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The Heart of the Matter	By : Jad Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 7323 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
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
- 6
- 7
- 8
Chapter Seven

I think guilt and innocence

are a matter of degree;

What is justice to you

might not be justice to me.

- Ani DiFranco, crime for crime

: : :

While it was sunny and clear in London by the time Dumbledore showed up that afternoon with a Portkey, it was dreary and drizzling heavily in Scotland. Three horseless carriages were waiting for them when they arrived outside the gate to the grounds, parked between the two winged boars. A fair number of the Order had accompanied them, most of them trained Aurors; with the other Vanishing Cabinet still unaccounted for, while the other remained at Hogwarts there was still a risk of Death Eaters crashing the party and Dumbledore wasn't taking any chances.

Dumbledore instructed Potter and Draco to get under Potter's Invisibility Cloak immediately upon arrival, just in case. Potter obeyed immediately and Draco thought about making a nasty remark about how well trained Potter'd come, but he was distracted once again by how very close he was forced to stay to Potter when under the cloak. Potter and he were both as tall as many of the adults – taller than some – and squeezing them both under the cloak was no easy feat.

Every time the carriage hit a dip or lump in the road, Draco's thigh would bump against Potter's, knocking their knees and shoulders together. Potter said nothing and Draco, still seething from that morning, clamped his teeth shut and stared fixedly out the window. Kingsley Shacklebolt and some other Auror Draco didn't know sat across from them. Dumbledore sat on Harry's other side, humming quietly under his breath as the carriage jostled along up to the castle, pulling to a halt outside the stone staircase leading to the Entrance Hall.

Hogwarts sat before them like a barren and worn citadel. Scorch marks decorated the high stone walls, some with craters, some with rubble swept up against them, leaving a clear path in the middle for the party to walk through. There was no blood, though – no bodies, no evidence of who or what had passed through only a few nights ago. It had the aura of a forgotten battlefield where spirits lingered like chills. Draco felt like he was walking through a tomb.

Dumbledore made him and Potter stay underneath the cloak, 'Just in case', which was unfortunate, because Draco had frankly had quite enough close-contact with Potter in the last three days to last him three lifetimes. Draco wasn't even that tall, only half a head on Potter really, but even still they had to stoop as they walked, and their shoulders and elbows kept knocking together, much harder than was probably necessary. Both boys were wearing similar scowls to show just how much effort was going into the restraint not to snap at one another, once more under orders from the Headmaster to remain 'As invisible as humanly possible.'

McGonagall greeted them just inside the Entrance Hall with a severe look, flanked by more Order members. Draco sighed inwardly. He'd been hoping Snape would be here.

'Albus,' she said by way of greeting. Her eyes lingered on the space where Draco and Harry stood momentarily, and Draco tried without success to get an idea of what she was thinking.

The trip from the Entrance Hall to the main staircases of the castle was uneventful at first, an echo of quick footfalls and hushed breathing, tension hovering in the air around them. Just as the cold was beginning to get to Draco, a fiery pain stabbed at his arm, and Potter gave a sudden shout and collapsed.

Naturally, once Draco had thrown the cloak off them, everyone went to check on Potter first. He was kneeling on the floor and clutching his forehead with both hands, teeth grit and shoulders set, and spitting low, horrible hisses that chilled Draco to his core. Draco clamped his own teeth shut on his bottom lip and massaged his left forearm through the sleeve of his robes, not needing to look to know what had caused the pain.

Potter recoiled from the coddling, wincing and shaking his head, looking irate. 'I'm fine,' he insisted, his tone still hoarse and sibilant. McGonagall frowned and whispered something to Dumbledore, who shook his head. Draco was actually glad for Potter's melodramatic performance for once, because it seemed nobody had noticed the pain in his arm.

Then Moody limped over, grabbed his left wrist without warning, and yanked Draco forward.

'Ow, watch it!'

Moody may have looked ragged and broken, but his grip was like steel; he twisted Draco's wrist up and over, shoving up the sleeve with his other hand and exposing Draco's forearm. The mark there pulsed red once, twice, and then with a hiss it faded to black again like a hot coal doused with water.

Draco hissed through his teeth.

'He knows the boy's here,' Moody growled, holding tight as Draco tried to wrench his arm out of the man's grasp. Every eye was fixed on the mark, and it was causing Draco's stomach to turn.

