Celandine's Chronicle (celandineb) wrote in cels_fic_haven, @ 2007-08-08 20:51:00 |
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Entry tags: | hp fic better than revenge, hp fic draco/harry |
HP fic: Better Than Revenge, ch. 38: The Cellar [Harry/Draco, adult]
Title: Better Than Revenge
chapter 38, "The Cellar"
Author: celandineb
Fandom: HP
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: adult
Summary: Draco tries to remember the exact words of his Unbreakable Vow, and they are finally ready to test a couple more of their potions on the Horcrux.
"Here, use this to write on," Draco said. He handed a large fallen leaf to Harry, who looked at it curiously.
"I don't... oh, of course." Comprehension flashed across Harry's face, and he Transfigured it into a scrap of parchment. "Go on to the end of the garden and I'll see if my Patronus will carry the note."
Draco waited, idly snapping a dead twig into tiny pieces, until the stag form appeared before him, Harry's note in its teeth. He held out his hand and the folded parchment fell into his palm.
"Thank you," he said, opening it and laughing at Harry's message: Fancy a shag later? Hardly the stuff of urgency. Well, perhaps it was. His prick stirred any time he thought of sex with Harry. Draco felt in his pockets for something to write with. Finding nothing, he scowled and drew his wand. He could Transfigure the scribbled words, if he just concentrated enough...
When the message read, Your arse or mine?, he gave it back to the stag and requested, "Please take this back to Harry."
The creature's eyes seemed to gleam as it bowed its neck to grasp the parchment, then vanished. Draco could hear Harry yelling, "It worked!"
"Of course it did," Draco called back, hurrying towards him. They'd proved it could be done; Draco was sure that if he needed to get his own Patronus to carry a message, he could manage it. The difficult part was summoning it to begin with and that he had mastered well enough.
Working on the potions was their next task for the day. Luckily only one potion would need to be tended during the night. Harry looked so glum at the prospect that instead of teasing him about his lack of dedication to potion-brewing, Draco offered to get up when Harry did, though it hardly took two people to stir in a half-ounce of sassafras leaf. The way that Harry's face lit up, however, made Draco feel that missing a bit of sleep was well worth it.
He would have suggested that they make good on what their notes had promised, but it was dinnertime, and he was hungry.
"We could be late," Harry said. "Dobby wouldn't mind, would he?"
Dobby's feelings were not something Draco had ever considered in his life, but his own stomach was speaking insistently. "If you'd spent a month half-starved, you wouldn't want to wait."
"I have." Harry's voice was sharp. "When I lived with my aunt and uncle." His arms tightened around Draco, shaking him a little.
"I'm sorry, Harry." Draco had honestly forgotten that of course Harry knew what it was like to be hungry. "I grew up thinking of you as... well, almost as someone in a fairy tale, who had survived against all odds and to whom nothing else bad could happen. I know now that wasn't true, but I believed it for a long time; it's hard to change that kind of assumption overnight. So don't be angry if I forget once in awhile, okay?" He turned around, meeting Harry's gaze, letting his distress show.
Harry swallowed, his eyes closing as his throat worked, and he pulled Draco even tighter, tipping his head up to bring their mouths together in an intense kiss.
If Harry hadn't said, "Dinner first," when they finally broke away, Draco might just have dragged Harry down to the floor right there, hungry or not. But Harry did say it, and the best Draco could do was to hurry through the lamb and potatoes and sprouts.
"How about a game of Gobstones?" he suggested half-jokingly as they finished eating.
"If we play for forfeits again." Harry's smile indicated pleased complicity.
As he expected, Draco won the first game. For his forfeit he requested that Harry suck him off for five minutes – the longest he thought he could handle without actually coming, although if he did, well, there were far worse things.
Harry licked his lips as Draco pulled down his trousers.
"Oh, fuck yeah." Draco couldn't restrain a groan when Harry's mouth closed over his half-hard prick. Harry's glasses were cold against Draco's skin and he carefully unhooked them from Harry's ears, pulling them away. Harry's tongue flickered along his length.
