Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Darkness Within The Light	By : crimson96 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 8759 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 36
- 37
- 38
Chapter 37: Better For Myself
The yellow duck bobbed up and down on the water, sending out tiny ripples. Several larger waves crashed into the duck, wetting the orange bill and briefly submerging it. The duck followed the course of the waves until it brushed against the side of the yellow bathtub, floating and waiting for the attention that would soon come its way.
Small fingers grasped the toy, pulling it back through the water, squeezing hard enough to elicit a squeak. The child forced the toy under the water, released it, and laughed, delighted as it sprang back to the surface and righted itself. Still laughing, he tossed the duck into the air. It splashed back into the water, head first with another soft squeak before rolling onto its side and coming to rest on top of the water once more.
“Ok, that’s enough playtime for you, young man,” the woman's voice came from above. “My goodness, just look at this mess you’ve made. Water's everywhere in here.”
“Waaver, waaver,” repeated the small child.
“Yes, waaver!” She replied cupping a large handful of water and tossing it above the child’s head, causing him to roar with laughter and flail his arms as the water cascaded over him.
The child looked up into the woman’s almond-shaped green eyes and smiled. He raised his finger and pointed at the yellow wall behind her. “Buvverflies, mommy!”
Smiling, she turned and gazed at the colorful butterflies that were painted on the bathroom wall. “Yes, I know,” she replied, looking back at the child. “Aren’t they beautiful?”
“Boovviful!” The boy said as he stood up in the tub, allowing his mother to wrap him in a large white towel. “I wove you, mommy!”
The woman dabbed at the corner of her eyes with the edge of the towel, before slowly pressing her lips to the child’s forehead, then touching her son’s nose with her own. “And I love you, Jamie.”
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A lone seagull floated overhead in the warm breeze while the sound of the crashing sea and the smell of saltwater filled his senses. He gazed up at the gull and marveled at the animal as it hovered in place, seemingly by magic. Waves lapped at his feet, sometimes rising as high as his ankles before he darted away, shivering from the chill of the water.   The girl's hand was warm in his, although her golden arms had gooseflesh from the wind. Every time he edged toward the dry sand, she pulled him back toward the wet, laughing. "It's too cold," he protested.
"I'll warm you up, then!" Her arms snaked around him, and now her hands were on his back. Her body was warm under the damp fabric of her swimsuit, and her hard nipples pressed against his chest.
"We shouldn't--"
He tried to finish his sentence but couldn't, not with her mouth on his. His mind raced, searching for the reason they should stop, and at the same time, his hands roamed, finding all of the places he had always wanted to touch. He could hear footsteps behind them, the wet slapping of bare feet on sand. Even then, he couldn't stop; it was as if some compulsion spell gripped him.
She stepped back, pushing his chest with her hands to break free of him, and he turned to see what had caught her attention. At the sight of the dark-haired boy, he stepped back, putting the girl between them so that her body hid the evidence of his excitement. The boy would be jealous. She belonged to him; they had grown up together. For sixteen years it had been the two of them.
"We were just--" he began, but the boy cut him off.
"I know." The boy made a rude gesture with his left hand and the index finger of his right.
Giggling, the girl stepped behind him and pushed him toward the boy. He expected to be hit or tossed into the cold ocean, but instead he was enveloped by their two warm bodies. A set of lips fluttered on the back of his neck while another mouth covered his with a hard kiss. The girl’s hands were on his, guiding them until he felt something hard and hot beneath the fabric of the boy’s trunks. The waves were up to his knees now, and he didn’t care, any more than he cared about the ocean spray misting his face and body.
"Anna, Gabriel…"
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Harry gasped for breath as he awoke; his eyes scanned the surroundings while the memories of the dream faded away. A small cry came from his right.
“Oh, Harry, I’m sorry if I woke you up, but you startled me,” Hermione said as she balanced a bowl in her hand and lightly dabbed Janus’s forehead with a white cloth. “I tried not to get any water on you, but I’m afraid I may have accidentally splashed a few drops on your face while you were sleeping.”
Without thinking, Harry wiped at the small drops of water that were sliding down his cheek. “That’s alright, Hermione. How long have I been asleep?” he asked, releasing Janus’ grip from his right hand and straightening his crooked glasses.
“All night, I suppose,” she answered, casting a weary glance at him, before continuing her work. “Ron and I arrived early this morning, and I made a potion that Molly said might help, but…" Hermione’s words trailed off. “Harry?”
“Sorry, Hermione.” Harry flashed a quick smile at her. “Just thinking about what I was dreaming.”
“Good dreams?” She asked, wetting the cloth again. The water in the bowl splashed against the sides like a toddler's bath water, like ocean waves.
Harry flushed. "Yeah. You could say that, but…"
"But what?" she prompted.
He glanced at Janus' face. The man's eyes moved behind their lids, and the corners of his mouth twitched. "I don't think they were my dreams."
Hermione set the bowl and cloth down on the bedside table. She bit her bottom lip before asking, “Harry, this wasn’t like before, was it? Like the dreams that you had with Voldemort?”
A soft knock came from the bedroom door as Ron entered the room. “Morning Harry. Morning, ‘Mione. I thought we all could use a cup of tea this morning, so I’ve got a kettle going in the kitchen. It won’t be Mum’s tea, but, well, I just thought it would help.”
Hermione walked over and kissed him on the cheek, causing his face to match the color of his ginger hair.
“Thanks, Ron,” Harry said as he stretched and massaged the back of his own neck. “How is he, Hermione?”
She winced. “He doesn’t look good, Harry. His face is burning up and the wounds…” She pulled the sheet down to Janus’ navel, baring an expanse of angry red. The skin near his collar bones looked puffy, as if something were inside and trying to push its way out. The smell wafting from the injury reminded Harry of Kreacher’s corpse. “Some of the wounds are septic,” Hermione finished. “We should check the rest.” She began to pull the sheet further down.
“’Mione, please! I don’t need to see his…his...well, you know, his stuff!” Ron exclaimed.
“Ronald Billius!” She rounded, letting the sheet fall down. “He’s not naked!”
“Yeah, but…you know!” Ron stumbled.
“I know what, Ronald?” Hermione asked, slowly placing her hands upon her hips.
“Nothing…nothing, ‘Mione. I think I’ll go and check on the tea, yeah?” Ron said, backing away from Hermione.
“Yes, Ron, I think you should.” Hermione watched as he walked to the door while Harry tried to hide his smirk. “What?" Hermione asked as she spotted Harry’s face after Ron had closed the door.
“You two are perfect for one another,” Harry replied shaking his head.
Hermione huffed as she placed her hand on Janus’ forehead. “I swear sometimes Ron’s emotional range isn’t the only thing that's the size of a teaspoon. Some days it’s his brain!”
“Come on, Hermione, that’s cold!” Harry said. “And besides, you two love each other.”
“Which gives me every right to say that about him. Sometimes everything is a big joke to him. As if I would honestly be fascinated by seeing Janus naked. I'm doing what I have to do to try and help mend him.” She bit her lower lip again, lowered the sheet, and took a bottle of dittany from the night table. With slow, careful motions, she began spreading the liquid on Janus' inflamed flesh. “Now, you were saying about this dream?”
“Oh, right,” Harry muttered, coming out of his daze of watching Hermione work. “No, it wasn’t like anything before. I think they were Janus' dreams.”
“Janus?” Hermione asked. “But how? And why?"
“Tea’s here!” Ron’s voice came from the door before Harry could answer. Ron pushed the door open with his foot and walked into the bedroom holding a wooden tray. “I brought milk, cream, spoons, sugar--"
“Not now, Ron!” Hermione hissed. “Harry was just about to tell me about his dream.”
“Oh!” Ron exclaimed as his face beamed. He set the tray down on the dresser. “This should be wicked fun then, knowing what Harry’s dreams were always like before. Was it You-Know-Who again?”
“No, it wasn’t, Ronald!” Hermione shouted slapping the wet cloth across Ron’s arm and chest. “Not another word, alright?”
“Well, as I told Hermione, I think it was Janus’ dream,” Harry began. “When I fell asleep, I was holding his hand.”
