Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Awakening To the Dream	By : ChimaeraChan Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 45316 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-CH1
- 2-CH2
- 3-CH3
- 4-CH4
- 5-CH5
- 6-CH6
- 7-CH7
- 8-Ch8
- 9-Ch9
- 10-Ch10
- 11-CH11
- 12-CH12
- 13-CH13
- 14-CH14
- 15-CH15
- 16-CH16
- 17-CH17
- 18-CH18
- 19-Ch19
- 20-CH20
- 21-CH21
- 22-Ch22
- 23-CH23
- 24-CH24
- 25-CH25
- 26-CH26
- 27-CH27
- 28-CH28
- 29-CH29
- 30-CH30
- 31-CH31
- 32-CH32
- 33-CH33
- 34-CH34
- 35-CH35
- 36-CH36
- 37-CH37
- 38-CH38
- 39-CH39
- 40-CH40
- 41-Ch41
- 42-Ch42
- 43-Ch43
- 44-Ch44
- 45-Ch45
- 46-Ch46
- 47-Ch47
- 48-Ch48
- 49-Ch49
- 50-Ch50 *End Part 1*
- 51-Ch51
- 52-Ch52
- 53-Ch53
- 54-Ch54
- 55-Ch55
- 56-CH56
- 57-CH57
- 58-CH58
- 59-CH59
- 60-CH60
- 61-CH61
- 62-CH62
- 63-CH63
- 64-CH64
- 65-CH65
- 66-CH66
- 67-CH67 *New 6/6/2015*
- 68-CH68
- 69-CH69
- 60
- 61
- 62
Yay, update! It is such a beautiful day today where I live!!! ^___^ I had a great walk in the warm sun, sat my butt down, and decided it was time to get these next two chapters out. I actually had this sitting around, I just couldn't find the time for the final edit before posting. So... I was bad and decided to stick with Seamus and Musa for a few more--OMG, kidding! I know, I'm evil. XD No, as promised we're back at Hogwarts. It's a little slow going but it will pick up in later chapters. As I go along I've gotten the distinct feeling that I'm creating a soap-opera, which is pretty bad since I've never had the patience to even watch a soap-opera. O_o Next episode: Draco's evil long lost twin brother shows up pregnant and with amnesia... bum, bum bummm... Okay, I may be in a silly mood today. >_> Blame it on the nice weather, and the bad shock I had last night to find my alcoholic father drinking behind our backs. Yeah, so embrace the happy.

Thanks everyone for the sweet reviews, you really keep me going. ^.^
Mehla Seraphim: Well, at least we’re back to Draco. I sorta hoped to give Seamus more dimension so that he would be interesting, but I understand.
Jeslyn_Nighthawk: Lol, well your hopes are answered again. I love that you’re actually re-reading; it gets tedious for me just to go back and edit. XD
Thrnbrooke: That’s part of Musa’s charm though; his conviction in his abilities. And I’m not telling secrets! *blows raspberry* XP
Chantalmalfoy: Hee, two more! I figure since I’m so slow I might as well make the updates big.
Remetan: Thank you so much for the review and helpful crit. I do know the scene you’re talking about, where Furiae is behind and looking down at Harry; I try to give the impression that positions change without having to spell it out in every single line, but I can also understand the confusion. And thanks sooooo much about the Taunt, Taut thing! O_O I have always, always, always been a horrible speller, so it’s things like that that I’m quick to miss. I recently spent a couple of weeks learning Then, Than and before it was Its, It’s. I was not a studious creature when I was supposed to be learning such things. ^^; (Don’t be shy to email me; I’m always happy to chat)
Windrose: I added you. ^^ Hee, and it’s been fun writing Harry and Draco’s interactions for me.
Breeze: Lol, well it seems I’m going to have to do some reading myself. <3 I’m happy you’re so into the story; it’s reactions like that that make me want to write more. (Oh, and you can look forward to some muscles for Har as he heals up X3)
Lee: Hee, I can’t disagree with that. ^^
Rachel: I added you to the mailing, and am pretty sure I sent a horribly complicated thanks your way, as well. Thanks again for being so honest and helpful. <3

I think that’s it… Oh, I’ve had a couple of people on the mailing list that have sent back automated messages that mail won’t go through. I’ve had to remove these addresses because they’re preventing the others on the list to get through. So, if you haven’t received any of the recent updates, that’s probably why. If you want back on, you need to either fix the problem at your end, or send me a workable email. And while we’re at it, if you want out of the mailing list, feel free to email me. I don’t bite, and won’t feel hurt—I’m on a few mailing lists myself so I know they can get annoying at times.

