "W-what? How?!'
"I don't know. Sing to them if you think that would work. Feed them, maybe? Pick up a couple of fish and throw it at them?" The faint tremor to Harry's voice indicated he was more terrified than his confident, off-hand words suggested. Very likely, considering the toothy jaws snapping quietly towards him as the hydra strained its necks in an attempt to reach the fish dangling from his hand. "I'm going to tie it around the middle head - it's supposed to be the lead, but I don't..."
Draco thought he might be sick. This was an entirely different challenge to that of facing the Death Eaters. The innate fear of a predator, of a creature larger and infinitely more deadly than himself, left him quaking pathetically in his soggy boots. The heads were twice as large as his own, wide jaws hanging open expectantly and teeth sharper than the dissecting scalpels used in potions class. It was an ugly beast; blue-green scales tinged grey in the darkness, wide blank black eyes and a leathery frill that shifted as though threatening to spread on either side of it's jaw. Yet ugly as it was, it was even more intimidating. Perhaps such was accentuated by its ugliness. If Draco had known that this was what he would be facing, he wouldn't have suggested-
No. No, if he'd known, but there was no other option, he would have taken it. Or, he'd like to think he would. For the greater good and all. He was supposed to be altruistic and 'for the Light' now, wasn't he?
Shaking himself from his semi-paralysed thoughts, Draco quickly crouched to scoop up a handful of fish himself. He shuddered at the sliminess of fish skin - there was a reason he didn't take Care of Magical Creatures class - and resolutely switched his gaze towards Harry. The other boy was watching him over his shoulder, and at Draco's setting of his shoulders nodded in his own readiness.
"Alright. Just do it quickly. Like a Band-Aid."
"Like a what? Wait, what are you going to do? You can't just waltz up to it –"
"Never mind. Throw on three, Draco." Harry stiffened in readiness, half crouching and shoulders rising in tension. "One... two... three!"
Draco was had a good throwing hand. It was probably only that which ensured the fish-bait flew anywhere near the left and right hydra heads. His heart was in his mouth and his feet already stumbling after Harry as the other boy darted towards the edge of the pool. The clap of jaws around fish and the snap of flexible bones punctuated the darkness and Draco was sure he was going to be sick, and his finger's were reaching out to grab Harry back –
The pair tumbled in a rolling heap ten feet from the edge of the pool before the hydra had even swallowed a single on of the fish. Panting, more from terror than exertion, his hands grasping Harry's shoulders, Draco engulfed him in a crushing embrace. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!"
"Give you a heart attack?" Harry muttered into his chest. His voice warbled but his hands were surprisingly steady as the clutched onto Draco's arms. "I think I just about gave myself one. But… at least it worked."
"Did it?" Draco glanced up towards the hydra, to the clicking jaws as it gnawed on the last of its treat. Around the centre neck, the feather-and-apatite collar was clasped tightly. "We did it," he breathed. "Is it working?"
Harry sat up from where he slumped against Draco, struggling slightly to gain his balance. A frown of concentration was followed a moment later by a heavy exhalation. "God, he's even harder to understand than Lyssy was at first."
"What do you mean?"
Rubbing his head as though suffering a headache, Harry squeezed his eyes shut. "He's all over the place. I can't... it's really confusing. Maybe because he's so young? Or because he's got three brains? I'm not sure. But I might be able to... Just wait a moment."
Draco watched as Harry dropped his chin, brow knitting and fingers pressing against his temples. A moment later he nodded. "Yes, yes I think I can do it. He's sporadic, hard to follow, but I think he might listen."
A hiss from the pool drew their attention. Draco felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise as he turned back towards the hydra. All three heads were cocked to the side like a dog's, to the same direction at the exact same angle. And three sets of eyes were trained directly upon them. Well, probably upon Harry, but Draco didn't like that thought anymore than he did himself being the focus of their attention.
"You think you can control it?"
Harry lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Control would suggest too much power over the situation, I think. But I can try."
Draco swallowed down the now familiar rise of nausea. "Alright. Lets get going, then. We've hardly got all night."
Which, in a situation that was now becoming all too familiar to Draco, was easier said than done. The first hurdle they encountered was actually getting the hydra out of the pool. There was no gate in the wall, not even a slightly lower portion in which the creature could have been levered over. Eventually, Draco pulled his wand out and blasted a hole in the side. Which succeeded in freeing the hydra and the entirely of the contents of the water. Warming Charm or not, there was something Draco was coming to hate about being drenched to the knees.
