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The Drawing Room	By : Lindsay Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 1617 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor do I make any money from writing this story.

Chapter List
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It took Harry nearly twice as long to remove the wards protecting the other half of the hallway. By the end of the day Harry had been exhausted but still unable to penetrate Lucius’ office. He had even been through and deactivated all the wards in the Malfoy’s master suite including the well hidden room-sized safe housing shelves of fine jewelry and family heirlooms. Even with Hermione’s help they couldn’t determine how to break the wards; she was presently trying to figure out exactly what types of wards they were. Harry was hoping that once they knew which spells to use it would be easy but a flicker of doubt lived in the back of his mind.
The wards surrounding Lucius Malfoy’s office were of a variety never before seen by either Harry or Hermione. The wards didn’t seem particularly light or dark but a sinister feeling crept over Harry any time he got too close. He had tried a few revealing spells and had then tried to break the wards but he was met with resistance in the form of pain. His spells had rebounded and changed; obviously meant to maim anyone trying to break the wards. He had dodged most of the curses but the actual act of casting the spells had left Harry’s hands blistered and burned.
Upon learning this Hermione immediately made him stop and go home. She had met him at Number 12 Grimmauld Place even though it was past one in the morning and they were both exhausted. She had examined and healed his hands and only stuck around long enough for them to work out a plan for the next day.
While Hermione was researching the wards Harry was going to work on the drawing room. Hermione was convinced that the same spells protecting Lucius office were also protecting the drawing room but they had to be sure in order to move forward. Hermione had a suspicion about the type of wards they were but she didn’t want to say anything until she was sure. All she had told Harry was to be careful and to not be late for Kingsley’s meeting that afternoon. They’d said goodnight and Harry had promptly fallen asleep in an old dusty chair in the corner of the kitchen.
When Harry woke the sun was just rising and he was stiff and feeling un-rested from passing out in the chair. He made tea but didn’t waste time eating before wrapping his hand around the portkey and arriving at Malfoy Manor. It was only after he’d arrived that he realized he’d forgotten his walk-e-talkie but he figured he could just talk to Hermione at their meeting later.
It was raining heavily in Wiltshire and occasionally a loud crack of thunder ripped through the Manor, followed by the flash of lightning. Harry took it in stride though, feeling that the storm provided the perfect ambiance for what he was doing that day. Harry immediately set to work removing the wards protecting the second staircase at the back of the manor. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get into the drawing room yet so he figured he may as well make some progress elsewhere.
The staircase had been far less warded than the main one off of the entrance hall but Harry still managed to trip one of the wards before getting zapped by a mild shocking spell. The spell wasn’t powerful but it still caused Harry to nearly fall down the stairs. He’d planned to continue to the top and start on the hallway but after the shock he figured it’d be better to work on the drawing room as planned before he really maimed himself.
The drawing room was down a short corridor off of the main entrance hall. Harry had already swept the corridor for wards but as he got closer to the massive oak double doors of the last room Voldemort inhabited he could feel the thrum of magic reverberating in his bones. Harry stood at the beginning of the corridor and let off a few basic revealing spells. The spells didn’t reveal anything but they also didn’t deflect back at them the way they had with Lucius office.
Harry moved on and tried a series of increasingly complicated revelation and unlocking spells but still nothing happened. He even tried Specialis Revelio but to no avail. He shot a Reducto at the door and for the first time the spell rebounded on him; almost as if the door was protecting itself. Harry managed to get out of the way as a Expulso-like curse hurtled passed him and exploded the wall beside him; the force of it sending Harry hurtling backwards until he slammed against the marble floor.
He groaned as he stiffly climbed to his feet; he wasn’t injured but he was still sore from the force of the explosion. He quickly repaired the wall, covering up the damage the curse had caused, before turning back towards the large double-doors. Harry was truly perplexed – he’d never encountered anything like this before in any of the other Death Eater homes. These weren’t simple locking charms or protection wards; no, this was an entirely different type of magic.
Harry decided to take a break; it was only noon and his appointment wasn’t for hours. He walked back through the entrance hall and grabbed Malfoy’s journal on his way into an elaborately decorated sitting room directly off of the main hallway. Harry settled into a chair so big it may very well have been a throne. The room was decorated in rich blues and regal purples and gold which shone on every surface; be it candlesticks or fine embroidered tapestries. The grandeur of the manor rivaled anything Harry had ever seen before and aside from its dark past it was a rich archive of magical history.
Harry flipped the journal open to the last entry he had read, where Malfoy had talked about his fear over receiving the mark and his orders to kill Dumbledore. The entry had shaken him more than he’d like to admit, but after reading Malfoy’s previous cocky entries about his bastardly behaviour at Hogwarts that entry showed him a glimpse of Malfoy that he had never revealed to Harry during their time together at school; a vulnerability that could only be witnessed by reading Draco’s private journal.
Most of the following entries were more rambling about school and Hogwarts but there was enough in between to pique Harry’s interest. Two particular entries, one mentioning Harry himself, seemed monumentally surprising and telling to Harry as he read the journal. The first:

He makes me hurt them. If I don’t he enters my head – I can resist him but the punishment for that is even more fierce. I can’t look at him and I can’t say his name but no one can. The Death Eaters are afraid of him. I’ve heard Potter say his name but I’m sure he’s petrified too –everyone is. I can’t disobey or he’ll kill me but I can’t keep hurting them and I can’t hide the fear when he invades my thoughts.
I’ve been taught to brew Wolfsbane for the werewolf. My advanced superiority at potions making will hopefully solidify my usefulness to the Dark Lord and help to keep Mother and Father safe.

Harry blinked at the pages, Malfoy’s elegant quill strokes painting a macabre picture of his life as one of Voldemort’s minions. The following five pages detailed the ingredients and complicated brewing instructions for the Wolfsbane potion. The entry was both fearful and flippant and Harry had a hard time trying to imagine the state of mind Malfoy must have been in – talking about Voldemort using Legillemis on him and then casually mentioning the Wolfsbane at the end. The next entry was much clearer with fear and a determined resignation practically oozing off the page; it read:

I have to lead them into the drawing room even though I know what will happen. Like bringing lambs to the slaughter – that’s a muggle phrase. Sometimes he wants me to torture them with Crucio before he kills them. I haven’t killed yet and the Dark Lord is very displeased about Dumbledore. I couldn’t exactly explain why I couldn’t do it even when I was suffering from the Cruciatus curse myself. He couldn’t see with legilimens either because I fought him; he’s terrible at Occlumency. I don’t think he’ll try it again; I’ve been loyal and so have my parents. I don’t think this can end well for any of us but I’ll take my own life before he gets his chance.