'I expected as much,' Dumbledore said mildly. His eyes left Draco's forearm and went to his face, watching him. 'Keeping you at Headquarters the past few days has evaded Voldemort, no doubt,' Dumbledore did not pause as Draco hissed through his teeth at the name, 'as I did expect he had... another way of keeping track of you, aside from that mark. And now that he has made the mistake of using it...'

Dumbledore raised his wand and Draco tensed. There were no words, but Draco could feel the magic crawling over him, searching for a trace of any charm or spell on his person—and Dumbledore was quite right, of course, that as the tracking spell had been so recently used, it would be much easier to locate. With another wave of his wand, Dumbledore wordlessly removed it.

'Much better,' Dumbledore said approvingly. 'But now that he is all too aware of your location, we must make way with haste. If you would lead the way, Draco...'

Draco glowered at Dumbledore, angry at being put on the spot so abruptly. His eyes swept the lot of them briefly; Potter was watching him as carefully as the rest, rubbing his forehead with his left hand, but looked more worried than suspicious. Draco sneered at him before turning away, and leading the party along a route that was so well-worn into his memory he could—and had—navigated it in the dark.

The majority waited at one end of the seventh-floor corridor, Dumbledore instructing Potter to stay back when he tried to follow the Headmaster, who was the only person aside from McGonagall and Moody to accompany Draco to the far end, where the hidden room was waiting. Dumbledore did not speak, but merely watched Draco silently and waited until Draco could not take his gaze anymore and began to pace, reciting the words in his head.

I need a place where no one can find me. I need a place to keep it hidden from everyone.

I need a place that's safe.

At his third pass, the Room of Hidden things appeared in the stone wall; a wide, old oak double-door with brass handles that Moody forced open with a strong shove. The doors slid open soundlessly, exposing a cavernous room with high cathedral windows, casting multi-coloured shadows on the maze of objects before them. Draco walked inside, Moody, Dumbledore and McGonagall following close behind him as he cut corners, leading them down one aisle and then the next, along a path well-forged into his memory.

He stopped after what felt like ages but had only taken about forty seconds to reach. McGonagall cast a lighting charm and the corner glowed under a soft, blue halo of light, directly underneath of which stood the largest object in the cluttered space.

The black-and-gold finish of the Vanishing Cabinet gleamed at them under the shimmering light. Its large, double-doors, slight curve and carved details were all-too familiar to Draco, who had learned the piece of furniture like one learned an instrument they played, memorising its imperfections and contours as thoroughly as the rate of his own heartbeat under pressure.

'Quickly,' Dumbledore urged, and Moody and McGonagall moved into the light together, wands at the ready.

But the Cabinet stood there quiet and exanimate, looming over them all and casting a large shadow in the dusty blue glow. McGonagall looked at Dumbledore, who nodded. Both she and Moody uttered a spell together and two identical red jets of light shot forth from their wands, and Draco watched a year's worth of trial and desperation erupt in hot orange flames, fully incinerating in less than a minute.

Draco looked at the pitiful pile of ashes on the floor, exhaled sharply, turned away and walked out of the room without a word.

Potter was still down the far end of the hall, both his and Draco's school trunks at his feet, talking to Tonks and looking annoyed. Draco was too tired to even take pleasure in that, or to even toss him a sneer. He just wanted to go home.

'Now that that's settled,' Dumbledore said quietly, rejoining the group with Moody and McGonagall at his side. His gaze turned to Draco. 'We must decide what to do with you, Mr Malfoy.'

Draco's defences went up immediately; so that'd been it, had it? Get him to open the door, let them in, then toss him to the authorities? Go bloody figure—no wonder Snape wasn't here, he was probably halfway to Azkaban—

'Hogwarts is once again safe now that the Cabinet is destroyed, however,' Dumbledore continued, 'I cannot have the task of watching over you myself, no matter how preferable that would be... there is too much to be done before the new school year, and—'

'What about Snape?' Draco snapped, interrupting. 'Why can't I stay with him?'

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. 'Because Professor Snape is perhaps in more danger than yourself or even Mr Potter at the moment, Draco, and I daresay he would not wish to place you in harm's way.'

Draco narrowed his eyes. 'What do you mean, he's in danger? He's a—'

'He was a spy for the Order,' Dumbledore corrected. 'Unfortunately, Greyback's escape alerted Voldemort—' (Draco again hissed at the name.) '—to his true allegiance, and he must remain in hiding for the time being for his own protection.'

