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The Masterlist at HP_Creatures is up, so I present my contribution to the fest:
Title: The Last of All Illusions
Author/artist: ![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
elfflame
Pairing/Characters: Harry/Draco
Creature Type: Incubus - Spoiler for story, highlight to read.
Rating: Heavy R, verging on NC-17
Warnings: dub-con, mentions of murder
Disclaimer: The characters and setting are not mine. They belong to a lovely lady who is gracious enough to let us play with them. No money is being made on this story.
Notes: I’d just done a Vamp fic when I claimed this prompt, and I’ve done Veela and Werewolf before as well, so I really wanted to do something different here. I hope you like what I ended up choosing. I loved doing this prompt. The story is extremely different from anything I’ve done before, and I love the way it turned out. So many of the things in this are things I’ve never done before, and because of that, it was both a challenge and a joy to write—I do my best writing when I’m challenged. I’m usually Top!Harry, Bottom!Draco, so I hope this Harry is bottomy enough for you, Alexis. Thank you for the excellent prompt. And sorry that I couldn’t manage Snape in here.
Huge thank yous to kabal42, wolfish_cat, and ceria for looking this over for me, and holding my hand through the entire writing process. You all helped immensely, and this fic wouldn’t be half as good if you hadn’t been there.
Original prompt and submitter:
30.Prompt Presented by: alexis_sd
Creature Type: other (of your choice, but please no were-creatures)
Characters/Pairing: Snape/Harry (preferred) or Draco/Harry, or threesome, (if it's bottom!Harry you'll have my heart)
Prompt: Snape/Draco is in Azkaban… until his trial/serving a short sentence. While the Dementors are no longer there, the residue of their magic is thick enough to stir dormant genes in Snape/Draco. The desperation and unhappiness that the Dementors' residue invoke not only trigger a trait to life, in its attempt to save its human the creature (of your choice) takes over the control from its human. When out of Azkaban, the human manages to gain control back, but the creature is now there, demanding the fulfilling of its needs. (This can easily go into D/s if the creature is Dominant but it's not a requirement.)
Feel free to make Harry a mate, a soothing force or anything of your choice.
“You can’t do this!”
Potter looked at me smugly. “I can and I will, Malfoy. None of the others are complaining.”
“One of the others is likely the killer! I’m not staying with them!” I didn’t really believe it. There were certainly enough people out there who had grudges against Slytherins and former Death Eaters. Still, if it got me out of here, I’d say just about anything.
“They’re your friends and housemates, Malfoy. Now either shut up, or I will hex you quiet so we can get on with this.”
It was one of those times where I wished I could flop sulkily into the provided chair the way my son did when I chastised him, but a Malfoy always has to retain dignity, so I refrained. Though I did sneer at Potter as I settled into the chair across from him. “I don’t know how you’d expect to get me to answer questions if you hexed me silent, Potter. Or has your Legilimency improved since leaving school?”
Infuriatingly, Potter seemed almost amused by the comment. “I wasn’t learning Legilimency in school, Malfoy. Just Occlumency. And as for what I’d do? You can still write, can’t you?” His smirk grew as I glowered at him, then crossed my arms over my chest.
“Fine, then. Ask your questions so I can go lock myself in my room already.”
Apparently that was even more amusing, as Potter actually chuckled. “So…Miles Bletchley…”
I rolled my eyes, examining my nails to show just how dull I found this all. “What about him?”
“How well did you know him?”
I shot Potter a glare. “We were on the Slytherin Quidditch team together for four years. What do you think?”
“I don’t know. Depends if you had giant orgies in the locker rooms after,” he said with a smirk.
I stood up, barely able to keep the growl from my voice. “I am not a pouf, Potter! If you wish to cast aspersions, be very careful whom you choose to slander. I have a solicitor who would be quite willing to help me with a lawsuit against the Boy Who Lived. The Weasels’ teetering shack will look like a palace when I’m done with you.”
“Oh, calm down, Malfoy. It was just a joke. Now sit.”
His face had sobered, but I still considered storming out. Too bad Potter had back-up just outside the doors. Finally I lowered myself back into my chair, but perched on the edge of the seat this time, ready to leave to prove my point if need be. I wasn’t going to take Potter’s little jabs any longer than I had to. “Then get on with it.”
“How long did you know Miles Bletchley?” This time his tone sounded more official.
“We met my first year at Hogwarts.”
“Twenty years, then?”
“Off and on,” I said. More off than on, really. But I wasn’t going to offer any information that wasn’t specifically asked for.
The words made him meet my eyes again, though. “So, would you have considered him a friend, then?”
“Acquaintances.”