“Better not let Malfoy hear you saying this, Harry, or he’ll blow his lid. You know he’s the jealous type,” Ron said as he sat down next to Hermione. “Oww! ‘Mione stop hitting me with that wet towel! It stings!”
“Honestly, Ron? The jealous type? As if you’re not describing yourself. Just a minute ago you were jealous of me lifting the sheet up and seeing another man’s pants. Now, will you hush and let Harry finish?”
Harry pretended to scratch his nose in an effort to hide the smile on his face. “Right…well, in the dream I saw a woman and a boy in a bathtub.”
“I was right, mate! You’d better not let Malfoy hear you talk about your naked dreams of boys in tubs!”
“Oh!” Hermione said, rolling her eyes and shoving Ron out of his chair. “Honestly, Ronald Weasley, today your brain is no smarter than a rock!”
Ron smiled as he got up and sat in the chair. “Yeah, but you still love it!” He quickly kissed her on the cheek. "Don't you?" He cleared his throat and motioned for Harry to continue.
“Well, the woman wasn’t naked, Ron, but I think what I dreamed was Janus as a small child. And the woman in the dream was his mum. It was peaceful, and filled with happiness. It’s the kind of moment that I wish I could have shared with my mum.”
“Why do you think--" Hermione began.
“I don’t know why, Hermione.” Harry raised his hand up and stopped her question. Silence filled the room as a single bird began to sing outside the bedroom window.
“Harry?” Hermione cautiously asked after a long, quiet moment had passed. “Is there something else?”
Harry stirred from his thoughts. “Yes.” He stretched his neck, popping the muscles before he began. “There was another dream. I saw a beach, and the ocean.”
“This sounds promising!” Ron interrupted. Hermione backhanded him across his chest to silence him.
“I was with—he was with—a girl and a boy. They were—’’ Harry shook his head, flustered. The tips of his ears were burning as he remembered the dream. It had been more vivid than a dream should ever be. Harry could still feel the softness of Anna’s body and the hardness of Gabriel's, and he could still smell the sea air and taste the spray of salt on Gabriel’s lips.
“They were what, Harry?” Hermione whispered.
“I think it was the first time Janus was with both of them. They were…" he fumbled for a word before settling on "lovers". That made Ron snicker, and Hermione's nose wrinkled for a moment before she forced her face to neutrality.
“Oh." Hermione said softly, glancing down at Janus and then up at Harry.
“Wow! That was pretty wild then, eh?” Ron asked. "I mean how the three of them could…I mean two of them would have to have been…And you were watching while they…" he stopped before finishing his statement. Ron's ears burned as he blushed.
“No,” Harry answered, still gazing into space. “It wasn't as if I were there watching. I was feeing it, experiencing it, through his eyes, and he was happy. It was a good memory. But, why would he want to show me this?”
Several more seconds of silence passed between them. “I got it!” Ron shouted, bringing his gaze up from the floor.
“Ron, please not another joke. This isn’t the time or place,” Hermione pleaded.
“No, no, it’s nothing like that, ‘Mione!” Ron stood up and paced back and forth across the room, his face brightly burning with the answer. “Don’t you see? It’s a connection. A link!”
“Of course, you're right, Ron! I think it would be best if Harry just--’’
“Just what, Hermione? Block it out with Occlumency? This isn’t You-Know-Who that we’re talking about here. Mum always said you had to take the good dreams with the bad ones. Maybe this is Janus’ way of sharing things with Harry, just in case he doesn’t make it. I mean he isn’t exactly able to draw a memory from his brain right now, is he?”
“That’s ridiculous!” Harry snapped. “Of course Janus is going to make it!” He looked to Hermione, hoping to hear her agree with him. When she remained silent, he prompted, “Well?”
“I—I don’t know.” She shook her head and gestured to the swollen chest wounds. “I think the wounds may have been contaminated when I closed them. We should have taken him to Saint Mungos! It may be too late now.”
“Then you think the dreams are what? His legacy?” Harry asked.
“Perhaps.” Hermione shrugged. “Ron, I’m sorry. You may be right.”
Harry stood up, turning over his chair, and Hermione pulled back the sheet. “You see some of his wounds; the more severe ones appear to be infected," she said as Harry looked over her shoulder. “I thought that I had treated them properly.”
Harry’s stomach lurched from the smell of the infection, and his head reeled as he tried to grasp the idea that Janus may be dying. I thought I was through with loss. “Please Hermione; you have to do something for him.”
“I’ve done all that I know how to. This is beyond my limits, but I have an idea of who can help.”
“Who?” Harry and Ron asked together.
“No time to explain right now. I have to go to Diagon Alley and gather more supplies,” Hermione said as she whisked herself up and over to the door. “The two of you keep dabbing his wounds with the dittany. That will help for the time being. If he begins to wake up, make sure he has water to drink, along with that potion.” She pointed to a small glass that sat upon the bedside table.
Ron sniffed the glass. “Ugh, ‘Mione what is this stuff?”
“Something that will help him…I hope. And Ron, I'm sorry for what I said earlier about you. You are the smartest rock I know, sometimes even smarter than me."
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“How much longer will she be gone?” Harry asked as he looked from Janus, to Ron, and then out the bedroom window. He paced around the bed, his arms folded across his chest, while his ears were alert to the tiniest sound that came from Janus.
Since Hermione’s departure, he and Ron had alternated tending to Janus’ wounds and keeping a close watch out the window for Hermione. “I dunno. How long has she been gone now?” Ron asked while he dabbed Janus’ forehead with the cloth.
“Too long,” Harry replied.
Ron lightly touched Janus' brow with the back of his hand. “Harry! He feels warmer!”
“Just keep doing what you’re doing, Ron.” Harry turned and pressed his forehead to the window.
“Remus,” Janus rasped.
“Harry, I think he’s trying to come around!”
“Get the potion ready,” Harry replied as he moved from the window to the bed in two long strides. “Janus?”
Janus made an attempt to swallow, as a ragged breath escaped his dry lips. “Remus, I don't want to go! I can stay here. I'm not scared, I'm not…”
“He’s going on about Lupin again,” Ron said as he held the glass that contained the potion over Janus.
“Yeah, it’s probably the fever that’s causing him to talk about him. I’ll hold his head up while you gently pour some of that over his lips.” Harry cupped the back of Janus’ head and slowly lifted. “Easy, easy Ron! Try not to spill too much of it,” Harry said as Ron began to tilt the glass.
As the clear liquid flowed over his lips, Janus instinctively swallowed, causing more of the liquid to pour onto his neck, his chest, and the bed than he managed to swallow.
Harry swore as he gently allowed Janus’ head to rest back on the pillow. “Well, that worked well,” Ron shrugged.
“Neither of us are medi-witches. It’s the best that we can do. If only Hermione would get here.”
“Harry.” The soft calling of his name startled both young wizards as they looked down at the bed. Janus slowly opened his eyelids. His left hand groped in the air before latching onto Harry's sleeve and tugging feebly.
“The potion!” Ron said, “It must be working.”
“Harry,” Janus whispered.
Harry grabbed the hand and held it. “I’m here, Janus.” He felt Janus pull his hand up as if trying to reach for an invisible object hovering in mid-air.
“Don’t you see them, Harry? The butterflies. They’re so beautiful,” Janus said, his eyes rolling back into his head.
“No, Janus! Stay with me!” Harry shouted, softly grabbing Janus’ shoulder and shaking.
“Be careful, Harry! Remember his wounds!” Ron stepped closer and reached for Harry’s hands. He turned and looked to the ceiling of the bedroom. “What bloody butterflies?”
“You’re not going to die on me!” Harry cupped Janus face in both hands. The skin felt hot, slick with sweat, and rough with stubble. “You can’t. You promised to protect me, remember? You said you promised Remus and Dumbledore, too, that you would watch over me. If that was true, if any bloody thing you said was true…" He squeezed his eyes shut to fight back tears. “If you meant anything you said about us being friends, if you—if you felt anything the night you left me at the Burrow, then stay with me now!” His hands slid back to Janus’ shoulders, and he shook hard, hoping that the pain would jolt Janus’ awake. “Janus, please. I need you.”
