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Chapter Sixty-Eight

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Bone-chilling laughter woke Draco from a sound sleep – and a rather nice dream that in his most secret thoughts he hoped to enact some day. Still not fully awake, and wondering just what that awful sound was, Draco turned to see if it woke Harry as well, and if he knew what was making such a terrible noise.

Draco nearly fell off the bed in fright.

Harry's face was only partially illuminated in the glow of the fireplace, the lighting only heightening the eerie atmosphere. The other Slytherin's expression was a contorted joy, yet with nothing pleasant about it. Sheltered as his childhood had been, and missing the end of Harry's first two adventures, this tied with watching a werewolf transform as the scariest thing Draco had ever seen.

It was not the first time that Harry had somehow channeled Riddle's emotions, but this was the most extreme instance so far, and Draco had no idea what to do. He knew that any spell he cast at Harry would be deflected by his shields, as Draco was not willing to cast anything strong enough to get through.

Bewildered, and acting on pure instinct, Draco was almost unaware as his hand flung out and slapped Harry, leaving a red mark on one of his cheeks – but the insane laughter stopped.

Shaken, Draco watched his lover with apprehension, and saw he was equally shaken. Emerald eyes stared back at him with awareness and fear that Draco almost misinterpreted.

"Thank you," said Harry in a near-whisper.

Draco just nodded, not really trusting himself to speak just yet.

Harry turned away for a moment and grabbed his wand. He passed it over his face and spoke a mild healing charm, banishing the evidence of Draco's intervention.

"He's happy about something," Harry still was not looking at Draco, and Draco understood why. "He got something he wanted."

It was entirely creepy that Harry knew this, and worrisome that it was all he knew. If he was able to tell just what it was that had Riddle so thrilled, then there would be some value, some positive aspect to these episodes of foreign emotion, but as it was, all they did was leave Harry with unanswerable questions.

Again, Draco nodded, and did the only thing he could think of. He wrapped his arms around the shorter Slytherin and held him tight, doing his absolute best to insulate Harry with his body, to block out all outside influence with his very presence.

Something about his method worked, as Harry relaxed into him, and turned to capture his gaze.

"Never let him take me."

"Never."

Harry tilted his head back and up, seeking Draco's lips with his own, and claiming them, reasserting the dominance of his own mind in his body. Both of them already unclad, it did not take long for the kissing to lead elsewhere, for hands to roam, and mouths to wander, until they strove to make each other forget, if only for a little while, the so very unwelcome intrusion of their night.

Draco stretched upon waking, and found Harry already awake, as it was every morning. He silently watched Harry's graceful transition between yoga positions and admired the smooth lines of his body, marveling that he shared it every night. There was a soft breeze in the room of typically still dungeon air, and Draco smiled. Only Harry could make a winter morning in the dungeons feel like a sunny spring afternoon on a terrace. Knowing that temperature had little effect on Harry, Draco knew it was his benefit, that Harry did this because of Draco's sensitivity to cold. He smiled a private little smile, the kind that would never make an appearance where anyone other than Harry could see him.

The episode of the night before was still in the back of his mind, but was less frightening and disturbing in the light of day. Draco still wondered just what had Riddle so pleased, but the possibilities did not consume his thoughts. Instead, his mind was on the day ahead – classes, and Umbridge, and preparing for the O.W.L.s, even if they were several months away.

With Harry still engrossed in his morning routine, Draco slipped into his own room, from which he left to shower, brush his teeth, and get dressed. With the need to keep their continued relationship secret, Draco was finding it much easier to wake up early in the morning, and he was also discovering the benefits. He had longer to shower, and arrived at breakfast earlier. That allowed him to linger while eating, and he was substantially more relaxed when he arrived at his morning's first class.

Pasting his superior smirk on his face, Draco met up with Pansy in the common room. It killed him that he had practically shut her out of his life, and even more so that she was entirely unaware. He still spent a great deal of time with his surrogate sister, but the vital elements that now made up the essential Draco were entirely hidden from her. The war had created a chasm of necessity between them that he doubted would ever be healed. He could never ask her to go against her family for him – and that was what she would have to do to support him – so she remained outside his new world. The worst part was that he couldn't apologize to her, because that would mean alerting her to the situation.