“Hm.” He jotted something down on the page. “But Blaise said he came with you the night he was attacked?”
“Did he? I suppose. Our crowd changes each time we go out together. I suppose it’s possible.” He had been with us that night, but I wasn’t about to say that.
“Right.” Potter’s eyes glinted for a second, and I found myself caught in green for a moment, causing something to stir inside me. I looked away as quick as I could, trying to regain my composure. I heard him jot down something else. “And do you remember when you left that night?”
“Midnight.”
“And did Bletchley leave with you?”
I turned to look at him, baffled as to why he would even ask such a thing. “What? Why would he leave with me?”
“You tell me, Malfoy.”
“Well, he didn’t. We weren’t that close.”
“Right.” Potter jotted down another note, then looked up at me again. “And you knew Nott how long?”
“Since we were born.”
“Right. And you stayed friends after Hogwarts?”
“Do you mean the period when we were incarcerated for being the sons of Death Eaters, or after?” I don’t even know what had possessed me to mention Azkaban. Just the implication reminded me of my time there, and sent a cold chill down my spine that I was hard-pressed to cover up.
Still, it got a more pleasing reaction from Potter. He looked up from his sheet of paper and glared at me. At least he was still predictable. “I think it had a good bit more to do with the Marks on your arms, Malfoy.”
“Oh, please. Like we had any more choice in the matter than you did in killing the Dark Lord.”
“Voldemort.” I tried not to wince at the name. “And for your information, I did. And I chose right. Can you say the same, Malfoy?”
I raised my chin to glare at him. Damn him for being right. Not that I’d say as much. I’d done what I had to do. And that was what mattered.
There was silence between us for a few minutes before Potter decided that I wasn’t going to answer, and decided to go back to his little list of questions. “You were with him the night he died?”
“We saw each other that night.”
Potter shot another glare at me. “Saw each other as in passing on the street, or saw each other as in went out together that night?”
Damn him. “Went out. There were four of us, as I’m bloody well sure you know. So why ask?”
“Because I’m required to, Malfoy. After all, it’s always possible someone could have impersonated you.”
“Unlikely. Blaise and Theo would have known in a moment.”
“You never know, Malfoy. Stranger things have happened.” Potter was smirking again, like he thought it a great joke—or he knew something I didn’t. I wasn’t about to ask, though.
“Well, I did. Are we done, now?”
“No. When did you part company that night?”
“Sometime around midnight. Always leave then. I returned home alone.”
Potter raised an eyebrow, then jotted something more on his paper. “And this past weekend?”
“What about it?” My temper was close to breaking now. I didn’t want to be here, and I certainly didn’t want to talk about this.
“Where were you when Blaise was attacked?”
Blaise and Theo had been my closest friends since leaving Azkaban. Greg had left the country, hoping to forget the past few years, and I’d clung to my remaining friends perhaps a bit too much. “I…couldn’t make it that night.” It had been a late meeting with my solicitor about a few remaining legal issues from the war, even so many years later.
If Blaise had died that night, I’d never have forgiven myself for not being there. As it was, I had dreamed about him for this past week after, the guilt tearing me up inside.
“And why was that?”
I blinked at him for a moment before I understood what he was asking. “I had a meeting.”
“With who?” When I paused, not certain I wanted that specific meeting talked about—I’d given him an extra bit of money to grease the way so that we wouldn’t have to deal with a few things. “I’ll need their name, Malfoy.”
“Just my solicitor.”
Potter nodded, then jotted down yet another note. That done, he stood up. “Right. So I’ll just show you your room.”
That was all? He wasn’t going to ask me more? Still, I maintained my composure and stood as well. “Just point the way. I can find it myself.”
“Sorry, Malfoy. For this, an escort is required by Auror rules.”
I stood, brushing off my robe. “Fine, then. Another Auror.”
“My job, and I’m not about to let someone with less authority screw it up because you don’t like me, Malfoy. So whenever you’re ready…?”
“I don’t dislike you, Potter.” He looked surprised at the statement, but I was quick to quash that. “I loathe you.” I turned away from him and moved to the door. “Let’s just get this over with.”
The house was small for as many of us as they’d gathered. The victims had all been men, so they’d focused on the males in my year in Slytherin and the Slytherin Quidditch team. Flint was out of the country, as were a few others who had been on the team, and Goyle had never returned to England, so that left me, Blaise, Warrington, Pucey, and Montague. And it was a good thing that was all, because with the five of us, and a team of Aurors, this place looked as though it were a boarding house. Truly barbaric. If they expected me to share a room…
Potter led me down the hall from the study he’d claimed as his office, and up the stairs to the second floor. There were five doors—two on either side of the hall, and one at the end. He moved to the door on the left at far end of the hall, then opened it for me. “Your home for the next week or so, Malfoy.”
