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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
- 8
- 9
- 10
Chapter Nine

'These feelings are like your mother's breasts;

you know where they are, but they're best left untouched.'

- Two and a Half Men

: : :

By the time Draco had dusted the excess Floo Powder off his person, a small, stalwart witch had opened the door to the arrival room. She was wearing the standard lime-green robes, had short, curly grey hair, and her name tag read: 'Amelia Bogstosh'. She hurried forward to greet Dumbledore, stepping out of the fireplace after Draco.

'Ah, good morning again, Amelia. Has there been any change?'

'It's hard to say,' Amelia informed him in a low voice. 'He's stable, but still unconscious. It's too soon to tell anything for certain.'

'I've heard worse news,' Dumbledore said, nodding. Draco trailed behind in silence as Dumbledore followed the woman out of the Floo room and into the main lobby. They stepped into the lift and instead of going up, the Healer withdrew her wand and prodded something on the console Draco couldn't quite see; the was a soft jerk and a loud click, and the lift started to descend.

The descent didn't last long. The doors opened a few moments later as the lift halted, admitting them to a brightly-lit, bare hallway with several doors along either side. Draco realised these must be the secure private wards—a place for patients who would be in danger out in the open, or worse, endanger the other patients around them. Amelia led them to the furthest door down on the left. Two formidable-looking wizards dressed in slate robes with gold badges pinned to their chests stood outside the door, and nodded to Dumbledore as he followed Amelia inside.

Draco followed him quickly, and found himself in a very white, sterile-looking room with a drawn curtain on one end. It smelled like bleach and vinegar and made him wrinkle his nose. He moved to follow Dumbledore over to the curtain just as Amelia made to hold him back.

'No, dear, I don't think you should—'

'It's all right, Amelia,' Dumbledore said, without turning around.

Amelia pursed her lips and looked very much like Madam Pomfrey; Draco didn't wait for her to think up an argument and moved around her, walking swiftly over to stand beside the Headmaster as he drew the curtain back.

It took a great deal of physical restraint not to recoil at the sight, and even more not to give into the impulse to vomit. Snape was as white as the sheets he was lain on, but dark red, blue, and purple veins strangled what little skin that was visible. It looked as if the top layer of flesh were transparent. Faint colours of yellow and putrid green bloomed under the markings, making it look like an enormous bruise had grown inside of him, slowly staining him from the inside out. It was worst around his neck and jugular, reaching up between his ear and jaw to claw at his face, and Draco could see the horrible markings tainting the wrist and hand that had slipped out from under the sheets.

His eyes were lightly closed and his chest fell and rose so slowly Draco had to concentrate to ascertain the man was breathing; a small, clear tube was hooked into the corner of his mouth and trailed into a small vial on the bedside table, full of a salmon-coloured liquid that Draco recognised as Blood-Replenishing Potion. A small tub of yellow paste sat open beside it, probably for the bruising.

Unable to keep looking, Draco closed his eyes and took a deep, unsteady breath. If it hadn't been for the fact that Snape was breathing, Draco would have assumed him already dead.

'He's looking much better than when we found him,' Dumbledore murmured quietly. Draco gave him an incredulous look; he couldn't imagine anyone alive looking much worse than this. 'Oh, yes, I daresay that had we found him ten minutes later, there wouldn't have been anything any Healer could have done for him. Perhaps now you understand why, despite your wishes, I could not allow you to remain with Professor Snape after the incident at Hogwarts.'

Draco did not say anything. Amelia came over to the other side of the bed, wand drawn, whispering medical spells under her breath to check the vitals. Draco watched her impassively beside the Headmaster, who was taking turns watching Snape and the blonde with quiet curiosity.

'I will let you know if anything changes,' Amelia told the Headmaster, breaking the near-silence. 'Are the gentlemen outside—'

'They will remain here, if that's all right,' Dumbledore confirmed, nodding. 'And I appreciate it, thank you. Mr Malfoy...'

The lines in Snape's face were more severe than Draco remembered. His hair, usually oily and unkempt, was still lank but clean and lying flat against the pillow, a shocking black ink stain against the white sheets. Draco felt the overwhelming need to sit down, and did, on the small stool at his bedside.

