Wicked

Additional disclaimer: the chapter title is not mine!

Author´s note: A treat- this chapter is rather long! I probably won´t be able to update as fast as usual during the next few months, since I have quite a straining time ahead of me, but rest assured that I´ll not abandon this story!


Thank you all, once again, for reading, voting and reviewing! And now: enjoy!


Silence had filled the Great Hall after the new Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher Dolores Umbridge had made her speech, and Harry could not shake off the feeling of dread that had overcome him then.

He was sitting on his bed in the fifth-years´ dormitory; all the others had gone to sleep already, but Hermione´s words were echoing around in Harry´s mind: it means the Ministry´s interfering at Hogwarts.

He could not forget the woman´s utterly cold eyes, and she had stared at Harry in a way that had made him uneasy. He wondered how Dumbledore could have allowed her into the staff, especially now... he buried his face in his hands: Draco would be arriving the day after tomorrow, as Harry had been told.

His heart beat faster at that, yet he couldn´t help feeling dread as well: Draco would certainly be terrified if he heard that someone from the Ministry was now teaching at Hogwarts, someone who probably was on first-name terms with Draco´s father... Harry shook his head. This was awful, and he couldn´t see a way out of it.

He was quite relieved that Draco hadn´t been present at the Welcoming Feast, though- Dumbledore had addressed the matter of his “disappearance” and had asked the students for their help- if any of them knew anything about the matter or where Mr Malfoy might be, they should turn to him or their respective heads of houses. Clever, Harry had mused and looked over to the Slytherin table; they seemed strangely subdued, and he wondered wether some of them actually knew what had happened- there were children of Death Eaters among them, after all. His stomach clenched uncomfortably at this, and he had to take a deep breath.

His thoughts went out to Hagrid next- he had neither been at the station nor at the feast, and Harry hoped that he was all right. Hogwarts without Hagrid was as unconceivable as Hogwarts without Dumbledore. The sheer idea made Harry even more uneasy than the toad-like face of Professor Umbridge.

And to top it all off, Seamus Finnigan had practically called Harry a liar and a lunatic because of what he had read in the Daily Prophet. Brilliant, Harry thought, if even people who knew him relatively well and had shared a dormitory with him for several years were beginning to believe the rubbish, others might be convinced even more quickly.

Ron, who had stepped in before they had gotten into a serious row, would not always be there to stand up for Harry, and apart from that, it was plainly annoying to always have to defend oneself.

He lay down on his bed, trying to distract himself by pondering the strange dead-looking horses that were pulling the carriages to Hogwarts; he was wondering wether he was going insane after all that had happened this summer, starting with the Triwizard Tournament.

Not wanting to go there either, he sat up again, snorting in frustration: this had to be the worst first night back at Hogwarts he had ever had.

Draco was glad to escape the flat, glad to finally leave for Hogwarts despite all the odds. He had not known how much he actually liked the castle until he arrived there in the evening of September the third. Malcolm had Apparated the two of them into Hogsmeade, where they had been picked up by Professor McGonagall in her function as Deputy Headmistress.

She knew about Draco, of course, as she was a member of the Order of the Phoenix; the rest of the staff had not been informed, only Snape knew, being a member of the Order as well. He as the head of Draco´s former house was waiting in Dumbledore´s office, where Malcolm and Draco were brought first.

Draco walked through the familiar corridors in a sort of trance; he had not gotten used to be in someone else´s skin yet; the body carried itself differently, and he felt like he was dragging it behind.

Dumbledore eyed them kindly through his half-moon-spectacles, but Draco´s gaze came to rest on Fawkes, who had just been reborn that very day and was still small and delicate. He was pulled out of his thoughts when Snape stepped up to him to shake his hand and wish him good luck in a solemn voice, something which caught Draco completely off guard. He looked at the potions teacher with bemusement, but Snape only nodded curtly and backed off again.

