HP fic: Better Than Revenge, ch. 40: At Last, in the Cellar [Harry/Draco, general]
Title: Better Than Revenge chapter 40, "At Last, in the Cellar" Author: celandineb Fandom: HP Pairing: Harry/Draco Rating: general Summary: Hermione and Draco talk while Harry is unconscious, and Draco and Harry realize that they need each other. THE END
Draco waited, hope fading within him as the minutes trickled past. Harry was heavy in his arms and the floor was cold under his legs, but he scarcely noticed. He held one hand against Harry's neck, feeling his pulse beat more and more slowly, and anxiously watched Harry's chest to make sure he kept breathing. None of the healing spells he'd ever learned were of any help; those were all for minor cuts, or burns, or bruises, and Harry's condition was far more serious than that.
"Please. Please Harry, you can't die like this," he said over and over in a thready whisper, straining his ears for any sound that might mean Hermione had arrived with the bezoar Harry so desperately needed.
At last – he didn't know how long, it seemed like hours but was probably no more than twenty minutes – he heard a voice calling, "Draco?"
"Down here." He cleared his throat and yelled louder. "Down here in the cellar!" Of course, in that frantic note he hadn't written anything to say exactly where they were.
Footsteps clattered down the stairs – two sets of them. She'd brought Weasley along. Wonderful. Hah. At least Ginny wasn't there too; Draco doubted that he could have stood that.
"I have a bezoar." Hermione knelt beside him, breathless.
"Put it in his mouth," Draco said, shifting his hold on Harry so that his body was more upright, though his head lolled to one side. "Quickly!"
She forced Harry's mouth open and began to push in the bezoar.
"Try to get it under his tongue, he'll be less likely to choke," Draco told her.
"What happened?" Weasley demanded.
"A potion." Draco didn't bother to look up, watching Harry's face carefully. His breath was already coming a little easier, wasn't it? Surely it was. "The one that your sister found the recipe for. He was testing to see if it would destroy the locket; there was a reaction neither of us expected, and he breathed in the fumes. Poisonous, obviously."
Weasley's hand fell heavily on Draco's shoulder. "Nice story, Malfoy. Why didn't you breathe them, too, then?"
"Ron." Hermione's voice cut across any response Draco might have had. "It doesn't matter right now. We need to get Harry someplace more comfortable. I'll levitate him, and Draco can help guide where we go – would you check on the potion, please? See that it's not still dangerous... and what happened to the Horcrux. Harry will want to know that."
"Yeah, all right," said Ron after a moment, letting Draco go. "Don't want to lose any evidence."
Really, this was ridiculous. Draco had thought they'd reached a certain understanding back when they'd had that conversation in the Muggle sweet shop in Bath, but apparently not. Evidence that purity of blood had no correlation with brains or even common sense, but right now there were far more urgent things to do than to point out the many flaws in Weasley's assumptions.
He let go his grip on Harry as Hermione cast Mobilicorpus, and stood up, his legs a bit shaky from sitting still for so long on the chilly stone floor. "Upstairs – I'll show you."
Weasley gave a grunt and a glare, as if he thought Draco were going to try to hex his girlfriend as soon as they left the cellar. Even if he had wanted to do so, which he didn't, that was awfully unlikely given that Hermione had her wand out already while Draco's was tucked away in a pocket.
Once they'd reached the ground floor, she asked, "Now where? The sofa in the library?"
"No, our bedroom would be more comfortable, and not that much further – just up one more flight of stairs." In his continuing concern, Draco didn't realize that he'd said "our bedroom" rather than "Harry's bedroom" until he saw the look Hermione was giving him. Then he flushed. Well, it wasn't as if she shouldn't have known, not after that enhancement spell she'd used to help remove the Dark Mark from his arm.
Dobby had already made the bed, thankfully. Hermione settled Harry onto it and pulled off his shoes as Draco adjusted the pillows, propping Harry up so that he could breathe more easily. He was still unconscious, and Draco turned a worried look on Hermione.
"The faster the bezoar is administered after someone's been poisoned, the faster they recover," Hermione reminded him, "and it did take a little while for me to arrive here with it after your summons. But I'm sure he'll be fine." Her voice was confident, but Draco saw her fingers twisting the edge of the sheet.
"Can I ask you something?" she said.
"What?" he replied warily. Surely, unlike Weasley, she didn't think he'd had anything to do with Harry's injuries.
"I know it's none of my business, really. I'm only asking because Harry's my friend, and I want him to be happy. Do you... are you in love with him?" Her face went pink.
It wasn't any of her business, Draco agreed, but he could hardly deny it, not when she'd found him holding Harry in his arms less than half an hour earlier, not after everything she'd already seen.
"Yes." He threw the word at her defiantly.
"Thank goodness." She sounded relieved. "I mean, I was fairly certain, after the other day, but I could have been wrong. He needs to be loved, D-draco," she stumbled almost imperceptibly over his name, "and to love someone else. That's his gift, that's what he has that V-voldemort doesn't." The stutter was greater over Voldemort's name, but she still said it more smoothly than Draco probably would have.
"He's never told me that," Draco said, bemused.
"I don't know if he entirely believes it himself. And I don't know quite how it works, if it is true... he used to be protected, you know, that's why he survived as a baby, because of his mother's love. But not since," she shivered and touched Harry's wrist, "Voldemort used his blood to come back. Anyhow. Professor Dumbledore hinted that love was what might let Harry win in the end, and he has to win." Hermione looked down at Harry's scarred face. "He has to. If being with you is what will help him, then I'll support that." Her voice turned fierce. "But if you break his heart before this is all over, believe me, you'll regret it."