"Hagrid's not going to be happy you broke his pool," Harry muttered. Draco only shrugged in reply. He honestly didn't give a Niffler's arse if the gamekeeper was happy with him or not. It hardly seemed a valid concern, given their circumstances.
Next was attempting to calm the hydra enough for it to actually comprehend the basic directions Harry was attempting to convey. Draco was partially right in his suspicions; the creature didn't have legs, exactly. Something more akin to the flippers of a seal sprouted two to a side from a surprisingly bulky body, scales in thick plates of the same blue-green with a deep violet streaking its stomach. The colours, at least, were quite pretty as they glittered in the firelight. The heavy flopping and uncoordinated shuffling of attempted locomotion, however, was not.
Draco suggested a Levitation Charm. The hydra declined. His attempt to spell the creature into the air was quickly deterred when the moment its flipper-feet left the ground the hydra loosed a piercing shriek of affront that could have rivalled a banshee. Unwilling to sacrifice his eardrums or draw further unwanted attention, Draco dropped the beast immediately. After a moment of contemplation, they were forced to settle for the painstakingly slow, shuffling wriggle of the hydra's graceless land movement.
It was actually going surprisingly well - the beast was apparently a fast learner, for after a couple of minutes of helplessly pathetic flopping it actually managed a fairly decent attempt at walking – until they reached the lake. Another tidal wave of water drenched Draco and Harry from had to toe, leaving them spluttering and gasping from the cold as, with a whistle of joy, the hydra launched itself into the water.
"Great," Draco spat, shaking his hair free of water. "We've lost our bloody Parseltongue."
"Hold on a second," Harry replied, bodily shaking himself in something of a mix between a dog's shudder and a shiver of cold. "I'll try talking to him."
Draco was immeasurably glad in that moment that it was Harry linked to the young hydra and not himself. He would have likely been yelling obscenities at the vanished hydra rather than attempting to coax it as was more likely required. They were on a schedule! People were dying. They needed help; none could afford to smile and coddle the whims of a stupid water snake.
Draco's agitation grew the longer they waited, and he found himself glancing worriedly over his shoulder at the castle every few moments. What was happening in there? Distant sounds of fighting, of spells smacking stone and voices crying in triumph and despair, could still be heard faintly from across the grounds.
And here we are, waiting for a bloody hydra to get its royal arse out of the water. Pansy and Blaise were in that castle, Ron and Hermione, Neville and Ginny. Snape, too, and even those he wasn't as close to but would still regret injured; Theodore Nott, Daphne Greengrass, Gregory Goyle and... and Vincent Crabbe. Yes, even after confronting his father in what could have been a fight to his death, Draco realised he would still grieve if anything befell the boy who used to be one of his closest friends.
It likely didn't take that long at all, though Draco felt himself counting each long second as he waited. Eventually, Harry was able to entice the hydra from the water with the promise of a visit to the Chamber of Secrets.
"I told him we're going to his cousin's den. He seemed quite excited at the prospect."
Draco could believe that. If a snake could smile eagerly, jaw hanging open and fangs on display, then the hydra was grinning manically. Draco made sure that he kept his distance from the flopping, awkward creature. Harry, too; Draco wouldn't have put it past his friend to sidle up to the creature and pat it fondly on one of its ungainly necks. He didn't seem even half as concerned as he had been when locking the collar around the creature's neck. Yet to Draco, even with its uncoordinated gait and twisted, childish grin, it was still intimidating.
It was with relief that they entered the castle without approaching anyone. Still, they moved cautiously, at least until Draco had the brilliantly obvious idea to cast a Disillusionment and Muffliato Charm upon them all. Just in time, as it were, as two hallways later they froze in step when a pair of Death Eaters chased Professor Sinistra across their path. The sounds of shouting and deflected spells disappeared into the distance before either of them could urge themselves to continue.
It would have been at least an hour before they reached Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. The hydra, as it turned out, had a bit of difficulty with stairs. To be expected, Draco supposed in hindsight, but it didn't prevent him from groaning in frustration as the creature struggled up flights of stairs, heads bobbing in synchrony and tail sweeping the floor behind it in its struggle. It was almost insurmountable difficulty that Draco didn't reattempt magically lifting the creature past the numerous obstacles. He managed. Barely. For he knew that not even a Muffliato Charm could have silenced the hydra's shriek.