The great hall was still mostly empty when they arrived, and they took their place near the top of the Slytherin table. Draco always sat with a good view of the Gryffindor table, a practice unchanged from their earlier Hogwarts days. He was thankful he had that habit, as it allowed him to watch Harry without drawing suspicion. Ever since the beginning of the year, Harry had sat at the Gryffindor table, flanked by the Weasley twins with Neville across from him. Draco expected an Educational Decree any day now that declared students must sit at their assigned House tables for all meals.

Blaise came in and sat next to him, not unusual, but not an everyday occurrence.

Draco mostly ignored his housemates while he began his meal. He did not get any post that day, as he did not subscribe to the Daily Prophet. Any article of importance would be brought to his attention, either immediately by a fellow Slytherin, or later in the day by Harry or one of their co-conspirators.

"Shit."

The curse was muttered softly next to him, barely loud enough for him to hear, yet it drew his attention all the same. Blaise was not normally one to use crass language in public. Draco leaned to his side and looked over Blaise's shoulder at his paper. Immediately he felt the blood draining out of his face. An icy sensation traveled down his spine and he swore he could hear the quickened 'thud, thud' of his heart.

There, on the front page, was a photograph of his aunt and two uncles, none of which he could remember, as they had been incarcerated for most of his life. He knew exactly what they had done to get their one-way tickets to Azkaban, though it was not a topic of discussion at home. Severus had taken him aside years ago after he saw their names on the family tapestry and asked his mother about her sisters.

He knew then that he did not want to go home that summer, but would likely not have a choice. With Aunt Bella loose, she would almost certainly visit the Manor, if not reside there, and his parents would not be able to explain away his absence. Draco had no desire to meet his mother's family, who had apparently been insane, or close to it, even before spending over ten years with the dementors.

"Uh oh," Blaise quickly passed the paper to Draco, "read, quickly."

Draco skimmed down the article, ignoring the sounds of fear building in the hall. There was a gasp at the Gryffindor table, some sniffs from a Hufflepuff, and tense murmuring all around. He skipped over the descriptions of their crimes, and the speculation that Pettigrew was responsible for their escape – for of course, the Dark Lord could not possibly have anything to do with it, being permanently dead and all.

Just as he saw the name 'Potter,' thus discovering the section he needed to read, the tension in the hall rose to a palpable level. There was an exclamation of outrage across the hall, followed by a sharp, "Miss Potter," from Umbridge, who was stalking over to the table of red and gold. Draco glanced up briefly and saw that each Weasley twin had a tight grasp on one of Harry's arms.

Reading as quickly as possible, Draco forced a sneer onto his face, even as his stomach turned and his every instinct told him to get to the Gryffindor table as fast as possible.

...and the lack of security at Azkaban casts a shadow over the Auror Department, led by Head Auror James Potter. Is this the man we want in charge of the safety of our world and of our children? One of his Head Aurors is none other than Sirius Black, cousin to the escapee Bellatrix Lestrange. Furthermore, it is well known that Potter and Black associate with well-known werewolf Remus Lupin. Potter and his wife, Lily Evens Potter (muggle-born) even employ this half-breed as a tutor for their impressionable children, perhaps explaining some of the darker characteristics of the Boy-Who-Lied. Our Head Auror clearly makes poor choices in his private life. How can someone of such questionable judgment be employed by the Ministry in such a vital role? Recall, dear readers, that Potter chose Pettigrew as his Secret Keeper, that he was a close friend to the Death Eater . . . .

The article went on, and Draco looked once more to the Gryffindor table. He knew he would not like what he saw.

"That's my godfather!" Brie Potter snapped across the table at one of her housemates.

Umbridge had made her way to the table by then, and Harry had wrenched free of the Weasleys' grasp. Draco felt his hand twitching towards his wand, but knew he could not intervene.