Awakening To the Dream

CH 61

“He looks so different… so weak…” Hermione whispered, her eyes downcast to watch the almost indiscernible rise and fall of Harry’s chest. The boy was a wisp of bones and breath afternearly two months since he had burst into Hogwarts with a spear through his torso. Even now, Madame Pomfrey was wary to let visitors come by, and Ron and Hermione had fought tooth and nail just for the little ten-minute session they’d won that day. They suspected the Halloween charm was the defining factor, because the mediwitch had finally opened up the floor to visitors.
“He’s warm, though. That’s a good sign.”
Hermione bit her lip, wondering how having a temperature of almost 110 degrees Fahrenheit could be considered a good sign. “What do you think happened to his wings…? They were wings, right? Not some sort of spell?”
“Yeah, they’re all him, I’m pretty sure.” Ron replied, picking at the unraveling hem on his worn t-shirt. “Remember how I told you most of us charm our, uh, magical bits away? Well, Harry doesn’t have to do that. Since he’s had a full transformation, he can just switch from his normal form to his other, uh Soul Form, like it’s nothing.”
“Oh…” Hermione studied Ron’s profile, wondering when he would just come out and say whatever it was that had been weighing the boy down the recent weeks. She was pretty sure it had to do with her insistence that the frightening creature that had nearly killed Harry before their eyes had been a follower of the Soul of the Luminous Night. “He looked so very different with them… almost, well…”
“Frightening?” Ron supplied quietly, Hermione nodding in reply. They both fell silent again.
“Well… I imagine Harry’s going to have to be a bit frightening from now on.” The redhead said suddenly, his hands smacking heavily on his knees where he was sitting by Harry’s bedside. “Otherwise, people are just going to think they can push him around, and take what is rightfully his, and if that happens we’re going to be in a world of hurt. He’s gotta be… We can’t—So don’t…” Ron sighed, refusing to meet Hermione’s eyes.
“He’s still Harry, Ron. Don’t forget that.” Hermione reached and grabbed one of his limp hands.
“Is he? I mean… really, is he still our Harry?” Ron pulled away and stood, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Big things… It’s always big things with him…” He mumbled more to himself, staring down at his feet.
He had been fine with it. Harry was the Heir. Fine. Great. Bloody hell brilliant. Harry dead on the floor, Harry fighting for his life, Harry screaming in pain—it wasn’t so fucking fine anymore! “I don’t want—I don’t want to lose him, Mione. It all seemed just like big adventures before. Even Voldemort was just a shadow in the back of our heads, but this—how do you face this?! He nearly died! He’s not Diggory, or Sirius; this is our Harry. I can’t—I don’t want to lose someone that… someone that I love. I almost lost you, and now Harry… I don’t think I can do this anymore…”
Hermione stood and pulled the tall boy close. She knew a big part of this was how torn up the Weasley family had been when the twins had been kidnapped. And worse, once the two boys had found their way home again, Percy had up and left, continuing with the strained family atmosphere. The Burrow was nearly empty now, only Ron and Ginny there for the majority of the summer, and with the Weasley adults focused on Order business, it was no wonder Ron was left lost and unanchored without his family there to support him.
“You’re not going to lose either of us, Ron, and I won’t hear anymore of it.” Her voice muffled into his shirtfront, eyes shut to stop the spill of tears that always seemed to be threatening recently. “We’re a team, and you know that we can’t be broken up, not by Voldemort, not by this, not by anything. Don’t give up on him… don’t give up on all of us.” They stood like that for long minutes, leaning on each other for physical, and emotional support.
“Mr. Malfoy, it’s time for your afternoon meds.” Poppy bustled in, starling the two Gryffindors, and forcing Draco to stop pretending to be asleep. Bugger.
Sitting up, he did his best to ignore the other occupants in the room. At least that annoying werewolf had finally left; Draco had been forced to deal with the ex-professor’s company for weeks now as the man hovered by Potter’s bed. Of course, he’d been honestly asleep during the first couple of weeks of it, but it was still a strain to be around the bloody man when he was aware of his surroundings.
“And how are your hands feeling today? Have you been trying those exercises like I instructed?” Ignoring the sudden glare sent her way, Poppy pushed aside the books and papers on the desk by Draco’s bed, and placed a small array of vials the boy would have to consume over the next fifteen minutes. “It won’t do for you to continue fighting me on this, Malfoy. You must have proper physical therapy, and the sooner you understand that and comply, the sooner you’ll be able to use your hands again.”
