Ten Steps

Author’s Note: Many thanks to Kasey and Shannon for their beta work and thanks to all who have reviewed so far! The story is officially finished now, so expect regular updates from here on out.

Chapter 19 Breaking

The air was filled with the sound of clanking glasses and merry voices and Harry’s smile couldn’t have been brighter. Oliver stood at Harry’s side, one arm wound loosely around the brunet’s waist and the other holding a mug of warm apple cider. The smell of cinnamon lingered through the air and Harry sighed happily, snuggling into his boyfriend’s embrace.

“They seem happy,” Hermione observed from nearby as Harry and Oliver engaged in a quiet debate with Ron about the strategic principles of Quidditch.

“If Harry seems happy, I’m sure he is happy,” Neville replied, his hand sitting possessively at the small of his wife’s back.

Hermione leveled her husband with a gaze that clearly meant she didn’t agree in the slightest, but even she knew better than to overtly interfere with the couple. Strong magic would prevent her from doing anything that might break Harry and Oliver up. That much she understood implicitly about the magic Draco invoked, though he refused to tell her much more about it, such as the specifics of the spell or the incantation used.

Until last night.

She had been leery when she first received the owl from Draco, summoning her to his flat in London. She was still irked by the news that he’d been toying with her friend’s emotions, playing with him as if Harry were a puppet made for Draco’s amusement alone. She had thought about confronting the man about it directly, but her husband had warned her off, reminding her how angry Harry would be if she meddled and embarrassed him.

Still, Hermione had trouble getting the night Harry had come to Hogwarts, frantic for advice, out of her mind. It wasn’t often that she saw her best friend, a grown man and skilled Auror, so flustered over a man. Even in his early relationships, Harry always had a stoic, matter-of-fact way of dealing with things, even when his heart got broken. So this new development worried her quite a bit, and though she held to her promise of butting out, her mind didn’t allow her much rest.

In that respect, the note from Draco was a blessing, because it gave her an excuse to find out what in Merlin’s name was going on. However, it also brought up deeper questions, because Draco didn’t seek her out often, not even when they were slated to teach together. She suspected Malfoy still harbored a deep-rooted reluctance to let her prove that Muggle-Borns were just as good as purebloods.

When she arrived at his flat, she’d expected to see the man who showed up at Hogwarts with an air of authority and grace, but what she’d found was much different. If she had thought Harry seemed frazzled weeks before, it was nothing compared to the way Draco Malfoy looked that night. Clothed in wrinkled robes that looked fresh from the floor, Draco came to the door looking unshaven and distressed. Hermione had never seen him such a mess and whatever snide words she’d been ready to deliver in Harry’s honor, fell immediately from her lips.

“Dear gods, Draco, what’s happened to you?” she asked, pulling him into his own flat and setting him in a chair by the fire. Draco stared blankly into the roaring hearth for a long moment before looking up into Hermione chocolate brown eyes and cringing.

“Harry has,” he whispered simply. “I thought I could ignore it, I thought I could appease the magicks and still help him, but I can’t Hermione. I can’t.”

“Tell me,” she directed, seeing that he needed to get something off of his chest at once.

“I don’t know what they will let me say,” he whispered, sounding like a delusional madman. For a moment, Hermione wondered if Harry had sought his own revenge and planted some Paranoia Potion in his tea, but surely Draco was too clever to fall for something like that. “I thought they might let me show you though.”

Hermione nodded slowly and felt a smidgeon of fear at the wild light in Draco’s eyes. The house was a mess, and a glance into the kitchen showed several empty vials, so he’d been taking something quite often. “Alright, but first, how about you tell me what these are?” she suggested, standing and gesturing to the discarded potion vials.

“Dreamless draughts, Pepper Up Potions, anything I can get to make me sleep at night and keep me up during the day,” he rasped.

“Draco,” she hissed, rounding on him. “You’re a Potions Master, you know better than to mix uppers with downers so often. No wonder you’re buzzing around here like a broken humming bird.”

“They won’t let me sleep, no matter what I do, and when I start to doze they wake me up with images of him, Hermione. I have to do something. I have to have him or be rid of him once and for all!” he shouted, making Hermione take a tentative step back.

