A Vicious Tangle (Complete)

 

Watching Ron fall, his face ashen and pain evident in the twisting of his limbs, felt like watching time on a split screen - a much younger version of his best mate foaming at the mouth with poison making its way alongside Harry's vision. Whether he meant to or not, that had been Draco's fault as well. Though then, Ron had been an unintended victim of the blonde’s desperation and fear and now Ron was lying on the rock with quaking tremors as the curse wove itself inside him because of his own volition.

Because the redhead knew how deep Harry's heart was entwined with Draco's.

Harry knew there wasn't anything he could do for his partner, that the curse was deep and powerful - the little he knew about blood-arches enough to make him nearly vomit. He felt off kilter and desperate and all he could think to do as he silently cursed the man for not thinking of himself and Hermione and his unborn baby was spell him into a sleep that would hopefully slow the curses progression and activate the emergency code in the man's Apparation bracelet.

With fear gripping his throat and tears blurring his eyes, Harry quickly sent a message with his Patronus to accompany Ron - both of them whisking away to St. Mungos where hopefully the Healers would get to him in time. He stared at the spot his friends body had popped from existence and willed himself to stop shaking - a part of him already shriveling up at just the thought of losing him. Apparently some great cosmic force had decided that Harry had had it too easy, that he had felt far too happy this last decade to allow him to continue on in such a manner.

What else would explain the two most important men in his life hanging on life's thin thread on the same day?

But the world had never been all to kind to him, never for long, and Harry knew how to fight back - it was ingrained in him, something Ron and Hermione called his fear of abandonment and Draco referred to as his hero complex. But it was neither, it was simply Harry clinging to the things that mattered, making sure he never had to turn a stone to gaze upon his loved ones ever again. With his jaw set and his green eyes sparking with determination, Harry rushed through the opening of the cave and down the smooth stone - his feet carrying him further and further underground at a steady and steep slope. His nostrils flared at a bloodied sharp rock and a scarlet smeared stretch of ground, his heart pounding and the beginning threads of murderous thoughts winding themselves through his mind.

The faces of the murdered victims flashed behind his eyes, the blank expression on Daphne's visage in the memory he had viewed of her questioning about her missing sister years ago and the tormented expression that had filled Draco's when he thought he was going insane with the girls memories in his head pressed at him - his feet thumping and echoing in a way that wasn't safe. But he didn't give a shit about stealth in that moment - all he cared about was getting to Draco as fast as he possibly could.

He burst through an old wooden door on loose hinges as the tunnel came to an end, the wood cracking against the stone with the force of his weight against it. He stumbled to a stop and blinked in the low candle light, the room he was standing in was carved out of the same stone as the tunnel, covered in draping lengths of white silk and gold overlay, ornate furniture that was far older than he could possibly place scattering the otherwise empty room. It reeked of decay and dark magic. Harry sent out a precautionary spell to detect anything nefarious, his feet carrying him immediately forward before it could even tell him anything - his hand latching onto the lone door on the other side and turning the old brass with a grating squeak.

He rushed down the spiraling, dizzying stone staircase that appeared beyond the threshold until he felt disoriented and slightly ill before he finally stepped through a door at the bottom and into a small, bleak square room with three doors in total - one on each side, identical in size and appearance. Harry clenched his wand as he eyed each one in turn, with no clue of which way to go, he instinctively turned right and had nearly pushed the door open when something pricked the back of his neck and held him place. He turned sharply, staring at the closed door behind him, straining his ears as he held his breath captive.

Time stretched, three possible outcomes threading their paths out before him, choosing the right door could vastly change how the future unfurled. That knowledge echoed in his head and he felt terribly frozen, staring at the door, hoping, hoping, hoping for some sign...

There had been a time, nearly two years ago, when Harry had angrily marched into Draco's office, his blood pumping hot and his mouth nearly foaming with fury. His green eyes had been blazing with manic destruction, as the blonde liked to put it, and the doorframe had shook with the force of his hand pressing the wood open despite the locks that had been put on it. He had stepped inside, his tongue heavy with the lashing he was ready to bestow upon the former Slytherin, when he stopped dead - all sound rushing out like a vacuum had been turned on and sucked out everything in existence around him.

He had stood there, splintered wood under his hand and anger forgotten, staring at the sight of Draco Malfoy stretched out cold on the floor - a sinister looking artifact with spidery legs gripping his upper chest.

There was a dull thunk in his head as he took in the man's blonde hair fanned out around him, a thick strand covering one eye, one pale hand atop the artifact as if he was merely sleeping. His lips had looked thin and pink, a wide reddening welt running down one cheek like a claw had scraped down his flesh. But it was his fine leather shoes, gone from his feet and sitting in a slightly unsymmetrical line to the man's left that had panic and fear surging sharply up Harry's body.