“It’s over, Harry. He’s going,” Ron whispered as he stood behind Harry and placed his hand upon his friend’s shoulder. “Let him go.”
Harry’s head fell onto the side of Janus’ neck. The tears flowed freely now, mixing with sweat and spilled potion. Ron's hands moved on Harry's back in a pitiful attempt to soothe him.
A weak moan came from under Harry. He lifted his tear-stained face up from Janus' chest as a shallow breath escaped the man's lungs, and his eyelids fluttered until finally revealing the glossy, hazel eyes. “Gabe,” Janus croaked as his fingers slowly twirled in Harry’s hair. “Gabe, you're crying like a big pussy. What's wrong?”
“Ron! He’s alive!” Harry shouted, ignoring Janus’ question.
“And better than that, Harry, there’s Hermione!” Ron shouted as he smiled, and pointed out the window. “And she’s brought help!”
“Janus! Janus!” Harry said firmly grasping the man’s head and looking directly into his eyes. “I need for you to release the wards. Hermione has someone here that is going to help you, but you have to allow them to pass through the wards. Do you understand?”
“Wards?” Janus repeated, frowning. “Gabe, I don’t understand. Where’s Anna?” Ron opened his mouth, probably to say something snarky, but Harry silenced him with a look before turning back to Janus.
“She’s outside. You have to let her in by releasing the protective spells.” He fumbled on the night table until he found Janus’ wand and then forced the butt of it into his hand. “Yes, that’s right,” Harry continued. “She is. You have to let her through the wards. Not everyone else, just her and the person with her. Can you do that?”
Janus groaned and turned onto his side as Harry grabbed him to keep him from rolling off the bed. The hand holding the wand twitched, and Janus murmured some indistinct words before letting the wand fall to the floor. He groped for Harry’s hand, found it, and clutched it to his chest. “Gabe, my love.”
"Well?" Harry asked looking at Ron.
“They’re on the way in,” Ron sighed. “Harry, did he just call you his--’’
“Yeah, he did,” Harry answered, squeezing Janus' hand and listening to the sound of voices outside the room.
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"I must protest! This is highly irregular!” The voice came from the hallway. “Where are we? Whose home is this?”
“I’m sorry, but now is not the time for explanations,” Hermione pleaded from just outside the closed bedroom door. “I promise you I will try to explain what I can, but we need your help.”
“We?”   The older woman’s voice rose sharply. “Just who do you mean by…”
The bedroom door opened and the two stepped across the threshold. “I see.” The woman finished. “I should have known that Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley were involved with this as well. They are never far away from you, Miss Granger!”
“Madame Pomfrey!” Harry said, as he rolled Janus onto his back. He strode across the room and awkwardly shook the witch’s hand. “Please, we need your help!”
Madame Pomfrey stepped closer to the bed. Her eyes drifted to Ron who backed away from the bed, his hands tucked into his trouser pockets. “Madame Pomfrey,” he muttered.
She acknowledged him with a stiff nod of her own before looking down upon Janus. She watched as the man’s chest rose and fell slowly. Gently, she took his left wrist and held her thumb to it, feeling his pulse. “Weak,” she commented as she placed his hand down on the bed, and turned to Harry and Hermione.
“Nurse MP.” The words caused the woman to look back at the man. A tiny smile toyed with his lips.
“In all of my years, only one rapscallion has ever had the courage to call me that name. Isn’t that right, Mr. Ward?” She placed her hands on her hips and stared down at Janus’ face.
“Always have to give the doc hell,” Janus breathed.
“And that you most assuredly did,” she replied, “even now as a grown wizard, you’re still just as bad as you were as a student.” A slow smile spread across Janus’ lips before he coughed and seized into a fetal position.
She glanced up at the trio as they stood at the end of the bed. “I will do all that I can, but make note, it would have been much better had this man been taken straight to St. Mungo’s!”
“He asked us not to, Madame Pomfrey,” Harry said.
She pursed her lips for a moment before nodding her head. “Very well, then. He always was the stubborn one. Miss Granger, hand me my traveling bag. Let’s take a look at what we have here.” She took the bag from Hermione’s hand and withdrew a silver wand.
“Now, lift and fold the sheet for me.” Hermione did as was requested, and folded back the sheet, revealing all of Janus’ chest and abdomen. Madame Pomfrey bent closer, thoroughly examining each visible wound, and then tracing each with the silver wand. “Yes,” she muttered as the examination continued. “Very deep wounds and plenty of infection.”
“What about his fever?” Harry asked. “I think he almost died before you arrived.”
“Let’s see,” she answered placing the tip of the wand on Janus’ forehead and then over his heart. “Yes, a significant fever. How, may I ask, did he come by these wounds?”
“In a fight,” Harry answered after exchanging glances with Ron and Hermione.
“A fight!” Madame Pomfrey replied, her eyebrows drawing together.
“We found him here, and brought him inside,” Hermione said, before the med-witch could ask another question. “I did what I could to heal his injuries, with what I could find, and a potion that I was told about. It’s all there on the table.”
Madame Pomfrey reached for the glass, sniffed it, and placed it back on the table. “Indeed you have, Miss Granger. It’s also sheer luck that you found and treated him as you have; otherwise he would be dead by now. These wounds,” she continued as she passed the silver wand over them again, “are potentially lethal, especially the deeper ones. If this one had been an inch to the left or this one a bit higher, well, you'd need an undertaker, not a medi-witch.”
“Can you save him?” Harry asked.
The witch deeply exhaled as she gazed at the wounds, and then at Janus’ closed eyelids. “Perhaps, Mr. Potter. I will do all that I can. The rest will be up to him,” she extended her wand toward Janus. "It's a question of whether he has the will to survive.”
“He must,” Harry softly replied.
“That will be his choice, Mr. Potter. Alright then, please go into the other room and wait.” The trio began to leave the bedroom, each of them giving Janus one final glance. “Except for you, Miss Granger. I would like for you to stay and assist me.”
Harry shook his head. “No. I’m staying.”
Madame Pomfrey gave him a stern look and made a shooing motion with her hands. “You’ll only be in the way. Out!”
“You don’t understand. We have a connection.” Harry sat down in the chair next to the bed, clinging to the arm rests.
“You should go--’’ Hermione began.
“Don’t you start on me, too!” Harry snapped.
She sighed loudly. “I was going to say that you should go check on Draco and Narcissa. Moreaux murdered Lucius and then did this to Janus. He came after you and Draco before…” she spread her hands and shrugged.
Harry swallowed hard. His mouth had gone dry. “You’re right! You’re right, of course, damn it! But I can’t just leave him here!”
“You can and you will!” Madame Pomfrey seized the back of his robe and dragged him to his feet. When they stood eye-to-eye, her face softened slightly. “Mr. Potter, if you expect me to save your friend, then you must give me room to work. Go! Do as Ms. Granger says and check on Mr. Malfoy, and if you find him injured, for Merlin’s sake be sensible and take him to Saint Mungo’s!”
“Right.” Harry nodded. “But just to check on Draco, and then I’ll be back.”

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The gardens of Malfoy Manor were in full bloom. In Narcissa’s absence, the climbing roses had grown unchecked, swallowing the trellises that held them. Their thorns clawed at Harry’s robes as he jogged down the path, but he hardly noticed them. Instead, his eyes scanned the garden for attackers, or worse, for someone lying dead or injured, as Janus had been. Several times, a dark shape caught his attention and made his heart jump, but each time it turned out to be nothing more than a shadow or a shrub.
When he reached the door, he forced himself to lift the heavy knocker and rap instead of barging through with his wand drawn. To the count of twenty, he decided. He would give whoever was inside until the count of twenty to answer and then he would force his way inside and make an end of Moreaux, once and for all.
As his mental count reached fifteen, the door swung inward, seemingly of its own volition. Harry had to look down to see who had opened it. The old house elf, Kraven, scowled up at him.
“Master Malfoy has been expecting Harry Potter. Kraven will bring the master.’’ The elf raised a hand, but before he could snap his fingers, Harry grabbed his wrist.