McGonagall, who seemed strangely tense, welcomed them to Gryffindor house, told them about the changes in staff, gave them their timetables and made it very clear that not even these particular circumstances justified any mischief whatsoever, and that the house rules equally applied for everybody.

“You should make sure to be careful around certain people,” she added in a quiet voice which yet had a peculiar edge to it. “Especially when it comes to new teachers.”

Draco did not understand, but Dumbledore gave the tiniest nod of consent at her words, having the former Slytherin wondering what they might mean. McGonagall then however gave Draco a small, reassuring smile; apparently, the tension he had sensed in her did not necessarily have to do with him.

When they finally scrambled through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room after McGonagall, Draco´s heart was beating rapidly against his ribs, but Harry Potter was not among all the faces that turned towards them; Draco couldn´t know that Harry had landed himself in detention with Umbridge on the very first day. Disappointment made itself known, yet Draco had no time to heed it; too many people were listening closely when McGonagall explained that the twins called Liam and Finn Bailey had arrived late due to their father´s unexpected relocation, and that the Sorting Hat had just sorted them into Gryffindor in the Headmaster´s office.

A small, friendly cheer arose, at which Draco felt himself blush furiously for reasons he didn´t know; his twin was simply grinning broadly.

Questions floated around them as soon as McGonagall had left, people wanted to know where they had come from, and some of the girls put their heads together and giggled; Draco blinked, feeling strangely detached from the turmoil, as though he was watching the crowd from above.

Malcolm took it on himself to answer for the both of them, telling the others in a confident voice that they had moved around a lot during the past ten years, having lived in Argentina last, as their dad worked for Gringotts, and that they had mostly had private lessons so far, since it had seemed the best solution due to their frequent moving.

Draco knew this story off by heart, of course: they had repeated it so often that he nearly believed it himself. He looked around at their fellow Gryffindors, whose faces were familiar from their mutual lessons with the Slytherins, and found that most of them were interestedly listening to Malcolm.

Only one pair of eyes was watching him attentively, catching him by surprise and making him flinch ever so slightly: Hermione Granger´s.

Draco felt himself blush once more; he felt uncomfortable and quickly looked away again. Could it be that she knew? No, he told himself, she couldn´t.

Dumbledore had assured him that only the Order members and Harry knew, that he wouldn´t tell even Harry´s best friends who the twins really were. For all Ron and Hermione officially knew, Draco had been brought to a safe and secret hiding place. Yet the way Granger was scrutinizing him made Draco uneasy, even though he told himself that she was close to Harry after all and might not tell anyone if she suspected something.

He put his hand in the pocket of his robes and nervously clutched the stone inside: it was a pebble, its surface smooth and pleasant against the skin; Harry had given it to Draco the day he had left. “It´s just a stone that I found years ago,” he said, blushing furiously at the same time, “but I thought you might like it. It´s so smooth it nearly feels soft, but in reality it´s very tough. It´s like a secret you can keep in your pocket.”

Draco had been too surprised to reply anything, he had just closed his fingers around the cool, small weight and had felt like weeping. “It´s a treasure,” he had murmured against Harry´s neck after they had closed the distance between them: they had stood in front of each other awkwardly until both of them had made a tiny movement towards the other, and a moment later they had wrapped their arms around each other, seeking the other´s blessed nearness for one last time.

Even though it was painful for Draco to think of that moment now he firmly held on to the stone, because otherwise he might have fled, might have tried to find a place to hide from all the curious gazes and the noise around him. He pushed the thought of Harry away and concentrated on his surroundings with all his might, wondering where Harry might be.

He didn´t turn up until bedtime; Draco saw Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley exchange a glance before Ron shrugged minutely. Granger bit her lip, but followed the other girls to her dormitory nevertheless.

Relieved to escape the crowd, Draco followed Malcolm up the stairs. He was still being questioned by the Weasley twins, who tried to talk him into trying their newest products. They parted upstairs to go into their own dormitory, whereas Malcolm and Draco entered the fifth-years´ quarters. Just like the Gryffindor common room, it seemed much more cozy than Slytherin´s. Malcolm´s and Draco´s beds were standing next to each other.