“How about you show me what you wanted me to see,” she offered, keeping the fear from her voice. If this continued, she was worried that she would have to have him committed to St. Mungo’s ward for review.

He nodded curtly and stood, leading her up to what appeared to be a study, although the room was currently in disarray. “I’ve tried every match I can think of, but he doesn’t seem to have a second that I can find.”

“Who doesn’t?” she asked.

“Oliver,” Draco replied gruffly, pulling out a set of parchments and laying them on the desk side by side.

“Why are you trying to match Oliver? He’s already matched with Harry,” she whispered, narrowing her eyes.

“So am I,” he replied, but he began clawing at his own throat as if something was strangling him and he was trying to break free. “They won’t let me tell you. They won’t let me tell anyone,” he said in a half-sob. “It’s driving me mad.”

“Clearly,” Hermione huffed. “But who is ‘they’?”

“The magicks, the gods, the ones that give life to my spells,” he replied.

“Draco, that sounds like a bunch of religious mumbo jumbo. I understand the Merlinism and everything, but do you honestly believe that there are people in the sky controlling our magic?” she scoffed. She’s come across her fair share of fanatics who believed just that, but she didn’t suspect Draco to be one of them.

“I didn’t used to, not really,” he admitted, “but I didn’t believe I had a match either, and look,” he added, pointing to the two papers on the far right of the desk. One was labeled with Draco’s name; the one next to it with Harry’s and on the left side was Oliver’s. “So you’re both matched to Harry,” she gleaned from his demonstration. “What does that mean exactly?”

“Remember how I told you that if anyone interfered with you and Longbottom’s bond, that a fate worse than death would befall them?” he asked.

“Of course,” she replied. She’d absorbed everything Draco had told her about the magic he used, which unfortunately wasn’t much.

“Well, I’m living that fate,” Draco told her. “I matched Harry and Wood together, only I was already falling for Harry,” he sighed, swallowing more often than seemed necessary. He kept taking huge, gasping breaths as if he was preparing for a long rant, but only a few words would escape, and even those seemed forced from his lips. “I did the test on myself, and Harry matched with me as well.”

“Why would you even do that?” she huffed. “From what I hear, you’ve been a right arse to Harry.”

“I lo-” he began, but choked so hard Hermione had to slap him on the back to try and clear his airways.

“Draco, what is going on?!” she demanded.

“Watch,” Draco replied as he lifted his wand and held it over the parchments bearing his and Harry’s names. She took note of the incantation, and watched closely as the colors of the spell twirled and twisted to become pure white light. Then a woman’s voice broke through the light, sounding like twinkling bells.

“This is a pure bond,” it said. “The love you would share would be passionate and true, free of hardship and pain. Your souls are complimentary, and should you choose to move forward, they would remain intertwined long after death.”

Hermione gasped at the implications, her eyes widening in horror. “You’re Harry’s soul mate, and he’s yours,” she whispered painfully and Draco nodded at last, falling into his desk chair as if a giant weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “But you can’t tell him, or act on it, because you matched him with Oliver first.”

“Exactly,” Draco sighed, seeming to return to his old self a bit. “I knew you were clever enough for this.”

“How do you know, though?” she asked. “Maybe the magicks would overlook you because you’re soul mates!”

Draco shook his head gravely and looked at the floor. “I kissed him,” Draco sighed, clearly remembering every moment of it by the smile on his face. But just as quickly as it had appeared, it was eclipsed by a frown. “I almost died that night. I woke up a day and half later with pain still coursing through my body.”

“Oh, Draco, this is terrible. What are you going to do?” she asked, regretting it immediately when his gaze went expectantly to hers.

“I was hoping you might help. I can’t tell him, the magicks won’t let me, but you might be able to,” he explained. “I don’t know for sure, mind you, but I thought it was worth a try.”

“I don’t know,” she sighed, suddenly worried about the wrath of gods she didn’t believe in moments before. “Harry seems happy with Oliver.”

