Official Fine Print: Nope. Not mine. The brainchildren of the mighty pen of JK Rowling. Just playing with them.
Here With Me
Chapter 3
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Hermione watched him sleep, his head pillowed in her lap. Her eyes followed the sporadic, shuddering rise and fall of his chest seeking any signs of improvement. How like the story of her life to finally have a half naked Harry in her lap only to be too close to losing him to enjoy it… Part of her wished she knew enough about healing to charm his pain away, the other just wanted to run her hand down that lovely, taut-muscled stretch of skin to the button of his jeans and… Damn! She could feel Malfoy's eyes watching her and raised her own to meet them.
He made a tsking noise.
Hermione found herself laughing. "Oh that's rich coming from you, Malfoy."
"I could read you like a book just then, you know Granger. I'll bet I could tell you exactly what you were thinking."
"Oh really?" Hermione questioned, steeling herself not to blush. He's guessing, and he's playing with you. Don't fall for it.
"Here's a thought for you, brightest witch of your age," Draco said, leaning forward. "He's likely within a year at most, probably less, of finally really facing Voldemort. Why don't you just drop the saintly bookworm charade and have at him already? There isn't a male under a hundred in the castle that can't scent you as marked territory. You must know he worships the ground you walk on. What is this twisted nonsense with pretending you're just too good friends to fancy him? Sex is truly a glorious thing, Granger, and if you haven't noticed yet - the ghosts don't get any. If he's got every chance of getting himself killed taking the Dark Lord out, why not send him off a happy man instead of a regretful boy? Far be it from me to snag Potter a shag, but time waits for no witch and quite frankly it's getting painful to watch."
Hermione was shocked rigid. Harry wasn't the only one having trouble breathing for a moment.
"Go on; tell me it hasn't crossed your mind. Fifty times a day from the look you were just giving him. What are you saving yourself for?"
"Why don't you mind your own damn business, Malfoy. Here's a thought for you; if you'd thought with your head instead of your… your little wizard, you probably wouldn't be messing up Ginny Weasley's life right now!"
The eerie, silver-grey eyes glittered coldly at her from beneath his white-blond fringe; still she somehow glimpsed in a split second what Ginny had tried to tell her, the likeness to a fallen angel. He was beautiful, but in a faintly tainted way that made her feel almost unclean to admit recognizing it. Ginny must have a bigger saving people thing than Harry if she truly wanted to take that on.
"I like to think I made that particular choice not with my little wizard, as you so charmingly put it, but with my heart. And yes, I do have one. It knows that Weasley loves me. She's literally screamed it out loud. More than once, and quite, quite happily, I assure you. If I die tomorrow, at least I'll die having known it without a doubt. Can you say that?"
"Oh, so a good shag proves everything, does it? Well you'll obviously be going out knowing the whole of Slytherin loves you then, from what I've heard," Hermione shot back at him before she could stop herself. What was she saying? Why was she even having this conversation with him? Why were there tears building in her eyes? More importantly, why was Harry lying there oblivious when she needed him?
Draco laughed mirthlessly. "For once, my reputation exceeds me. So you'll have been what to Potter? Study buddy? Doesn't He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named gain even more power over you both if he's He-Who-Keeps-Harry-An-Emotionally-Stunted-Virgin-Forever? Let me guess, you're waiting for him to declare his undying love in front of the whole school, ring on your finger and happily ever after, before you'll take your knickers off. Meanwhile, he's busy trying to keep you below Voldemort's radar and figuring out if there's even going to be an ever after, let alone a happy one."
The tears spilled over. She couldn't stop them, sensed the first one slipping from her eyes and sliding down the side of her nose. How could this happen? How could he, of all people, take her carefully structured world and just smash it to pieces? Why did she even care? She'd always thought him vile, spent half her life keeping Harry and Ron away from him. It was such a Slytherin trick, to ferret out perhaps the only vulnerable spot in her fortress.
"Must you?" he sighed, leaning back against the cave wall and rolling his eyes.
"Yes! I must! It's your own fault, if you must know. You're so very brilliant, so damn insightful. How did you think I was going to react to you picking apart all my convictions for me? 'Oh Draco, you're a genius! It never occurred to me to just, just… fuck Harry before Voldemort does!' And what's it to you, anyway?"
"Nothing. Less than nothing. Forget I said anything. Look, I'm tired." Draco yawned and stretched. His limbs were long and luminous in the firelight. "Unless you've a better idea, we should get some sleep too. I don't think it makes sense to try and get him to the castle until daylight. I don't know if the centaurs have given up on us but there are enough of Hagrids' failed experiments out there to make staying in here worthwhile no matter how lacking in charm it may be. Is it safe to assume you'll keep watch over Potter? He's not sleeping on my lap if we take turns."