This did not please Draco at all. He couldn't stay at Hogwarts, he couldn't stay with Snape—he couldn't go home, of all places—where the hell was he supposed to go?

'We could set up another safehouse,' Kingsley suggested. 'Give him a different Secret Keeper, I could even get an official warrant for it easily enough—'

'But if the Ministry found out you were hiding a boy with the Dark Mark...' Tonks put in.

'There'd be hell to pay,' Moody agreed. 'I suppose we could always take our chances with an unsanctioned Charm...'

Kingsley shook his head. 'If they found out about that and a boy with the Dark Mark, it'd be miles worse—'

'He can stay with me.'

Everyone stopped talking abruptly, and turned as one to look at Potter, who was holding his cloak in one hand and wand in the other.

Draco narrowed his eyes further. 'What?'

'He can stay with me,' Potter repeated, ignoring Draco's gaping stare. He was looking at Dumbledore instead. 'Headquarters is safe enough, we have just enough room for him, it's as safe a place as any.'

'This is true,' Dumbledore said thoughtfully in a manner that suggested he'd been expecting the suggestion all along. 'It is, of course, up to Draco, if he would like to take you up on your generous offer of hospitality.'

His eyes twinkled and the edge of his mouth quirked, and Draco hated him all the more for being the manipulative sonofabitch that he was.

'I'd rather turn myself into Him,' Draco snarled, glaring at Potter, 'than spend one more minute with you.'

Potter raised his eyebrows, then shrugged. 'Suit yourself, Malfoy.'

'Draco,' Tonks hissed. 'Don't be an idiot.'

'Your mother died protecting you, boy,' Moody growled. 'Fine way to repay her, handing yourself in. But you've no argument from me.'

Draco glowered at them all, grinding his teeth together and hating the position they had put him in. Of course he'd rather put up with Potter than ever face the Dark Lord again—but he'd hardly admit it, much less accept charity from the bastard.

And then Draco remembered hearing Snape talking to his mother that summer, and the look on her face when Snape'd said, 'His pride will be the end of him.'

Draco closed his eyes and sagged slightly, and Tonks put a hand on his shoulder to support him.

'Well?' Potter said. Draco opened his eyes, and saw that he was smirking.

'That's enough, Harry,' Tonks said, with such force that Potter blinked at her. 'You don't have to rub it in. He needs your help. We all do. Now that Draco's arrangements are settled, let's get the hell out of here, shall we?'

: : :

As the surplus of Weasleys were having an extended stay at Headquarters until Bill was well enough to leave St Mungo's (Charlie and the twins had apparently taken leave from work to do so), and that various members of the Order occupied rooms on a day-by-day basis, Draco was stuck sharing a room with Potter. Better than the alternative, Draco kept forcibly reminding himself as he was forced to change, sleep, wake and mingle with the prat diurnally. Ignoring him seemed to work well, and although Draco caught Potter watching him carefully from time to time, he seemed also seemed content to ignore Draco's presence, which suited Draco fine.

The pattern had just been becoming familiar, Draco had thought as he traded his robes for the pyjamas that were in his trunk that he'd picked up at Hogwarts three days ago, and then Potter went and fouled things up again.

It had to be three in morning, Draco thought briefly upon waking with a jolt, it was so pitch dark in the room. Then Draco's hearing caught up with his brain.

Potter was screaming.

Draco sat bolt upright, jarred and bewildered, staring at the opposite bed. He clawed around the bedside table for his wand, lighting it as he stumbled and tripped out of the covers and onto the floor. Potter was curled in a foetal position and facing the wall, so Draco couldn't see his face. But he was still yelling, incoherently with snippets of words Draco vaguely recognised, and Draco hissed at him to wake up, to shut up before he woke the entire household, but Potter didn't seem to be aware of anything outside of whatever he was dreaming.

Gritting his teeth, frustrated and exhausted and approaching the end of his rope, Draco seized Potter's shoulder and yanked him into view. 'Potter!'

Potter's eyes shot open, stared up at Draco for a split second, and then Draco suddenly found himself thrown up and backwards into the wall beside the window, Potter's hand at his throat. He was snarling violently, a long string of intelligible hisses pouring from his mouth without pausing for breath, green eyes wide and flashing in the feeble light of the wand Draco had dropped in surprise and was now lying useless on the floor beside him.