"Harder – don't be a tease." He nearly gave himself up as Harry sucked more firmly, his thumb rubbing over the base of Draco's cock, but he retained enough awareness to say, "Time's up, you've paid the forfeit."
Harry's mouth dragged once more along Draco's prick before he pulled away. Draco handed him his glasses. "Another round?"
"All right." Harry sat down again, his lips red and wet and absolutely luscious as Draco glanced at him while they were resetting the board.
Draco didn't bother to refasten his trousers, stroking himself between moves. That might have been a bad idea, since it distracted him so that Harry won, except that Draco was not concerned with who achieved the victory, now; all that mattered was what kind of forfeit might be demanded.
When Harry decided that as forfeit Draco should sit with Harry's prick up his arse as they played the next round, Draco quelled any concern that it might be more painful than pleasurable. Harry made sure to use plenty of lube, and promised not to move much. The expression on Harry's face as he asked, the awed intimacy of his cock resting in Draco's arse, would have made Draco agree even if it had been painful. He rocked languidly, taking Harry a fraction deeper with each move in the game.
The third game of Gobstones was abandoned incomplete. The gradual buildup of desire was too much; Harry had been stroking Draco's prick with one hand, bringing him to the point of orgasm, so Draco reciprocated by tightening his arsehole, trying to get Harry to feel the same pulsing excitement.
"Fuck, just like that," Harry muttered. His free hand groped across Draco's stomach, and Draco guided it to his nipple.
"Pinch me. Hard, yes, that's it." As Harry's fingers tightened over both nipple and cock, Draco felt the heat spiral between them, melting him to come in sticky strands, splattering his chest through Harry's fingers.
"Draco!" Harry's voice cracked and his hips jerked. Draco clenched his arse once more, feeling Harry's forehead press against his back as Harry shuddered.
"If tournament-level Gobstones were like this..." Draco said after a few moment, when his breathing had calmed again.
"Hah. Just as well it's not," said Harry, rubbing his sweaty rough cheek against Draco's shoulder. "Look, that didn't hurt you, did it?" he asked anxiously.
"No, I'm fine."
They separated with a squelching sound. Harry insisted on cleaning the chair and themselves up before going off to bed. The sassafras would need to be added to the appropriate potion in less than three hours, but after that they could get a good six hours' sleep before the final addition of boomslang skin. If all went well, Harry could test that one on Wednesday, and another would be ready tomorrow.
Draco brushed his teeth, thinking about the Horcruxes and Harry's quest to find them all. He would do his best to help – the Vow required it – and he hoped that he would actually be able to do something useful. They hadn't had any success at Little Hangleton, which had bothered him. But he'd be with Harry regardless, and that was what mattered. Draco realized that, much as he missed the security of all that he had once taken for granted, and uncertain though the future still might be, he was happier now than he could remember having been since he was a tiny child.
He put an arm around Harry when the other boy crawled under the covers. Nothing bad was likely to happen any time soon; at worst, all the potions they tried would fail to destroy the locket and they'd have to think of an alternative plan. Nevertheless he spoke, wanting to make sure Harry knew what he meant to Draco.
"I'm glad to be here with you – I want you to know that. Not because you're marvelous to shag or because it's not safe for me anywhere else, either, but because I'd rather be with you than anyone else at all."
"Me, too." Harry sounded almost surprised by his own words, but Draco smiled to himself. He could tell that Harry meant them.
The alarm sounded far too soon, waking Draco from a dream that he'd been attending a Ministry banquet, with Professor Trelawney, of all people, awarding him the Order of Merlin.
He nudged Harry, who had rolled away and was snoring lightly. "Time to get up and put in that sassafras."
Harry grumbled and rubbed his eyes, but he pulled on a dressing gown and gave Draco one, too. They must have belonged to Sirius Black, Draco supposed, and Dobby had doubtless placed them in the bedroom. The air at this hour of night was cool enough that he appreciated having something more than a t-shirt on.
Yawning, they crept downstairs. Draco wasn't sure why it seemed right to be so quiet. No one could hear them except Dobby even if they shouted the place down. There was old Mrs. Black's portrait; but they need not be silent for her, as ordinary voices could not disturb her in that closed room. Perhaps it was the solemnity of hope that this potion might be the one that worked, or simply that neither of them was used to waking this way, more disconcerting than staying awake till the same hour.