"I'll watch him." Hermione said. "Is there enough of the potion left to dose him again if we need to change the bandages?"
"I think so. Do us both a favor though and leave it 'til morning. There'll be no sleeping through that performance."
Hermione felt her blood begin a slow boil.
"Did it occur to you what it must feel like to have that particular potion heated and poured into an open wound? My best guess is it hurts like holy hell, you sadist. Or is it even possible for you to care what anyone else is feeling?"
From the look he gave her, Hermione realized the usually chilly Draco was probably pretty close to the same boiling point.
"Did it ever occur to you that maybe that's just how I happen to deal with it, you sanctimonious little bitch? Just because you Gryffindors trot your hearts out on your sleeves every forty-five seconds for everyone else to have to acknowledge doesn't make you the world's foremost authority on feelings. I had to take the bloody thing out in the first place. It was like poking a puppy's eyes out, thank you. I bet you couldn't even have brought yourself to touch it, could you. Could you? Is that how much you supposedly love him? Oh yeah, I forgot, I play the role of the heartless bastard in this drama, I'm just supposed to shut up and let your preconceived ideas reign. Only poor Hermione Mudblood Granger's ever been persecuted for what she is. Well, I have enough sounds of people screaming bouncing around in my head to last me a lifetime. I don't want to hear any more."
He was clearly angry too. Fine… Malfoy had always seemed to Hermione to be about control. Distancing, mocking, menacing. It occurred to her that he probably liked to lick his wounds, literal or metaphorical, in private. There was no retreat in the cave. Let him squirm.
"Let me guess, Daddy laughed at you if you cried. Boo hoo for you, Malfoy. You knew what you were doing. That's hardly a license for your attitude."
"No, Granger. Daddy liked to see me cry. I learned at the foot of the master there. I knew what the receiving end of a Crucio felt like a long time before I ever came to Hogwarts. All for my own good, of course. And I know what it's like to cast one, too. You and Potter and Weaslebee can crack all the "Malfoy's too scared to be a Death Eater" jokes you want. You're right. I am. Because I've had a good hard look at the Dark side and I'm making a decision to get out. So allow me to educate you for a change. It's more painful than the most masterful, Aunt Bellatrix-style Cruciatus to listen to someone else, anyone else, even him, and be the one to cause it."
His eyes were truly angry now, their silvery color flat and reflective. "Your precious Potter and I do have at least one thing in common. We both learned early on that there are vicious pricks in this world that feed on your pain and there is something to be said for starving them off, locking it up inside you and throwing away the key. Not every bloody thing is healed by observation under your emotional microscope, you know. You're the one who's got nerve, Granger. Getting one hundred and ten percent on your exams doesn't make you fucking omniscient when it comes to the rest of us. It just means you can read the book."
He turned away abruptly removed himself closer to the fire and lay down with his back to her.
And there were the tears again, running down her nose toward Harry.
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Hermione slept fitfully, dozing off and snapping back to consciousness only to find herself still trapped in a cave filled with sound of the pouring rain outside and Harry's troubled breathing within. She drifted off and woke again to find her legs gone heavy and numb between the weight of Harry's head and the hard stone floor. 'Time to move, Hermione, or you won't be able stand up in the morning yourself,' she thought. She slipped her hands under Harry's shoulders to lift him and let out a cry of pure panic. "Oh, God, wake up. Harry! Oh, he's so cold; he can't be breathing at all. He was alright just a few minutes ago… damn it, Malfoy, get the potion, quickly!"
Draco woke admirably quickly and rose, crawling the short distance across the cave floor between them. He felt around under Harry's jaw. "There's a pulse. Ugh, he is cold though. We need to wake him up." His hand moved to administer the same bracing slap that had startled Harry from his dream state before Hermione had arrived but her fingers closed like iron bands around his wrist.
"What are you doing?"
"Waking him up! What the hell is wrong with you?"
"You were going to hit him!"
"To wake him up! Bloody hell, Granger. What do you want me to do, kiss him?"
Hermione felt the look of steel that turned Ron's knees to water creep into her eyes. Draco appeared unaffected and glared right back. She pushed him aside, knelt down beside Harry, cupped his face in her hands and kissed him with everything she had. Please wake up Harry, please wake up Harry, please wake up Harry, please.
