Ambivalent Lucidity

Ron had absolutely no intention of speaking to Harry or Draco the next morning—he was not angry, but just a little upset that Harry had kept such a big secret from him—but when the pair strode down for breakfast and sat across from him, Harry looking perfectly normal and Draco obviously the child-Draco, he could not help a, “Mornin’” through his bacon at them. His heart lightened a little as Hermione squeezed his hand beneath the table, her face buried in the Daily Prophet.

“Morning, Won!” Draco exclaimed excitedly before placing a straw in his milk and blowing bubbles into it. “How didja sleep? Hawwy kept me up aaaaall night tossing and turning, but I musta falled asleep ‘cause I woke up this morning with drool all over my pillow.” He grinned, proud of himself, and he grabbed a bit of bacon off of Harry’s plate to shove into his mouth.

Hermione snickered a little before her face became suddenly very serious, and she looked up at Draco with an unreadable expression. She closed the newspaper and studied him for a few moments before she slid the newspaper over to him. “Can I speak to Draco?” she asked quietly, slightly shocked as the child nodded and visibly changed in posture and manner to the Draco they were familiar with. “Draco, sorry to, er... bother you? I think you need to read page 6 of the Prophet.”

Harry gave her a strange look, shocked that she was able to bring the real Draco back, and he moved to slip his hand into Draco’s only to have it denied as he reached up and nabbed the paper. “Must be important,” Draco mused, and he munched on another piece of bacon as he flipped to the indicated page and began to read. Harry and Hermione studied him differently—Hermione to gauge his reaction and Harry to attempt to figure out what was going on—and when Draco’s eyes widened and his face lost all colour, Hermione buried her face in her hands. “Shit... Fuck,” Draco murmured eloquently as he struggled to get off the bench at the table, looking around frantically as though seeking assistance. Harry grabbed his arm only to be pushed off, and he watched as Draco managed to get untangled from his seat and started for the professors’ table.

“Oh, Draco,” Hermione breathed into her palms, grabbing the paper from the table and staring at the page again. When Harry gave her a strange look, she sighed and pushed the paper in front of him, pointing to a picture of Lucius. “He was seen in Hogsmeade last night, Harry,” she whispered, shaking her head in disbelief. “I thought he was dead... We all did. I can’t imagine what Draco’s thinking...”

When Draco, Snape, and Dumbledore moved to walk briskly from the Hall, Harry left the table and joined them, falling in step beside Draco and reaching his hand out to him. No one in the Great Hall missed it as Draco reached out and threaded their fingers, and the last thing Harry heard before the doors closed behind them was the thud of Ron’s fist against the table and Hermione’s sigh. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, then he squeezed Draco’s hand comfortingly. Grey eyes met his, full of fear, and just as Harry was about to question the look, Dumbledore led them into his office.

Draco sat down in one of the chairs and huddled up, bringing his knees to his chest, and when Harry took his seat in the chair beside him, he seemed to quickly change his mind and plop down in Harry’s lap. Severus grimaced and shot Albus a hopeless look, but the Headmaster merely smiled and sat down, not behind the desk but in Draco’s abandoned chair. “Mister Malfoy, you seem to have previous knowledge of Lucius’s... livelihood. May I inquire as to how?” His voice was very gentle, undemanding, and as he spoke he reached out to touch Draco’s arm. When Draco shook his head violently and hid his face in his hands, Harry felt him seize up, and the person who stood up suddenly and sat on the edge of Dumbledore’s desk was not Draco, nor anyone else Harry had met.

“Sorry to be so abrupt.” The man standing before them had a distinct Irish accent—something Draco had never, ever had since his voice favoured a lightly-Scottish tone—and he swept a hand through his hair. “Unfortunately, Draco really doesn’t need to be so upset. I can speak to you instead.” He looked Harry over and smiled very softly before nodding to himself mysteriously before cocking an eyebrow at the professors. “Where were we?”

Dumbledore smiled and leaned forward slightly. “I was just inquiring as to how Draco know that Lucius was still alive. I expected him to be excited that his father was living, but instead he seems terrified. Can you, sir, enlighten us?” The new personality shook his head, causing Dumbledore’s forehead to crease, and the older man sighed. “I see... Why can’t you tell us?”

The man did not immediately answer, hopping from his perch to walk over to Harry’s chair. He knelt before it and reached up to tip up the Gryffindor’s chin, inspecting him, and he finally smiled. “It’s a secret. We can only tell one person, and we’ll tell him when we’re ready. For now, I think Harry and I should go lock ourselves up until we are certain Lucius has left the area. It would not do for him to sneak into the castle, Headmaster, and find us... Not like this,” he replied quietly, and he cleared his throat before standing back up and offering a hand to Harry. “Shall we? You and I need to speak in private, Harry.”

