“Well this sucks,” Harry muttered.
Currently he was trapped between his door and a Death Eater, at wand-point. The man didn’t have the mask, but he could see the dark mark on his arm, which he didn’t bother to keep covered. He obviously didn’t know the man all that well, given that he didn’t have an aura.
That portrait was right. He did not want to open that door.
But, as always, his ‘recklessness’ and ‘Gryffindor idiocy’ made him go out there anyway. Maybe Snape was onto something. The hallway was dark, few portraits there, and he could see Salazar hissing to him in parseltongue in a borrowed frame, but he couldn’t hear him over the pounding of blood in his ears. The man in front of him had dark hair, and deep brown angry eyes. His face was angry too, which in Harry’s opinion made him ugly. Anger makes people ugly.
He was brought out of his thoughts by snarled words, “AVADA KED-” Harry closed his eyes, waiting for the worst. He had last thoughts, last words in mind, about his parents, and surprisingly, he thought about the Dursleys, and had a strange feeling of acceptance. A lone tear fell from his face, and in that moment time had slowed, and Harry felt that he could hear the tear splash on the floor.
Harry was released, thrown roughly to the floor, and he could vaguely hear a wand clatter to the floor. He curled in on himself, eyes still closed tightly, breathing in deep breaths quickly. Then he heard the deadly voice whisper out, “What is the meaning of this?” The end of the sentence had a slight hiss to it, and Harry knew there was only one voice like that. He opened his eyes in a flash, scrambling away as fast as possible.
Voldemort still had his snake image, his eyes blood red, his nose nonexistent, anger emitting from him. “The boy is mine! He is to be alive, Dolohov! How dare you disobey my orders directly!” He glared at the man, causing him to flinch. “Crucio!” The death eater crumbled to the ground, writhing in agony, his nerves on fire, kind of like the fire in Voldemort’s eyes. Harry couldn’t stand it. He closed his eyes again, hands clamped over his ears, muttering nonsense in an attempt to block out the screams that reminded him much of his own. He didn’t hear when it was over, the final words that ended Dolohov’s life, he was too busy trying to put a wall between him and everything else.
He didn’t notice when Voldemort’s appearance changed, or when he hurried towards Harry worriedly.
“M’Sorry, m’sorry, m’sorry-” Harry said it like a prayer, frantically. Tom took Harry’s hands off his ears and held them gently, twirling his thumb gently on the boy’s palm. “Harry! Harry, it’s over!” Tom kept trying to get his attention, coaxing him to open his eyes. Salazar watched over the pair, eyes wide. Harry shook his head, still murmuring apologies, trying to tug his hands away from Tom with his eyes still closed. He wasn’t very successful, but it broke the Dark Lord’s heart to see him like this. It reminded him of when they brought Harry here, covered in bruises, and even though he was knocked out, he still didn’t look like he was at peace.
“Please? Come on Harry, let me see those eyes.” Tom could see them flutter, then he heard footsteps running through the hall, and they were closed tightly again. He growled, turning towards the sound, only to find Severus and Lucius running forward. He could see Severus’ eyes widen instantly, rushing to get to Harry. Lucius walked forward cautiously, still not knowing what Harry really meant to the Dark Lord. As soon as Severus’ deep baritone echoed throughout the hallway, Harry’s eyes opened, scooching towards the man. He looked around with wide eyes, his gaze falling onto the hand Tom was still holding, but he didn’t pull away this time. His head tilted slightly to the right.
“Tom?” he whispered. The man nodded cautiously, knowing that in Harry’s fragile state, one wrong move could ruin everything.
Unknowingly to him, Harry was staring at his aura, which had changed. It used to kind of look like static on the telly, like he wasn’t all there, tainted with a bit of red at the sides. Now, it was a light gray, kind of silver, and where Tom’s hand joined his, it was just as white as the Weasley twins.
The boy turned his head into Severus’ robes, but Tom could hear a shaky, “Thank you,” coming from Harry. Tome gave a small smile, getting up, and said to Lucius, “Tell Draco he is to be sharing with Harry. Give the girl her own room, she’ll need her privacy.” Lucius gave a sharp nod and left. Severus gently picked up Harry, who was exhaustedly sleeping in his arms. “Shall I..?” Tom gave a nod, waving a hand in a ‘lead the way’ gesture.
In Draco’s room, Snape laid Harry on the bed, warning Draco to not frighten him when he woke and to pass the news that they were not to leave the room until either Lucius, Tom, or Severus said to.
When Harry woke, he was in yet another unfamiliar room.