“Wait. I have to warn you first. Phillipe Moreaux could be coming back here. I know he worked with Lucius, but he’s not your friend. He murdered Lucius, and he tried to kill a friend of mine. I thought he might have—never mind what I thought. Just keep him out. Keep Draco and Narcissa safe.”
The house elf snorted.   “Kraven takes orders from young Master Malfoy, not Harry Potter.” Before Harry could reply, he had vanished.
“If you ask me, Moreaux is not the only, or even the worst, threat to this house.” The words came from inside the foyer, spoken in a sour voice that brought a moment of panic as Harry wondered if Lucius were back from the grave.
“Abraxas.”   Harry greeted the portrait as he crossed the threshold. “You’re looking better than the last time we met.”
“No thanks to you and your red-headed lackeys. Have you any idea of the expense required to restore the Manor after your little altercation with Moreaux?” Abraxas made a sweeping gesture that encompassed the room.
“Do you have any idea how little I care?” Harry retorted. Thinking of the shattered vases and charred walls made him think of Janus’ cracked ribs and bruised skin. He should be with Janus now; there was no reason to stay here now that he knew Draco was safe, and yet he could not bring himself to leave, or to stop staring down the hallway where he expected Draco to emerge. After a long, sullen silence from Abraxas, he said, “I thought Kraven was fetching Draco.”
The old man snorted. “The lord of Malfoy Manor does not allow himself to be fetched by a house elf, especially not on behalf of the likes of you.” His eyes narrowed and moved slowly up and down, studying Harry and making him acutely aware of every flaw in his appearance, from the lock of hair that would not lay down to the thread hanging loose at the bottom of his robe. “The reason for my grandson’s… tolerance of you will never cease to elude me. He should be grieving for my son even as he prepares for his new responsibilities, and yet half the words from his mouth are your bloody name.   ‘Why isn’t Potter here yet?’ ‘Does Potter expect me to go and bring him here?’ ‘Is Potter too stupid to realize he’s invited—’” Abraxas’ mocking was cut short by the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway.
“Enough, Grandfather!” Draco snapped as he stepped into the foyer. His hair was slicked back in a harsh, unnatural style. Stiff with starch, the collar of his emerald green velvet robe jutted up from his shoulders to brush his jaw. On his left hand, a heavy golden signet sing sparkled. Draco looked every inch the lord of Malfoy Manor, and for a moment, Harry felt as if he were shrinking in his own worn robes, reverting to the boy who lived in Vernon Dursley’s closet.
“How long does it take to bury a bloody house elf?” Draco demanded. “I started to wonder if you’d fallen in the hole with the little wretch--’’
“I was with Janus!” Harry interrupted, anger erasing any traces of self-consciousness.
“With. Janus.” Draco’s eyes widened and then narrowed.
“I was taking care of Janus,” Harry clarified. “He went off to fight Moreaux by himself.”
“Is he dead?” Draco asked eagerly.
“No, thankfully. He’s with Hermione now, and Madame Pomfrey. He’s going to make it through this! I’m sorry if that disappoints you.”
Draco shook his head and exhaled loudly. “I meant Moreaux. Is he dead?”
“I have no reason to think so.” Harry’s anger cooled, leaving him feeling sheepish for his outburst. “I thought he might come after you next, or your mother.”
“He wouldn’t dare.” Draco made a dismissive sound, but his words rang hollow.
“I had to make sure he hadn’t been here. If anything happened to you…” Harry wanted to reach for Draco, but he could see Abraxas out of the corner of his eye, watching them.
“Enough has happened to me,” Draco said dryly. “All I want now…" He glanced at the portraits lining the wall and strode past Harry and out the door. When Harry followed, he closed the door firmly behind them and finished “…is this.”
He moved toward Harry, lost his balance as he tripped over the toes of Harry’s shoes, and caught himself by placing his hands on Harry’s shoulders. Once he had steadied himself, Draco bent his head to kiss Harry, but Harry raised himself up at the same time, and so they missed each other. Their noses bumped with a jolt of pain, and Draco muttered a curse as their lips met.
Nothing is ever right between us, Harry thought.
His hands were on Draco’s waist, moving, grasping, trying to feel the shape of the body beneath the thick velvet. Draco’s tongue was stroking Harry’s, sending jolts of pleasure through him with every motion. The thick fabric between them was maddening. Harry wanted to tear it away, but instead he lifted it until he could reach underneath the robe and stroke the soft skin of Draco’s thigh. When his hand drifted upward, Draco stepped backward and glanced left, then right, as if to make sure no one had been watching.
“Not here!” Draco smoothed his robe by swatting it with his hands. “And not now.” He took a heavy gold watch from his pocket and glanced at it. “Mother will be expecting me at breakfast.”
“Of course.” Harry swallowed hard, trying to get the taste of disappointment out of his mouth. His head swam with what felt like post apparition dizziness.
Draco opened the door and stopped hallway through. “Well? Are you coming, or are you going to stand out here like a stupid garden gnome?”
“I…" Harry hesitated. There was nothing he could do for Janus anyway; he would be safe with Hermione and Madame Pomfrey and all of his warding spells. What good would it do to sit and watch him sleep? Even with cleansing spells, Janus’ room smelled of potions, blood, and fever sweat. Harry closed his eyes, inhaling the scent of Narcissa’s rose garden and Draco’s cologne. “I’m coming.”

---------------------------------------------------

Dark, heavy curtains covered the only window of the dining room in Malfoy Manor. A bright but unsteady light came from the intricate silver candelabra that sat near one end of the table. Two places had been set with thin white china, and a tall teapot stood in between the plates, exhaling a cheerful puff of vapor.
“Kraven!” Draco called, clapping his hands. When the house elf appeared in front of him, Draco said, “A place for Harry, and fetch Mother.” Waving his hand to dismiss the elf, Draco eased himself into the seat at the head of the table and pointed to the chair to his left.
Harry pulled the heavy chair back and sat down on the brocaded cushion. The candlelight flickered on Draco’s face, leaving heavy shadows that exaggerated the sharpness of his features. The resemblance to Lucius was striking. When will he start carrying the silver cane? Harry wondered sourly.
A door on the far end of the room opened, and Narcissa entered. She wore a dark, shapeless robe and a tall hat from which hung a black mesh veil. The veil cast strange shadows across her cheeks so that her red-rimmed eyes glistened from within a web of thin, dark lines.
“I’m—’’ Harry began, but he couldn’t make himself say “sorry about Lucius,” not when his wrists still remembered the bite of the ropes in the dungeon. “I’m glad you’re safe, you and Draco.”
“And why would we not be?” She tilted her head to the side, and her hands moved to her chest.
Draco snorted. “He’s still worried about Moreaux.   His friend Janus had a run in with the man, that’s all.”
“Phillipe nearly killed Janus,” Harry growled. “He’s still out there, and—’’
“And Shacklebolt will find him and see him brought to justice, assuming our esteemed Minister wishes for the Ministry to have the continued financial support of the Malfoy estate. Moreaux is nothing to worry about, Mother, at least not for us.” Draco smiled at his mother and shot Harry a warning look.
“Yes, yes, of course,” Narcissa murmured.
Kraven appeared, along with a female house elf who served breakfast while keeping her eyes firmly on her gnarled, grubby toes. A set of china was laid in front of Harry, and the table was soon filled with silver serving platters of eggs, muffins, and bacon. A crisp copy of the Daily Prophet was placed next to Draco’s teacup. Harry reached for the paper, but Draco snatched it away, clutching it to his chest like a child protecting a favorite toy. Once Harry poured himself a cup of tea and took one of the muffins, Draco unfolded the paper and began to turn the pages.
On the front page, a moving picture of Kingsley Shacklebolt showed the Minister shaking his head vigorously and pounding a podium. Stan Sharpe’s byline was printed in small letters under the headline, “Ministry Denies Return of You Know Who.” As Harry sipped his tea, he scanned the article, in which Sharpe described the events in the atrium using short, terse sentences. Harry had just gotten to the bit where Sharpe quoted him when the paper began to shake.