Draco glowered at his bed sheets unresponsively, ignoring the witch to the point that he would only open his mouth for medicine to be deposited, and that was it. Poppy sighed, shaking her head. “Mister Malfoy, behaving like this will get you nowhere—Mister Mal—!” Growling at the boy’s obvious contempt for this particular conversation, Poppy grabbed him by his ear, and pulled.
“Hey!” Draco yelped, his gaze turning red as he tried, with little success, to pull his ear free without the use of his arms. “This is—you can’t—that is not allowed, Madame Pomfrey!” Draco spluttered out, his ear smarting within the mediwitch’s grasp.
“And you are not allowed to wallow in self pity for more than two weeks, tops.” With a warning look, Poppy slowly let the boy go. “You will snap out of this ridiculous mindset, or I promise you, you’ll be needing new ears.”
Draco turned his nose up and looked away as a response. “Hey—wait—owwwwww!” He was certainly sure that assaulting patients like this was unethical, if not illegal, but the look in Madame Pomfrey’s eyes said she could hardly care less, as now both of Draco’s ears were twisted red. “Barbarian…” He grumbled, sheltering his head back into his pillow when Poppy finally released him.
“I want you to get out of bed and walk about today.” Poppy ordered firmly. “Also, you don’t have to start tonight, but within the next couple of weeks you will be joining the rest of your dorm mates for meals, and eventually classes.”
“Oh yeah, that’s a bloody good idea.” Draco growled into his pillow. “Tell me, will you be there to save me from all the people that want to kill me, because as you bloody well know, I can’t hold a wand. Do you even have a license to practice medicine with such an enlightened brain as yours?”
Poppy ignored the smart remark and picked up one of Draco’s bandaged hands, holding it up for him to see. “If you do your exercises, you will be able to defend yourself suitably on your own, Mr. Malfoy. Now come on and try to uncurl your fingers.”
With an indignant sigh, Draco sat up again in the bed, wiggling back to get comfortable against his pillows. His eyes strayed unwillingly to the two Gryffindors that were pretending, just as hard as he was, not to be there. Stupid Poppy allowing stupid visitors in… The whole ward had been filled with Weasleys, not to mention Gryffindors, that weird Ravenclaw girl with the spacey eyes, and a handful of Hufflepuffs that seemed to have taken a following to Potter ever since they realized Voldemort really was the blame of Cedric Diggory’s death. There had also been some little ones, mention of some club or what not; he really had no interest in the goings on of the goody-goody club, he just wanted the lot to get the hell out of his personal space. Wasn’t it bad enough that he had to deal with this; did he have to have a bloody audience too?
As if sensing his thoughts, Poppy waved her wand, shutting the dividing curtain around them, complete with its ingrained silencing spell. “Take it slow now; no one is expecting miracles so soon, Mr. Malfoy.”
But they were expecting movement, something Draco had only managed in his arms, his hands and wrists hardly responsive. Asking to uncurl his fingers was like asking him to climb to the top of the Astronomy Tower with nothing but his chin.
“Don’t give me that look, Malfoy. Waste your energy on concentrating, not on giving up before you’ve begun.”
“You have a horrible beside manner.” Draco said flatly. Staring at his right hand, he willed it to move. It didn’t. He tried again, glaring at his hand till he imagined he could see right through it. Only two weeks ago he could; the return of his flesh couldn’t have come faster in his mind.
“Very good, Mr. Malfoy.”
“…It twitched.”
“I said not to expect miracles just yet, dear. Try again now.”
Nodding thoughtfully, Draco did as instructed. Twenty seconds later, his ring finger gave another twitch, and uncurled slightly from its relaxed position. “Hey, it moved!”
“Of course it did.” Poppy smiled as Draco’s eyes flashed with something beyond the anger, and sorrow they had reflected since he had arrived there. Hope was a nice thing to see after all this time. “Now lets go over some sensory tests, and then you can spend the rest of the hour trying to flex your fingers. After dinner, we can see if you’d like to walk around the other hospital rooms.”
Draco nodded distractedly, his concentration still on his bandaged hand and the little finger that was slowly waving at him. Madame Pomfrey had mentioned scarring and extensive nerve damage, but she was hopeful that he would regain at least seventy percent of his previous hand use. His right hand was the worst, only now showing any promise. Draco could almost grip his left hand into a fist, but it didn’t have any actual strength in it. As is, he was pretty much defenseless.