Harry re-read the entry several times, all the while trying to piece together Malfoy’s discombobulated tale of events. In the prior entry he said he couldn’t resist Voldemort from entering his mind but in the next he clearly states that he did that very thing. It seemed like Dumbledore’s death took place between the two entries and it was easy to speculate that Malfoy was mildly traumatized but maybe he was also inspired and that was why he suddenly had the nerve to fight Voldemort from his mind. Maybe he was afraid that Voldemort would see that Malfoy was never capable of killing Dumbledore. Harry was there, after all, and he’d seen for himself the terrified expression on Malfoy’s face and the tremble in his wand hand.
Harry wasn’t surprised that Malfoy was tortured by Voldemort – from what he’d heard most of his supporters had been. He wasn’t even surprised that Malfoy had to torture others in return but Harry was surprised that Voldemort hadn’t killed Malfoy when he used Occlumency against him. Harry didn’t even know how Malfoy knew Occlumency and didn’t have the slightest idea of who might have taught him. If anything the journal had only further complicated Harry’s whole purpose of being at the manor as it was a constant distraction.
At that thought Harry abruptly stood from the throne-like chair before striding across the room and back into the entrance hall where he dropped Malfoy’s journal onto a small table before heading back to the drawing room doors with a renewed determination. Harry stood staring at the door for a long while; running through all the spells he hadn’t used to open it and finding that there wasn’t much he hadn’t tried. As a last effort Harry raised his wand and shouted a simple ‘Finite Incantatem’ at the door.
As suddenly as the words had left his mouth Harry was falling. It felt like he fell for hours before finally hitting something solid. His eyes were heavy and refused to open; his limbs like molten lead before everything started to go black. He tried to fight it but eventually Harry gave in to unconsciousness. For a long time he felt nothing and saw only inky blackness before eventually he stirred and splotches of white invaded his vision so suddenly that a sickening dizziness swept over him.
Harry sat up slowly, the hallway spun slightly before coming back into focus. He let out a small groan that was impossible to suppress as his head pounded savagely. He felt around for a moment before finding his glasses nearby and unbroken on the marble floor. He slipped them on before slowly climbing to his feet on shaking legs. There was a small red smear on the white marble and when Harry felt around his head he realized he had dried blood in his hair. It seemed the simple spell had knocked him unconscious but otherwise he seemed unhurt aside from the throbbing pain in the back of his head. The door to the drawing room remained stubbornly closed and Harry glowered at it.
He immediately transfigured a vase into a clock and upon realizing that it was 3:52 Harry’s eyes immediately darted around looking for his portkey. It was exactly where he’d left it on a small side table sitting next to Malfoy’s journal. He grasped both items before feeling a tug in his navel. He squeezed his eyes shut and before he knew it he was at Number 2 Grimmauld Place. Harry didn’t waste any time changing out of his muggle clothes as he immediately crossed to his fireplace and floo’d to the Ministry of Magic.
He had barely stepped out of the fireplace before Hermione was at his side, quickly leading him away from the floo room and down a seemingly random hallway. Even though she was pregnant, her stride was quick and determined.
“Where on earth have you been, Harry?” she finally asked after dragging him up and down endless corridors and through various departments. “I couldn’t get a hold of you on the walk-e-talkee so I floo’d to your house but you weren’t there. I was so worried. About you, I meant, not the appointment,” she looked at him closely for the first time, “Is something wrong?”
“No, everything’s fine,” Harry assured her, “I just lost track of time, Hermione, that’s all; no need to worry,” he placated but she was still looking at him suspiciously.
“Well you don’t look fine,” she informed him before quickly checking his forehead and neck for any sign of fever and examined his face carefully before sighing in defeat. “Did you find anything?”
“Not really,” he admitted, deciding he could tell her about the journal later, “The door to the drawing room is practically impenetrable. Any spells I used were absorbed or had no effect aside from a Reducto and Finite Incantum nothing rebounded like it had when I tried to get into Lucius office.” He gave her a brief run-down and although he left most details out she was nodding her head eagerly like I was helping her to confirm something. “You figured it out, didn’t you?”
“Maybe, but I’ll explain in a moment – we’re here,” she replied vaguely and sure enough they were standing outside Shacklebolt’s office. Harry glanced around, completely confused about how they had gotten there so quickly. Before he could think any further on it Hermione had pulled the door open and Harry followed her into the office.
“Sorry we’re late Vanessa, may we go in?” Hermione said politely as we passed the reception desk. Vanessa, Harry thought, trying to imprint the name in his brain so that he wouldn’t forget again. Vanessa waved them through and they entered Shacklebolt’s office without knocking. He looked up and smiled as they entered before standing and shaking their hands and gesturing for them to sit.
“Good to see you Kingsley,” Harry greeted once they were all sitting.
“Ah yes, I am eager to hear about the progress you’ve made,” he responded warmly but a quick glance at the clock that Harry knew was behind them above the door revealed that Kingsley was busy today and would soon be expecting another appointment. “Please, a brief recollection will suffice.”
“Of course Minister, I’m sure you’re on a very tight schedule and we apologize for being late,” Hermione said, continuing before Kingsley had a chance to respond, “Harry has made significant progress at Malfoy Manor. The majority of the wards have been dismantled with little difficulty and most of the remaining wards should be just as easy to clear.”
“Excellent! Although….might I sense you are omitting something in you’re response Mrs. Weasley?” Kingsley prodded, looking at them both expectantly. “Is there a problem?”
“There are two rooms I can’t get into so far. The rest of the wards are fairly easy to break but there are many and it’s time-consuming,” Harry replied honestly. “The Drawing Room and Lucius office both seem to be protected by some kind of old magic that I cant even touch,” he admitted while sparing a glance at Hermione who was practically bouncing on her chair.
“I think I know what it is!” she exclaimed excitedly before Kingsley could respond.
“Well? What is it?” Kingsley asked urgently. Harry also leaned forward expectantly.
“I believe it is blood magic of a very ancient kind. I can’t find an exact example of it being used to ward something but they’re mentions of pure-blood families creating their own spells and charms using blood magic that reacts specifically to someone from the same blood-line,” she said it in a rush but was met by a long beat of silence as Harry exchanged a worried look with Kingsley.
“That’s terrible Hermione! That means we’d need a Malfoy to break the wards,” Harry finally said, not fully appreciating her excitement.
“Well….yes, but at least we know how to break them now,” she replied defensively.
“We can’t just release someone from Azkaban before their sentence is up. Malfoy is the only one left in the bloodline and he was given a life sentence,” Harry offered up the cold facts as a look of defeat settled over his features. Hermione looked sympathetic but Kingsley was clearly thinking strategy as his eyes had clouded slightly in thought.
“That’s not true,” he said cryptically.
“Minister?”
“Draco Malfoy isn’t in Azkaban. He’s been in the closed ward of St. Mungo’s for the past few years,” Kingsley supplied, and a feeling of dread settled over Harry.
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The Drawing Room