While he quickly got into his night things, Draco surreptitiously looked around: Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan were all there, as well as Ron Weasley who had already lain down. Only one bed seemed left empty, namely the one on Draco´s right, meaning that Harry would sleep next to him. Relief flooded through him; it wasn´t unexpected, yet he scolded himself for it. Remember what you promised yourself, he whispered in his mind.

Yet the knowledge that Malcolm was sleeping on his right didn´t even remotely calm him like the prospect of having Harry so near again.

Draco bid Malcolm goodnight, pulled the curtains close and settled down, far too agitated to go to sleep; it wasn´t too dark since the full moon illuminated the room, thus he thought he could could hear Seamus and Dean talking quietly: “Where do you reckon´s Malfoy now?” Dean asked.

“Dunno,” Seamus murmured. “Don´t care, either- whatever´s happened to the slimy git serves him right in my opinion.” This was followed by two hearty chuckles.

Draco drew in a shaky breath; he couldn´t blame them, yet it was hard to hear that.

The others had fallen asleep already when Harry finally came back. Shoulders slumped, he slowly advanced his bed, looking dead-tired in the pale light of the moon. Draco could see him through a gap of his curtains: Harry hesitated when he looked at the bed next to his, but he couldn´t see Draco.

“Harry,” Draco said tentatively, his heart beating fast; he didn´t know that Malcolm had cast a silencing charm on his bed. Harry however, not having heard him, turned to his own bed after a few more seconds of motionless consideration, pulled on his pyjamas and slid under the blankets.

Draco closed his eyes, feeling betrayed and rejected: he should have known, he told himself, he had known in fact. He tried to subdue the tears which fought to come out, but didn´t succeed. He was alone in the world again.

Harry lay awake, trying to ignore the pain in his right hand, and listened hard. Apart from the sounds of soft breathing and Neville´s occasional snores it was silent, nothing indicated wether Draco was still awake. Draco, Harry thought and smiled.

He had missed him thoroughly, had longed to see him so intensely that it almost hurt physically, and now he was there, right next to Harry, hopefully peacefully asleep. It took all his will power not to go over to the other bed. He knew he must not interfere, had to give Draco the chance to recuperate on his own, yet he would have loved nothing better than to sneak into his bed and take him into his arms no matter what he looked like.

He never heard the anxiously muffled, desperate sobs that came from exactly that bed.

Draco woke from the sounds of people getting up. For a moment he didn´t know where he was, but when his gaze fell on the crimson hangings of his four-poster bed, he remembered: he was in Gryffindor tower, and Harry had not even said hello. He lay quietly for a moment longer, listening to the others in the dormitory, then he miserably pulled back the curtains that faced Malcolm´s bed and got up.

Malcolm had already taken the Polyjuice Potion and looked at Draco in alarm. Only then did he realize that he had forgotten to change into his alter ego. He quickly got back into bed and reached for the bottle that was hidden underneath his pillow. When he emerged a few minutes later, he was sandy-haired Finn Bailey again, and nothing indicated that it was all a forgery.

Malcolm waited for him while he dressed, which made Draco nervous: “You don´t have to wait,” he therefore said. “I´ll be fine.”

“You look a bit off,” Malcolm said in an undertone. “Everything all right?”

Draco nodded and turned away. He didn´t want this closeness right now, didn´t want his every step to be analyzed.

Malcolm shrugged and left the room together with the other boys.

Draco pulled on his robes and shoes, gathered his book bag and headed for the common room. At the door he nearly collided with someone: “Excuse...” his voice failed him as he looked into Harry´s green eyes.

“Sorry,” Harry said quickly, misinterpreting the look of dismay on the other boy´s face.

Draco hesitated for a moment, not sure wether Harry even realized it was him: “Never mind,” he ground out and, with an odd twist, dived out of the dormitory.