Harry put down his cup and looked up at Draco’s trembling hands and reddening face. Draco’s mouth contracted into a thin, angry line, and his eyes remained fixed on the paper as if trying to burn it with the sheer power of his rage. With a sigh, Harry rose and moved to stand behind Draco so that he could read along with him.
With a world-weary grace uncommon in a man of eighteen cycles, Harry Potter strode into the courtroom, wearing a smile that showed he relished this opportunity to make a dramatic entrance. Throwing court protocols to the wind, Mr. Potter approached the defendant without asking for permission. Heedless of appearances, the two young men so recently suspected of being partners in crime indulged in a tender embrace…
Harry bent down to whisper in Draco’s ear, “It doesn’t matter. It’s only a page six story, and it’s Rita bloody Skeeter! No one is even going to read—’’
“I’m reading it now, you stupid prat. Look what she says here—look!” He slapped the paper with the back of his left hand, making a loud bang.
When asked about their time together in London, the boys shared a glance, conveying to each other with their eyes all they dare not say with their lips, at least not in front of this reporter. Blushing like a bride, Draco Malfoy confirmed that Mr. Potter wears the proverbial pants, to borrow an American expression.
Harry put a hand over his mouth, but it was too late. Laughter had already escaped. It sounded flat and dull, muffled by the thick curtains, rugs, and upholstery.
“You think this is funny, do you?” Draco demanded. He stood up and shook the paper in front of Harry’s face, tore it apart, and wadded the pieces into a ball, which he threw at his face. Harry dodged it easily and turned to watch it arc into the mouth of an ornate urn.
“I—No, I suppose not.” Harry reached for Draco’s right hand and got slapped with his left.
“Draco!” Narcissa interjected. “This is not the way the lord of Malfoy Manor behaves!”
Draco whirled to face her. “Isn’t it? You’ll have to forgive me, as my dear father died before he could pass along all of the proper protocols. Shall I drink a glass of firewhisky and then beat you or is it beat and then drink?”
“No one is getting beaten,” Harry said firmly, “not over something this asinine.”
“It’s Skeeter who deserves to be beaten,” Draco fumed. “I should make her pay for her lies!”
“And get yourself thrown in Azkaban? Even I couldn’t save you then.”
“As if I need you to save me. As if I need you for anything!” Draco turned as if to storm from the room and then turned back. His fists shook at his sides, and his face was white with rage.
“I’m sorry,” Narcissa murmured. “This is a difficult time for Draco, with Lucius and with all of this business…”
“I don’t need you to make excuses for me, Mother! I’m not a child throwing a tantrum, I’m—’’ Draco’s voice lowered, and some of the color returned to his face, although his hands still shook. “I’m a grown man making a hard decision. Harry, I can’t do this.”
Harry shook his head. “You don’t mean that. You can. We have—’’ he glanced at Narcissa, felt his face heat, and looked into Draco’s eyes.   “No matter what Rita Skeeter writes, no matter what people whisper behind our backs, I don’t care! I love you.”
“She was lying, you know,” Draco said. “She was lying about your wearing the proverbial bloody pants. If you think you can tell me that we belong together and that I’ll just go along with it, you’re wrong. Maybe you don’t care if you’re a laughing stalk, or maybe you’re just used to it. I don’t know, and I don’t care. I want better for myself.   I want better than this… this… whatever this is that you’ve dragged me into!”
“What I’ve dragged you into?” Harry laughed humorlessly. “You were the one who wrote to me, the one who showed up at my doorstep, the one who pushed me down and fucked me in a pile of broken glass!’’ Narcissa made a small sound of distress and fled the room, but Harry hardly noticed her. “You’re the one who taunted me, tormented me, obsessed over me for years! You’re the one who dragged me in, Draco!”
Throughout Harry’s tirade, Draco’s face had gone red, then white, then red again, his mouth twitching with the effort of remaining silent. Now, it quirked into a clever little half-smile, and his nose wrinkled as he said, “Fine. The last time I dragged something in, I ordered Kraven to clean it off the bottom of my shoes before it stank up the Manor.”
“So that’s how you want to end it?” Harry asked.
Draco nodded, his eyes moving to avoid meeting Harry’s.
“Then you’re a coward and a fool.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I want better for myself!
The words stung in Harry’s memory as he approached the door to Janus’ home. In his mind’s eye cold, grey-blue eyes hid behind locks of blond hair while Draco’s aroma filled Harry’s senses. He could still feel the soft touch of Draco upon him as the two had shared a warm, lovers’ embrace.
“What could I have done?” Harry asked as he stood in place. A stiff breeze flowed through the summertime air, blowing Harry’s hair about as he gazed down at his shadow. For a heartbeat, a second shadow appeared beside his, as if Draco were standing beside him.
“Draco, I’m…” Harry started as he whirled around, expecting to see his former love standing just behind him, tapping his foot with impatience. “Sorry.”
The empty air seemed to mock him. Somewhere in the forest, a squirrel chirped in a way that sounded suspiciously like laughter. Harry’s fists began to clinch, like a fighter’s before battle, and he bit his bottom lip until the iron taste of his own blood touched his tongue. Spotting a rock that fit perfectly into his hand, Harry wrenched the rock from its place in the ground, cutting the tender skin of his hand on the sharp edges.
Storming away from the door, Harry marched toward the edge of the woods, clutching the rock and feeling the dampness of his own blood between his fingers. He began to run toward the nearest tree that stood at the edge of the woods. A low animal-like growl began to form as Harry brought the rock up and unleashed it toward the tree with all of his fury.
“Draco!” Harry shouted as the rock flew through the air, striking the bark of the tree, leaving a red-stained stained mark, and falling to the ground. Without thinking, Harry reached for his wand and aimed it at the rock.
“Avada kedavra!” Harry shouted, the words erupting in a voice that he didn’t recognize. In his mind, a barrier had broken, taking him back to the depths of his dream when he killed his best friend.
The rock disintegrated into dust, as Harry stood taut, allowing the emotions of the spell to flow through him and mix with his feelings for Draco. Harry’s chest heaved, his hand tightened around the wand, and his mind begged to destroy something else. Images of Draco danced in Harry’s mind as he saw their heated kiss, and their passionate love blended perfectly with the Slytherin’s face and Harry’s killing curse.
Harry closed his eyes, and emptied his mind until blackness enveloped him completely. A high-pitched laughter came from beyond the darkness until a burst of flame came from the deep in the shape of Voldemort’s face.
Harry’s eyes flew open, and he stumbled backwards and fell to the ground. Furiously, Harry ripped at his left sleeve, tore the fabric of his robe, and began violently rubbing and scratching at the pale skin upon his left arm.
“No! No!” Harry shouted. “You’re dead!”

--------------------------------------------------
When hurried footsteps came from behind Harry, he grabbed his wand and whirled around to face his new adversary.
“Harry!” Hermione shouted. “Ron, stop! Don’t go any closer!” She placed her arm in front of Ron, stopping him, and then slowly stepped between Ron and Harry. “Look at him.”
“Bloody hell, Harry, what’s gotten into you?” Ron asked, as he stepped aside from Hermione.
Harry stared back at the two, his wand at the ready, while his mind grasped for words. “It’s…it’s…it’s …him,” Harry whispered.
“It’s…him? Malfoy? ” Ron asked. “I knew that no good, bloody sod…When I finish with him, he’ll wish--’’
“Ron, please!” Hermione hissed. “This isn’t the time or place.” She turned her gaze back to Harry. “Harry? It’s me. It’s us. Hermione and Ron…your friends.” She glanced sideways at Ron, and watched as he knelt to the ground. Seeing his nod to her, she slowly lowered herself to the ground, becoming eye level with Harry and exposing her hands to him. “Harry, please, whatever it is, come back to us,” she softly spoke as if talking to a scared puppy.
“Herm…’mione,” Harry mumbled, releasing the wand.
“That’s right, Harry, me and ‘Mione. Your friends mate, and always will be,” Ron added, inching closer to Harry until his fingertips touched Harry’s discarded wand.
“Ron?” Harry asked, looking into the blue eyes of his best friend, before finally succumbing to the aftermath of his anger. Silently, he began to sob as his lips tried to speak the words that never came. Ron scooted on the ground, catching Harry and allowing him to collapse onto his chest and shoulder as the dam holding back Harry’s tears crumbled. Hermione sat next to Ron, cradling Harry as he cried while whispering soft, comforting words into his ear.