He turned and stretched in the comfortable bed, freezing when his arm knocked into something. Someone, his mind corrected. “AHHH!” He jumped off the bed, or rather, fell off of it, also managing to kick the other person off the bed. He saw a flash of white-blonde hair. Malfoy?
He backed against the wall in caution, watching as a drowsy Draco sat up, rubbing his eyes. The slytherin squinted in Harry’s direction, eyes widening when he realized it was Harry. “Harry? What time is it?” Harry looked at him confusedly. Since when did they become friends? A flash of Draco defending him in Potions crossed his mind. He answered, “I don’t know. I don’t have my wand.” Draco frowned. “Why not?”
Harry shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything, really.” He looked around the room, which was mostly black and silver. “Is this your room?” Draco looked up. “Hm? Oh, yeah.” Harry got up and sat back down on the bed, Draco doing the same. Harry’s brows furrowed. “Why does it smell like Hermione?” Draco stared at him oddly. “You can smell her?”
“Yeah, I’ve been friends with her long enough to know what she smells like,” Harry said in a ‘duh’ tone. “Oh. Well, she stayed in here last night. Just sleeping!” Draco added after Harry wriggled his eyebrows. “Well then,” Harry said as he leaned back to lay down again, “Where’d she go?” Draco laid down with him. “Dad gave her another room.”
They lay there in silence for a while, just thinking.
Harry broke the silence. “So how long are we supposed to just stay in here?”
“Well, given what happened last time,” Harry grimaced at the memory, ” we’re supposed to stay until either Tom, Dad, or Uncle Severus comes to get us.” Harry groaned. “Then what are we supposed to do?”
Draco hesitated. “We could... learn more about each other?” Harry thought it over. It seemed like a good idea. They were friends, at the very least, they might as well get to know each other. “Okay. How do we start?”
“How about we tell the other person something that may not know about the other? Then vice versa, I guess.” Harry racked his mind and found nothing. “Um... My favorite color is actually green?”
Draco laughed. “Typical. My favorite color is not red, however. Mine is black.” Harry’s nose scrunched up. “What’s wrong with black?” Draco asked defensively. “Nothing, ” Harry said slowly, “it just means something different to me.” He changed the subject. “I don’t like girls,” he admitted, going on with the game. Draco reared back in shock. “Really?”
Seeing the look on Harry’s face, he said, “Nothing against you, of course. I had a crush on Seamus once, so...” he was rambling at this point, and then he realized what he said and covered his mouth. It was too late for Draco by now, because Harry was holding his sides, shaking with laughter. “S-Seamus? Oh, that’s too funny!” Draco pouted. “It was the accent, okay?” At this Harry burst into laughter again.
Once he got ahold of himself, he said, “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, that wasn’t nice.” He giggled one last time. Draco smiled. “It’s okay. But I thought you liked Ginny?” Harry made a choking noise. “What? No, no no no no no. She’s like my sister! I mean, she doesn’t think that probably, but she’ll live, I hope.” Draco snorted. “Who do you like, then?” Harry raised his eyebrows. “Right now? No one.” At Draco’s disbelieving expression, he explains, “I haven’t had the time for such a thing.” Draco nods in sympathy. “I imagine not.”
“Maybe things have changed,” Harry said thoughtfully.
“Maybe,” Draco echoed.
Harry turned to him. “You know about my family... what is yours like? Anything I’ve ever heard about your family is that you’re filthy death eaters.” Draco’s face fell at the term. “Well, Father’s not like that. He’s wonderful, and he’s kind. In public he’s not, but... I guess things got a little to deep to crawl out of. But he tries to make it up to me. He doesn’t yell at me for no reason, or anything like that. He’s a good person,” Draco finished meekly. “But Mother... She’s just as awful as they say she is. She married Father for his money, even though she inherited a fortune from the Black’s. He doesn’t deserve that.” His head hung in shame at his mother in blood. “I barely know her. Lucius raised me, not her. I... I don’t really have a mother, I guess.”
Harry looked at him with kind and understanding eyes. “I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, you turned out pretty okay in the end. Even with our past... I’d say you and your father are very admirable people.” Draco gave him a little glance. “You can’t say that. You’ve never really known Father or me.” Harry shook his head. “No, this is your home, isn’t it? He let me stay here, and you, we’ve had this whole conversation all evening and not once did I think of you negatively. Not once did you call me Potter, or treat me rudely. You stood up for me in Potions, which means a lot to me. You,” Harry finished, “mean a lot to me.”
Draco burst into tears, and Harry moved forward to hug him, soothing him with soft words.
By the time the blonde was sleeping, Draco had a bright white aura, and Harry smiled, following him into sleep.