Draco had never been into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. The whining of a pubescent ghost had always been a bit of a deterrent. Surprisingly, it looked much like any other bathroom. There wasn't even a sobbing ghost hanging around to bombard unsuspecting sixth years and their pet hydras. Said hydra was left to revel freely on the tiled floor, almost as much as he appeared to enjoy whacking his tail into the sides of the stalls and nearly shake them from their foundations. It was like a playful puppy; a very big, very scaly and very dangerous puppy. Draco winced with every clatter of tail on wood.
"So, where is it? Where's the entrance?" He realised he probably should have worked this out beforehand too; the feeling of self-reprimand was also becoming painfully familiar this night.
Harry started towards the sink in reply. "When he was telling me about it, Neville said they went through an opening behind the sink. That he spoke at one sink in particular, and it opened. There should be some sort of mark on one of them. A 'mark of Slytherin' or something." He flinched at a rather loud bang of tail on stall door, but didn't glance over his shoulder, instead bending to peer around the faucet.
Draco stepped forward to mimic Harry in his search. It didn't take long with two sets of eyes. "Here, Harry, this should be it." The faint engraving of a snake etched into stained porcelain was cool under his fingers. "You want to call your oversized worm over?"
Harry rolled his eyes but obliged. The hydra scrambled towards them so fast that Draco barely had a moment to dive out of the way to avoid being crushed.
"Watch it!"
"Sorry."
"I wasn't actually talking to you." Draco scowled at the hydra who pointedly ignored him in favour of jabbing its blunt snouts towards the sink. A series of trills, whistles and hisses erupted around the flickering protrusion of a forked tongue. One particularly long hiss and there was a groan like old pipes flooding with water, a grate of stone on stone, and the opening to the Chamber of Secrets appeared.
It was a hole. That was it; a hole in the middle of the bathroom, surrounded by faucets. Draco barely had a chance to mentally curse his founding Head of House before the hydra, whistling and snapping its jaws in what appeared to be a victory dance, slithered forwards and threw itself down the hole. The slither of scales over slick stone walls sounded wetly with its passage, dying out to be followed moments later by a distant crunch of impact.
"And there goes our hydra. I hope we don't have to open any more doors. Do you think it's dead?"
Draco tried not to be disappointed when Harry shook his head, eyes distant. "No, he's still alive. Still going actually. Yeah, there goes another open door." He smiled nervously towards Draco. "Come on, then."
"What, you want to jump?"
"Don't we have magic, Draco?" Harry raised an eyebrow at him.
"Yes, but... it's probably quite a drop."
"Then we'll catch ourselves at the bottom."
Draco didn't have time to utter a cry of dismay as Harry took a deep breath and promptly stepped into the yawning hole. A feeble, pathetic whine passed his lips, and he scrambled to the edge. Thick blackness obscured anything below a few feet.
"Harry?!"
"It's alright. I'm alright." Harry's voice echoed, wavering, off the walls of the tunnel. "Come on, I'll catch you if you're worried."
"Catch me?" Draco muttered to himself. "Because I have so much faith in your magical abilities." He knew his own words to be a lie – sporadic as they were, when Harry wanted something, he did it – but in that moment he didn't even particularly trust his own. Which wasn't to say he didn't take his own deep breath and throw himself into the tunnel before he could talk himself out of it. And no one would know he kept his eyes firmly closed for the entire fall. It was a miracle he managed to time his Levitation spell right.
The Chamber of Secrets, if that's what it was, was certainly nothing to comment on. It put Black's house to shame in terms of griminess, and Draco was fairly certain that Black wasn't partial to collecting the bones of small, half-eaten animals. Bones which crunched beneath Draco's feet as he turned in a small circle to take in the dim room illuminated by faint, ambient light.
It was cave-like in structure, though the walls appeared too smooth to be anything but man-made. Harry stood a little way into the single tunnel branching off before them, peering through the gloom towards Draco. It was too dark to make out his expression, but the proffered hand could be made out clearly enough. Draco grasped it thankfully.
"Where did our guide go?" Draco's voice rang through the tunnel with false confidence.