The potion bubbled slowly as Harry added the powdered sassafras and Draco stirred.
"Six more hours, then boomslang skin again," Draco reminded Harry, who nodded tiredly.
He took Draco's hand as they went back to bed. Again, neither of them spoke on the way; though Draco opened his mouth twice, he could not decide what he might want to say, and so he remained silent in the end. Once in the bedroom, dressing-gowns off, Harry pulled Draco close to him under the sheets, running his hands along Draco's back and pressing kisses all over his face. Still there were no words spoken, and finally Harry let Draco go and they both slept again.
Draco wondered if he had dreamed it all when once again he was wakened by the alarm, for now Harry chattered of his excitement about testing the potion tomorrow, said that he'd slept well and hoped Draco had too, and generally seemed a wholly different creature from the person who had held Draco silently last night. The state of the potion, though, belied any possibility that it had been merely a dream, for its color was now a muddy green from the addition of the sassafras, deepening and turning to a brownish purple when the last of the boomslang skin went in.
"That'll be ready tomorrow, but we could test this one today," said Draco, pointing at one of the other cauldrons.
Harry wrinkled his nose. "I almost want to wait and try them both at the same time. I know it doesn't make any difference but it feels like that would double the chances that one would work. If that's all right with you?"
"You're the one in charge of this. So sure, whatever." Draco shrugged, covering the cauldron so that nothing could fall into it by accident. "Now that it's finished it won't hurt to let it sit."
"Shall we practice hexes again today?" Harry asked at breakfast as he spread jam on a slice of toast. "Some, at least?"
"We should, I suppose." Draco spoke with some reluctance. He did agree it was a wise idea, but...
"Did you have something else you wanted to do – practice with your Patronus, maybe?"
"No, hexes are fine." Then Draco changed his mind. "Actually, I'd like to talk a bit. I'm not entirely clear on just what your plans are, and I ought to know, I think. Also I should try to remember the exact words of my Vow – you could help me with that, and once we've done our best, then we could consult Gr... Hermione and see if she recalls any details either of us might have forgotten."
"All right." Harry nodded. "Hexes for a couple of hours, then we can work on that after lunch?"
"Sure."
Today Draco did somewhat better at aiming jinxes and curses at Harry, reminding himself that keeping up his skills was ultimately for Harry's benefit, and that nothing he was doing was permanently damaging anyhow. Harry still out-hexed him more than half the time, however, and Draco realized that this was simply one of Harry's magical strengths, this ability to dodge and at the same time send his own countercurses. The Defense Against the Dark Arts professors – Umbridge excepted, naturally – hadn't been favoring Harry, all Slytherin gossip to the contrary.
Panting, Draco threw up his hands. "Enough. The sun says it's about noon – enough for now."
Harry grinned at Draco and pulled him down onto a patch of untrimmed grass, rolling over to pin Draco beneath him. He had a streak of dirt across one cheek and his hair stuck out wildly, and Draco could have stayed there admiring the beads of sweat at his hairline forever. Well, for quite awhile, anyhow.
"Want to talk now, or eat? I asked Dobby just to make sandwiches or something, since I wasn't sure when we'd finish."
Over cheese sandwiches and crisps and fruit, Harry said, "What is it you want to know? I'm not trying to keep secrets from you – not now." He turned slightly pink.
"Okay, I know about the Horcruxes, and I still haven't been able to think of anything my father ever said that might be helpful in finding the last three – it is three more, right? Two are already destroyed, and the locket is the third."
"That's right."
"And they all have to be eliminated before the Dark Lord can be killed."