He continued flexing that small little digit until it hurt, and he reveled in the pain, not stopping until dinner was laid out in front of him, twin smiling faces gazing down at him with mischievous eyes.
“Old Poppy’s busy.”
“So?” Draco narrowed his eyes, watching as George snatched his pudding.
“So, we have the honor of feeding you tonight. Figured you’d like some company given that Pomfrey finally lifted the no visitors’ rule. Well, good company, if you get my drift. I could have sworn I saw a little firstie Hufflepuff sneaking up here.” Fred said lightly, bouncing onto the edge of Draco’s bed, and pulling the tray into his lap. “What’s your pleasure, mate?”
Draco shrugged noncommittally. “Brown-haired brat with puppy dog eyes? I think he’s one of Potter’s admirers. …Are your hands even clean?” He asked, noticing the spot of dirt on the tip of Fred’s nose.
“Don’t be such a stick, Veela boy. You know you’ve missed us.” George plopped down on the opposite side, careful to squish Draco’s knees with a smirk.
“You know, it won’t be difficult to tell you apart anymore if you keep putting on the pounds like that, Evil Weasel.” Draco said offhandedly, leaning back on his pillow and kicking his knee free.
George froze, slowly removing the spoonful of chocolate pudding he had been intent on eating. He glanced down at his figure clad in baggy jeans and a t-shirt, then glanced over at Fred’s identical form.
“You’re not getting fat, idiot.” Fred assured him, but George still discarded the pudding, much to Draco’s smug satisfaction. “So, Draco…. any stalkers—cough—I mean suitors yet? I must say, you’re looking mighty prime in your cute hospital issued pajamas.”
“Toss off.” Draco grumbled, using his left hand to reach, and with Fred’s help, lift up his glass of pumpkin juice and bring it to his lips. There had been a couple of bad incidences that day with the arrival of Harry’s guests—and he stressed Harry’s, because the only people that wanted to see Draco likely wanted to kill him as well. It actually would have been funny if Draco hadn’t been bedridden and unable to escape the sudden unwanted attention he had unconsciously drawn his way. Nothing dangerous, but certainly not behavior he was comfortable having directed at him.
“Your brother almost dumped his girlfriend for me.”
“…Who, Bill?” George and Fred exchanged surprised glances, together turning towards Draco demandingly. “What?!”
“Seems it’s not love, so much as the chap’s highly, and I mean highly, susceptible to Veelan charms. He walked in, said boo to your mum, and then tore down my curtain just as I was squeezing in my morning nap. Scared the hell out of me, the bloody wanker, and then he spent the next hour making doe eyes at me until—and believe my embarrassment—Lupin came and dragged him out by the scruff of his collar. Your other brother was laughing the whole time and refused to help… Have I mentioned I hate all Weasleys and their kin? Because I do. Your mother damn near bit my head off, as if I had done it on purpose. Another minute and I expected her to call me a home wrecker.”
“Damn… I would have paid good money to see that.” George sighed in disappointment, ignoring the silvery glare sent his way. “This means Ginny was right, you know. Bill’s ensnared.”
“Fleur could be in love with him.” Fred reminded, although he didn’t sound completely convinced.
“It doesn’t matter; it’s still highly illegal. She’s abusing her power, and manipulating his emotions, no matter the motives.” Draco said bluntly, reaching for his pudding, only to have his hand refuse to close properly. “Fucking…” He dropped his hand, plopping back against his pillow with a weak growl. “I hate my life.”
Fred patiently wrapped Draco’s uncooperative fingers around the small bowl. “They’re not as bad off as I thought they’d be. Honestly, I was pretty sure they might just disintegrate when we applied the first potion. Nice to see the skin has filled in.”
“Scarred.” Disgusting, malformed, withered, broken… Draco obediently opened his mouth at the touch of a spoon, humming contently when chocolate filled his senses.
“That’s better.” George sighed, leaning against Draco’s shoulder. “You’re magic is pretty tough when you’re in a bad mood.”
Draco peeked an eye open to meet lazy blue. “How inconsiderate of me. Here I am stuck in a hospital bed with gads of people hoping to kill me, I can’t hold a wand, never mind run for my life, and I’ve had to spend my day dealing with whiny, bawling students that can’t understand that Potter needs to sleep. Forgive me for making things tough for—!” His words were cut off by another spoonful of pudding.