The room was small. Not even as big as our dorm at Hogwarts had been. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Not a bit. In fact, this is the largest room, because we knew you’d cause a stink otherwise.”
“This is…large? Good god. It’s practically a closet. I refuse to stay. You can’t keep me here!”
Potter shrugged. “Suppose that’s up to you. I mean, considering two of the victims were your close friends, I’d suggest that means you could be the next target, Malfoy. But if you think you can face whoever it is all alone, feel free to go home.” He crossed his arms over his chest, and I could see the smirk that he was trying to restrain.
“This is utterly ridiculous. You honestly think you can keep whoever it is from killing us by keeping us prisoner? For all you know, it will just make it easier, because we’ll all be in the same place!”
“Nothing’s going to happen to you, Malfoy. All the rooms are charmed to send an alarm to the Auror on duty the second someone steps inside who shouldn’t be there. We’re ready for this.”
“Right. I’ll believe that when I believe in your idiotic Gryffindor ideals. I assure you that should anything happen to me…”
“Yeah, yeah, I know, you’ll sue me for every knut I have? Save it. Supper’s at eight. No food in the rooms. We don’t have house-elves, so you’ll have to take care of your room yourself. If you need anything from home, just let an Auror know, and we’ll send someone to retrieve whatever you need—within reason. And…I think that’s it.” He smiled at me in that uniquely nauseating way he had, obviously just to annoy me.
After he left, I examined the room. It was tiny, and there was no door leading to a bathroom. Did they honestly expect me to share that? I hadn’t done so since Hogwarts, and I wasn’t about to start again now. I reached for the doorknob, then jumped back when someone knocked at the door. “Who is it?”
“Adrian.”
I let myself relax and pulled my calm mask back in place before opening the door. “Pucey.” We were more friendly than Miles and I had been, but only marginally. Now, if it had been Blaise… “What can I do for you?”
“Potter kept you there longer than the rest of us. What all did he ask?”
“Did he?” That was a surprise. A worrisome one.
“Yeah. He barely asked me three questions. Even Blaise says he only asked him a few, and he was attacked.”
Obviously, Potter thought me the main suspect. Well, he had another thing coming. I was as innocent in this as he was. Unless he was the one doing it, and trying to deflect guilt on me? “He’s never liked me. If he’s decided to use this case to try and put me back in Azkaban, I doubt anyone would fight him.”
Adrian looked at me appraisingly, and I could see that he was wondering if I was the one. “Well, you were with two of the three victims the nights they were attacked.”
“Like I would attack my best friends, Pucey! You’re as imbecilic as Potter if you think I’m doing this!”
“Keep your shirt on, Malfoy. I’m only saying the Gryffindork has a point. You do look a guilty.”
I scowled at him, then decided to change the subject. “So Blaise is already here?”
“He was the first to arrive, seeing as he was one of the actual victims. Guess they wanted to make sure the killer didn’t finish the job, you know?”
If Blaise was here, why hadn’t he come to see me? “They’re keeping him separated from the rest of us?”
“Course not. Why would you think that?”
I raised my chin. “Never mind. Is the food at least halfway decent?”
“Good as can be expected on the Ministry’s tab. Mostly takeaway.”
Wonderful. I’d be ill before the night was out from overdosing on grease. “Let me guess, pizza and curries?” How lowbrow could you get?
“Yeah. Pretty good stuff, actually. Not Hogwarts standards, but with no house-elves…”
It wasn’t like Pucey’s standards were really that high, so that didn’t leave me with too great an opinion. “Well, I suppose I should get ready, then. Where’s the bath?”
Pucey pointed toward the door at the end of the hall. Even though I’d been expecting it, I still couldn’t help but sneer. “We’re expected to share?”
“Well, we are talking the Ministry, Malfoy. You’re lucky they don’t have us all sleeping in one room.”
“Watch them try to enforce that.” I scowled, then nodded at Pucey. “Well, I suppose I’ll see you at supper.” Then I closed the door in his face and went to the small bag they’d allowed before they’d dragged me from my home. He’d obviously taken the hint, as he was gone when I went back out into the hall.
The bathroom was cramped, and if there hadn’t been a shower, I’d have left right then. As it was, my temper was wearing so thin I was amazed I hadn’t snapped and started killing everyone myself. This was ridiculous, holding us all hostage while some psychopath tried to kill us. If he was even after us…it was possible the murders were just random and bad chance on our part. Maybe he’d go after some Muggleborn witch next.