Dumbledore was quiet for a moment, approaching slowly from behind. 'Draco, there is nothing you can do for him. I will alert you as soon as I know anything—'

'I want to stay,' Draco said, eyes still on the unconscious form of his professor. 'I—please,' he said, looking up at Dumbledore, then Amelia. 'I won't be any trouble.'

It wasn't as if he was asking for much, or like he could go anywhere. There were two Aurors stationed outside the room, and they were deep inside the secure ward at St Mungo's, so it wasn't as if he was in any real danger while he was there. And considering what he had to go back to...

Dumbledore looked at Amelia, who looked troubled. 'I don't know,' he said, truthfully. 'Would it be inconvenient for you if he stayed?'

Draco gave the woman the best pleading-eyes he could. She pursed her lips firmly, but looked rather resigned. 'Not particularly. Though I don't advise it.'

Dumbledore looked back at Draco. 'Are you sure you wish to remain? Someone may not be available to fetch you should you decide to return prematurely.'

'I'm sure,' Draco said, his mind made up. 'I want to stay. Please.'

Draco had never said the word 'please' so much as he had over the past week. It felt and sounded like he was pulling needles through his cheeks every time he said it, but he had never meant it so much in his life. Dumbledore, thankfully, seemed to realise this, and nodded briefly.

'Very well. I will be in my office,' he told Amelia, 'should anything change. Thank you.'

Amelia showed him to the door and then returned, using her wand to conjure a proper chair for Draco to sit in before leaving. He waited until she'd left and closed the door before pulling the chair directly up to Snape's bedside, so close he could rest his elbows on it, and settled down. While a combination of worry and adrenaline had kept him wide-awake all night, a wave of exhaustion washed over him now, making him dizzy and slightly nauseous—the smell of vinegar in the room certainly did not help any.

He was fast asleep before he knew what hit him.

: : :

With every day that passed, the chances that Snape would ever wake up grew slimmer. Draco had heard one of the Healers speaking to another while he pretended to sleep, eyes barely open; the pitiful shake of their head, the empathetic tone of voice—it sickened and infuriated him. Like they gave a damn at all.

'That poor boy,' Amelia said, shaking her head again. 'Been here since Tuesday; hasn't left the man's side. I don't know what to tell him.'

'Poor kid,' the other Healer had agreed, a younger, clean-shaven bloke with red hair. 'A relative?'

'No, I don't think so—they look like night and day, anyway. But the poor dear hasn't even eaten properly since he's arrived; we're going to have to send him home soon...'

Draco did not bother to point out he had no home to go to.

Four days, and all Draco had eaten was some bread, fruit, and water that the Healer brought in on regular intervals. He may have not had that much, had Amelia given him a moment's peace during mealtimes. Other than taking time to use the loo and a quick shower every second day, Draco didn't move from the bed side. An intravenous apparatus, something inspired by Muggle medicine Draco had never seen before, had been set up on the opposite side of the bed. It was a simple machine: a tall, thin pole that suspended a small, clear pouch high above the bed that was full of some sort of hydrating, nourishing solution. A thin tube ran from the bottom of the pouch down to the bed, where the end had been inserted via syringe into the skin of Snape's left hand.

Amelia had paused when uncovering his arm, her eyes lingering on the Dark Mark, and Draco had glared, daring her to say a word. She wasn't surprised—probably a confident of Dumbledore's and therefore informed—but she certainly did not approve, if the scowl on her face was any indication.

Draco watched the clear solution drip from the pouch into the tube, the slight rise and fall of Snape's chest beneath the white sheets. Scooting his chair closer, Draco folded his arms on the side of the bed and laid his head down to wait. And he would continue to wait, and sit here every day if he had to—as long as it took.

: : :

On the fifth day when Draco opened his eyes, it felt like no time at all had gone by. Had he fallen asleep? It was hard to tell, as the room was underground and there were no windows, but it hadn't feltlike he had gotten any sleep—and if he'd been asleep, what had woken him up—

'It's about time, Mr Malfoy. I was beginning to wonder which one of us was supposed to be comatose.'

Draco jerked upright so quickly it left him feeling light-headed. His vision swam slightly as his eyes got over the sudden motion and the sleepiness, and, slowly, Snape came into focus.