“Feel better?”
Taking a moment to swallow, Draco nodded at Fred. “Give me another ten minutes of yelling at you, and I might almost be okay—Get your mouth away from my hair, Evil Weasel.”
“You’re so cute when you’re mad. Isn’t he cute when he’s mad?”
“That he is.”
“You haven’t seen mad yet.” Draco grumbled halfheartedly. Truth was truth, after all.
“We were worried about you, you know. Between you and Harry, we probably had fifteen panic attacks.”
Eyeing the two, Draco didn’t doubt it. They were both thinner than last he’d seen, and had dark circles under their eyes. “Is that an euphemism for sex now?”
“Heh, well that too.”
“Right bit more than that.” Fred chimed in cheekily, leaning against Draco’s other shoulder.
“Gah, Weasley sandwich.” Draco’s complaints trailed off with the offering of more pudding. …Maybe life didn’t suck too much.
“Are you two going to help me walk?”
“ A little. We have papers that need grading.”
“Conformists.”
“Hey, we’re bringing down the establishment from the inside!” George insisted. “We’re going to take the ‘man’ and blow him to smithereens with our firsties’ potions work.”
“Actually, we have been going pretty lax.” Fred admitted. “At some point it stopped being this routine that we had to do, and became sort of fun and challenging. I actually take pride in a few of them; they’re not all horrible when not blowing up our stuff… which reminds me. You and Har have a load of schoolwork to catch up on. We’ve been talking with McGonagall, and she suggested something along the lines of tutors. I guess Longbottom’s been doing the same for that Zabini friend of yours.”
Draco nodded silently. To be honest, he really didn’t give a shit about schoolwork, or grades, or going back into the old Hogwarts’ routine. His mind was on larger things, like surviving, and getting his hands to work before the Candidate Trial crashed down upon his head. He’d wasted weeks in a hospital bed while his competitors were likely out growing stronger. Passing Charms was on the bottom of his things-to-do list.
“Have you been walking yet?” George asked, deftly waylaying Draco’s spoon. Obviously he had gotten over the weight dig enough to steal a bite.
“No. The meds have kept me pretty loopy, too unbalanced for strolling around… and Poppy mentioned something about my nervous system being shocked badly, possibly irreparably so.”
“You’re allowed to sound as scared as I’m sure you’re feeling, Drake.” Fred said meaningfully. Draco sounded like a robot when talking about his current condition.
Draco shrugged uncomfortably. “I should be dead, really. What’s a little nerve damage compared to the big sleep?”
The boys didn’t say anything, twin faces sharing a troubled look over Draco’s head. “How have you been feeling lately?” Fred finally asked, lightly pushing a stray strand of silvery blonde hair from Draco’s eyes. “You’ve been alone in this room for a pretty long time.”
“Umm… bored mostly.” Draco lied smoothly.
“Have you been talking with him?”
“He’s sleeping, so no.”
“Did you read that book we sent you?”
“Nope.”
“Draco…”
“I don’t want to talk about this, guys.” Draco spoke suddenly, his expression leaving no room for disagreement. Of course, one of the things that made the twins such good friends was their ability to ignore that look.
“So what you’re saying is that you’ve been spending all this time worrying, and being depressed.” George said flatly, not even bothering to make it a question. Draco’s silence was answer enough.
“So stubborn, even in being miserable.” Fred tsked softly, his hand moving to Draco’s back to rub comforting circles into his tense flesh. “That book has a lot on your Veela Clan and what you have to look forward to. Since you suddenly started sprouting feathers in your sleep, your Veela will likely be making its presence known more. We’ve already read it twice, because honestly, you’re going to need the extra help keeping the populace at bay. Do you know if you’ve actually gained any suitors yet/?”
Draco refused to meet anyone’s eye, the curtains to his right getting the honor of his gaze. “Should I be counting the both of you?”
Fred and George fell silent, unconsciously pulling back from the boy on the bed. “Errr… should you be?”
“I don’t need a book to identify my suitors.” Draco said blankly. “But I do have the choice of ignoring them if I wish.”
“Ah, well I think you should do that then… the ignoring thing.” George piped up nervously.
Fred sighed, his hand returning to the soothing motion on Draco’s back. “The thing is, love, as much as the two of us would like such a, uh, place in your life, we’ve realized that you’d be a lot happier with, well, with the person you’ve already chosen. We have no intention of making your complicated situation even more complicated.”