I took a long, leisurely shower to try to calm myself. It didn’t really work, but by the time I was showered and dressed, it was nearly suppertime, and my mask was much more firmly in place. I only wondered how long it would take Potter to knock it out of place once more.
I made my way downstairs, where the air in the sitting room felt something akin to a party. A party where the boys and girls were standing on the opposite sides of the rooms, watching each other warily. But in this case, it was Slytherins versus Aurors.
Blaise sat in the centre of the couch, surrounded by Pucey and Warrington, his head on Pucey’s shoulder. When had they become so buddy-buddy?
“Blaise?”
He stiffened visibly at the sound of my voice, then lifted his head to turn to look at me. “Draco. Hi.”
Well, wasn’t that a lukewarm greeting? “Are you…all right?”
Warrington snorted. “What do you think, Malfoy? He was attacked last week.”
I glowered at Warrington, then focused on Blaise. He looked as though he hadn’t slept at all since the attack, and his skin had gone from its normal golden-toffee to rather grey. I took a step closer, and he sat up, facing away from me as he stood. “Dinner should be ready.” Then he walked from the room.
I blinked. He hadn’t snubbed me like that since we were students. What the hell was going on? I wanted to chase after him, but Malfoys didn’t chase anyone. And we’d learned that the hard way. So I followed slowly after, as though that had been the direction I’d been heading all along.
Unfortunately, Blaise had decided to make Potter his best friend, as he was sitting at his side when I arrived in the dining room. There was no way I was sitting anywhere near Potter, and I had the feeling Blaise had known that. I ended up sitting at the far end of the table from them, and glowered in their direction through the entire meal, not even paying any notice to whatever the Ministry had so graciously provided.
After supper, I moved to intercept him once more, but he escaped the room and hurried up the stairs before I could catch him. “Blaise!”
He turned at his door the floor above mine, watching me approach warily, the door partially open behind him, but blocked by his body. “What?”
I stepped closer, and he pulled back into the doorway. It hurt, but I didn’t let it show. I couldn’t. “What is going on, Blaise?” I asked, my voice low so that no one could overhear us.
He avoided my gaze. “I…can’t do this, Draco. Not right now. Please…”
“Blaise, what are you…” But before I could finish, he’d stepped back into his room, and shut the door between us. I stared at it blankly for a moment, until one of the Aurors walked past, then walked back down the stairs to my own room.
Someone had obviously convinced him that this was my fault. Or that I should have been there that night. But why? Maybe it was the real killer, trying to get closer to Blaise? To keep me from being able to help or otherwise protect him? I was tempted to run back to his room and pound on the door until he opened it again to assure him I would never hurt him, and that whoever had convinced him of that was the person most likely to hurt him, and that he needed to tell the Aurors who it was.
Except that Malfoys didn’t make scenes.
I got ready for bed, considered going to take another shower, then decided against it. I wasn’t up to running into anyone else at the moment. It could wait. Instead, I crawled into the bed, trying to find a comfortable position and wished I was at home in my own bed for a long time before I finally fell asleep.
There are people everywhere. I can feel them on my skin; in the air. So many I can take.
The one I want most is furthest away, though. I move through the room, trying to determine which direction he is in from where I stand. He was so beautiful the last time. I cannot wait to have him again. It is too bad these mortals burn out so easily. But at least he is here.
And no one can keep me from him.
I move through the walls, my magic making everything between us insubstantial. Nothing will stop me from taking him again.
But then, something does. There is magic, somehow more powerful than my own, keeping me from him. The wall is as insubstantial as before, but the magic keeps me out. I test it, hoping to crack it, or to go over it, but it seems to surround the room like a bubble. My prey is being kept from me. I cannot hold back the howl of rage at the knowledge.
Then, someone else is there with me. I turn to snarl and take out my rage on him. But I find myself brought up short by green. The stick of wood is nothing. His words are like wind. But his eyes… The rage is gone in a flash. I tilt my head and advance on him.
His voice rises and he backs up as I advance, but I do not let that stop me. The others have been nothing compared to him. Empty and unfulfilling. He is bright and shining, his magic rising up to meet mine even as I move closer. He is unlike anyone I’d ever encountered before.
He is still brandishing that stick at me, so I grab it from him, tossing it to the floor, then run my nose along his neck, inhaling his scent. I’ve never smelled anything so enticing before. I need him. When I look up to meet those green eyes again, they are wide, and his fear rolls over me. But I can feel something else from him as well. Some small part of him wants this. Wants me. And I haven’t even used my powers on him yet.
“Mine,” I growl low in my throat. He tries to respond, but before he can, I cover his mouth with mine.