"Is there a comment you wish to make, Miss Potter?" Umbridge's sickly sweet voice was heard throughout the hall, as all the students looked up from their papers and conversations. By then, they had all read the scathing attack on the Potter family. Luckily, the vast majority of students had loved Lupin's lessons, and so immediately discounted the criticism in the Prophet.

"No, Ma'am," Brie visibly reined in her temper, her teeth gritted.

Umbridge smiled at the third year girl, a predatory look on her amphibian face, "A pity that your parents are so unconcerned with your well-being, putting you in the care of a half-breed not only for your lessons, but in the event of their untimely deaths."

"I love my godfather," Brie declared, her voice strained, tears building.

Harry stood behind Umbridge, ready to protect his sister if necessary, despite the frantic efforts of several Gryffindors to return him to his seat. Part of Draco wanted to smack Harry for putting himself exactly where Umbridge wanted him, but he also felt pride in his lover for protecting his family.

"Brie," Harry interrupted pleasantly, "would you like to come sit with me?"

The young girl stood sharply, her bag in hand, and made to join her brother, but was prevented by Umbridge, who pressed down on Brie's shoulder, forcing her to sit.

Draco closed his eyes and shook his head. That woman could not feasibly any more stupid than she already was. When it came down to, the Umbridge family had little to no status, and the Potters, while clearly out of favor at the moment, were an old, proud family, backed by the Black, Longbottom, Dumbledore, Diggory, and Bones families, and likely several others. Not even Fudge could stand up to all of them if they decided to band together and make themselves heard. Why they hadn't on the subject of Voldemort . . . . that was food for thought at a later time.

Harry's wand was out in a flash, and his voice was full of menace, "Take your hands off my sister, Professor."

Snape was up in a flash, and he bellowed across the hall, before Umbridge could respond, "Potter and Potter, detention with me for a week. Come to my office immediately!"

Both sets of green eyes like thunderclouds – like those gathering above them as evidenced by the charmed ceiling of the great hall – the Potter siblings left the hall as one for the dungeons, as the Headmaster began to address the students, canceling the first class of the day.

Little by little, the tension lessened, though the atmosphere was still one of fear. Whispers that Potter might not be a liar after all were heard throughout the student body. Susan Bones and Neville Longbottom, both mentioned in the article as victims of the Lestrange family, received more attention than either was comfortable with. Draco, as to nephew to the aforementioned escapees, would have as well, had Greg and Vince, along with the other Slytherins of their year (barring Harry of course), not shielded him from the masses. Draco supposed the death glare he cast upon anyone foolish enough to approach him helped some.

When Draco was finally able to escape his friends towards the end of the day, he tracked Harry down rather easily by going to Severus's quarters. He was not surprised to find his lover dueling his godfather, the spells flying fiercely through the air, colliding with great explosions of light or impacting shields, sometimes deflected to leave scorch marks on the walls. Harry was clearly upset, the fire roaring in the fireplace, and the wind blowing through the room evidence. There was even rain falling from the high ceiling, yet disappearing before it touched either combatant.

He knew not to interrupt, though both Harry and Severus had to be aware of his presence already, so Draco put down his bag and sat against the wall, readying his wand to shield against stray curses. He did so none-too-soon, as he was required to block a purple streak with a quick flick of his wrist and a murmured incantation. Deciding to keep his shield active, Draco settled down to watch.

While Severus certainly had the benefit of experience, both in years and in battle, if Harry were to incorporate his elemental abilities, the fight would end in an instant. As he wished to keep them a secret, though, it was essential that Harry be able to survive a fight with Death Eaters without calling on wind, fire, or water.

Even without yielding the elements, Harry was a sight to behold. Draco thought back to watching Harry practice yoga, or dancing at the Yule Ball with his sister, as he saw the grace with which Harry moved as he fought. He knew no other teenage boy so very aware of the interaction between his body and the space around it. Curses missed him by bare millimeters at times as Harry twisted or ducked, never ceasing movement. A spin was used to dodge one spell, and as his arm came around the momentum fueled a curse flung from his wand. He ducked another curse and swept out a leg in a physical attempt to knock Severus off his feet.