Harry looked at Dumbledore, who gave a soft nod, and he swallowed hard before taking that hand and allowing himself to be pulled from the cushy chair, nearly falling into Draco but catching himself just in time. “Be careful, Harry, Draco,” Dumbledore said quietly, and he rose to put a hand on each of their shoulders. “If this is such a severe situation, we must all take great caution to make sure nothing of consequence occurs.” As the pair nodded, Albus smiled and gestured to the door. “Farewell, boys.”

The silence between Harry and this new persona was deafening as they approached Gryffindor Tower, and the moment they entered their private rooms, Harry sat down on the bed and watched warily as the other sat down beside him and reached over to touch his shoulder. “Harry, it’s very nice to meet you at last,” he said quietly, and his arm slipped around Harry. “We all like you very much, save for one. Draco especially likes you, you know... He likes you more than anyone, but I’m a close second.” Harry felt his cheeks warm up as the other pressed against him and touched his cheek with his nose. “Because I like you so much and because I’m the only one that knows, I’m going to help you.”

At this, Harry’s eyes lit up, and he turned to meet grey eyes that were so startlingly similar to those of the real Draco that his heart skipped a beat. “Help me? Really? What... what can I do?” he asked eagerly, then paused. “Wait... Is there a catch to it?”

“No catch,” the other man laughed, and he sighed as though he bore the greatest responsibility. “Listen, Harry... It’s very crowded in here, and Draco is very afraid all the time. I want things to be the way they used to be for Draco, and while it will certainly mean my integration with him, I am perfectly willing to merge and never be seen again once my work is finished. There’s a trick to it, you see.” He smiled a little as though listening to something in his head, and a moment later he cleared his throat and ran his hand through his hair. “In the beginning, we chose you, Draco’s greatest rival, to be the one we would trust with our names because we never, ever suspected that you would take him on. There was an agreement between all parties, that when we spoke our names to you, our integration with Draco would be immediate and permanent. Fortunately for Draco, you are very kind and generous, and fortunately for you, you are gaining a lot of trust in this head of ours. I expect you will be receiving names very soon.”

Harry blinked and stared at him, his heart fluttering. “That’s it? That’s all I have to do?” he asked, awed, and when the other nodded, he took a deep breath and nodded. “I...I can do that.” He smiled a little and blushed as the other leaned over to plant a very soft kiss against his lips.

“I knew you could. Now, I am a bit different from the others. I am to stay until the very last personality integrates, and though you will likely only ever see me once or twice more, I will be there watching over and making sure everyone keeps their end of the deal. My name is Ian, Harry, and it’s a great pleasure to meet you.” He smiled a little before chuckling, and he cleared his throat a little again. “Ah, it seems Draco is rather indignant that I just kissed you. I apologise—but I’m not really sorry for it. Already it seems the memory barriers are failing... Draco can see some of what’s going on out here even if he’s not here. Despite what you think, Harry, you’ve made real progress.”

“It’s... a pleasure to meet you, too, I think,” Harry stumbled, and he could not help but laugh with the charming, engaging Ian. When his laughter subsided, he reached over to take Ian’s hand, and he flushed a little. “Thank you for telling me, but... can I see Draco? I would really, really like to—” Without hesitation, Ian froze for a moment, and Harry found himself looking into familiar eyes. “Hi...”

Draco swallowed hard and reached out to grab Harry’s shoulders. “He... he kissed you, the son of a bitch,” he growled, and before Harry could react, Draco crawled onto his lap and crushed their lips together. His tongue darted out and traced the outside of Harry’s lips before plunging inside, as though eradicating all evidence of Ian on those lips, and he moaned quietly against Harry’s mouth as they kissed for what seemed like ages.

When the kisses ended, Harry realised he was on his back, Draco astride him, and he reached up to finger through Draco’s blond hair. “Why does it bother you so much that he kissed me?” he asked quietly, and he smirked as his hand trailed down to caress Draco’s feather-soft cheek. “It’s not like we’re dating or anything... unless, you know, you really wanted to be... well...”

“Okay,” Draco breathed, and he felt his cheeks flush as he looked down to Harry. “If you think you want to date someone’s who’s... well, crazy.” He squealed as Harry reached up and assaulted his sides with his fingers, and he fell to the mattress giggling and attempting to squirm away. “Stop it! I... I can’t breathe!” he cackled, and he returned the offensive.

Ron and Hermione gave pause outside the boys’ room, hearing the two yelling and laughing inside, and Hermione sighed as Ron’s ears turned pink. “Ron,” she said quietly, and she took his hand. “He’ll tell you when he’s ready, okay? Draco’s not replacing you—you know that—and you and Harry will always be best friends. You can’t be angry over this—”

“Can’t I?” Ron snarled, and he released her hand before stomping up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory. Hermione watched him with sad eyes, but made no move to stop him.