Her reply from Harry came in the form of his grip tightening around the two, as the tears and painful sobs continued. The three friends remained there, in their circle, within the moment.

------------------------------------

“Harry, come on, Harry, wake up!”
Harry groaned and rolled over onto his side, slowly opening his eyelids, and allowing the light to filter into his eyes. A blurry object standing over him came hazily into view. Harry rubbed his eyes, wiping the blurriness from his sight. Two blue eyes gazed down upon him from under a mop of ginger hair.
“Hey, come on, you’re awake now,” Harry heard as the final blur from his vision cleared, revealing a smiling and relieved Ron Weasley standing over Harry.
“Ron?” Harry asked.
“Good to see you, too! Come on, Hermione’s made lunch.” Ron said as he grabbed Harry by the elbow, and raised him up.
“What am I doing on the sofa?” Harry asked.
“It’s where we put you, after… well, after you got back from Malfoy’s. You were pretty well mucked up about something, Harry, so Hermione made a sleeping draught, and we let you sleep it off.”
“I didn’t need a sleeping draught!” Harry protested. His head swam, and he pressed his temples to stop the dizziness. “Hermione worries too much.”
“She wasn’t the only one worried. Besides, you didn’t see what we did. Trust me, Harry; you needed it, more than you think.”
Harry opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off by Ron. “’Mione said that you’d probably try to argue about it, so there’s no point in trying to complain, mate. Now, here are your glasses.” Ron handed Harry his glasses, and helped him to stand up. Something brushed by Harry’s legs, causing Harry to look down at his feet.
“Socrates,” Harry said. The Siamese cat meowed and continued to rub around Harry’s ankles.
“Yeah, bloody cat wouldn’t budge away from you,” Ron began. “He just laid there on your stomach, sort of like he was guarding you.”
Harry picked up the cat, and began to scratch the animal’s ears, while gently rubbing his nose in the cat’s fur as he steeled himself to ask what he most wanted to know. “Janus?”
“Relax, mate. He’s going to be fine.” Ron smiled. “Hermione will explain it all.” He clasped Harry’s shoulder with his hand. “It’s good to have you back. Now, come on, the food is on the table.”
They walked into the kitchen and found Hermione hidden behind the morning edition of the Daily Prophet. The scene eerily reminded Harry of Janus doing the exact same thing. Hermione peeped around the paper.
“Hello, Harry,” she cheerfully said. “Your food is on the table.” She waved her hand at the food sitting on the table and went back to reading the paper
A dull ache roared in Harry’s stomach as he sat down and began quietly eating his bacon sandwich. After several minutes, Harry decided to ask. “Hermione, how is Janus?”
“He’s fine, Harry,” she replied from behind the paper.
“Hermione, please stop reading,” Harry said, reaching for the newspaper.
“I’m sorry, Harry,” she replied, folding away the paper and placing it onto the table. “Just wanted to scan the articles, just in case there was any information about Moreaux.”
Ron snorted. “Yeah, right, like you’ll find any good information about him in there. Have you told Harry what that Skeeter woman said about him and Draco?”
The sandwich dropped from Harry’s hand, and he swallowed hard. “Can we just not mention him, right now, please?”
“Why, Harry? Did something happen when you were there?” Hermione asked.
Harry’s jaw tightened, as he closed his eyes. “Like I said Hermione, I don’t want to talk about it!” Harry growled.
Hermione recoiled, nodded her head, and raised the newspaper up to begin reading again. “Alright then, we won’t discuss anything about Malfoy until you feel up to it. Isn’t that right, Ronald?”
Ron mumbled through a mouth full of food, shrugging his shoulders, and shaking his head at the same time. “Fine with me,” he finally said after swallowing. “But, if Malfoy’s done anything, I’ll turn him into a rat and give him to Crookshanks to play with.”
Harry tried to smile as the image played out in his mind. “Thanks,” he said looking up from his plate. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Draco was a distraction. I have more important things to worry about.”
“See, I told ya, Hermione!” Ron said, waving a piece of roast beef at her. “I told ya, Harry and Malfoy are like oil and water. They don’t mix.”
“Shh! Ron, not now.” She shushed at him, lowering the paper while slapping his hand and causing the roast beef to fall to the floor. Harry chuckled when Socrates scurried over and growled at Ron before he could pick it up from the floor.
“How is Janus? What did Madame Pomfrey say?” Harry asked, bringing his attention away from the cat and directing it to Hermione.
“Well, thankfully she was able to stop the infection,” Hermione started. “And, his fever is dropping. She said that he should be up and about in a few days, but for one of us to stay here and help care for him until he can get on his feet.”
“That’s good,” Harry replied before biting into his sandwich.
“Unfortunately, he will have a number of scars from his wounds. It’ll be yet another painful memory for him to have to live with.” She softly bit her bottom lip and took a drink of tea from her glass before continuing. “Ron and I will stay here today, just to make sure that you’re alright, and to help with Janus, when he wakes up.”
“Thanks, but I’m fine, Hermione,” Harry said, waving his hand in the air.
“Harry, about everything when you returned…” Hermione began.
“I’m sorry,” Harry mumbled, while still chewing. He swallowed and sighed. His mind wanted to explain everything, and speak about every emotion that had passed through him. However, he reconsidered, knowing how Hermione would continuously bombard him with questions. “I never meant to hurt either of you.”
“We know that, Harry,” Ron said, finishing his sandwich. “But, you did give us a bloody good scare there!   It was almost like you weren’t you. Really weird, like.”
“Ron, I’m…I can’t really explain it all. I just--’’
“Harry, it’s alright,” Hermione interrupted. “You don’t have to. The important thing is that you’re here, and you’re alright.”
“She’s right, you know,” Janus’ voice came from behind Harry.
“Janus!” Harry stood up and turned to face the kitchen doorway.
Janus leaned heavily on a wooden cane, swaying slightly as if about to topple. His sandy hair was in disarray, and dark circles framed his eyes. The swelling on his chest wound had gone down, but ugly red flesh still marred the patch of chest left bare by his fluffy, white bathrobe. “That’s a hell of a long walk down the hallway, for a man with a bad set of wheels. Who do I owe for this?” he asked, tapping the wooden cane with his free hand.
“I made it,” Hermione said. “It was Madame Pomfrey’s suggestion that you have a cane to help with your balance, for now.”
“I appreciate that very much, Hermione,” he replied, flashing a soft smile to the young witch. “Though the damn thing takes some getting used to,” Janus grunted as he lost his balance, and reached for the wall.
Harry crossed the kitchen and caught Janus in his arms, partly to keep the man from falling and partly out of sheer relief. Janus’ day old beard scratched at Harry’s cheek, and his arms tightened with a surge of emotion. “Easy there Harry, easy now. I’m still pretty sore all over. I know I shouldn’t be out of bed. Going against the doc’s orders already, I know.”
Hermione opened her mouth to admonish Janus, but closed it again and shook her head. “Just like Madame Pomfrey said you would.”
“Well I couldn’t just lay there in bed with the smell of roast beef drifting through the house,” Janus countered, settling carefully into the empty chair with Harry’s aid. “As hungry as I am, I feel like I could eat a horse!”
Ron laughed, spurting a mouthful of coffee onto his shirt. Hermione smiled, and giggled. “Well, I’ll get your food ready. Harry can tell you about the trial, and about this morning, then you can tell us what in Merlin’s name you were doing to end up in this shape.”
------------------------------------------------
“So that’s everything pretty much in a nutshell,” Janus finished, taking a long drink of his coffee. “Moreaux knew that I was coming, and he prepared a trap. That’s how he got the better of me.”
“But who told him?” Hermione asked.
Janus winked and waved his index finger at her. “Ah, now that is the sixty-four thousand dollar question.”
Ron and Harry shared a glance and shrugged in mutual confusion.
