Changing Minds in Hard Times

A few hours later found Draco in the bathroom of the guestroom he had been put in, scrubbing off what felt like layers and layers of accumulated grime. He knew it was all in his head, but every time Voldemort had touched him, every day he spent around death eaters, including his father, made him feel just a little dirtier. He also knew that he had probably scrubbed off the top layer or two of his skin, but he felt better.

Now he sat huddled in the shower, feeling the water starting to cool down from the almost scalding hot temperature it had been. He was locked in this room, which he knew had been heavily shielded against his escape. Any wandless magic he knew would do no good in here, and his wand was still with Harry. The only window in the room was tightly locked and had a charm on it so if it was broken or opened, guards would run in instantly. There were at least two members of the Order outside the door right now, in case he did do something stupid.

He hadn’t let himself do it before, in front of his father, death eaters, or Voldemort. But here, sitting on the hard tile in the still running shower, he let himself cry. His mother was dead. She had opposed Voldemort using her son as a weapon against the side of light. She wanted him to be happy and loved, not miserable with the semblance of love. Lucius, his father, had only glanced at his dying wife. He had quickly taken up with another male death eater. One Draco didn’t care to look at, or know.

Lucius wanted nothing more then for Draco to be everything his Dark Lord wanted. It was already clear he couldn’t be exactly what Lucius had originally planned for him to be. Draco wasn’t naturally cruel, heartless, or evil. He threw up after killing people. He beat himself up for it afterwards – but time and time again, he would try to be what his father wanted him to be. He was a failure.

Draco pulled his long, soaked hair back from his face, smoothing it like he had when he was much younger. First year was a much easier time. His father hadn’t expected him to be so much then.

Thinking about his father brought him back to the topic of the death eaters, and the Dark Lord. If they hadn’t noticed that Draco hadn’t come back with them yet, they would soon. Lucius had practically begged his Lord to allow Draco to prove himself on this raid of Hogwarts. If Draco had succeeded in blasting children across rooms without feeling, or killing Order members with ruthless efficiency, his father would welcome him back as his heir, once the Dark Lord was done using him to defeat Harry Potter.

But Draco had failed once again. Instead of joining the death eaters in their “fun,” he had hidden himself as soon as possible. And instead of returning and begging the Dark Lord for forgiveness, he had instead begged Harry Potter for shelter and protection from his own kind. But were they really his kind?

He was startled from his thoughts when the sound of someone clearing their throat came from nearby. He quickly moved to wash any remaining tears from his face, and slicked back his hair once again. There was nothing he could do about the redness that was most likely flushing his face, not this quickly.

He turned his head, and found Harry perched on the sink. Luckily the sink seemed to securely hold the tall, muscular boy, though it was only attached by the back to the wall. The brunette looked uncomfortable; he ran his hand through his messy hair once again and looked away. Clearly he wasn’t entirely comfortable walking into a bathroom that contained a crying, naked man who was easily perceived as a death eater.

“So…um…you said you wanted to talk to me in private.” He said, trying to look anywhere but at the naked man in the shower. Not that he could see anything important, seeing as how Draco was conveniently positioned to cover just such areas of potential embarrassment. Not that Draco had anything to be embarrassed about.

Draco nodded, but quickly realized the other man hadn’t seen it – since he was still looking away. He sighed.

“Yes. I wanted to ask you for protection, and sanctuary, if at all possible. You see, if the Dark Lord gets me again,” he shuddered, and then tried to pass it off as being cold from the now chilly spray of water. He stood and turned off the tap before turning to face Harry Potter.

Harry turned, caught a glimpse of Draco’s more then sufficient manhood, and turned away again, flushing a deep red. He grabbed a nearby towel and tossed it in the direction of the blond, trying to avoid looking that way at all costs.

Draco caught the towel and dried off with it, while smirking the whole time. He didn’t hate the brunette anymore, but damned if he didn’t want to make him twitch. He briefly considered using the towel for his hair instead of covering the area the other man clearly was avoiding looking at, but he restrained himself and tied the towel around his waist.

Then he stepped out of the shower. Finally, Harry turned to face him, and noticed his red, blotchy face, scrubbed red skin, and water-wrinkled fingers. “Just how long have you been in there?” he said, clearly meaning the shower.

“Got in just after I was put in here. Don’t know how long it’s been.”

Harry’s eyes widened. That had been over three hours ago. “Well…you were saying?”

“Oh…yes. I don’t want to go back to the Dark Lord. He’s been using me ever since my father gave me to him. He says that if the prophecy about me is true, then I’m just as useful to him as I would be to you.”

Harry looked confused. “Prophecy? About you?”

Draco sighed. Clearly this was going to be a long conversation.