No one had ever stood up for Draco, defended him, the way that Hermione was defending Harry, like a mother dragon protecting her eggs. Professor Snape had kept him from having to kill Dumbledore, but that was an entirely different thing. None of Draco's friends in Slytherin would have talked like this, not unless they saw some personal benefit to be gained.
"I think you've just shown how love can help him, actually." Draco picked up one of Harry's limp hands, chafing it between his own. "It doesn't seem like it should be taking this long."
"He did breathe in the fumes. That'll have a different effect from ingestion or contact poisons; lungs are delicate."
Just then Draco thought he felt Harry's fingers twitch. Had he imagined it? He leaned across to get a better look at Harry's face. "Did his eyelids move?"
"Harry?" Hermione asked hopefully. "Try to open your eyes if you can hear me."
That was definitely a flutter. Harry's lips parted, his head rolling to one side as he grimaced slightly. Draco felt the tension leaving him in a rush of relief. The bezoar had been the best and quickest antidote he could think of, but that didn't mean it would necessarily be a complete success. Thank Merlin it seemed to have worked.
"Don't spit out the bezoar, or try to move just yet," said Hermione.
Harry's eyes opened a fraction, then a bit more, and he made an interrogative sort of noise.
"Don't talk yet, either." Draco gripped Harry's hand tightly, observing Harry's face. Green eyes gazed back, a little befuddled-looking, but that was to be expected.
Hermione was explaining what had happened; Draco was content to leave her to it, just watching Harry, who kept blinking. Oh – Hermione'd taken off Harry's glasses for the trip upstairs. Before Draco could say a word, though, Hermione had evidently realized the same thing and slid them back onto Harry's nose. They made him look far better, more normal, immediately.
Now she asked, "Do you feel able to see Ron? He's down making certain that the locket was destroyed – I knew you'd want be sure."
A cough from Harry, and then, "Yes," spoken slowly but without hesitation. He looked at Draco, and as Hermione went to the doorway to call for Ron, Harry let go of Draco's hand, folding his own together across his lap.
It was like taking a Bludger to the stomach, especially after Hermione's talk of love and how much Harry needed it, both receiving and giving. He's still affected by those fumes, Draco told himself, but he couldn't keep looking at Harry just then or he might fall apart, and that would do no one any good. Shaking, trying not to let Harry see it, Draco stood up and was looking out the window when Ron arrived.
"Merlin, you had me worried. Thought we might have been too late," said Ron. "But you're really okay? Guess I have to give Malfoy some credit then," he added with distinctly less pleasure in his voice.
There was no point in staying. Draco doubted that Weasley had bothered to clear up any of the mess after he'd checked on the Horcrux, so he said, "I'll just go down and tidy up in the cellar." Without looking back at the bed, he left, closing the door behind him.
He leaned against the wall in the corridor, taking deep breaths, hearing the voices of Hermione and Ron chattering away. If he was so unwelcome... Draco sighed. There was nowhere else he could go, even if he wanted, and maybe it was simply that Harry felt awkward holding his hand in front of Ron? Maybe. He hoped.
Draco straightened and walked steadily down to the cellar. As he'd expected, Weasley had done nothing except to pour the potion from one cauldron to another to check that the locket was gone. Draco pushed up his sleeves. He would bottle what remained – it might still have some useful properties, and in any case needed to be disposed of properly – and then start scrubbing out the cauldrons. Hard work was an excellent distraction.
Once everything was cleaned, Draco started to sort and organize the remaining supplies that Harry had brought back from Diagon Alley. Nothing close to a fully-stocked potions cabinet, of course, but with a few more basics added, Draco could probably put together some useful brews. Polyjuice Potion took a long time to brew, but it seemed unlikely to be needed right away, and if unused could be kept for years. Then there were things like the Draught of Peace, and Strengthening Solution, and the Invigoration Draught. Maybe it would be worth attempting Felix Felicis... although that could go rather badly wrong. He'd have to think about it. Too bad Professors Snape or even Slughorn weren't here, but maybe together he and Hermione could manage?
Wrapped up in considering what ingredients were on hand, and what else would be needed for the potions he was considering, Draco only realized that Harry was standing behind him when he heard a cough. He didn't want to turn around. There were more sounds than Harry alone could be making, which meant that at least one of the others was there too. If he didn't turn around, though, they'd think he was afraid.
"Draco." Harry's voice was hoarser than usual.
"Yes?" Reluctantly Draco faced him. "You're all right then?"
Harry was closer than he'd thought; two strides brought him up to Draco, and then Harry was holding him tight. Across the room Draco could see Ron making a disgusted face, but Hermione looked pleased, and she had hold of Ron's hand.
"What are you...?"
"I'm sorry, Draco. You're the most important person in my life right now, and not just because you saved it today," Harry said quietly. "Forgive me?"
Draco took a deep breath, let it out, searching Harry's face, filled with regret and hope battling for ascendance. They had forgiven each other for far worse; compared to a kick in the face, or the Sectumsempra curse, what was a dropped hand, after all? "Okay." Defying Ron's disapproval, he brushed his lips over Harry's, and reached for his hand.
Two weeks and two days it had been since he'd stumbled into the pub in Godric's Hollow, desperately seeking Harry on Snape's orders. In sixteen days their worlds had turned upside down, changing them from enemies to lovers. Whatever the next days and weeks and months might bring, they would meet the challenges together.