And then the world goes black.
There were voices when I woke.
“…Going to do with him now?” The voice was feminine, and vaguely familiar, but it wasn’t mother, or Astoria. Or even Pansy.
“Throw him in Azkaban, and good riddance.” That one was more familiar, and not in a good way. Nasal and crude. Weasley. But what was he doing here? I kept my eyes closed, though I was tense now, waiting to hear more.
“Ron…” That was Potter, and now the night before—at least, I hoped it was only the night before—came back to me. I narrowly opened my eyes to look around. I was in a cell. Now that I was aware of where I was, I was amazed I hadn’t been uncomfortable on the cot they’d dumped me
Even more worrying was the dream. I'd always assumed they were just that. They'd started in Azkaban, but since I'd always woken up in my own bed the next morning, I'd just assumed that that was all they were. But if this one had truly happened, that meant that the others likely had, as well. And that I had been the one to attack my friends. No wonder Blaise had avoided me last night. But why hadn't he accused me if that was true?
Potter and his cronies were still gabbing. "What do you think caused it?" That sounded like Granger. She always did have to know every little thing.
"I don't know. I do know that he wasn't himself. It was like he couldn't understand a word I said. Like…like something had taken him over."
"You mean something was possessing him?" Granger asked.
"Maybe… Zabini did say that he wasn't like this before he went to Azkaban. Maybe something took control of him there?"
"You mean…that might not even be Malfoy in there?" Weasley asked, sounding horrified.
"I don't know." Potter looked up, and our eyes met. I turned away, but it was too much to hope that he hadn’t noticed I was awake. Hopefully he wouldn’t decide to start talking to me, as I really didn’t want to deal with his little pals. And I was fairly sure I didn't want to even talk to Potter, though I doubted he'd give me much choice when it came to that.
"Could be any number of things,” he finally answered Weasley. “I mean…might have been something Voldemort did. Or part of the Mark. Or he could have been bitten by something, and not even known it."
"Oh, come on," Weasley said. "You don't honestly expect me to believe he had no clue he was doing these things, do you?"
"Well look at the evidence, Ron," Granger said. "He attacked his own circle. Why would he do that?"
Weasley snorted. "Please. Slytherins don't have friends. They have acquaintances. They don't actually care what happens to each other. It's no shock they'd turn on each other…"
"I don't think he did, Ron, okay?" That was Potter again. And why the hell was he defending me, anyway? "I think Zabini knew, and didn't want to say. He talked around it, but…I think he was as scared for Malfoy as he was for himself."
Weasley snorted again. If I hadn't been dead-set against speaking to the idiot, that would have been the point when I'd spoken up, but there was no way I was saying a word until Potter's two sidekicks left.
"Maybe it's not something that took him over, though. Maybe he's got some sort of genetic inheritance," Granger suggested.
"Nah. 'Cause then his dad would have gone around attacking people too, wouldn't he?"
"Not necessarily, Ron. It could come from his mother's side, and only be a male trait. Or maybe the stress of being in Azkaban triggered it. We can't know for sure. Not unless we test him."
Test me? Test me how? Were they going to quiz me on facts or something? Granger was as loony as Lovegood. Honestly. I couldn't quite repress a snort at that.
"Actually, Hermione, that was why I wanted to talk to you. For now, Kingsley wants to keep this quiet, until we figure out what exactly happened. I mean, for all we know, a Dementor caught him while he was in Azkaban, and has somehow taken up residence inside his body, and has been wandering around while he's asleep, killing people. Kingsley wants to know just what sort of creature this is before the press finds out."
"Oh, come on, Harry. It's Malfoy! How do you know he didn't use his magic?"
"You didn't see him that night, Ron. He…didn't look right. He was kind of…translucent. And his power…he didn't feel any of the spells I threw at him at all. It took a stunner in the back to take him down, and even then, we had to do it several times to keep him down."
I didn't recall that bit. I wasn't sure whether to be alarmed or proud that it had taken so much power to subdue me.
Weasley snorted again. "Please. He's probably got you under some kind of spell. You know…I bet he's a Lumia. You know, those snake-people? Down in Egypt or something? Don't they lure people in then kill them?"
"They're called Lamia, Ron. And they're Greek. And they have snakes for bodies. Not to mention the fact that they're always women. He didn't have a snake's body, did he, Harry?"
"No. He was just…a bit more…there than usual. Like his power was shining out of him, or something. Like a night-light."
That made Weasley snicker. "A night-light? Ooooh…I'm so scared…"
"You should be, Ron. Whatever happened between Malfoy and his friends, it killed two of them, and badly injured a third."