He was sitting upright—someone had come by to prop the front of the bed up and stuff an extra pillow behind him, and the horrible bruising had faded considerably since Draco had first seen it. Only a very faint, yellow-purple tint remained, blooming out of the collar of his robes—the robes themselves were thin and grey, standard-issue patient robes directly from the hospital. Aside from the off-colour complexion, Snape looked very much like himself, and gave Draco a rather disdainful once-over.

Draco tried to speak, and regretted it instantly. His throat was parched and raw, and Snape rolled his eyes heavily, indicating the pitcher on the bedside table. 'Drink something before you become dehydrated, or it'll be you on this table.'

Draco did not argue; being in the man's House for six years and he'd learned better than to argue with that tone. He drained a glass quickly, clearing his throat carefully when he finished. 'How long have you been awake?' he asked, then winced; his voice sounded like he was dragging it over sandpaper.

Snape made to shrug, winced, and decided to express himself verbally instead. 'Not long. The Healer's come and gone, I expect the Headmaster will be arriving with someone to fetch you shortly.'

'But I—'

'Mr Malfoy, you've just spent the past five days in this room, and the last ten hours sleeping upright, according to the nurse,' Snape interrupted, raising his eyebrows as Draco winced. So that's what the stiffness was from. 'You will be returning to Headquarters and eating a decent meal, and then proceed to have a solid night of rest in a proper bed.'

Draco gave him a look. 'With all due respect, Professor, my mother is dead, but thanks.'

Snape smirked unpleasantly. 'And with all due respect to her, that does not make my promises worth any less. You will do as you're told.'

Draco wanted to ask just what promises exactly these happened to be, but Snape interrupted him before he could begin. 'I do find it rather curious that the Headmaster managed to find me so quickly,' he said, looking sidelong at Draco. 'You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?'

Draco did not know where Snape had been found, but if he thought Draco had anything to do with it, he could wager a good guess. He almost let the word 'Potter' out of his mouth, and then remembered the conversation he eavesdropped on the morning he'd come here, and closed his mouth.

Snape raised an eyebrow. Draco sighed and dropped his head in his hands. 'I thought you'd never wake up,' he said thickly.

Snape made a derisive noise in his nose. 'It would take more than the likes of your father and his idiots to bring about my end.'

The door opened then, interrupting the conversation. Dumbledore came in, followed by Professor McGonagall and Lupin, all of whom looked immensely relieved.

Snape scowled. 'I don't suppose you've come to relieve me of this place,' he said sourly.

'Unfortunately, no,' Dumbledore said, smiling faintly. 'Not quite yet. Another day or two of bed rest, and then we shall see about moving you back to the infirmary at school, if it would suit you.'

'Better than here,' Scape muttered, glaring at the white, spotless walls as if they were put there as a personal insult to him. It must have been one hell of a change from the dark, dank room that served as his home in the dungeons.

'I am very glad to see you awake, Severus,' McGonagall said. 'You gave us quite a fright.'

'Pity,' Snape said, not rolling his eyes but looking as if he greatly desired to do so.

'Draco,' Dumbledore said, facing him. 'I believe your presence at Headquarters is well over-do. Remus will be taking you back with him.'

'But he just woke up!' Draco snapped, furious. 'I don't want to go back there.'

'Regretfully, what we want and what we must do are not always parallel,' Dumbledore continued, eyeing him over his spectacles. 'I believe St Mungo's has already been quite generous with accommodating your presence.'

'But I—'

'Draco.' Snape was giving him a frighteningly severe look. 'You will do as you're told. Have I made myself clear?'

Seeing he was going to be overruled one way or another, Draco clamped his mouth shut and stood up. Lupin smiled at him and held out an arm. 'Come, Draco—Molly's been worried sick about you.'

Why? he wanted to ask. Why the hell would she give a damn about him? He wasn't her son. Didn't she have enough of those to worry about?

But he didn't. He took one last look at Snape, who continued to force his silence with that look alone, and followed Lupin out of the room.

: : :

A large amount of muffled noise was coming from the den. There was a lot of laughing, loud voices, and someone was singing along with the Weird Sister's record playing in the background. Draco crushed the urge to storm into the room and set the Victrola on fire. How could anyone laugh, at a time like this? Snape may not have been the world's most popular person, but he was still a person, lying on his deathbed the past week, and he had done more for these people than any of them would ever properly acknowledge.