Harry gestured behind him. "Well, there's only one way to go, and..." He paused for a moment, tilting his head slightly as though listening. "I think he's... yes, he's in the room with the basilisk."
"Another door? Well, I guess it's a good thing it wasn't crushed to snake-pulp on the way down." Draco paused, considering. "The basilisk is dead, isn't it? I mean, there's not some little baby basilisks slithering around, are there?"
Harry shook his head with a surety that was hard to disbelieve. "No, it's definitely dead." There was something - faint amusement? - in his tone that Draco couldn't quite grasp. He didn't comment, though, as he followed Harry's lead into the tunnel.
The carpet of bones continued the entire extent of the tunnel, up to the foot of a portal-like door that sat propped open with foreboding welcoming. Draco thought he could make out a pattern of snakes on the outside of the door and he climbed through.
The cavern inside was definitely man-made. It was illuminated by a soft, pale glow that didn't quite drive the shadows from their corners. If he were to hazard a guess, Draco would have suspected that the room in which they both stood was the actual Chamber of Secrets. It was a long hall of a room, larger than the Great Hall, with ceilings higher still. At the distant end, a grim-faced statue, large-than life, protruded half-carved from the wall, glaring at their intrusion. The pale stone glistened with dampness on every surface.
A moat-like pool of water surrounded the walls, not deep enough to reach the knees but enough to leave Draco sighing at drowning his shoes once more. His complaints dried up, however, at the sight of the hydra frolicking in the centre of the room around a twining arrangement of stones.
No, not stones. "Is that... the basilisk skeleton?"
Harry nodded hesitantly. His eyes were peeled wide open in awe. "It must have been enormous."
An apt description, Draco conceded. The hydra could have fit quite easily between the giant snake's jaws. Not that the bounding creature seemed to be fazed by the prospect. Rather the opposite, in fact. As they watched, the hydra flopped around to the skeleton's side, darted all of its heads out to grasp a single rib between its jaws, and yanked the bone loose. Draco flinched at the echoing snap.
"Lovely," he muttered in distaste. "What a way to greet a distant cousin."
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure it's dead." Draco glared at Harry who seemed to be fighting back a smile. A smile in the worst of circumstances. Incredible.
Harry ignored him. Stepping forwards, his amusement faded. "So we just take a fang? And stab the Horcrux?" His gaze dropped down to the locket's chain still wrapped around his wrist. Fingers picked at the latch for a moment before he paused. "I think this might be locked shut, too."
Draco stepped to his side, running his own nail into the groove of opening. It didn't budge. "It doesn't have a keyhole or anything. Do you think...?"
Nodding, Harry looked towards the hydra at the end of the room. It gnawed with a snick of teeth on the rib like a dog worrying a bone. "Maybe Parseltongue again?" Draco could only shrug in reply.
The hydra had made yanking the rib from the skeleton look easy. Draco found that, rather to the contrary, the basilisk's tooth was very firmly attached. His difficulty likely had as much to do with his uneasiness in touching the vessel of a deadly poison as anything. Finally, with Harry's help, they wriggled the bone loose. A hollow pop rang through the room like a burst bubble as the tooth disconnected.
Falling down onto his knees on the ground, Harry splayed his hands either side of the locket. Draco similarly dropped to his knees beside him, the tooth hefted high in his hand. They met eyes nervously over the glittering gold jewellery, the ornate snake seeming to writhe upon its surface.
"Whenever you're ready," Draco murmured.
Jerking his head in a nod, Harry cast a glance over his shoulder at the hydra. The creature froze in its gnawing as though poked into attentiveness and slowly shifted all eyes towards them. It was disconcerting to watch the paddling propulsion of the snake-like beast across the floor. It seemed to move more easily on the wet stone.
Barely three feet away, it paused, beady black eyes flicking between Harry and the locket. Harry swallowed audibly, then, maintaining eye contact, tapped the floor beside the Horcrux deliberately with his forefinger. The soft rap of nails on stone set Draco's teeth on edge.
But it worked, whatever communication it was. A moment later, a synchronous hiss slithered from the hydra's three heads, tongues darting out to taste the air and ringing with command. Flicking his eyes down to the locket, Draco just had time to glimpse the locket window flip open before he was nearly thrown across the room.
It was like a physical blow.
A hurricane.
An assault of enraged storm sprites.