"Yeah. I wish I thought your father might have had another in his possession, but I'm pretty sure Voldemort would have wanted to keep them as far apart as possible. Searching randomly would be pointless. What I'd like to do is figure out a way to have Hermione do some research in the Ministry's records. If she could put together a list of all known Death Eaters, and maybe reconstruct Voldemort's movements before and during the last war as much as possible, it might give us some clues as to where he could possibly have hidden them. She'd be willing, I expect, and she'd certainly be far better at it than I would, but she'd need a cover story. It's also something that could take months, even assuming that she can somehow get permission to look through those records – and the beginning of term is only a month away. Professor McGonagall would probably help, and Kingsley Shacklebolt, but I don't really want to ask them; Dumbledore wanted this all to be kept secret, and while I don't mind telling you..." Harry looked away and took a drink of pumpkin juice. "I'm hoping to keep it just amongst us. Me, you, Hermione, Ron, perhaps Ginny."
Draco stopped himself from repeating Ginny's name. Instead he said, "If it would take Hermione months, as you think, what would you do in the meantime?"
"I don't know. Do you think there might be records at your parents' house, hidden somewhere? Although I suppose it would be too dangerous to go there, wouldn't it?" Harry's enthusiasm visibly deflated.
"Maybe not." Draco took a deep breath. "Since the Dark Mark is gone, and it seems as if maybe it wasn't traceable anyway, I shouldn't be any more vulnerable to the Death Eaters than you are. The Manor might well be under surveillance, of course. I'll tell you anything I can remember that you want to know, and there just might be documents or who knows what other evidence in my father's rooms. It'll be tricky to find them and there might be curses too; I'd have to go, I couldn't just tell you where to look."
"Would you?" Harry sounded delighted.
"I can't promise it'll be of any use, but yes. Once you've, we've, finished dealing with this locket. And once I've remembered all the details of my Vow, to be on the safe side."
"Oh, of course. What do you want me to do to help with that?"
"Try to think back to when I took the Vow, and tell me if you think I'm adding anything, or missing anything." Draco glanced around at the litter of their lunch. "We should probably do this in the library. I'd rather write it all down."
"Good idea; then you can send it to Hermione to look it over too, the way you said before."
They sat close together at the table, close enough that their legs touched and Draco felt the warmth of Harry's body through all the layers of fabric.
Draco held a quill poised above a piece of parchment.
"I said, 'I swear I will be loyal to you,' to begin with, I'm pretty certain."
"Yes." Harry nodded. "I think you said my name, didn't you?"
"That sounds right." Draco drew his eyebrows together in thought. "Your surname too. And that my loyalty would come before that to my family." He scribbled down the words as Harry watched.
"Then it was, 'I will not betray you to Voldemort.'"
"'Or to any Death Eater,'" interjected Harry. "I remember that bit because your father came to my mind when you said it."
"I suppose so," said Draco. He felt a stab at Harry's words, but Harry's thoughts were only natural, especially since in the Vow Draco had just mentioned his family. "Yeah. Then what?"
"You said you'd do your best to help and protect me, I think."
"'In any need,'" Draco agreed. He wrote that down, too, and read it all aloud.
"'I swear I will be loyal to you, Harry Potter, before my own family. I will not betray you to Voldemort or any Death Eater. I swear I will do my best to help and protect you in any need.' Does that sound right? I think we've forgotten something."
Harry leaned over, his lips moving slightly as he read the sentences over to himself. "I don't know what; it sounds right to me."
"It's close, that's certain, but it really ought to be exact."
"Well, send it to Hermione and ask if she remembers anything else. She's good at that sort of thing. I don't know how she does it." Harry's hand closed over Draco's.
"Could you write to her? I feel odd, doing that."
"No," said Harry firmly. "You're the one who needs to know. Hermione's not the sort to hold grudges, you've seen that; it's Ron who does. And me." He turned red. "Or at least I have done. No, you write her. If we don't hear back by tomorrow then I'll write too, okay?"
Sighing, Draco pulled over a clean piece of parchment and tried to figure out how to phrase a letter to a girl that he'd despised and taunted for years. Even if in person they'd been able to be quite polite, lately, and even if it was thanks to Hermione that he no longer carried the Dark Mark, somehow writing seemed awkward again. Should he begin it, "Dear Hermione," or what?
"I'll make it worth your while," Harry whispered in Draco's ear, and his lips on Draco's neck made evident just how he intended to do so.