It was like watching choreography, pure art, and if the meaning behind it were not so very deadly, Draco would be able to watch for hours. This duel, however, was combined stress release for Harry and practice for battle – a battle that was not far off.

Draco hated to admit it, but he was somewhat squeamish. The sight of blood, whether his own or someone else's, made him physically ill. Just the thought of spilling someone else's blood was terrifying. Yet he knew that before the end, he would have to face that prospect. Whichever side he ended up fighting with (unlike so many out there he was well aware he would not have the luxury of choosing – circumstances would force him to one side or the other – or remaining neutral), he would be required to hurt others.

What was it Harry had said once – to ensure peace we must prepare for war? It was a quote from something or another. Draco would give his last galleon to live in a time of peace, but such thoughts were pointless, as peace could not be purchased for any price.

Finally, Harry and Severus lowered their wands and bowed, accepting a draw for the evening. They cast cleaning charms on themselves and set about repairing any damage to the room as Draco lowered his shield and stood to help them. He worked with Harry to charm away the scorching on one of the walls and allowed himself to revel in the quiet togetherness for just a moment.

"How was detention?"

"Ha, bloody, ha," Harry scowled at him. "Umbridge came down to observe, to ensure, I suppose, that Severus was actually making us do something, so we spent two hours elbow deep in newts, disemboweling them and harvesting all the useful parts for ingredients. Why the man can't just buy newts eyes like everyone else . . . ."

Harry, of course, knew that freshly harvested ingredients were superior to those purchased at the apothecary, so Draco didn't bother mentioning that fact. The dark haired boy just needed to grumble to someone, and Draco was perfectly fine being that someone. There was clearly something else though, something festering, as the duel should have been enough to bleed away that frustration.

"What did she do?"

Harry grit his teeth, and the fire in the fireplace leapt, sparks flying out onto the stone floor. Severus glanced their way, a dark, knowing look on his face. Whatever it was, he was not pleased, either.

"She took Brie away for the 'second half' or her detention," Harry ground out.

Draco was puzzled, not sure why that was so bad, "Harry . . . ?"

"This has gone far enough, Dray," Harry's magic was manifesting itself, and not in the elements. The air felt charged, almost heavy, and Draco was, for a fraction of an instant, a little afraid of his lover. Severus was headed over to them.

Once more unsure of what to do, Draco did the only thing he could think of, trusting his instincts again, and kissed Harry deeply, forcing the other Slytherin to transfer his energy from anger to passion. Though Draco initiated the kiss, and had to all but force it, he soon found himself pressed against the wall, Harry reasserting his domination in all acts sexual. Releasing control, Draco allowed Harry to grip him almost painfully and felt his own tension yielding as frantic, harsh kisses softened into light caresses. Eventually, Harry just rested his head against Draco's chest, one hand gripping a fistful of robes that were luckily charmed to prevent wrinkling.

Draco did not know when he had shut his eyes, but when he opened them he saw that his godfather had turned away, his posture even stiffer than usual, and all the blood rushed to Draco's cheeks. He coughed lightly, getting the man's attention, and Severus turned back to them, spots of color on his high cheekbones.

"I will not allow it."

"Hmm?" Draco hummed, nudging Harry gently.

Harry lifted his head and looked over to Severus, "I will not allow that bitch to torture my sister."

Looking back and forth, Draco was sure he missed something, "Yeah, the woman's evil, but torture? She couldn't get away with . . . ."

The looks directed at him from two very different sets of eyes instantly shut Draco's mouth. He thought back to Harry's detentions with that foul woman and recalled that he always went to see Severus immediately after. His own eyes hardened as he realized that they had been lying to him for months.

"What did she do to you?" He would not permit this to go on.

Harry did not answer. Whether he was protecting Draco, or withholding the information in some sort of attempt to prove his own strength, or if it was a weird battle of will with Umbridge, Draco didn't care. He only knew that Harry had been hurt, Harry had not told him, and Harry was still refusing to talk.

"Sev?"