The explosive wind that seemed to come directly from the Horcrux scattered droplets of water from the floor, the walls, the moat. With a roaring crash, it with swept up with gale-like gale force, thrown spinning around the room. Dropping to the floor, Draco squinted his eyes, hunching his shoulders from the vicious bite of icy water. It speared like spat projectiles, striking at any bared skin.
Peering through the visible tears of wind, he could just make out Harry similarly pressed to the ground. The hydra appeared to have fled; it was nowhere in sight. The rush of the wind throughout the cavern howled like a caged beast. In it's fury, it sucked the moat into the air in a glistening waterfall that curtained the walls. As he watched, imprisoned to the floor, it snuck watery digits across the roof, enclosing the chamber in a dome of water. The biting chill of the cocoon struck Draco to his bones.
And at the very centre of it all, the locket spewed forth wisps of ghostly light. Like wraiths, tendrils of pale ribbon clawed from miniscule, gaping window, tumbling drunkenly to the floor and pooling in a fog of blinding brightness.
Draco was captivated. Though crushed to the ground by the vicious grasp of the wind, he managed to tilt his head up just high enough to make out the morphing shapes of the light. And those shapes, impossibly solid wind, drew his breath away. He knew what he should be doing – he did recall the reason for penetrating the depths of the Chamber of Secrets – yet he was spellbound.
For from the fluid lines of light, quite unshaken by the force of the surrounding wind, was his father. Draco would recognise the man anywhere, even afforded but a glimpse. He had more than a glimpse now. Though ghost-like in pallor, monochromatically clad in grey robes, Lucius Malfoy's face was unforgettable.
"What are you doing, boy?"
The voice was cold, clipped. It sent a shiver through Draco's shoulders. Opening his mouth to speak, his uttered barely a mew before his father continued.
"Is this what I taught you? How I raised you? Are you a fool, boy?"
Draco was at a loss. The icy tones of Lucius' voice struck him like a physical blow, but worse than that, it was familiar. The tones of carefully considered anger, of deep disappointment. He'd heard it before in his childhood, though rarely, and it had left him aching with shame each time.
Urging his voice into action, Draco uttered a feeble query. "What do you mean?"
"The man who killed me, Draco. Why do you fight him?"
"What do you -? He killed you, of course I'm going to –"
"Then you are a fool. Foolish, ignorant, mindless." At each word, Draco flinched further from his father's gaze. "You should have learned from my sacrifice. Learned where your loyalties should have lain."
"But he killed you, Father," Draco whispered, his voice barely audible. "How could I ever -?"
"Idiot boy. It is because of the very nature of my death that you should have sought sanctuary with the stronger side. And now? Who will protect you? Who will save you?" The sneer in his father's voice was all too familiar; Draco had seen it time and time before, though never directed towards him. Never. And he'd never wanted it to be. "The old man is dead. The Order will follow him shortly after. The side of the Light shall fall this very night. And what do you do? You strive to blatantly show your loyalty."
Draco squeezed his eyes shut at the hissing tone. The wind grazed his face painfully, splattering wetness across his cheeks. It was only when he registered faint warmth on his icy skin that he realised tears had joined to coldness.
"I'm sorry, Father. I'm sorry, I didn't mean –"
"Foolish child. I was naive to think I had taught you well. Who could claim the name Malfoy when they fail to understand the basics of self-preservation?"
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."
From the corner of his downcast eyes, Draco could see the pale figure of his father step slowly towards him. The snake-head cane, that familiar length of ebony wood that Lucius had discarded but months before, swung before him like a baton. The wailing wind seemed to cry a warning.
He knew this. Draco recalled this. He'd been struck by his father before, by that thin rod of dark wood. Never anything lasting, and only once or twice, but the memory was still strong. It had never really hurt, but the fear still remained. The fear of the knowledge of his father's disappointment. Always, always...
"...co... Draco, please... listen to me!"
The faint cry was nearly lost in the wind, but somehow it still made it to Draco's ears. Blinking through the film of tears, squinting past the approaching figure of his father, Draco could just make out the prone form of Harry on the other side of the locket. Matted braid drenched, the glasses fallen from his face. His cheeks were nearly as pale as Draco's father's. He squinted towards Draco through the visible ribbons of wind, teeth clenched in something like a snarl and eyes pleading.
"...please..."