“I’m sure he is,” Draco replied. “Wood is his golden match, after all. But think of how much happier he might be with me.” When Hermione bit into her bottom lip, Draco knew that showed more than anything how indecisive she was, so he pushed. “Hermione, I lo..love him,” he gasped out, wincing in pain even as he uttered the words. He nearly fell out of his chair from the blow the magicks dealt him for his blasphemy.

Hermione nodded her head rapidly, a stray tear running down her cheek and walked toward the study door. “Alright,” she agreed. “I’ll try. But if you so much as hurt a single hair on his head, Draco Malfoy, it won’t be the gods you have to worry about coming after you. Do you hear me?”

Draco nodded, and offered Hermione a soft smile. “I feel better already, knowing I have someone on my side.”

“Get well, Draco, and stop taking so many potions,” she lectured. “It’s making you even crazier than you already are.”

“I promise,” Draco replied and then she was gone, because she could no longer bear the sight of the illustrious and strong Draco Malfoy in such a sad mess. She worried though, that if the magicks had gone to such a degree to stop him from speaking a word of it to Harry, how she might be able to help.

Seeing Harry at the Christmas party now, how blissful he looked in Oliver’s arms, she wondered if she had been right to agree to help Draco. Could she really break this up? Could she accept the blame if Harry split from Oliver and was unhappy with Draco? She had told Neville everything about what she’d discovered, including that Draco had looked affright and was taking bad doses of potions. Though Neville had reacted most to the issue of Draco being Harry’s soul mate but unable to tell the man. Neville’s stance had still been to stay out of it. Harry was in charge of his life, not his friends, and they shouldn’t intrude. Hermione had adamantly rejected that, citing that if Harry made a huge mistake and married Oliver when his soul mate was within reach, it would fall on their shoulders if they knew and said nothing.

But now that she had Harry in her grasp, smiling pleasantly up at his boyfriend, she wasn’t sure she could keep her promise to Draco.

“What are you two over here whispering about?” Ginny asked as she slinked over to stand next to her friends. He gaze followed Hermione’s and she frowned. “Bugger,” she huffed. “We’re going to lose, aren’t we?”

“Hermione,” Neville warned the moment he saw the wild gleam in her eyes, indicating she’d had one of her brilliant epiphanies that would likely get the entire lot of them into trouble.

“Nev, this is perfect,” she replied, beaming so brightly her husband was forced to wince. “I can’t do it, but Gin can!”

“What can I do?” Ginny asked hopefully.

“You can tell Harry that Malfoy is his soul mate,” Hermione replied, pressing her temples to ward off the sudden headache that erupted through her skull. She swallowed thickly, feeling suddenly nauseas and excused herself before making a beeline to the loo.

“This is why I didn’t want her to say anything,” Neville sighed. “Gran’s told me about magic like this, and trying to defy it can leave lasting damage to your magic or even death. If I were you, I wouldn’t get mixed up in this, Gin,” Neville advised before running off after his wife.

It took her a second to piece together what Hermione and Neville had been talking about, but suddenly it all made sense, especially when paired with what Clive had told her about his late night conversation with Draco a few weeks before. Not only were Harry and Draco matched as well, like Clive had explained, they were a better match than Harry had with Oliver. Soul mates. The words seemed foreign to her ears. Every girl dreamed of finding theirs, but they were so rare, especially in pureblood matches.

But, of course, blind and stubborn Harry had no idea that his perfect mate was right in front of him all along. Clive had mentioned that Draco hadn’t told Harry about it, both because Harry hadn’t wanted to know, and because Draco didn’t think he could tell him. If the magic her Slytherin friend used to create these dating contracts was really as old and powerful as she suspected, then even she would find it impossible to tell Harry in such a direct manner as Hermione had wanted.

“Wait!” she shouted after them, striding down the corridor as fast as she could without stumbling in her heels. “You can’t tell me something like that and then just leave! What am I supposed to do?!”

“Do about what, Gin?” asked a voice from behind her and she twirled around, nearly crashing into Harry and Oliver as she did.

“Er,” she replied lamely. “Harry, I think I need to speak to you,” she said at last. “Alone.”