It felt like he came from very far away. There was a slow warming beneath her lips, twitches beneath closed eyelids. Come on Harry! She let her fingers stroke the sharp bones of his cheeks and trace down to his ears, trying to warm them as well. He began to turn his face into the pressure of her hand. She felt his jaw loosen slightly and found herself lost in the moment, her tongue slipping softly towards his… Hermione, you idiot, the point is to get him to breathe here, he can hardly breathe with your tongue down his throat, can he! She drew back hesitantly and was rewarded by a shallow intake of air, a marked thump in his chest beneath her hand. It was several long, long minutes before his eyes slowly opened.
Beautiful green eyes, come on you two, open up, there you are, come on Harry…Hermione urged silently.
Only it wasn't Harry in there.
His eyes were horribly blank, and flicked without interest from her own. They were fascinated, however, by Draco.
Harry began to laugh, a horrible, mirthless evil sound she didn't believe possible from his lips.
"Hello, little Malfoy. Imagine finding you here. Did you think you could hide?"
It was Harry's voice, but not his own. Hermione knew somehow that it might be Harry's body speaking, but Harry wasn't home. This left one obvious candidate, forever linked by the lightening bolt scar.
"Oh, shit!" said Malfoy, obviously coming to the same conclusion at roughly the same time. "That's not Potter, Granger." He grabbed her and pulled her back, away from Harry. Harry's body fell back heavily when her support was so suddenly removed and seemed to thrash about to right itself. He managed to rise to his knees, struggling obscenely against the useless arm bound to his side by the bandages. Clearly Voldemort somehow hadn't been aware of Harry's injury. From the disorientation on Harry's face, he also wasn't a lefty.
Hermione felt Draco's wand arm rising behind her, and she reached back, grabbing hold of it.
"Get off, Granger!" he hissed.
"You can't! It's Harry, Malfoy. Even a petrificus or a stupendo could kill him now. He can barely breathe."
"Well we're just going to have to risk it, because I'm pretty damn sure that's the Dark Lord in there with him."
Voldemort seemed infuriated to discover Harry's body not only wounded but wandless. Harry's face - so clearly no longer controlled by Harry - took on a self-assessing look, followed by a horrible leer. "Ahh. Potter's growing even stronger than I knew!"
Harry's left hand extended toward them, fingers splayed. Hermione just had time to notice that it looked like his aim was a little off when a pulse of green light shot out from Harry's fingertips and careened into the cave wall an arms' length away from Draco's head, propelling shards of rock over them both.
"Draco, his glasses! I took off Harry's glasses last night," Hermione whispered, moving backwards towards the front of the cave and pushing at Draco, who stepped in front of her. "He's nearsighted. If we can keep back a bit he can't focus on us."
"Come, Draconis. There's no point in prolonging this. You knew this would come the moment you denied me. You've seen my playthings before. Crucio, littlest Malfoy. Crucio, Crucio, CRUCIO!"
The first three were near misses. The fourth was a direct hit and carried with it the frustrated force of its misdirected predecessors. Draco went down with a strangled cry, his body curling protectively, knees drawn to his chest, arms over his head.
"Harry!" Hermione screamed. "Harry, wake up! Stop him! Harry!"
Hermione saw something flicker in Harry's eyes.
"Harry. I know you're in there. Please stop him. Draco helped you!"
It was excruciating watching the warring emotions range over Harry's face. Whatever was going on in there, the Cruciatus curse on Draco had been broken and he drew himself trembling back to his feet. Hermione was terrified that the visual cue of Harry, whom he had so long hated, added to the reflex to protect himself from another curse would be more than Draco could resist.
"Last chance, little Malfoy." The cold black-eyed Harry was in the forefront again, although disconcerted enough by the struggle to change attacks. "Come do what you were born and bred to do. It's Potter after all. Look. I'm offering him to you!"
Harry seemed to throw himself against the cave wall behind him, left arm stretched out, legs spread wide, as if held by unseen forces. His head drooped forward limply.
Draco lurched to his feet, clutching his wand.
"Take him, Draco. You know what I can do for you. Take him and join me," came Harry's voice, so grossly unlike him.
"Alright! I'll do it!"
The confident self-righteousness of earlier that evening flew swiftly out the cave door for Hermione.
"Ginny could never forgive you if you hurt Harry, Malfoy. Never."
"Shut it, Granger," Draco whispered. "I'm not going to hurt Harry. Much. Your faith, however, is deeply touching."
Much?
Draco made his way toward Harry channeling five years of scarcely suppressed aggression.
