Ambivalent Lucidity

The vast corridors of the Malfoy Manor had been empty for a month—after the initial shock of the Malfoy deaths, anything with the name had slowly faded out of the press—and so when thunderous footfalls echoed from the white marble walls, Draco’s eyes opened immediately. His tousled head rose from his goosedown pillow, and he blinked wearily as he heard his name called. “Draco?” Cool feet fell into slippers before he padded across his large bedroom to the oak door, and he tugged the doorknob before poking his head out into the north wing of the Manor.

Glances left and right bore no fruit, but the footsteps grew louder, and just as he decided that he was imagining it, a hand grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. Draco gave a terrible start and quickly took three steps backward. “Y-you?!”

-

Harry smiled at his two best friends as they walked abnormally closely together. Ron and Hermione had come together over the summer, and though Harry had always known that they were the most obvious couple in Hogwarts, he found that he rather resented being the third wheel in the relationship. He could never tell them, of course, and he felt like an arse for even thinking it, but watching Ron slide his hand into Hermione’s and tug her closer made him wish... No, he had other issues; more important things to worry about. N.E.W.T.s were at the end of this year, and he was rather glad that he would not have to deal with a relationship. “Come on, you two,” he said in a mock-cheerful tone, “The train’s going to leave you!”

He took a moment to stare at the barrier between King’s Cross and Platform Nine and Three-Quarters as though he were sizing it up. Ever since the 'accident' at the beginning of his second year, he found that he did not quite trust the wretched thing, so when he rushed at it with his cart, he winced even though he breezed right through. When his eyes opened, he smiled to see the platform teeming with his schoolmates, old and new, and he laughed raucously as a group consisting of Seamus, Dean, and Neville set off a round of Weasley’s Wildfire Whiz-Bangs that caused all the birds in the area to squawk and ruffle their feathers. Seamus sent Harry a sly wink, and Harry merely beamed at him as Professor McGonagall rushed past to stop the chaos.

He did not pause to wonder why Minerva McGonagall was in London, being too amused as she hauled Seamus and Dean off by their ears, and he shook his head before pushing his cart up to the train so that the attendant might load his things. Just before the clock struck eleven, he hopped aboard the scarlet train and headed for the back.

Coming aboard so late was a bad idea, he decided as he found all the compartments near the front to be full, and he pushed through the younger years as he scurried back. Just as he spotted Ron and Hermione entering a compartment ahead, he felt a warm presence on his shoulder, which at first glance appeared to be a pale hand. Spinning around, Harry felt an uncertain rage burst into his chest, and he took a defensive step back, hand already on his wand. “What do you want, Malfoy?” he snarled with narrowed, nasty eyes. He expected Draco to sneer, snort, make threats, but the very last thing he would have thought Draco to do occurred, as Draco not only stayed utterly silent, but also moved to lean needily against his chest. “Wha—?!”

“Harry, there you are!” Ron exclaimed as he poked his head out into the corridor, but his happy expression rapidly melted into one of unbridled fury at the sight of their arch-nemesis cuddling up to Harry like a teddy bear. “What the bloody fuck is going on here?!” He came rampaging down the length of the train and roughly snatched Draco’s shoulder, wand drawn and pressed to the base of that pale throat. “Just who do you think you are?!” he cried, and just as he was attempting to come up with the worst hex imaginable, his wand was grabbed away by Hermione.

“Ron, look,” she snapped, and she waved her hand in front of Draco’s face, getting no reaction. “He’s not himself!” As though testing him, she wiggled her fingers in front of his eyes again, trying to get any sort of reaction out of him. When none came, she lifted a hand and touched his face for a moment before drawing back and slapping him lightly, the sound of cheek against palm echoing in the still air for a moment before Draco’s eyes filled to the brim with salty tears. “O-oh...” Hermione whispered, and she seemed, for a moment, as though she might retreat when McGonagall appeared out of nowhere.

“Miss Granger!” she yelped as she quickly placed herself between the girl and a sobbing Draco, who was trying in an almost violent frenzy to get to Harry, who had made a retreat behind Ron. “Ten points will be deducted from Gryffindor when we arrive! Now, run along with Mr. Weasley—I must discuss something with Mr. Potter alone!” Something about her tone caused Hermione and Ron to flee unquestioningly, which opened the path for Draco to crush himself against the Boy Who Lived. Harry gave a strangled yell and looked desperately to his Head of House, who took him by the arm and hauled both boys into an empty compartment at the end of the train. “I’m sorry for the shock, Harry,” she sighed, sounding exhausted, and she gestured to the seat across from her own. “Take a seat, and mind Draco’s arms...”

Harry sat down with a lapful of Slytherin, and he looked over to Minerva with a pained expression. “Professor, excuse me, but what the hell is going on?” he hissed as Draco curled around him and cried warm tears onto his shoulder.

She frowned and moved over to the pair, pulling Draco back from Harry and using her scarf to dry his tears. “Now, now... He’s here,” she whispered comfortingly, and she took one of Harry’s hands to place it on Draco’s wrist. “Just hold him there, Mr. Potter, and let me say before I explain that I, for one, was completely against this idea, but there was, apparently, no other way. Look into his eyes, Harry, and tell me what you see.”