“We want you to be happy, kid. So we have to be very, er, unselfish in this.”
Draco just nodded, not looking particularly happy or unhappy about it all. “Thoughtful as that is, the one I’ve chosen isn’t likely a suitor… a willing one, anyways.”
“I’m sorry, Draco.” The two snuggled up, hoping to offer some sort of comfort to the morose blonde. “You shouldn’t count him out just yet though. It doesn’t take much to fall for a good kid like you.”
Eyes straying over to Harry’s sleeping form, Draco highly doubted it. Now back at Hogwarts, he was quite sure Harry would dismiss him for the rest of his friends that Draco had only recently realized the boy had mobs of. “Lavender Brown from Gryffindor, Michael Corner from Ravenclaw, and Jared Summers from Hufflepuff. Your brother, although I’m ruling him out on natural weakness to Veelas alone, and an immortal god that likes to accost me in my sleep. The Slytherins haven’t been by, and honestly I’m hoping they don’t, because any wooing me will be beaten bloody once the others catch on. And Voldemort.” No, he couldn’t forget about Voldemort.
“Actually, about that…” George got up and reached for the bag he had brought with him, ruffling through it until he pulled out a thick packet of legal looking papers mixed in with scrolls and letters. “They arrived over two weeks ago, but Pomfrey said no mail.”
Draco stared curiously at the largest packet, the Ministry’s and Gringotts seal both emblazoned on the front. The sender address was from the Department of Contracts and Patents. Draco’s stomach did a quick dip and refused to return. “Shit.”
“…Do you want us to open it for you?”
Draco shook his head no, even as his voice said yes. The twins gave him an odd look before tearing into the envelope. George cleared his voice, electing himself to read aloud, if only because his curiosity could not let him sit by and listen.
“Draconis Black Malfoy, current son to the last residing Scion Dragon sovereign, Narcissa Black Malfoy, and her husband of the North Light Veela Clan, Lucius Malfoy, we, the Department of Contracts and Patents, in accordance with the Ministry of Magic, and the Gringotts Wizarding Bank, have the duty to review your financial and legal status in the Wizarding World and Clans and relay all information to you as we know it at this time.
“Certain revelations have exposed that your legality in your family has changed since your promissory of marriage contract was written and signed this July. In compliance with the law of the Heir in regard to Candidates, all contracts that obligate a Candidate in any way, or form that could contradict a Candidate’s duty is immediately, and completely voided. Listed below are the contracts that have already been voided since confirming your status of Candidate, and are followed by contracts that may be voided in the near future depending on further inspection as of October 27, 1996. Details of what each contract entails can be found on pages listed G 1-58 attached, including grounds for appeal, and possible restoration of contracts with proper alterations.” George stopped to flip lightly through the back pages that seemed to appear as he kept going. “Whoa, this is pretty heavy stuff, especially all this property ownership…”
Draco sat forward, his brow puckered worriedly. “Fuck that; what’s it say about the marriage contract? Is it voided? Does the break of contract penalty persist if it is voided? Am I exiled?”
“Uh…” The twins skimmed through the pages, looking for the contracts revolving around possible exile. “Okay, as of now you’re not exiled… but it isn’t clear if you still stand to inherit the Malfoy or Black name.” Fred said with a troubled look. “Part of being an heir to both families is the assurance that you’ll marry and continue on the line. Since you are no longer qualified to marry anyone but the Heir, and likely unable to reproduce once in that position, you may no longer be qualified to continue carrying either name. At the moment your assets have been frozen until the patriarchs of your family are reached to give their permission to either reject or accept your legal presence in the family. You still hold the names, but it is in name alone, and hold little, if no power from those names at this moment.”
“…Alright. That’s better than nothing.” Draco said thoughtfully, his brain working quickly through the annoying fog the medicine put him in. “Who is listed as the head of my family? Has it referred to my parents, or to their allegiance to Voldemort?”
“Well, that’s a bit tricky… As of now, Voldemort no longer holds your family as indentured servants. Part of that contract was the understanding that Narcissa Malfoy would give all her children to Voldemort. Since your Candidate standing voids your contract not only in marriage, but also in servitude to Voldemort, Narcissa’s contract has also been voided for failure to comply. Lucius’ contract of servitude is still being looked over. His part in helping to sire said children may not be enough to void the contract. He is still physically able to sire children, but it was specifically tied to Narcissa, so the goblins are debating.”