Oliver looked mildly confused but didn’t argue. He merely shrugged and pressed a kiss to Harry’s forehead. “I’ll be over there with Ron,” he told his boyfriend before making a hasty exit.

“That was sort of rude, Gin,” Harry chastised when Oliver was out of earshot.

“Sorry,” she replied, but it was clear by her pursed lips that she didn’t mean it. “You really need to know this though.”

“Know what?” Harry asked impatiently.

“You need to know that you and Draco are-” she began, but Harry cut her off with a hiss, slicing his hand through the air as if it would cut off her supply.

“No,” he snarled. “You will not start this again, Ginny. Do you hear me? I’m done with Draco Malfoy and his hot and cold nonsense. I shouldn’t have ever let you convince me he was different. He’s not. He’s just as cruel as ever and I will not waste any more time on him. Understood?”

“He’s not cruel,” she corrected, feeling slightly desperate. “He just doesn’t know how to express himself.”

“Well, he’s had plenty of opportunities,” Harry huffed. “It’s his own fault if he’d incapable of relating such a basic human emotion. I asked him point blank if he wanted something more from me, and all he ever offered in return was silence. I’m done, Gin. I’m done with Draco and his stupid lessons.”

“Why don’t you ask him to show you the magic,” Hermione suggested, coming up behind Ginny. She placed a hand on the redhead’s arm to steady herself, and she looked weak and pale, but she couldn’t keep silent on this. Not now that she knew all the variables. “Ask Draco to explain the way the spell works, and have him show you the matches he’s made.”

“I don’t need to know how the spell works,” Harry sighed, completely exasperated with his pushy friends. “Besides, Mione, I thought you were on my side here, not Malfoys.”

“I’m still on your side, Harry. Trust me, you need to ask him about the spell.” She wobbled slightly on her feet and Ginny shifted her so that she could find a place for them to sit.

“Are you okay, Mione?” Harry asked, concern flooding over him at last. All thoughts of spells and matches and Malfoy were long forgotten as he helped Ginny ease her into an armchair by the fire.

“I don’t know,” she replied honestly. “But I need you to promise me you’ll ask him.”

“I’m not talking about Malfoy anymore,” Harry hissed.

Hermione leveled him with her best impression of a stern Professor McGonagall face and locked her jaw. “Stop being a stubborn arse, Harry. He lov-” The words died abruptly on her lips as she clawed at her cloak to try and get the air being denied her. Ginny panicked and ran for Neville, while Harry cast charm after charm trying to seek out the problem but the spells detected nothing wrong. “St. Mungo’s,” she gasped out, and Harry nodded, leaning down to scoop his friend up before Apparating directly into the hospital lobby.

“She needs help!” Harry shouted, and two medi-witches ran over to take Hermione’s gasping form from his arms. “She can’t breathe, I don’t know why!”

A moment later, Neville and Ginny arrived, followed closely by Ron, Luna and Oliver. “I know why,” Neville said as he followed the healers into one of the examination rooms. The rest were forced to take a seat and wait.

Oliver was at Harry’s side in an instant, rubbing his arms in wide, circular motions, but Harry couldn’t manage to relax. “Would someone please tell me what’s going on here,” he growled after spying Ginny whispering something to Luna.

“We can’t tell you or else we’ll end up just like her,” Ginny hissed, completely fed up with Harry’s obtuseness. “You’re just going to have to open your bloody eyes!” she shouted before Apparating away with Clive in tow.

Harry blinked, unsure what in Merlin’s name had just happened, and how he could possibly be blamed for whatever plagued Hermione. He knew his friends were withholding information from him and that alone irritated him to no end, but if it was affecting his best friend’s health, he certainly deserved to know.

When the doors to the lobby opened, and a certain blond Slytherin stormed in, Harry lost his mind. “You!” he growled, pointing his wand in Draco’s direction as he stalked over. “This is all your fault, I know it!”

“It is, and I’m sorry. Is she okay?” he asked, desperation and fear in his eyes.