Harry groaned and diverted his gaze to Draco’s, half-expecting a sneer or a sudden burst of laughter, but instead finding nothing but tears. There was no real expression, no malice, nothing like Harry had ever seen before, but upon further inspection, he found he was looking at an expression and understanding of one basic instinct: need. “...Professor, what’s wrong with him?” he asked quietly, turning his eyes from Draco and giving his Head of House a suspicious gaze. “And why is he responding to me, but not Hermione?”

McGonagall sat in silent solemnity for a few moments, thinking before she placed her hand in the middle of Draco’s back and nudged him closer to Harry, causing Draco to bury his nose against the tendons in the neck before him. The hair on the back of Harry’s neck rose, and he made a point of not resting his hands anywhere on Draco’s body. “At the end of the school year,” Minerva began, “Lucius Malfoy died in Azkaban. Narcissa, Draco’s mother, summoned Draco home to tell him the news, but by the time Draco arrived in Wiltshire, Narcissa wasn’t lucid, and before he could do anything, she shot herself with, strangely enough, a Muggle gun right in front of him. He was left in the estate by himself for the summer, and though he was sane after the funerals, something occurred over the holiday that cannot yet be explained. Draco developed Multiple Personality Disorder, most likely because of trauma, but no one is yet sure. He has displayed several personalities since he was admitted to St. Mungo’s, but not one would respond to anything at all, until the Daily Prophet ran a story on you in mid-August. Your picture was in the article, and Draco attached himself to it. He won’t respond to anything else yet... You notice he is solely focused on you.” She sighed and looked out the window for a moment, allowing Harry to absorb some of the information before she told him how it was relevant to him, “Ever since the article ran, he has been almost... stuck in this personality, and since you are the only person he has responded to, well... St. Mungo’s and the school’s Board of Governors have decided that Draco is to be placed under your care. It is, they say, the only conceivable way he can make any sort of recovery.”

“Now hold on a minute!” Harry snapped immediately, and he made a futile attempt to shove Draco off. “They can’t just volunteer me for this! Why can’t someone dress up as me at St. Mungo’s or something? What if I don’t want to?!” he cried, throwing his arms up in the air and slumping against the back of the seat.

“They tried everything, Mr. Potter. Draco... is your charge. We fully expect you to be able to do this! You will be excused from classes as needed as long as you keep up, and—”

Harry shook his head and shoved Draco very, very hard, resulting in the other taking a nasty tumble to the floor. Harry’s eyes widened as Draco hit the ground and stared up at him, face twitching until he let loose with a wail that would rival that of a crucifixion victim. “Oh, for God’s sake,” Harry grumbled angrily, and he moved to kneel beside his ‘charge,’ taking his shoulder in one hand. “I’m sorry, come on! You don’t have to have such a fit...” He slid both hands under Draco’s arms and lifted him to his feet, eyes rolling as the parasite reattached itself to his chest. “How can I take care of him when he can’t even care for himself?! He’s pathetic!”

McGonagall sighed and reached out to touch Harry’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, but I fully expect you to be able to figure that out. Now, his schedule has been tweaked to match yours, and he will be staying in your dormitory. It is up to you to make sure that no one else bullies him as well... That wouldn’t do at all.” She gave his shoulder a squeeze before opening the door of the compartment. “Go to your friends, Harry...We are counting on you.” With that, she Disapparated.

Confused and enraged, Harry half-dragged Draco off to the compartment they would share with Ron and Hermione, finding the two of them deep in discussion. “Sorry, guys,” Harry groaned as he pulled Draco inside and shut the door. “The damned bastard made himself crazy to spite me, I’m sure!” He flopped down in the seat across from his friends and growled lowly as Draco crept into his lap. There were a few moments of silence before Ron cleared his throat and coughed a little.

“So er...What’s the deal?” he asked, pointing at Malfoy with a look of disdain.

Harry rolled his eyes and began to explain in a nasty tone, though his hands possessed an almost unnatural gentleness as he brushed clinging blond hair from Draco’s damp cheeks. As he told them nearly word-for-word what McGonagall had explained to him, it grew dark outside and lightning began to flash all around the train. Draco held more tightly to Harry, whose hands moved to rest on his back, just as Harry finished explaining, “So basically I have to keep him, like some pet or something... like a dog that won’t stop chewing up your shoes.”

Hermione inspected Harry, watching him interact in silence with the creature she was not sure she could call Draco, and as they moved and got comfortable in an uncomfortable situation, she was certain that she saw a flicker of concern in Harry’s face. “Well, at least he isn’t being insufferable, right?” she asked. “I mean, he’s not really Malfoy. He’s... just someone else.” She gave a resolute nod as she noticed that Harry’s ‘pet’ had fallen asleep in his arms, and as lightning littered the countryside and harsh rain lashed against the windows, she nearly smiled as Harry only held Draco tighter.