That meant both his parents were alive. Silent for a long, emotional moment, Draco eventually returned to his problems. “Okay… okay… either way Mum will be the decider on my legality, and I don’t think she’ll cause me any trouble with the little bun and all to take the burden of actual rearing obligations. What’s it say in there about funds outside of family ties? I should have a vault in my name alone.”
“Number 18894? It’s still yours. There’s an age stamp on it for full use when you come of age, but you are allowed a limited 500 galleons a year. You’re also… uhh… hold on… Fred? Am I reading this right?” George moved so his brother could peer over his shoulder, the two ruffling through pages until they found themselves at the very back of the packet, staring at page J 10.
“What?” Draco demanded when neither boy would speak up, never mind look at him.
“Uh… well…” George blinked down at the page, not sure what to say.
Fred carefully took the pages from him, reading aloud in soft tones. “This review of Draconis Black Malfoy was performed in result of the incident of September 22, 1996 when the first stage of a mating bond was carried out by the Soul of the Ancient Night on Draconis Black Malfoy. Along with this bond, comes the inherent contract that entails Draconis Black Malfoy to protection rights by the being that holds the Soul of the Ancient Night, as of now this being identified as Harry James Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World. Unless specified, this contract will remain intact indefinitely until both parties are deceased, or claimed fully by another, which will void the original preliminary bonding.”
“…Uh oh.” Draco whispered weakly, his eyes glued to Harry’s sleeping form. Potter wasn’t going to like this.
“September 22? Weren’t you still knocked out then? How the hell did he… you…?” Gaping almost comically, the two stared at Draco as if he had suddenly sprouted another head.
Draco squirmed, a small blush rising on his features. “I had no say in the matter, that’s all I’m saying.”
Oddly enough, the two did not seem eased by this. “Did Harry, er…force…?”
“No, idiots—It was his bastard alter ego. Potter would never do something like that!” Draco said firmly. “He would have at least asked.”
“Okay, calm down, love.” George wrapped an arm around Draco’s shoulder. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”
“No, I, uh… it wasn’t that bad, really.” He watched Harry, his lips parted slightly in his sleep. “…Don’t tell Potter, okay? I think he’d have a mental breakdown if he knew what happened. He’ll blame himself, and it really wasn’t his fault. And… well, Nox Ămor is an interesting fellow, if not a bit off.” Draco squirmed further into his pillows, eyes flickering around. “I sort of really needed it, actually. The Veela—my Veela is louder now without the collar. And it’s going to get worse as the weeks go on because I’m growing. It, uh, it gives me something to fall back on when it gets really bad.”
“Fall back how?” Fred urged. “Will it subdue the unsolved energy?”
“Sorta… it, uh… gives me something to focus on. The memory sort of currents the wild emotions… I was angry at the time, but now that I think about it, he really was doing it to help me… and to piss me off… But mostly to help me, I’m pretty sure.” Draco finished with an annoyed frown.
“Alright then. You scared us there for a moment.” The twins released a worried breath. “It has caused a bit of trouble though with this whole contract business, but I can’t say that it’s not for the best. I’d rather see you penniless and alive, than legally under Voldemort’s thumb.”
Draco nodded to himself. He didn’t really care about the money much, and he was sort of expecting the family break the instant he had run from Voldemort. Oh, he wouldn’t turn down easy living if he had a choice, but… but that wasn’t why he kept going. “Please, I’d like to try walking now.”
The twins carefully cleared the food out of the way, helping to turn Draco so his legs dangled over the edge of the bed. George supported the boy upright since Draco’s hands couldn’t handle the weight of holding him.
“Is there a reason you’re feeling up my legs right now?” Draco asked blandly, his eyebrow raised in a look the twins had grown to realize meant he was trying to judge whether to laugh, or hit them with a hard object.
“Poppy told us to get the blood flowing in your legs first. That we’re having fun at the same time is just a bonus.”
“Just remember I don’t need hands to make your life hell.” The hands immediately moved down from the precarious area they had been reaching for. Draco decided not to cause too much trouble, if only because his legs were starting to tingle uncomfortably, the circulation of blood starting odd aches to appear. It faded by the time he finished lifting the limbs, while the two supported him from falling over on the bed. He felt horribly weak, and without even standing he knew that his body wasn’t moving like it should.
His first three steps confirmed it when he nearly fell on his face. “Fucking—‘!” He glared down at his legs. “You are not allowed to rebel against me!”
“What’s wrong?”
“My balance, for one, but mostly the stupid things aren’t doing what I’m telling them to.”