"I still say it's some sort of pact or something. Maybe the after effect of being Death Eaters?"
"Zabini wasn't a Death Eater, Ron. Look…I just need to know…can you help us figure this one out, Hermione? We need someone who can keep quiet while the tests are being performed, and can come up with ways of figuring out exactly what he is."
"Of course, Harry. I'll go to the library right now and start looking up possible candidates for what this could be, and tests to prove whether it is or not. Ron can watch the kids for a few days."
"Sure. We'll all head over to mum and dad's for a bit. Get them out of the way, so you can work, okay?" I nearly snorted. Figured that Granger would wear the pants in that family.
"Thanks, Ron."
"Thanks, both of you. Really. I don't know what I'd do without you."
“Get attacked and eaten by Malfoy, apparently,” Granger said. I could hear the bemused humor in her voice.
“I’m…not sure that was the appetite he was looking to appease, Hermione.”
There was a long pause, then Weasley said, “That’s just sick, mate.”
I’d stiffened at the words. I’d been running from this ever since I’d first started having the dreams. And now my worst fear was confirmed—and Potter knew. This thing inside me, whatever it was, lusted after men, and carried me along for the ride. I’d thought maybe I’d be able to get rid of it by living a normal life. Marriage, a son…but if this creature had been going after men… I curled into a ball, not wanting to think about it, even as my thoughts swirled faster and faster in my head.
The words were so much buzzing around me after that, and I only noticed they’d stopped several minutes later, and looked up from my cot. Potter was watching me, and Granger and Weasley were gone.
“Thought you might be awake.” His voice was professional, but I could hear an undercurrent of something underneath.
“Go on. You know you want to,” I told him as I sat up.
“Want to…what?”
“Laugh at me. Tell me you knew I was the one. Gloat.” I’d never hated him more than this moment.
“Why would I do that?”
I rolled my eyes. “Like you don’t want to. Sounded like Weasley was having a field day.”
“Yes, well…Ron and I aren’t the same person, Malfoy. And he wasn’t there.” He went silent at that, and I could see he was working up the courage to ask what he wanted to. “How long?”
I wasn’t sure if I should answer or not. But maybe Potter could help me get rid of it? He did have that saving people thing, didn’t he? “Started in Azkaban.”
Potter stared at me for a moment. “But…we don’t have any strange deaths in Azkaban…”
“Don’t look at me. I have no clue which of these were…” I looked away. I couldn’t say the word ‘kills.’ It was just too much. “All I know is that is when I started having those dreams.”
Potter nodded. “So…you’ve been having them ever since?”
I shook my head. “They stopped shortly after I started spending time with Astoria.”
“But they came back?”
I scowled. I’d been so certain they were gone for good, happy enough in my marriage to Astoria, and then, right about the time Scorpius had been born, they’d returned. “Yes.”
“You know I have to ask, Malfoy. We have to know if there are other victims out there.”
“I know. I…I don’t know. I don’t…remember, exactly. It’s like…wet dreams.” I flushed. “I don’t remember everything. Just the inherent sensuality of the dreams. Sometimes faces.” Theo’s face flashed in my memory, and I had to close my eyes as the horror of it crashed over me. “Would you…please…leave me alone? Just for a bit?”
“I can’t Malfoy. I’m sorry. But…We don’t have to talk, if you need?”
I nodded, and we lapsed into silence. I guess he’d been made my keeper for now. Lucky him. I rolled back onto my cot and curled into a ball, trying not to think or remember.
I must have eventually fallen asleep, because I woke to Potter calling my name. He waited until I’d turned to look at him before saying, “You have a visitor.”
The words should have been soothing, but if anything they worried me more. I didn’t want Astoria or Scorpius or my parents to see me like this. “Who?”
“Zabini asked to see you.”
That was enough to shake me out of my stupor. “Blaise? Really? I…” And then the reality of the situation washed over me again. “I can’t. He…shouldn’t.”
“He said you’d say that. He’ll be fine on this side of the bars. And…you’re awake, so… Really, I think it will be okay, Malfoy. And I’ll be here. I’m even willing to cast a muffling spell if you’d like to talk privately. Okay?”
I was torn. I wanted to talk to Blaise again, but I wasn’t sure it was a good idea. Flashes of our nights out with Theo filled my mind, combining with his reaction to me in the safe-house. “All…all right. Just…don’t leave us alone?”
“I promise.” He looked almost sad as he said it. For a moment he just stared at me, then turned and moved to the door, tapping at it with his wand. It opened, and Blaise came in. He obviously hadn’t slept.