One word through those hisses melded just enough English that Draco could understand it, and chilled his blood as it slid over Potter's lips: 'Severus.'

Draco's mouth went dry.

Almost as abruptly as it had begun, the episode stopped. Potter stopped hissing, mouth still partially open, his wide eyes going from dangerous to confused so palpably that Draco watched the transformation with a horrified awe, still too terrified to move or speak lest Potter lash out again.

Potter stared at him a moment longer, his breathing coming in shallow breaths, blinked twice and let go of Draco, stepping back and away with a word. He looked around the room then, looking lost, then up at the blank portrait on the wall beside Draco's bed and ran to it, hammering his fist on it.

'What, what, what?' came an annoyed, groggy voice from the blank portrait.

'Dumbledore,' Potter said impatiently, voice hoarse and still wavering in and out of a hiss. 'I need to see Dumbledore. Now.'

'Now?' mumbled the voice, sounding like it was speaking through a yawn. 'It's not even dawn, can't it wait 'till morning...'

'No, it can't!' Potter snapped furiously. 'I need to see him now!'

'Temper, temper,' chided the portrait. 'So demanding, children these days, no respect for their elders, either—'

The voice in the portrait stopped talking abruptly as Potter lashed out again, the harsh, sibilant tones of Parseltongue cutting through the cold air in the room like an invisible whip.

There was a small pause from the portrait following the outburst. 'Right,' it said finally. 'Now it is, then.'

'Potter,' Draco said, as Potter stood glaring at the empty portrait as if to dare it to disobey him again. 'What was that all about?'

Potter looked at him, startled, as if he'd just realised there was someone else in the room. His eyes narrowed, squinting, and Draco realised that Potter probably couldn't see him properly without his glasses. He didn't answer Draco; instead he stomped over to his own bed, grabbed his glasses and wand off the bedside table, and hastily pulled on a jumper he found on the floor.

Draco retrieved his own wand, moving away from Potter as quickly as he could. Potter didn't seem to notice, or even care that he'd woken up screaming and slammed Draco into a wall. Draco narrowed his eyes indignantly as Potter began to pace the area in front of his bed, frowning and rubbing his temples and completely ignoring Draco.

'Potter!' Potter stopped and looked up as Draco shouted, eyes murderous. 'What the fuck is going on?'

'Shut up,' Potter ordered curtly, looking back at the floor and resuming his pacing.

Draco curled his hands into fists. 'Why do you need to see Dumbledore?'

'None of your sodding business,' Potter said distractedly.

'What about Snape?' Draco snapped, undeterred.

Potter looked up at him again, frowning. He shook his head. 'Don't worry about it. Go back to sleep, Malfoy.'

'You expect me to go back to sleep after that?' Draco demanded incredulously. 'I want to know—'

'This may come as a surprise, Malfoy, but I don't give a shit what you want,' Potter said nastily. He sat on the edge of his bed, pulling on his trainers, and then stood and left the room without so much as a second glance at Draco.

Draco was not used to being ignored. Nobody got away with ignoring Draco, not even his own father.

At the thought of his father, Draco bared his teeth and scowled, following Potter out of the room.

He stopped at the top of the stairs when he heard hushed, urgent whispers below. Crouching above the top step, Draco pressed his ear between the bars of the banister and listened closely.

'Are you sure, Harry?' Dumbledore's voice, usually calm and serene, sounded shakier than Draco could ever remember hearing it.

'Yes,' Potter snapped impatiently. 'It was just like before, with Mr Weasley, only without the snake. But it felt the same. It wasn't just a dream.'

There was a quiet pause. 'I trust your judgement, Harry,' Dumbledore said finally. 'I will investigate it. In the meantime, I need you to remain here.'

'Why? I'm not—I'm almost—'

'Harry,' Dumbledore said, the slightest hint of impatience coating his voice. 'Take care to remember the last time you followed your instincts on a similar matter. It would be quite foolish to put yourself in that position again.'

Potter fell quiet, uncharacteristically passive after such an order. After a pause, he said quietly, 'But I don't care about Snape.'

'We will worry about deciphering the motive later,' Dumbledore said quietly. 'I will return as soon as I know anything.'

Draco heard the door open and close again. He leaned his forehead against the cool wood of the banister, turning their words over in his head.

: : :
- 6
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- 8
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The Heart of the Matter