“Well you need to give the whole system time to heal, you know? You’ve suffered a huge shock; you just can’t expect to bounce back to where you started. You need to retrain your body again.”
“Are you two nurses now?” Draco asked with a sneer, trying, and failing to straighten up completely. Apparently his back muscles weren’t happy to be in full use yet either.
“Nope, we’re only versed in anything that concerns you, cutie dragon. Now stop glaring, and get those feet moving.” George said cheerfully, neither of the two affected by Draco’s misplaced growls. “We’ll have you running from your fans in no time.”
Snorting in reply, Draco let them help him totter around the hospital room for short increments until a good forty-five minutes have passed. Draco refused to stop, and it wasn’t until Madame Pomfrey peeked a head in to yell at him to sit his butt down already, that he finally gave in to reason. Draco compromised, sitting in an armchair instead of his bed. It seemed a silly thing, but if someone had spent the last few weeks stuck in bed, a chair was like a small vacation.
“Hold on now…” Fred snagged a blanket from a near by bed and wrapped Draco up in it, smiling when the boy’s head was all that showed through. “You look terribly young for all this.”
“Funny, I’ve been feeling really old.” Draco murmured back. “Can you push me over to him?” He asked, his head nodding to where Harry was sleeping. He was left snuggled up, wedged between bed and chair to keep him comfortable while he watched Harry sleep.
“We’ll try and stop by later tonight before we go to bed. Did you want us to bring you anything?”
Draco shook his head. “I doubt you have access to my trunks, anyways.”
“No, we do.” At Draco’s suspicious look, George elaborated. “There really isn’t a lock we can’t get past.”
It was really just easier to let it go, Draco decided. “Fine. If you can get into the large elm one, there is a heavy book titled ‘Traversing the Border from Earth to Fae’ by Theo Collins Dold. Try not to misplace the bookmarks because it’s hell to find my way through all that text as it is.” The smirks sent his way were not reassuring.
“See ya, Veela boy. Don’t get into any trouble while we’re gone.” George leaped before Draco could kick him, the two laughing as they ran for the door.
“Bastards—you better come back with sweets!” He hollered after grumpily. “I hate Weasleys…”
Now that the din had settled and all visitors were once again locked out, he felt no need to pretend just how content he was to finally be in Harry’s close presence. He had been, well stubborn was probably the best description, he admitted to himself. He had stayed with Harry in his mind until he had found his own body wanting to wake. Then he had only seen Potter when he fell asleep, which had been mostly 20 hours a day with the medication he was on. But Harry’s coma had broken a week ago, and since then Draco had been sure to lock himself out of Harry’s mind.
He wasn’t exactly worried what Harry would think of him being in his head. Actually, he was pretty sure Harry would have been happy for the company, and just the knowledge that someone had been watching over him. But Draco didn’t want to be there when Harry woke up. He didn’t want to be the first person he saw… mostly because he had no idea what he would say to the boy. He was afraid…
Harry’s dreams, once they had started up, were just as bad as the memories… or maybe they were memories. Draco wasn’t sure anymore. He had only recently discovered that Voldemort piped horrible visions into Harry’s head, nightmares of torture and death that could only be real events in the horrible man’s life. What was real and what was fantasy was difficult to discern, and he imagined even more so for Harry.
It was easy to say Draco was strong enough, but Harry’s mind had revealed so many depths to the boy, he really didn’t know where to begin. And really, he couldn’t even save himself right now. He couldn’t even pick up food to feed himself, or lift himself up from the chair to walk. How could he be strong for Harry when he was so weak?
He may have saved Harry, but the job he wanted wouldn’t allow for this sort of handicap. He could not be Potter’s Soul Vigil. The Candidate Trial alone would prove that once a far more apt opponent killed him. Draco bit his lip worriedly. It had been so easy to say he would win, that he would always be there for the other boy, yet with this one set back he realized just how fragile he really was. …Maybe Harry would be better off with a stronger person. If his hands didn’t get better he’d be useless.
Draco stared blankly at his broken hands, his mind and vision blurring unhappily. He didn’t want to lose, but if he weren’t strong enough then he would only be a hindrance to Harry. Hands and eyes were a wizard’s necessity outside of magic. Without the use of his hands he was… Draco looked up, drawn to the mirror on the wall where his pale face and red rimmed eyes were clearly reflected. Could… could there be a way to control magic without needing to focus power through the hands?
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Awakening To the Dream