As soon as he saw me, he moved toward my cell. “Draco…” He stopped just short of the bars. “I’m sorry…”
“Don’t be. It’s hardly your fault I attacked you…” I looked away, sighing.
“It wasn’t…I mean…Theo and I…we knew…” He sighed, and I looked up, alarmed.
“Knew what, exactly?”
He looked apologetic. It was a look I’d never seen him wear before. “That you weren’t…entirely human. That we were playing with fire. We knew you weren’t fully aware of what was going on, too. We should have…said something.”
“You…knew? What are you…how? When?”
Blaise couldn’t meet my eyes. “We all went out for a drink. After Scorpius was born? The usual. And then you went home. And…came back about ten minutes later. But you were different. More…intense. Watching everything around you like you didn’t know what you were seeing. But you knew us. You didn’t speak much. Just one-word sentences.
“At first…We thought you might have been hexed. We tried to get you to go home, but you saw this bloke. And it was like…you lit up.”
“Oh, god…” I hid my face in my hands. “Did I…kill him?”
“No. We never saw you kill anyone, Draco. You just…left him a bit dazed.” He smiled ruefully.
“But…Miles…?”
Blaise shook his head. “We…didn’t know. Miles said he was going to go…talk to you, and that was the last we heard. We didn’t think…that was you.”
“What did I do that night, then?” I asked in a whisper. I didn’t really want to know, but part of me had to.
“It wasn’t so bad, Draco. Really. You just…snogged him and ground against him. It took you a while to work up to more. And…when Theo and I realized…that you weren’t aware of what was going on…We thought…maybe it would be better if you were with someone who wouldn’t spread it about.”
It was all I could do to keep from shaking. My best friends had tried to keep me safe from myself. And because of it, one of them had died. “And so you…let me…attack you?”
“No,” Blaise said slowly. He knew how I’d fought this. That though he felt comfortable sleeping with whoever he wished, I did not. We’d had many conversations about it over the years. “We…had a bit of fun. That’s all.”
The light in the room flared red for a moment, and I stepped away from the bars to calm myself.
“Malfoy?” That was Potter, stepping forward to make sure everything was all right.
I looked up, and my eyes met his. Green. So green. So strong… The moment I felt myself leaning forward, I started. I stepped back, then turned away from them both. Fuck. What was wrong with me? Not only was I some strange creature that killed my friends, but apparently Potter could hypnotize me with only a look?
The two of them were talking quietly behind me, but I tried to ignore them while I regained my composure. When I turned around, Potter was looking as shell-shocked as I’d felt.
Blaise turned back to me. “Are…you okay? I didn’t mean…”
“I know. I’ve…never felt that while I was…I mean…” I closed my eyes, not sure what I meant.
“Theo and I learned quick. Your temper’s rather sudden. I should have been more…careful the way I phrased it. But…Theo and I…You never did anything to us we didn’t want.”
I opened my eyes to glower at him again. “So Theo wanted to die, is that what you’re saying?”
“No! Not that, Draco…” He moved to the bars, his fingers curling around them. “I just…It wasn’t your fault, Draco. It’s like…when someone plays with a dragon…they can’t expect not to get burned. And…you burn so bright…”
Not only did I kill one of my friends, but apparently I’d somehow addicted the other—to me. I could barely keep the growl from my voice when I spoke again. “And Miles? Did he know?”
Blaise looked a bit crazed, and it took me a while to realize where I’d seen a look like that before. There’d been a boy in the year below us who’d gotten hooked on some sort of Muggle drug one year. He’d looked like that the one time I’d asked him why. Like there was nothing better in the world.
“Theo told him. And…he decided to come with us that weekend. To see for himself. It wasn’t your fault, Draco.”
“So you…watched me…”
“No. He…followed you. After you left. Like I said, Theo and I just thought…” He shrugged, his eyes still too over-bright.
Obviously, they’d convinced themselves that I couldn’t harm them. It was enough to turn my stomach. I closed my eyes for a moment. “Get him out of here, Potter. Now.” That said, I retreated back to the far side of my cell and sank to my cot.
There was a bit of shuffling, and someone was arguing, but I paid no attention. I looked down at the floor until I heard the door close.
When I looked up, Potter was standing on the far side of the room, looking at the door as though he wished he were on the other side. I couldn’t really blame him.
“What will you do with me?”
He jumped. I suppose he hadn’t been expecting me to speak. Because surely he couldn’t have forgotten I was here, could he? He turned to look at me, and I had to let my gaze drop from the greenness there. “I…Kingsley…er…Minister Shacklebolt isn’t sure what we should do yet. But you won’t be mistreated, Malfoy.”