"Look at me, Potter," he hissed. "I want you to watch me. This is your bloody fault and I'm going to break you before I give you up. Father always said the Death Eaters were told they could have as much fun with you as they wanted as long as they brought you to the Dark Lord still alive. So look at me!"
He made a swift slash and upward flick with his wand. Harry's head flew back against the cave wall as if pulled by his hair. Hermione saw his eyes shift and realized Draco wanted Voldemort to step back from the forefront to allow Harry to be the one to feel what Draco was supposed to do to him. He could still be in there, controlling, but it gave Harry a better chance of regaining himself. If Draco didn't kill him first.
"You're think you're so special Potter. You're nothing but a scrawny left-over that Dumbledore pinned his misguided hopes on because he had nothing better to use. Only the most gutless, spineless, sniveling drivel of the wizarding world can possibly expect you to save them from what's coming. You simply sicken the rest of us. Conlacertus!"
The spell neatly sliced through the shirt bandaged around Harry's chest and into the skin below. The bandage and potion-soaked poultice fell away to the ground. Harry's body cried out and jerked against its splayed limbs. Hermione began to see what she knew to be Harry taking over his features again. The pupils shrunk to their normal size and the green iris took over the balance of color, his mouth trembled, the terrible smile gone. Voldemort couldn't resist the opportunity to feel Harry in pain and humiliated, and he could not do so without allowing Harry dominance in the body upon which the pain was to be inflicted. In the exact reverse of his last awakening, Harry's eyes moved beyond Draco with neither fear nor resistance to Hermione's with what seemed to her to be both concern and regret.
And grew falteringly black again.
Draco noticed the change as well. "You know one thing I've always wanted to see, Harry? You, on your knees." He flicked his wand again, a graceful twist that brought Harry to the ground. "begging my forgiveness for every moment of your pitiful, annoying existence. Exposco adfectio."
Harry's body lowered over his knees, clearly against his will. His good arm slowly extended beyond his bowed head as if in supplication, trembling as it fought the force of the spell.
Hermione felt her own hand covering her mouth, wished that she could instead cover her eyes.
Draco stepped forward and positioned his foot against the side of Harry's head, forcing it flatter to the ground but in the process turning Harry's eyes towards Hermione.
And he was Harry again, eyes brilliantly green and magnified by tears of pain and humiliation.
"Let him go. Draco. It's Harry, let him go!" No sooner had the impassioned plea passed her lips did Hermione see the flare of impatience on Draco's face and the resurgence of the cold black in the eyes beneath him.
Oh, damn, what have I done? Smart move, Hermione. That helped!
"No, wait. I've got a far better task for you, Potter," Draco said, a hint of desperation invading his tone. "The only thing more revolting than you is the mudblood scum you consort with." He stepped away from Harry and Harry's body pushed itself shakily back to its knees. "Tell her. Tell her that even a half blood like yourself could never love her. Tell her how her very existence repulses you. How it repulses us all."
"No," came a hoarse whisper from Harry's lowered head.
"Did you say something Potter? Think carefully. I don't think I quite heard you correctly." Draco's voice was more confident now, at its sibilant Slytherin best.
Harry's head came up, his eyes distinctly green; they sought out Hermione's steadfastly. "No… I said no. I meant no," he grated out against the remnants of the centaur's poison still constricting his throat.
"Wrong answer, Potter," Draco said, raising his wand.
"Then for your sake and mine, Malfoy, would you just stun me already and get this demented fuck out of me!" Harry gasped, as his hand darted out towards Draco's wand.
"Hang in there, Potter. Stupefy!" Draco spat, jumping back just in time. Harry's seeker instincts were homed on Draco's wand, Voldemort's last chance to take control and render at least one of them a fatal blow. He dodged the first spell and stumbled to his feet, lunging, still hindered by having to use his left hand.
"Stupefy!" sobbed Hermione, aiming her wand dead center at his chest.
Harry dropped like a stone and was still.
Hermione and Draco both stood frozen for a long moment, watching. Hermione dropped to her knees and swiftly crawled to where he lay, raised a hesitant hand but could not at first bring herself to touch him. 'Please let him be okay, please let him breathe, please let him be him, please,' her heart pleaded. 'What have I done?'
"Is he breathing?" Draco asked shakily.
Hermione laid her hand on his shoulder and gently rolled him over. He was still disturbingly cold but she was almost certain she saw him take a shallow breath. Her hand moved to just below his collar bone and she felt another small swell.
"I think so," she said. "The question is, is he still Harry?"
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