Changing Minds in Hard Times

Several days later found Draco and Harry alone and locked together in Harry’s private room. Harry had asked Hermione and Ron to take over for a while, so he and Draco could spend some time together without the disruptions that kept happening. And since then, Harry had checked the door to make sure it was locked so many times, Draco had jokingly suggested he was borderline obsessed with the door.



Harry had frowned at the blond and pretended he didn’t know what he was talking about, and then felt incredibly stupid when Draco suggested just casting a locking spell on the door instead of worrying about the old locks on the equally old door. He cast the spell and then fell onto the bed next to Draco. He curled up with the blond, happy to finally feel somewhat safe in his own room.



Draco ran his fingers through Harry’s thick dark hair, wondering what it would be like if Harry used the special shampoo he made to keep his hair incredibly soft, shiny and healthy. Would Harry’s rough locks soften enough to fall neatly against his head in an actual hairstyle?



Draco smiled to himself, remembering the wild hair Harry had had earlier in the term before his father had taken him to Lord Voldemort. Harry, or someone he trusted, had apparently tried to tame the bedhead Harry usually sported. But whatever spell or potion they used had caused it to spike itself iraticly all over his head.



Harry looked up into the face of the man he was curled next to, and smiled at the smiling face of the man he loved. Loved? Yes, that was right. He loved Draco. It was weird, and a completely new emotion to him. It wasn’t like the love he felt for Ron or Hermione. This was the kind of love that tugged at his heart when he looked at Draco a certain way.



Draco was more then happy to accept Harry’s love. He had dreamed of it for years, so now, when he had it, he took to it quickly. He hadn't seen any of the other people in Hogwarts for three days now, and he was just fine with that. Harry had taken care to accept anything the Order memebers wanted to give him, or take any conversations that they needed to have with him, outside the room he was sharing with Draco.



Harry came back from one such conversation to tell Draco that Moody was still on his rampage about Draco hiding death eater tendancies. Moody was still obsessed with it, mostly because they had recently gotten intel that someone had passed some sort of information to the death eaters that allowed them to get pretty far into the Ministry before the aurors found them and captured two lower recruits from the dark side.



Moody thought it was Draco who passed the info out, having somehow extracted it from Harry, who was supposedly, in his version of events, too in lust with the blond to see anything wrong with sharing sensitive information. Most everyone else, however, was watching Moody like a hawk. They knew Draco had been with Harry and with no contact with anyone else. Not to meantion Harry’s room was warded against Voldemort getting into his mind or dreams, so there was little to worry about in thinking that the evil leader was slipping into Draco’s dreams for the information.



Draco also had absolutly no interest in joining Voldemort’s side again as it was, and he told Harry that he would swear to that under Veritaserum anytime he wanted. Harry believed him though, and told Draco that he didn’t need any potion or spell to believe that Draco wasn’t lying about not wanting to be by Voldemort’s side. After finding out how Voldemort had used Draco, he could see why the blond beauty had decided to face the Order and Harry Potter instead of going back to the man who basically only wanted to use Draco’s body and force him to carry his own bastard child.



Draco had explained about how Voldemort had found out about the prophecy and had decided that if he could get and keep Draco when the child was meant to be conceived, he could be the winner of this fight. Maybe he could trick the magic into giving him him both a son and into killing Harry at the last fight. If Draco was meant to be a weapon, why couldn’t that weapon be used by either side?



That thought had disgusted the son of Lucius Malfoy. Even if his father told him it was a great honor to bear the child of the Dark Lord, and to be his greatest weapon, Draco had wanted none of it. Not to meantion that the Dark Lord always fucked Draco hard when he took advantage of the gift Lucius had given him, and never even once made love to the younger man. Not that even if he had tried to, Draco would have considered it making love. That was reserved for when he had real feeling in the motions of the acts he would commit with another man. That was reserved for Harry Potter.



But what did Voldemort care, as long as he was the one in control of Draco’s body? Well now he wasn’t – and he did care. Unknown to Draco, Harry, or anyone inside the Order, Voldemort had been enraged for days. He thought he could steal back his tool, but the young blond man with the power to distroy the side of light was gone.



Whereever he was, neither Voldemort, nor any of his people, could find him. They knew Harry Potter had to have him, but they couldn’t sense him either. For the past several days he had been only a momentary blip on their searches. Anytime he seemed to appear, he would disappear again unbelievably fast.



Voldemort knew that the time the weapon would be created, the time of the child’s conception, was coming upon them fast. He knew at this rate he would not be the winner of this battle. But he had to try. It was all he had left.