Harry looked after him in confusion. He did not have time to dwell on this, however, since he was piteously behind with his homework already due to the detention, and would even have to skip breakfast if he wanted to catch up at least a little.

Harry´s first lesson on that day was Divination. He hardly listened to Professor Trelawney as he was pondering the collision in the dormitory. Had that been Draco in disguise? Then why had he been so unaffable? Harry had of course no way of knowing what he´d look like yet, it might have been his “twin” as well. Maybe that guy had believed what he had read about Harry in the Daily Prophet as well he thought, scowling.

Harry´s day didn´t improve much; after Divination, they had transfiguration. He saw the new twins for the first time but was doing so poorly due to his missed homework during the lesson that he didn´t dare to try and look at them much or even catch Draco´s attention, as McGonagall seemed still cross with Harry about having jeopardized his safety when standing up to Umbridge.

During lunch hour he finally got to face the twins. Ron had already told him all about them, apparently not suspecting anything. Harry had not gone to the Great Hall since he intended to do his Care of Magical Creatures homework during that time; with a grumbling stomach he climbed through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room and found one of the twins sitting in one of the stuffed chairs. Harry slowly advanced him, unsure how to react.

When the boy looked up and met his gaze, he paled visibly and froze; Harry saw that he was holding a pebble. His stomach lurched.

“Is it you?” Harry asked breathlessly, dropping his book bag. The sandy-haired boy suddenly looked defiant: “Who cares?” he said tonelessly, getting up. “It´s not exactly a surprise, is it?” With that, he made for the exit.

Harry was as confused as in the morning: what had he ever done wrong?

Frustatedly, he slumped down in the very same chair and pulled some parchment and his quill out of his bag.

Draco, or whom of the twins Harry supposed it was, avoided his gaze all afternoon, and in the evening Harry hurried off to his next detention right after Angelina Johnson had told him off for not being able to attend the Gryffindor Keeper tryouts on Friday.

He returned to Gryffindor tower late, with his hand aching fiercely and the desperate wish to go to bed, yet he couldn´t- if he didn´t do some homework, he´d be in serious trouble. So he sat in the deserted common room until the early morning, trying to get on top of things.

Things didn´t change the following day or the day after that, and by Friday night, Harry clung to the prospect that it would all be over on the following day. He would be able to get some sleep over the weekend and catch up with his homework, and most of all: detention was going to be over.

By the time that was the case late on Friday evening, Harry was positive that the words he had been forced to carve into his hand would form lasting scars. Something else had happend during detention though, something which had him worrying: his scar hurt again when Umbridge touched his hand.

It had happened occasionally over the summer and every time he had had a nightmare in Grimmauld Place, yet this was different and he couldn´t but wonder if it meant that she was in any way connected to Voldemort.

The only positive news were that Ron had been chosen as a keeper for the Gryffindor Quidditch team; Harry wished he could have been at the tryouts instead of in Umbridge´s office, mutilating himself. He winced at the pain when he fell into bed and was barely able to subdue a hiss; a moment later though, he had fallen asleep.

He woke very early, put his glasses on and saw that all the others were still asleep. He looked over at Draco´s bed longingly, but the curtains were drawn close, and it remained silent behind them.

Sighing, Harry got up; he knew he wouldn´t be able to go back to sleep, and it was a good opportunity to send an owl to had to know about the scar and about Hagrid´s absence.

He should have stayed in bed. Filch bore down on him in the Owlery, accusing him of ordering Dungbombs, which ensued a heated argument between him and Harry; Quidditch training, which he had been looking forward to all week, was a disaster, and Ron got a letter from Percy in which he basically advised his youngest brother to quit his friendship with Harry.

The rest of the weekend was spent with homework; Harry hardly ever saw the Bailey twins, as he and Ron had retreated to the library for some quiet.

If Harry had thought the first week had been bad, he hadn´t expected the second one to follow up on it.