In that moment, reason seemed to settle it's sturdy fingers upon the world once more. The figure of Lucius still strode towards him, but Draco could perceive it for what it was. He should have known, as soon as the apparition had raised its cane. His father had never struck him in disappointment, not truly. The stinging reprimands had been when the man was near frantic with fear, fear for the welfare of a son who had strayed from safety.
Tears continued to blur Draco's eyes, stinging in the whipping wind. Yet even so, he fastened his grip upon the tooth in his hand and lurched into motion. Tumbled through the ghost of his father, through the force of the clawing gale, and with a swing of his arm he smashed the sharpened bone into the locket.
The sound of a thousand mirrors shattering ruptured into the air. An impossible force gripped Draco thrusting hand, urging him to release the tooth, but he kept on, leaning into the stab. A wail like a dying scream gurgled from the pierced window, enduring and without breath. On, and on, and on. Until finally, with an audible sigh, everything stopped.
The wind dropped. The pressure on Draco's wrist released, nearly causing him to fall flat on his face. And overhead, the dome of water lost its tension and crashed down. Right onto Draco's head.
It was like submerging into the Black Lake in the middle of winter. The air rushed from Draco's lungs as the waterfall attempted to drown him, before coursing over him and tumbling to the floor an instant later. Swaying, unbalanced Draco blinked the water from his eyes gasping in heavy pants, and struggled to raise his head towards Harry.
The other boy looked like a mess on hands and knees in the middle of the floor. He'd gotten as drowned as Draco, and looked to be garbed in a sodden costume of dripping jeans and sagging jumper. His fringe nearly covered his entire face, slapping limply against his forehead as frozen finger flipped it from his eyes. They peered widely at Draco, his mouth opened in a small 'O' of surprise.
It was comical, really. Harry's expression, the sudden downpour - even if it did mean Draco had to resign himself to the inevitability of being uncomfortably wet for the third time in as many hours. It all seemed to hit him in a wave of hysterical giggles, and before he knew it, Draco was gasping on his knees, forehead dropped to the ground, shaking in unsuppressed laughter.
It was almost as much coughing as chuckling, but Draco hardly cared. They'd destroyed the locket; they'd actually done it. And except for being a little more bedraggled than before, they'd survived none the worse for wear. It seemed impossible, a miracle. The relief was so encompassing that he couldn't contain his laughter even if he'd wanted to.
And in the brief pause, when gasping for breath, he heard it. An echo to his laughter, equally breathy and tinged with hysteria. Glancing towards Harry, for the first time ever he watched as the other boy trembled in a fit of laughter. He actually laughed. Full body, uncontrollable giggles, struggling for breath as he fought the tides of amusement spreading visibly across his face. And sodden and exhausted though he was, Draco had never seen anything more beautiful in his life.
Draco was across the room before he was aware of it, dragging Harry into his arms. Wrapping his arms around Harry's shoulders, Draco tugged him towards himself and drowned him in a kiss of utter adoration.
They'd been struggling for breath before; perhaps such a devouring exchange was not the most well-thought out response Draco could have had. Gasping at each other's breathe, near frantic as they clasped hands to shoulders, fingers clawing desperately as they struggling to draw each other closer. Yet even as they gasped against each other's lips, tongues pressed together and coiling in a frantic dance, teeth clicking and sucking, Draco wouldn't have stopped for the world.
When they finally broke apart, Draco slumped against Harry as much as Harry grasped at him to remain upright. They sagged in weary release, cheek to cheek, panting in tandem and nearly sinking into puddles of exhaustion. And could have stayed there, shivering slightly, holding one another, for the rest of the night, had they not been interrupted.
A horrifying, repulsive interruption.
If Draco were to describe it, he would have said that the voice that seeped into his thoughts was like oil; smooth and thick and pungent, pervading every corner of his mind. A convulsive tremor shook him as each word.
"I know that you are preparing to fight.
"Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood.
"Give me Neville Longbottom, and none shall be harmed.
"Give me Neville Longbottom, and I shall leave the school untouched.
"Give me Neville Longbottom, and you will be rewarded.
"You have until midnight."
At some point, Draco and Harry had pulled away from each other. Just slightly, just enough to lock eyes. All trace of laughter had disappeared. Draco didn't think he could have uttered a gasp of amusement had he wanted to.
And he certainly didn't want to. Laughter was about the furthest thing from his mind.
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The Masks of Real Heroes