He did wait until Draco had finished the letter and they had sent it off with Hedwig, but then Draco found himself rolling quite happily on the library carpet with most of his clothes off and Harry attacking every inch of his body with hands and mouth. He could definitely bear to ask Hermione Granger for favors if it brought such favors from Harry, too.
That evening after dinner they drank wine and played wizarding chess for a change; not for forfeits, this time, and rather to Draco's surprise Harry won three games in a row.
"I've played quite a lot with Ron," Harry explained, gathering up the chessmen and starting to set up the board again.
"No, don't." Draco stopped him. "Let's do something else."
"Don't like losing?" said Harry, then instantly looked contrite. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. It was my idea to play chess, only fair for you to have a turn choosing."
Draco would have liked to yell at Harry for the insult, but the apology came too quickly and was too clearly heartfelt for him to be able to do so without seeming even more childish than Harry's taunt made him. He took a deep breath and let it out.
"Let's have some more of that wine, and I'll read to you," he said. He'd half-intended to suggest more snogging and other fooling around, but the mood had been broken.
"Read to me?" Harry blinked.
"Yes. Don't you like it?"
"I don't know. I don't think anyone's ever read to me, just me, in my whole life. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon never did. Perhaps my primary school teachers, but reading to a whole class is a lot different." Harry looked eager. "What do you want to read?"
"Oh, I don't know. There's plenty of books to choose from here. Maybe something about Merlin and King Arthur? I don't think there's much recent, but lots of classics," said Draco, and gestured at the full shelves.
"I don't know much about literature," Harry said. "You should pick whatever you like, but King Arthur sounds good to me."
"If I can find... I know. Dobby!" Draco called, and the house-elf appeared.
"Dobby is here. What can Dobby do to help Master Draco?"
"I'm looking for a book; you've cleaned in here so perhaps you've seen it? It's called The Once and Future King."
"Yes," Dobby squealed. "Dobby knows that book." He scurried away to a shelf further along the wall and came back triumphantly with the volume in his hands.
"Thank you," said Draco, knowing Harry would want – would expect – him to be polite, even though it was hardly necessary, and Draco was sure Dobby wouldn't expect it. "Um. Harry, was there anything else you needed?"
"I don't... actually, Dobby, could you bring us another bottle of wine, and perhaps some biscuits?"
When Dobby had returned with the food, they settled themselves on the sofa, with Draco sitting at one end and Harry stretched out across the length of it, his head resting on Draco's thigh.
"Go ahead," Harry mumbled through a mouthful of biscuit. "I'm listening."
Draco balanced the book on his other leg and began to read. "Chapter one. On Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays it was Court Hand and Summulae Logicales, while the rest of the week it was the Organon, Repetition and Astrology. The governess was always getting muddled with her astrolabe, and when she got specially muddled she would take it out of the Wart by rapping his knuckles. She did not rap Kay's knuckles, because when Kay grew older he would be Sir Kay, the master of the estate. The Wart was called the Wart because it more or less rhymed with Art, which was short for his real name." He paused and took a sip of wine.
Harry chuckled. "I like that. Go on." He hung on to every word as Draco read the first three chapters, up until the Wart found Merlyn who said he would go home with him and be his tutor.
"I'm going to have to stop; my voice is getting tired," Draco apologized.
"Do you want me to read some to you?" Harry seemed excited by the prospect, so Draco agreed, although he usually preferred to read to himself. His mother had been very disappointed when Draco told her that he could read faster than she could, and she needn't read to him any more. He'd humored her on occasion at bedtime, even if it made the stories seem to drag no matter how exciting they were.
Harry was not a polished reader; nevertheless Draco found himself unexpectedly caught up in the story of how Merlyn turned Arthur into a perch, even though he knew The Once and Future King quite well. Draco's father had told him that its author was actually a descendant of an old wizarding family, distantly related to Draco's mother, but that White had been its last member and had been more than a bit daft, preferring to lead a hermit-like, almost Muggle existence for some years. He wrote a good story, though, despite getting virtually all of Merlin's magic wrong. Perhaps that had been deliberate.