Draco's godfather raised an eyebrow at the Boy-Who-Lived, who stalked to the other side of the room. It was his own fault, really. If he didn't want Draco to know, he shouldn't have brought up the subject with Draco in the room.

"She uses a blood quill in detentions, Draco."

A smirk bloomed on his face. Harry truly was an idiot, and not enough of a Slytherin. He had completely forgotten who some of his allies were.

"Well," Draco adopted his haughty, pureblood heir tone, "Father simply won't stand for this. Imagine my surprise when I, mischievous teen that I am, tripped this hapless blood-traitor, only to discover that there were words etched into her hand. Knowing that it had to be blood magic, and that such a useless witch wouldn't know the first thing about the old arts, I, of course, sent off a letter to my father immediately."

Harry was looking at him slightly dumbfounded, blinking in disbelief. Truly, Draco scoffed to himself, had it never occurred to the clueless prat that there were ways of dealing with odious bitches like Umbridge? When she was just making up ridiculous rules it was one thing, but torture of students – regardless of their heritage or politics – was an act that the wizarding world would not ignore.

Severus was smirking as well, but Draco was suddenly furious, "You knew! You knew all this time and you've done nothing!"

"Watch your tone, young man," Severus snapped right back at him. "The headmaster expressly forbade any of the staff to risk their jobs in any attempts to get rid of that Ministry bitch. In addition, my other master is finding the chaos at Hogwarts highly amusing, and has ordered me to let Umbridge wreak havoc. The Wizengamot still harbors doubts as to my reliability. An accusation from me would only serve to leave Slytherin House unprotected, under Merlin knows whose guidance!"

His godfather loomed over him, and Draco gulped. The only other time he had ever snapped at the man he had sworn never to do so again. Severus did not need curses or a heavy hand to convey his disappointment and displeasure. The man could cut you to threads with his scathing tongue alone.

"Never question my integrity again, Dragon."

Draco nodded, and shifted his attention. Harry was standing in front of the fire, staring into the flames. He looked small just then, cast in silhouette as he was, with his shoulders weighed down by invisible burdens. Draco knew he could not carry any of the loads for Harry, nor could he provide false comforts, but there was much he could do, if only Harry would let him.

Quietly, Draco enfolded the shorter Slytherin from behind, silently lending himself to booster Harry's already formidable strength. Alone, Harry might break under all the pressures, but together they would weather them and survive.

The next morning, Draco loitered outside the great hall, chatting with Theo Nott and glaring at mudbloods and blood-traitors. He cast a quick trip jinx at Brie Potter as she entered the hall and, predictably, the girl flung out her hands to catch herself, her bag splitting as it hit the floor (thanks to a hex from Theo) and scattering the contents all around her.

Draco narrowed his eyes at the physical evidence of Umbridge's detention scratched onto the back of her hand, I will respect my betters.

"Do you see what I see?" Draco hissed under his breath to Theo, motioning with his eyes.

As Brie scrambled to pick up her books, aided by her friends, her hand remained bared.

Theo drew in a sharp breath. The Notts might be dark, and the Death Eaters might do terrible things in their service to the Dark Lord, but no one, no one, in the wizarding world truly approved of torturing children. After all, to take a practical and Slytherin view, even the children of blood-traitors had the potential to turn to the dark – even muggle-borns could! And, Draco reminded himself with a smirk, there was a history of dark children helping the light.

"I believe I have neglected my filial duties," Draco commented loftily as they entered the hall.

Theo grinned maliciously, "Yes, one must keep one's parents informed of the doings at Hogwarts."

"Of course," Draco frowned, though he was quite pleased Theo was falling in line. Despite their amusement at the turning of the tables in regards to favoritism of the Houses, none of the Slytherins actually liked Umbridge. In fact, they mostly saw her as a boorish upstart, with delusions of grandeur above her station. It was time to take her down a notch. "Father will need proof, irrefutable proof, and true motivation."

Theo nodded, "Some parties will not be entirely pleased."

"This does call for a delicate approach."

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A/N: Phew! Next chapter already in the works – the muse returns with a vengeance!

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