Monday started off exceptionally bad when the Daily Prophet informed them that Dolores Umbridge had been appointed High Inquisitor at Hogwarts by Educational Decree Number Twenty-three.

The anger about this kept boiling within Harry; unfortunately for him, they had another DADA class that day in which he could vent his feelings, meaning another week´s worth of detention for him.

Draco had to tell himself to get a grip every night after he had gone to bed. He had thought things would improve once he´d be near Harry again, yet that didn´t seem to be the case- Harry was behaving oddly, pretending Draco wasn´t there, and seemed troubled. Of course Draco had witnessed Harry´s second outburst in DADA and couldn´t blame him- Umbridge was evil, that much was clear.

Draco had occasionally heard his father mention her; even though the older Malfoy considered her a silly bint, he respected her devotion to the Ministry. He had even explicitely said that she might come in handy one day, and now Draco had an inkling what his father had meant: Umbridge was about to bring Dumbledore down.

He considered talking to the Headmaster and warn him, but then realized that it wasn´t necessary since the other teachers´ attitudes towards her were unmistakably hostile, if very subtly; undoubtedly they knew what was going on.

Yet Draco didn´t understand Harry´s behaviour. He had expected him to be much more distant than during the summer, but not to be ignored so completely. It was hard to know Harry was sleeping next to him but at the same time seemed as far away as Timbuktu.

Draco kept having nightmares; more than once had he been woken up by Malcolm, who had placed a notification charm on the bed as well, so he´d be alerted.
The dreams were changing slightly during the second week, though: often it was Harry who was hurting Draco, who was telling him he was worthless, and the impact of this created a whole new range of horrors for the blond boy.

Thanks to Malcolm however, not only Harry didn´t seem to have noticed, but neither had the others.

Fortunately, at least daytime usually was packed enough to distract him. They had to work hard to keep up with their lessons, and he found that he enjoyed doing homework in the cozy Gryffindor common room. He and Malcolm became quite friendly with the others.

More than once, the subject of Draco Malfoy´s disappearance was being discussed, and it became clear how unpopular he was with the Gryffindors: “Maybe he´s got himself killed,” George Weasley said lightly, “that´s one less future Death Eater to be worried about.”

“Or maybe he´s got scared,” Fred chimed in, “and is hiding in Daddy´s arms, the little poof.”

“Right,” George grinned broadly. “That´s all he could ever do anyway, right? Hiding behind Daddy while spitting his venom.”

To Draco´s surprise, another voice unexpectedly cut in: “He didn´t choose his parents ,” Hermione Granger said quietly.

Fred raised an eyebrow: “You are not tellling me you are suddenly taking his side Hermione, are you?”

She rolled her eyes: “All I´m saying is that he´s been taught crap all his life. He´s nothing more than a victim.”

“Yeah, right,” Ron murmured and exchanged a perplexed glance with his brothers.

Draco drooped his head, for once glad that Harry wasn´t there.

On top of all the strain he was under already, Harry was seeing disturbing stuff in his dreams: he was walking down hallways and ending up in front of locked doors he was desperate to get through for some reasons. An unpleasant tingling in his scar usually accompanied these. Thursday night, Harry woke up trembling and feeling nauseous. Cold sweat stood on his brow, and he was panting as though he had been running.

Tiredly, he got out of bed and went to the bathroom by the light of his wandtip. He splashed some cold water in his face and waited for the nausea to abate. When he returned to the dormitory, he saw a figure moving in the back of the room. His first instinct was to draw his wand, but then he realized it was one of the “twins”.

Unthinkingly, he approached him instead of going back to bed. In the pale moonlight Harry could see that the Polyjuice Potion had worn off: he was facing a dark-haired, stoutly built wizard with a kind face, who had his wand at the ready.

“Excuse me,” Harry whispered. “I haven´t gotten round to introduce myself.” Malcolm lowered his wand: “Never do that again,” he said, though grinning, “I could have obliviated you.” They shook hands.