“It’s an expression.” Hermione rolled her eyes and frowned at Janus. “Who else could have known you were going after Moreaux? Even Harry didn’t know, or he would have stopped you. There’s something you’re not telling us--’’
Harry sighed. “Get used to it, Hermione. He’s not going to talk unless he wants to. The better question is why did Moreaux kill Lucius Malfoy if the two were working together?”
“It’s simple,” Janus said. “He was following orders and was paid handsomely to do so. Whoever it is could afford to outbid Lucius Malfoy. Moreaux just played his part in it all, with Lucius that is, and collected his share of gold all the way to Gringots.”
The trio sat quietly, deep in their own thoughts, while Janus gazed at each of them. “Why do you suppose that you all lived through his attacks? This is a feared killer that we are talking about here. Hell, look what he done to me, and I was damned lucky just to escape.”
“He didn’t let us go, if that’s what you’re suggesting,” Harry said. “There were more of us, that’s all. Strength in numbers.”
“Maybe,” Janus shrugged. “Or perhaps he was following orders just like an extremely-well-paid thug does. Now, who could it have been?   Perhaps a Death Eater that Lucius pissed off in the past? I am pretty sure that there were a number of people that, if they could have done so, would have killed him.    Maybe even a Ministry official that has had a number of run-ins with old Lucius before. What about a scorned wife, or a vengeful son?”
“Never!” Harry shouted, banging his fist on the table. “Narcissa and Draco would never pay someone like Moreaux!”
“Are you so quick to give them a free pass, Harry?” Janus asked, pointing toward Harry’s bandaged hand. “From what you’ve told me, neither of them really made a solid effort to prevent your little breakup. You did say that Draco wanted things to be better for him. What simpler way of doing that than to get rid of a father like Lucius Malfoy, knowing that he is the heir to the Malfoy fortune? Why else would Moreaux not seriously harm him?”
“Seriously harm him?” Ron interrupted. “Moreaux never had the chance. Draco and Harry were in the dungeon while Ginny and I took care of him.”
Janus’ eyes narrowed toward Ron. “Or so Moreaux wanted you to believe. There are many ways of deceiving people, Ronald Weasley. As I said a moment ago, I believe that he was following his orders from both employers. Otherwise, you would all be dead by now. You don’t cross paths with someone like Phillipe Moreaux and live to tell about it, not unless you are as cruel and vicious as he is.”
“Janus, please,” Harry said, placing a hand on Janus’ arm. “You shouldn’t be worrying about this now, not in your condition. Moreaux will slip up soon, and if the Ministry doesn’t find him, I will.”
“Maybe they won’t find him, and maybe he won’t slip up, Harry,” Janus whispered as he drank his coffee.
“Well, even if they don’t, I think the best thing that we can do is try to protect ourselves. Janus, the wards here surrounding your home, are they impenetrable?”
“So far no one has ever been able to get through unless I allowed it.”
“Right,” Harry answered. “I think it would be a good idea if we all had wards like these around our homes.”
“But Harry, the Burrow already has--’’ Ron began.
“I know, Ron. It already has Ministry wards surrounding it, but if the Death Eaters can infiltrate the Ministry and break through them once before, what’s stopping Moreaux from doing the same thing? He knows who we are, and he’s probably going to make another attempt at us, orders or no orders, Janus.” Harry glanced down at the man. “Was it orders when he killed the dancer from the Silver Wolf? Or was it pure sadism?”
“Jett was…different. You can never fully understand a man like Moreaux, but I can.” Janus’ eyes lost their focus, and his hands balled into fists for a moment before he shook his head to clear it. “Give me a few more days to heal, and then we’ll do as you say.”

----------------------------------

Ron and Hermione left that afternoon, the latter having repeated the instructions for Janus’ care so many times that Harry had lost count. In the doorway, she stopped to say something about Madame Pomfrey’s potion, but Ron grabbed her arm and dragged her out. “He knows, Hermione! He can handle it.”
“Are you sure?” she asked, frowning at Harry. “I could stay…”
He shook his head. “I’ll send an owl if I need you. You’ve done enough here, you’ve been brilliant, both of you.”
He watched them walk to the edge of the woods and apparate away, leaving him a bit lonely and a bit relieved. With Janus asleep, the house was silent save for the ticking of the clock, and the solitude was a welcome change. He paced the hallway, studying the pictures of Janus and Remus and wondering what it would be like to have such beautiful memories.
Careful not to make a sound, he entered the bedroom, leaving the door open behind him for fear that shutting it would wake Janus. He had planned to take the book from the bedside table and bring it out to the living room, but instead he found himself sitting down on the edge of the bed and sliding Janus’ head until it rested on Harry’s lap instead of the pillow. Janus’ eyelids fluttered, and his mouth twitched as if her were trying to speak. Harry smiled, wondering what the man was dreaming this time
An indeterminate amount of time passed before Janus stirred again. This time, his eyes flew open, and his mouth opened in surprise before settling into a smile. “Harry. This is much better than waking up to Nurse MP giving me the stink eye.”
“I was just…” Harry began, his mind racing for an explanation before he realized that Janus hadn’t asked for one. He slid away from Janus so that he was perched on the edge of the bed. “You were dreaming again.”
“Again?” Janus turned onto his side and carefully propped himself up on an elbow, facing Harry.
Harry looked away from Janus’ face, focusing on his own folded hands. “The night after we found you, I stayed here. I fell asleep holding your hand.”
Janus slightly blushed. “That was very considerate of you, Harry. I really don’t know what to say, but thank you. I--”
“Stop, please. Let me finish,” Harry said, as the pace of his words began to quicken. “That night, I had a dream about you, Gabriel, and Anna. You were at a beach. Also, I think I had a dream about your mother bathing you.”
Harry watched as Janus stiffened, his breath slowed, and his eyes refused to waver from Harry’s gaze.
“What? Did I say something wrong?” Harry asked after a number of quiet seconds had passed without an answer.
Janus cleared his throat and shook his head. “No, Harry, you didn’t say anything wrong. What you saw was something that was very personal to me. Two specific memories that mean the world to me.”
“Janus, I didn’t mean--’’ Harry began.
“It’s alright, Harry. I know that you didn’t mean for it to happen. I’m just grateful that you didn’t see other memories that I have, things I’ve seen, things I’ve done…” He sighed, looking away from Harry for a moment before meeting Harry’s eyes again. “I’m just thankful that you didn’t see something that would cause you to change your mind about me.”
“Like what?” Harry asked.
“As I’ve told you before Harry, I’m not a saint.” Another tense silence filled the room before Harry broke it.
“I still don’t understand why I was dreaming your dreams.”
Janus shrugged, his face tightening in pain when his chest muscles tensed, pulling at the infected wound. “Magic isn’t just about wands, curses, learning different charms, potions and learning defenses against dark spells. Magic is about what’s inside of your heart, mind, and soul. It’s an entity that lives within you, and it already knows its’ purpose for you. Regardless if you grow up to be someone like Dumbledore was, or if you’re someone like Moreaux. For a select few of us, it’s a curse that was forced upon us, yet we must learn to live with it…good or bad.”
“So what you’re saying is…what?”
“What I’m saying is that magic is very deep, and very difficult to understand. It chooses to do what it does for a certain reason.”
“Ron said what happened with your dreams was because of a bond between us.” Harry watched Janus, intent on his reaction.
Janus mulled a bit, slightly tilting his head, before coming to a decision. “It’s possible.”
“But it wasn’t deliberate.” Harry hoped Janus couldn’t hear the disappointment in his voice. “You weren’t trying to show me--’’
“Honestly, I don’t remember much after I got away from Moreaux, but whatever we shared, I don’t regret it.” Janus’ hand moved on the sheet, but he drew it back just before it reached Harry’s.
“There’s something else I need to ask.” Harry glanced up at the window, noting that Janus had repaired it. “This isn’t going to be like the last time I stayed here, is it?”
“What do you mean? Draco’s not here this time, so you don’t have to worry about anyone--about anything happening.”
Harry shook his head. “No, it’s not about Malfoy. It’s about you. I mean you’re not going to start climbing out windows again, are you?”
A sly smile toyed with the edge of Janus’ lips, and he winked at Harry. “You don’t have to worry about that; it’s not that time of the month.”