In any case it was nicer to hear the familiar words in Harry's voice than Draco had anticipated. Harry had learned the trick of both holding a book and turning its pages with one hand; his other rested on Draco's shoulder with his thumb against the pulse-point of Draco's neck, stroking his skin gently.
After Harry had finished reading about Kay and the Wart shooting arrows and having a gore-crow steal the Wart's last one, Draco reached up and touched him.
"Let's go to bed."
Neither of them was inclined tonight to try penetration again; Draco was still a bit tender back there from the night before, and he suspected Harry might be too. Besides, a mutual hand job was plenty exciting, when it was Harry who was making those needy groans, Harry whose touch sent all of Draco's blood to his cock, Harry who sweated and shivered and spoke Draco's name as if its five letters and two syllables were a spell he didn't yet understand but was bound to practice until he did.
Draco let himself relax, afterward, with Harry spooned up behind him. Tomorrow, he hoped, Hermione would reply to his question about the Vow, and tomorrow they could test those two dissolving potions. He didn't really have a lot of hope for that solution, but he had nothing better to suggest.
"Good night," Harry murmured against Draco's neck, winding his arms around Draco's waist and pulling him closer.
It was pleasant to be held, but Draco decided after a short time of failing to go to sleep that in the long run, he'd have to convince Harry that a few inches of space between them at night might be more conducive to a decent few hours' rest. But first things first.
He woke with a start to see Dobby's goggle eyes peering into his.
"Master Harry's owl is back and is pecking at Dobby until he fetches Master Harry or Master Draco to take the letter she brings," the house-elf announced in his high voice.
Beyond Draco, Harry groaned sleepily. "What time is it?"
"It is nearly eight o'clock, Master Harry, and Dobby has the breakfast ready, with sausages and other good things. Is Master Harry coming to eat his breakfast?" Dobby vanished from Draco's view, presumably to Harry's side of the bed.
"Yes, we're coming. Go tell Hedwig I'll be right there – and give her some sausage or something, please." Harry sat up, dragging the covers off of Draco, too. "Come on, lazy, we've lots to do today, especially if we have to start brewing some new potions. Won't know till we try."
Draco grumbled but got up, pulling off the green t-shirt he slept in and rummaging for clean clothes.
"Dobby?" He looked around but Dobby was gone, presumably back to watch over his sausages. "We need to have him wash some clothes today; I'm nearly out of pants and socks." He pulled on a pair of trousers and padded off to the bathroom to splash water on his face and drag a comb through his hair. Harry might always appear as if birds had been nesting on his head, but that didn't mean Draco needed to adopt the look too.
"Meet you downstairs," Harry called out.
When Draco reached the table, Harry had taken the letter from his owl and was offering her bits of sausage and toast, leaving the sealed parchment for Draco to open. It was filled with tiny neat script.
Dear Draco,
It's a good thing you checked with me as you've come close to the wording but it's not quite right, and you forgot a bit at the end. This is what you said during the Vow:
'I swear I will be loyal to you, Harry Potter, even above my own family. I swear I will not betray you to Voldemort or any Death Eater, or repeat to your harm anything you say. I swear I will do my best to help and protect you in any need.'
I assume you were wanting to know the exact words for safety reasons? That's quite sensible of you. The intention is clear, but magic doesn't exactly give credit for good intentions. Rather like computers, literal-minded things. Harry can explain that.
Ron is over the moon about seeing the Cannons next weekend, by the way. Ginny is keen to see Puddlemere and I thank you too for your thoughtfulness in sending the tickets. Tell Harry that Mrs. Weasley insists he should come visit again soon, with you of course. I think she wants to make sure he's eating properly.
Good luck with the potions – I imagine you've started to test them? And do let me know if you've had any delayed reaction to the removal of the Dark Mark, please. I wrote up some notes on the experiment. It's possible that sometime there will be others who also wish to renounce that allegiance.
Again, good luck.
Hermione.
"Chatty sort, isn't she?" Draco remarked, pushing the letter across the table for Harry to read.
"Yeah." Harry smiled reminiscently. "You get used to it." He scanned the parchment and added, "You're not having any problems with your arm, are you?"