The question took Harry by surprise, and he faltered slightly, lowering his wand. He’d been angry, ready to accuse the Slytherin of his friend’s malady, but he’d expected Draco to deny it, defend himself, lie, sneak – something. But he certainly hadn’t expected a confession and apology. “What did you do?” he asked, suddenly bewildered.

“I asked her to do something that I was too cowardly to do myself,” he sighed. “I never should have gotten her involved. I just thought you might listen to her.”

“About what?” Harry asked, thoroughly confused.

“About me.”

Harry took a deep breath and let it out very slowly, giving himself enough time to try and calm down. “Look, Malfoy, I don’t understand what’s going on here, or how Hermione talking to me about you could have put her in hospital, but this needs to stop. You’ve made it perfectly clear how you feel about me, but it doesn’t matter anyway. I’m with Oliver. I’m happy and I don’t need your mind games or your lessons. I just want you to leave me alone.”

Draco grabbed Harry’s elbow and pulled him away from his small group of friends. They hadn’t been close enough to hear Harry once he stopped shouting, but Draco didn’t want to take any chances. “You can’t stop the lessons now,” he argued. “We’re so close.”

“I think that’s the problem,” Harry muttered. He wanted to pull his arm out of Draco’s tight grip, but at the same time he didn’t. Even such a simple touch left him angry and confused. “I appreciate everything you’ve done, and when Oliver and I make the decision to get married, I’ll hold up my end of the bargain, I promise. You’ll still get your exclusive rights to market us as your big celebrity match.”

“I don’t care about that,” he hissed. “Don’t you understand? I promised to help you get Oliver to the altar. We made an Unbreakable Vow, Harry.”

“Well, then we’ll make a new Vow, one that will void the last,” Harry suggested

“Or you could just stop being foolish and finish our lessons,” Draco countered. He only spared a moment in wondering if altering their Vow would help him in his mission to win Harry. He had already been toying with too much magic, and he was afraid to risk doing more harm than good by trying to change a spell that was already firmly in place, especially one so powerful as the Unbreakable Vow.

“I’m not being foolish,” Harry sighed, full of exasperation. “I just have a hard time being around you, Malfoy.”

“Well, what if I promised to be on my best behavior?” Draco prompted. “I’ll be as professional as I should have been all along.”

Harry didn’t want to end the lessons, not really. They were obviously working and he and Oliver were closer than ever, but at the same time, he knew that part of the reason he didn’t want to end the lessons was because he still wanted to see Draco, and that part was unacceptable.

“You can’t interfere with this magic,” Draco reminded him. “That’s what happened to Hermione, that’s why she’s here. I don’t know what will happen if we try to break this Vow, Harry.”

“Hermione is here for interfering with the magic?” Harry asked, his dark brow knit in confusion.

“Yes,” Draco replied, afraid to say too much more.

“Will you…that is…do you think you could explain the magic to me?” he asked, remembering Hermione’s words and her insistent tone before she nearly collapsed. He had been too angry to think straight before, but Harry knew his best friend wouldn’t be so persistent without cause.

Draco nodded without hesitation. He didn’t know what the magicks would allow, but he would do his best to convince Harry as he’d done with Hermione. It was his last ditch effort to save his life and his heart as well, because he knew now, that he couldn’t live without this infuriating Gryffindor who was smiling weakly at him. “I’ll do my best,” he promised.

Harry let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and nodded. “I’ll be in touch then,” he said and turned back to join his friends on the other side of the lobby.

“What was that about?” Oliver asked when Harry leaned against him.

“Nothing important,” Harry replied. Oliver looked as if he was about to press the issue, but Harry asked about Hermione’s condition instead and his boyfriend remained quiet while Ron filled him in on what the healer had told them. Hermione would be fine, but she needed lots of rest and a few potions that would help replenish her magic and bring her vitals back to normal levels.

Throughout Ron’s story, Harry was unable to stop glancing over his shoulder at the frazzled looking blond. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen eyes so wild and frantic. But he quickly recalled that Draco Malfoy was none of his business, no matter how much Harry just wanted to go over and comfort the man.

Author’s Note: So, we’re almost through. Only 6 chapters left. Plenty of time to resolve everything. Right? Right?