Draco tried to go straight up the stairs but Lupin headed him off. 'You need to get back on a proper schedule,' Lupin said, shaking his head. 'It's still a bit too early for an early night, I'm afraid. Besides, Tonks wants to see you.'

Grimacing, Draco allowed himself to be marched into the living room. Weasley, the twins, Ginny, and Potter all sat in a circle on the floor, the cards spread between them and many scorch marks upon the floor. Granger was sitting cross-legged in a large armchair with a very large cat and book set in her lap, blocking all of her face and most of her hair from view. Tonks was stretched across the sofa on her stomach, whispering something into one of the twins' ears—Ginny leaned sideways and whispered something to Potter, who smirked and threw down a card.

'Snap!' called the other twin, throwing his hand down as well. The was a loud snap and a small cloud of smoke. 'Read 'm and weep.'

'Bastard,' Weasley muttered, throwing his hand into the pile.

'I think I'll fold,' the other twin said, turning away from Tonks and tucking his card away, face-down.

Ginny glanced at Potter, shared a smirk, and dropped her triple spades on top. 'Ahem.'

'You dirty cheat, you've been swapping cards!' Weasley snapped indignantly, thrusting a finger of accusation at Potter.

Potter grinned a bit sheepishly and Ginny leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. 'I'd like to see you prove it.'

'Draco!' No longer distracted by the twin, Tonks had looked up and saw Draco standing in the doorway. Lupin had already gone past and taken a seat in the settee opposite her. 'Hell, it's about time they brought you back. How is he?'

The talking around the cards ceased, and Draco found himself the centre of attention. Normally, this was something he worked to achieve. Now, he just wanted to be invisible. He shrugged and leaned against the door frame. 'He's awake.'

'Really?' Granger had put down her book, resting the spine on top of the fat, orange tabby in her lap. 'When Dumbledore was here he looked really worried—he said they couldn't say for sure either way—'

'Will he be all right?' Potter interrupted.

Draco, grateful for an excuse not to speak to Granger directly, gave a non-committal nod-shrug gesture. 'Guess so.'

'Well, that's a relief,' Tonks said, sagging back onto the couch. 'Really can't afford to lose him.'

'Why? He's no good as a spy any more, now that Malfoy here went and blew his cover,' said one of the twins, and Tonks said, 'Fred!' rather sharply.

'Honestly,' Granger said, looking disgusted. 'Spy or not he's still a professor, imagine the trouble Dumbledore would have finding another Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher—'

'Not to mention, you know, the tiny detail that he's a fucking human being and all,' Draco snapped, glaring at them all. Fred blinked at him.

'That's enough,' Lupin intervened before a fight could get going. He looked rather weary. 'We're all glad to hear Severus will make a full recovery.'

'Who's hungry?' Tonks suggested brightly, rolling off the couch and knocking over the freshly-shuffled deck of cards. She hopped over the circle of Gryffindors on the floor and grinned at Draco. 'You look starved. Molly said if we didn't feed you at least two helpings of dinner she wouldn't cook for a week, and that means I'd have to cook, and you don'twant that, trust me.' She winked. 'I'd burn the place down.'

Draco allowed himself to be led away from the glares in the den to the basement, where the smell of food still lingered even thought it was well past tea-time. Tonks started spooning stew out of a large pot still simmering on the stove into two bowls, and slipped into the seat opposite Draco and passed him one. Draco accepted it without argument, eating on auto-pilot and avoiding her eyes. Tonks gave up on watching him and looked down at her bowl instead, prodding it more than she was eating it.

Draco paused to swallow, then asked quietly, 'What happened to him?'

'I couldn't tell you for sure.' Tonks was still looking at her food, pushing it around with her spoon. 'I arrived with Remus, we didn't get there quick enough—we were both on duty elsewhere, and by the time we got there—'

'The Manor?' Draco supplied.

Tonks pinched her lips. 'How'd you know?'

'Lucky guess,' Draco said dryly.

'Well, anyway, Dumbledore had gotten there first, of course—scared off most of the Death Eaters, too, from what I've heard. A few of them stuck around to fight, but didn't stand a chance once Moody, Kingsley and the others showed up. Dumbledore's practically five Aurors on his own.' She finally took a mouthful, chewing too quickly and swallowing thickly. 'It was a mess, that's what I can tell you.'