Draco shook his head. "Nothing so far, but I'll feel more secure about it when it's been a month or two and I haven't had any twinges or any indication that You-Know-Who can still touch me."
"Voldemort."
"What?"
"Call him Voldemort," Harry repeated. "I know you're used to avoiding it, and that names have power, but so does the fear of a name. Call him Riddle, if you'd rather, but call him by name."
Harry's tone was crisp and Draco could tell he was quite serious about this. "Riddle, then. I'll try to remember, but it'll be hard."
"I'll remind you." Harry flashed a grin, then sobered again. "I'm not asking this to make you uncomfortable. I need help remembering that he's just a person, you see, a truly evil person but still someone who can be defeated. If you call him by name, that'll make me feel better."
"I understand." Draco ate the rest of his breakfast, rereading the words of the Vow as Hermione had put them down, over and over until he was certain he'd memorized them. He didn't doubt that she had them right – when he'd read the letter he had felt a kind of tingle of recognition – although he wondered just how she'd been able to remember so precisely when he hadn't. Perhaps it was a Muggle trick? No, that seemed unlikely given general Muggle haplessness as he'd observed it in his – admittedly limited – experience this summer. Just Granger's general competence, he supposed. Annoying at times, but certainly useful to him now.
"Ready to test the potions?" asked Harry, pushing his crumb-scattered plate away.
Draco nodded. "Shall I fetch the locket?"
"I have it here." Harry patted the pocket of his jeans.
He chose the potion they'd prepared from Moste Potente Potions to test first, but as with the previous one they'd tried, there was no visible result. He pulled the locket dripping out of the cauldron and gave it a frustrated scowl.
"Still one to go, and we've other potions to try brewing still," Draco reminded him. "They may take longer, and use ingredients that are harder to find, but there's time."
"Yeah." Harry sighed. "Well, here goes nothing."
He lowered the locket on its chain into the second cauldron. At first nothing seemed to happen. Harry began to raise it again, his expression glum, when there was a burst of thick mustard-yellow vapor that hovered in a dense cloud and drifted across his face. Harry gasped, the chain slipping from his fingers. The surface of the cauldron roiled and another cloud of vapor rose. Draco was just far enough that he was able to hold his breath and duck down and away, but Harry choked and collapsed onto the floor.
"Harry!" Draco dropped to his knees and crawled toward him, trying to breathe as little as possible, though the cloud had risen and he hoped dispersed. "Oh, fuck." Harry was breathing, that was something, but Draco had no idea how badly the poisonous fumes had affected him. He needed help quickly.
Grabbing his wand, Draco concentrated. "Expecto Patronum!" He let the love he felt for Harry, the memory of the closeness of Harry's touch on his neck last night, not even sexual but a feeling of safe warm loved, fill his being as he spoke the words, and to his great relief the badger appeared. Hastily he tore off a scrap of parchment from the margin of the potion-book and scribbled, Harry injured. Need bezoar, NOW.
Professor Snape would help, Draco was certain, but... bugger. Snape was a Death Eater, double-agent or no, and Draco couldn't contact him thanks to the Vow. Besides, Harry had made it very clear that he didn't trust Snape one bit. It would have to be Hermione.
"Hermione Granger," Draco whispered to his Patronus. "I need Hermione Granger, now!" The badger vanished, and Draco had time to contemplate the irony of his desperate need for a Muggleborn's help as he sat on the cold stone floor, cradling Harry's head in his lap and hoping that she would arrive soon.
ch. 1 / ch. 2 / ch. 3 / ch. 4 / ch. 5 / ch. 6 / ch. 7 / ch. 8 / ch. 9 / ch. 10 / ch. 11 / ch. 12 / ch. 13 / ch. 14 / ch. 15 / ch. 16 / ch. 17 / ch. 18 / ch. 19 / ch. 20 / ch. 21 / ch. 22 / ch. 23 / ch. 24 / ch. 25 / ch. 26 / ch. 27 / ch. 28 / ch. 29 / ch. 30 / ch. 31 / ch. 32 / ch. 33 / ch. 34 / ch. 35 / ch. 36 / ch. 37 / ch. 38 / ch. 39 / ch. 40