Harry rolled his eyes at the joke and suppressed a brief fantasy of hitting Janus on the arm, as Hermione would do with Ron when he made some stupid jape. Janus would hit him back, and they would end up lying next to each other on the bed. He shook his head to clear the thoughts of what would follow next within his fantasy. “I could make tea,” he offered. “Cold tea, the way you like it.”
Janus nodded. “Thanks.”
Navigating Janus’ kitchen took longer than Harry expected, and when he returned to the bedroom, he found the bed empty. He looked to the window first and finding it intact, he began searching the house. He flung open the door of the guest room first and found it unoccupied. A loud thud came from the bathroom, and he raced toward the sound.
“Janus!” Harry shouted as he flung open the door. “I heard…” he began but stopped. Harry could feel his cheeks reddening as Janus stood before him, naked, in the steamy bathroom, gazing into the mirror, and touching the new scars that littered his skin. Janus’ right hand gripped the sink while his left traced the wounds.
“Harry,” Janus said, reaching for a towel. “Damn, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean for you to come barging in here and catch me like this. I was just going to shave and wash off a bit.” He laughed as his fingers finally found the towel that draped over the shower rack.
“Merlin, Janus! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” Harry stammered, keeping his eyes fixed on Janus’ face as the man struggled to wrap the towel around his waist while still clutching the sink with his right hand. “I…I heard something.”
“A can of shaving cream fell on the floor. I’m fine.” Janus gave up on the towel and opted simply to clutch it while holding his left hand in front of his naval, letting the fabric drape down and cover him.
“Sorry,” Harry repeated.
Janus chuckled. “Hey, it’s alright now. I mean we are two guys, right?   And, once you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all, practically.”
“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “Right.” That morning’s kiss with Draco was still fresh in his mind. He wondered what it would be like to kiss Janus, to touch him. Without having made any conscious decision, he found himself stepping forward and gripping the ends of the towel. Careful not to upset Janus’ balance, he held one end in place and wrapped the other around Janus’ waist before tucking it in place so that the towel formed a sort of skirt.
“I could have done that,” Janus protested, hopping backwards on his good leg. Now his heels were against the bathtub.
“Without falling on your arse?” Harry asked. “I doubt it. You shouldn’t even be up!   This morning you were nearly dead.”
“Otherwise known as ‘alive,’” Janus said making a dismissive sound. He let go of the sink and grasped the shower rod for balance instead. The new position elongated his body, and the towel slipped down an inch.
“You wouldn’t be alive if it hadn’t been for us and Madame Pomfrey.” Harry raised a hand and traced the scars on Janus’ chest with his index finger. “I still don’t understand why you went after him alone.”
Janus flinched as Harry touched the edge of the reddened skin. “I would have though that you’d understand why I done that.” He swatted Harry’s hand away. “I had a golden opportunity that the Ministry did not. Do you know how difficult it is to track down someone like Moreaux? I was trying to save innocent people that day…girls like Jett and boys like little Jamie Ward! I had the chance of a lifetime, and I’ll be damned if I was going to pass it up.”
“Some opportunity! He knew that you were coming. You said that he laid a trap for you. When I found you, you had his boot print on your back. Did you know that?”
“That doesn’t matter. I had to take that chance. I could have saved--”
“Listen to yourself! It’s not about who you could have saved. It’s all about you. Moreaux ruined your life, and now you want your revenge!”
“And if I do?” Janus asked letting go of the shower rod and rising up to his full height. “Personally, Harry, it’s none of your business what I do.”
“It’s become my business, Janus!” Harry shouted, banging his fist on the sink and making the mirror rattle. “Moreaux has come after me, too. I’ve seen him kill Lucius with my own eyes. He even turned and looked at Draco and me before he did it, just like he was putting on a show. So, I think all of that puts me on the playing pitch.”
“You think so?” Janus put his hand on Harry’s shoulder instead, leaning heavily and locking Harry in place. “Alright, then, you go out there and find him. Then if you have the darkness and evil inside of your heart to kill him, you do that! Have you ever killed, Harry? Have you? It’s one thing to have someone’s curse rebound and kill them, like with Voldemort.   You didn’t kill him, the stupid idiot killed himself! And who benefited from it all? You did,” Janus emphasized by pointing his finger at Harry. “The savior of the wizarding world! You became the envy of the world!”
“And you think I liked any of that?” Harry screamed. “I hated it, because it’s not me.”
“And who are you then? Who are you to tell me what I should do? Who are you other than Draco Malfoy’s biggest mistake?”
Harry stepped back, wrenching his shoulder free of Janus’ grip. The man stumbled forward and caught himself on the sink with both hands.
“You know,” Janus continued, “I almost stopped him that night.”
“Why didn’t you?” Harry spat.
“Because I wanted to for the wrong reasons.” Janus limped closer to Harry, took one of his hands off the sink, and grabbed Harry’s right wrist. “I saw the way you looked at me when you came in here. So I’ll ask you again…what’s it to you if I go after Moreaux?”
“You lied,” Harry said through clenched teeth. When Janus’ eyes widened in confusion, he continued, “You lied the night I broke the mirror, the night you let me sleep in your bed. You said you would be ‘out here,’ that you had ‘things to do,’ but when you thought I was asleep, you laid down beside me, you—’’ Harry flushed, suddenly aroused by the combination of the memory and proximity to Janus.
Janus smiled and shook his head. His hand traveled up to Harry’s elbow. “I didn’t do a damn thing to you. You’re the one who curled around me, pressing up against me, pretending to sleep.”
“Bastard! You know you enjoyed feeling someone against you like that. It’s a hell of a lot better than sleeping outside in the woods, alone. Or in here scared of your own shadow, or whatever demons lurk inside of you.”
“Demons?” Janus laughed humorlessly. “You have no idea.”
“Then show me!” Harry grabbed Janus’ right hand, wrenching it away from the sink so that Janus had to lean into Harry in order to avoid falling. “I’m bloody tired of being pushed away, so show me, Janus!” Harry’s fingers found the rolled edge of the towel around Janus’ waist, and he yanked, loosening it until it fell. Now only Harry’s clothing was between them, and when Harry took Janus by the hips and pulled him closer, he could feel the man’s hard, hot desire.
“Leave, Harry!” Janus rasped. “Leave now.”
“Why?” Harry demanded. Their faces were so close that he could feel the heat of Janus’ breath on his lips.
“Because I can’t do this.” Janus’ fingers were in Harry’s hair, stroking it rhythmically, belying his own words. “No matter how much I want this, I can’t! I have to stop myself.”
“Why?” Harry asked again. “Because of Draco?” Because of Gabriel and Anna? Because--’’
“Because of me!” Janus shouted. The force of his voice pushed Harry backwards so that he let go of Janus, allowing the man to stumble and fall onto the toilet.
Harry shook his head. “I dunno. I suppose it’s what you like, after all--being alone, except for your precious memories. Draco was right about you all along, and I was the one that was blinded by my own feelings. Maybe there was a reason Remus sent you away, other than the one you told me. Maybe you’re just bloody impossible.”
“Harry--” Janus began, struggling to stand.
“You’re right. You’re not a saint. If anything, you’re just as vile as Moreaux, and nothing close to the kind of person that Lupin was.”
“Harry, please,” Janus said.
Harry looked down at the man’s hands on the sink. His knuckles were white with the effort of gripping the slick porcelain. Janus’ eyes blazed, going black for a moment before reverting to the hazel that Harry had found so entrancing.
“Alright, I’m leaving,” Harry answered, slowly backing into the doorway. “I don’t need your help anymore, nor do I want it. There was a time that I seriously thought about offering you my heart, but now I’m glad I didn’t. You say that I don’t know who I am. Maybe you should look in that mirror a bit harder and see what I see right now.”
He turned, and walked toward the front door of the house. “Don’t worry, I won’t be coming back here, and I won’t tell anyone how to get here, either. You can live with your paranoia forever. And if Moreaux does come after me, I’ll show him just how dark I truly can be.”
Harry slammed the door behind him, leaving Janus alone with the phantoms in his head.
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Darkness Within The Light