“Nice to meet you,” Malcolm said.

“And you,” Harry replied, but his eyes strayed over to Draco´s bed. “How is he?” he blurted out before he could stop himself.

“Still having nightmares,” Malcolm answered.

“Really?” Harry was slightly taken aback. “I didn´t hear anything.”

“You couldn´t, I put a silencing charm on his bed as a precaution,” Malcolm explained.

Harry could have hit himself. Of course.

“He´s been avoiding me,” he murmured.

Malcolm eyed him attentively; he had not expected this. “I wouldn´t necessarily say so,” he said. “He´s been quite off ever since we arrived here. It´s all a little too much for him. I wasn´t sure wether I should talk to you, you seemed to have enough on your plate already.”

Harry nodded absently, chiding himself for not really having tried to talk to Draco; he´d been too preoccupied with his own problems. “Is he awake now?” he asked.

Malcolm nodded: “Had to wake him, he was dreaming again.” “I´ll go see to him if you don´t mind.”

“I don´t, just make sure no one sees you.” With that, Malcolm went back to bed, wondering why if there was something going on he should have noticed.

Harry cautiously approached Draco´s bed and pulled the curtain back.

“Draco,” he whispered. The figure under the blanket moved a fraction and sat up. Harry´s heart leapt as he finally looked into the familiar grey eyes again, which were staring at him as though he was an apparition.

“H-harry?” Draco´s voice was choked.

Harry quickly crawled onto the mattress and pulled the curtain behind him close, knowing no one was able to overhear them like this.

He looked Draco over in the light of his wand: he looked drawn, though differently than before. His features were still as delicate as Harry remembered them, and his eyes just as deep.

“Merlin, I missed you,” Harry whispered.

Draco however seemed to shrink away from him: “I thought you didn´t want anything to do with me anymore,” he whispered as well.

Harry leaned forward and caught his hands; they were cold, but Harry marvelled at how slender they were, slowly pulling Draco closer again at the same time: “Why would I do that?” he asked.

“I called you when you got back here in my first night... you didn´t even answer...”

“I´m so sorry,” Harry said, gasping: “Malcolm cast a silencing charm on your bed, didn´t you know? He just told me!”

Draco stared at him, feeling infinitely stupid and relieved at the same time. He should have known; it was Malcolm´s job to keep him and his cover safe, of course he´d do something like that.

Harry read Draco´s face and didn´t ask any more questions. He simply pulled him close until he had him in his arms, cradling the other boy and letting out a breath he didn´t know he´d been holding.

Draco held on to him as though Harry had just saved him from drowning. "I´m so sorry," Harry repeated in a whisper.

They stayed like this for a long time, savouring the feel of the other´s warm body, until they began to shiver in the cold night air.

“Can you stay with me?” Draco murmured. Instead of a verbal reply, Harry shifted around they were both lying down, never letting go of Draco. The warm fuzzy feeling was back in his belly, and he could feel the horrors of the past weeks fall off of him while he was holding the blond boy in his arms.

They nestled against each other comfortably, feeling whole again.

Neither of them wanted to go to sleep, for these moments were too precious.

Draco was lying on his stomach half on top of Harry again, his face nestled against Harry´s throat; he deeply inhaled Harry´s scent and immdiately felt at home.

The dark-haired boy was stroking him tenderly, retracing the sea-shell that was his ear and running his fingers through the soft hair at his neck.

“How are you holding up?” Harry asked softly into Draco´s hair after a while. “Okay,” Draco murmured, not wanting to delve into the subject now.

Harry gingerly tightened his grip around him: “I missed you,” he repeated. “Terribly.”

A tingling, pleasant warmth spread through Draco at these words, and he felt happiness welling up in him.

He turned his head ever so slightly and shyly kissed the soft skin of Harry´s neck, just underneath his chin: “I missed you, too,” he whispered.



To Be Continued