I closed my eyes, a flash of the hippogriff in third year appearing in the back of my mind. Apparently Potter would try to save any magical creature—even if he hated it. “Why bother?”
He moved closer. “You can’t just give up, Malfoy. We might not be friends, but I know your behavior has been exemplary since leaving Azkaban.”
“Right.” Because going to nightclubs and abusing people was so exemplary. “I didn’t know you felt that way about murder, Potter. Why was it you killed the Dark Lord again?”
“Because he had no remorse.” He moved toward the cage. “Not like you do. I can see how this is affecting you, Draco,” he told me softly.
Draco? When had I become Draco to him? “Oh, can you?”
“I know how I would feel, if it were Ron or Hermione…” He sighed. “I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
I felt something surge in me at that, but I refused to meet his eyes. “And what, exactly do you think you can do, Potter? I killed two people.”
“But not on purpose. Or at least, it doesn’t sound like it.”
“You don’t know that. You weren’t there.” This time I did look up. The room was fuzzy. The only thing in focus was him. He looked like a deer, startled in a sunlit field.
“No. But Zabini didn’t look like he was terrified of you. Just for you,” he answered, his voice soft.
I’d never felt quite like this before. Like I was burning up. And I knew the beast was stirring inside me. “He should be. You should be,” I told him, as I saw him step forward.
“I’m not,” he whispered. “I saw you that night. Zabini’s right. You can’t blame a creature for acting on instinct. Hermione will figure this out. You’ll see. And then…everything will be okay. I swear.”
“And if there is no cure?”
He blinked at me. “Cure?”
“If we can’t get rid of this…thing…inside me?”
“Then we’ll find a way to help you control it.”
I couldn’t help myself. I moved towards him. “Will you?” I asked softly.
Those green eyes were widening again. “Wh-what?”
“Help me control it?” I purred.
He leaned forward, his face pressing through the bars, and if either of us had been in our right mind, we’d have known it was a bad idea. But as it was, we were both too lost in this connection that had appeared between us the night before.
I reached out to catch his chin in my hand. Before I could do more, though, the door opened, and several wands were pointed at me. I was still conscious enough for that to matter, so I let him go regretfully, then backed off, sinking down onto the cot.
He was muttering at them, but they weren’t listening, and finally he blew up at them. “I can handle myself! Leave it alone already. I’m fine!”
“You didn’t look fine,” one of the younger ones said. If he’d spoken that way to me, I’d have smacked him and put him on report, but Potter just glared at him.
“Look, just go back to the door, okay? Supper should be arriving shortly.”
“And when are you going off duty?” a girl who looked at least two years younger than us asked him.
“When we figure out what’s going on, Pellam. Now get back to your post before I dock you both for it.”
The Aurors who’d rushed to his defense glanced at each other, then moved back to the door. Before they reached it, though, the door opened, and Minister Shacklebolt stepped through. They seemed a bit happier to go after that, as though they knew he would be able to talk Potter out of such idiocy. Likely, he probably would. Shacklebolt seemed mild-mannered, but unlike his predecessors, he was able to get things done.
“Harry. Someone said the alarm went off. Is everything under control?” He glanced at me, then back at Potter.
“Everything’s fine, Kingsley. Just a misunderstanding, that’s all.”
“A misunderstanding.” He glanced at me again, and I glowered at him. He looked back at Potter again, and I could see the change in his demeanor. “Harry…if he tried to escape…”
“He didn’t, sir,” Harry said, meeting Shacklebolt’s gaze. I wasn’t sure I would have been able to. “We were just talking.”
“Talking.” Harry nodded, and Shacklebolt let the silence stretch out between them for too long before he answered. “And should I ask what you were…talking…about?”
Potter flushed almost as scarlet as his house’s color, and I snorted. Shacklebolt ignored me. “Need I remind you, Harry, that if he escapes, we could have further deaths?”
“No, sir,” Harry muttered.
“Now, how did the wards get broken?”
“I…reached through, sir.”
“You…reached through?”
I saw him wince, and he nodded.
Shacklebolt sighed. “I don’t think I’m going to ask why, Harry. But you’re going home. For at least twelve hours. And that’s an order. Clear?”
Potter glanced at me, then back at Shacklebolt. “Clear, sir.”
“Good. I’ll have Cisco come down and relieve you. And I want you to go straight home. No stopping at your desk, or staying here to ‘talk.’ Clear?”
“Yes, sir.” Potter sagged a little.
When Shacklebolt left, after a few more words of wisdom, Potter turned back to my cell, but I had no interest in having any more ‘conversation’ with him. I lay down on my cot, and turned my back to him. Surprisingly enough, I fell asleep almost immediately.
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