'My father was there,' Draco said, stabbing at a potato with his spoon. 'Snape said so.'

'Did he?' Tonks shrugged and quickly devoured another mouthful of stew. 'Well, then, Snape has to be a tougher bastard than I gave him credit for, because from what Dumbledore told us, our aunty Bellatrix was there, too.'

There was a loud crash from upstairs, and then the muffled sound of the portrait of Mrs Black screaming at the top of her lungs. And then someone else upstairs screamed, someone who was definitely not the portrait, and someone that sounded a lot like Lupin started shouting—Tonks was on her feet in an instant, knocking over her chair and spilling most of their stew in the process.

Draco was right after her, but she turned at the door of the stairs, rounding on him. 'Stay here!'

'But—'

She slammed the door behind her, leaving him in the kitchen. Draco's temper flared, then subsided slightly when he thought about it; if it was trouble, it was probably in his best interests to keep his head low, just in case it was trouble looking for him. The screaming, aside from the portrait, had stopped, but people were still talking loudly, and now Potter was shouting, and there were loud, thunderous footsteps running down to the kitchen—Draco hurried to the far end of the room and flattened himself against the bench just as the door burst open and half a dozen people came spilling through it, covered in what looked like blood.

'Shit, shit, shit!' Tonks, wand in-between her teeth, had her arm under the shoulder of the tall, limp body of al boy with his head hung and so bloody it was impossible to distinguish anything else about him. Potter was on the other side, using his hands to hold the boy's chest up and was smeared with blood and dirt from the body. Hermione was behind them all, blood-streaked and crying, Weasley holding her away from the mess. Lupin, bringing up the rear, went straight to the kitchen fireplace and threw a handful of Floo Powder into it.

Draco watched in horrified awe as Tonks and Potter counted quickly to three, then hoisted the limp body onto the table—the bloody boy gave a cry that made everyone in the room cringe. Ginny came thundering down the stairs just in time to get the full blast of it—Draco could see there were tears in her eyes, too, but unlike Granger, she ran right up to the table and said, over the boy's cries, 'What can I do?'

'Get this blood off him,' Tonks said, running a hand through her hair and leaving bright red streaks where her fingers touched. 'God, get rid of it, as much as you can, I can't stop the bleeding if I can't see where it's coming from!'

Ginny started working immediately, but Potter hesitated. 'I can't—I'm terrible with medi-spells,' he explained. 'I don't want to make it worse.'

Draco said, 'I can help,' and then bit down on his tongue.

Everybody looked at him.

Oddly enough, it was Ginny that broke the silence. 'Then help!'

Draco stared and, shaking it off, drew his wand and started uttering spells under his breath. Simple cleaning spells would do, but were dangerous if you used them on open wounds—luckily, he'd had enough accidents as a child that his mother had taught him the basics before he'd gone off to Hogwarts. Four years of Quidditch practice and he'd become more than fluent with all of them. Ginny was working on the boy's torso, and Tonks had started at a particularly nasty spot on his leg. Draco was left to clean the upper arms, neck and face.

'Harry,' Tonks said, without looking up. 'And Hermione.' Hermione quieted at her name, sniffing loudly behind them. 'Upstairs, in the cupboard under the stairs—Snape keeps a spare potion kit there, I need you to bring it down. Remus—'

'He's on his way,' Lupin said, coming over as the trio ran up the stairs. 'He's bringing Poppy with him.'

Tonks nodded, wiping the back of her forehead with her hand, smearing the blood there. As her wand trained over the ragged part of his thigh, the boy cried out, jerking upwards; Lupin placed a firm hand on his diaphram and pushed, holding him down. 'He needs blood, and fast. There's internal bleeding, too, I can't tell from where, but if we can hold him until Poppy's here, he should be okay.'

Draco wasn't so sure. Cleaning the boy's face was trickier than it looked, especially since he kept jerking this way and that. Draco had had a wound that nearly killed him before, and he had learned the hard way that trying to move while you were bleeding profusely only made you lose the blood at a much more alarming rate.

'Stop moving,' Draco hissed desperately, bending low to get a better look. 'I know it fucking hurts but you're only making it worse.'

Potter, Weasley and Granger came thundering back down the stairs just as the bloodied boy stopped moving and rasped, 'Malfoy?'

Draco dropped his wand.

: : :
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The Heart of the Matter