It was the sight of the man's black, gold toe socks that pulled Harry down to his knees, that ripped a shout from his throat. It was that damn shoe, ever so slightly askew, that made him realize just why he hated Draco Malfoy so much and why he couldn't fucking stand the idea of his gray eyes never snapping open to look upon him with blatant hostility again.

Harry's magic had crackled as his emotions swelled and the next thing he knew the artifact was smoking, Draco was blinking blurry eyes open, and tears were stinging his eyes that he would later blame on the smoke but in reality had nothing to do with it. That had been the beginning of his downward spiral, of the gray eyes that watched him in his dreams, of the voice he provoked simply so he could hear it, of the anger that fueled his blood, and the face that haunted his desires.

Draco had curled him tightly around his finger with just one askew shoe and the look of eternal sleep on his face. And Harry had only managed to get himself more tangled each and every day, falling deeper, and finding that he never wanted to find his way back out. Especially after he felt Draco's passion for the first time, that night in the club with his pale hands on Harry's hips and his hot lips on the darker man's neck, the delirious taste of his thick cock on his tongue.

Harry fell hard and now some psycho was threatening the man he loved. That day in his office when Draco had glared and shouted about Harry ruining his experiment when he finally came back to and pried the destroyed thing off himself was like a distant echo, reminding him of Draco's fire that burned so hotly through his veins Harry had once been sure he would be engulfed in it and never recover. The blonde could bring down the wrath of hell with one well pronounced word but there was also something deeper, something that begged for an outlet. He was fire and ice all in one and Harry didn't think he knew how he could ever go back to the mundane colors of life without him. He would choose right and he would sweep the man up and make sure he could never be stolen from him again.

His future would hold vivid colors because he was done living in shades of black and gray.

Wand held high, Harry kicked the weak door open, the splintering crack of breaking wood echoing loudly as he skidded inside - a curse ready on the tip of his lips that died in an instant as his eyes took in the confusing sight before him. Several emotions flooded him as Harry's eyes first fixed on Draco - alive and aside from his red mattered hair on the back of his head, looking well and unharmed - kneeling on the floor in the back of the room beside a large glowingly white bed. His blonde head was bowed, one hand tightly holding the shoulder of a slender woman who was slumped against the wall - her own blonde hair hiding her face, her long thin limbs blue tinged and almost skeletal, the outline of the disk's engravings marring the inside of her wrist.

Harry took in the entirety of the sight in the beat of a single second, the oddly furnished bedroom a disorienting backdrop to find not only Draco but Olivia in. Together. Protocol demanded that he hang back, that he assess any possible dangers, that he categorize the situation and remain at a suitable distance. But protocol and complete rule abiding had never been Harry's strong points and he was beside Draco, his knees banging harshly against the stone in the next moment - his hands reaching out to touch the Analyst to prove to himself that he was real and there.

"Draco." He gasped, his voice raw as his fingers connected with the solidness that was the blonde, relief so strong he had to fight against the urge to lunge forward and wrap the man up in his arms and never let go.

Worn gray eyes flicked over to him, Draco's entire body unnaturally still. "Potter?" His voice sounded hollow, the storm that normally raged in his gaze holding a flatness to them that made Harry's heart constrict and mind whirl.

He reached up to gently take the red stained, crusted locks between his thumb and index finger. "Are you okay? What happened?" He rushed to ask, his other hand coming to grasp Draco's cheek that was icy to the touch, making him press his fingers in deeply, dragging himself closer as he felt his pulse beat frantically - the blonde smelling oddly of smoke and citrus.

"I'm fine, it's fine." Draco mumbled dazedly, his gaze slipping away from Harry, snipping the last of the man's resolve, his arm curling around Draco's shoulders like he could keep him from harm with just enough contact - wishing his touch could bring the heat back into the man's skin and make the smart arse drawl come back to his voice. The slumped way Draco held himself coupled with how he just kept staring at Olivia adding an aching fear to all the questions that wanted to come spilling out in one unintelligible gush.

"We need to go." Harry instructed, glancing behind himself, knowing he was making enough damn noise to alert anyone in the premises.

Draco shook his head. "There's no one else here." He said quietly, Harry's brow furrowing in confusion.

"The murderer -"

 

"She didn't mean to. She didn't want to." The words sounded painful dripping from his tongue, like an anguish so deep and fresh was ripping through him.

"She..." Harry's gaze snapped to Olivia, really taking her in for the first time. She was unconscious, that much was obvious, her pink lips open like she had been about to scream. Or plead. Her body looked beyond frail, like a gust of wind could break her, but her hand was tinged in red - the sight of no doubt Draco's blood on her fingers making Harry's stomach twist painfully, the dread only growing and winding through him as he noticed the identical thin red cuts on both their palms. "Olivia is the murderer? I don't...how?"

"Astoria." Draco interrupted. "She's Astoria and I...I didn't even realize. I forgot all about her, letting her rot down here for years." His words shook, his face jerking to dislodge Harry's hand from his cheek, his shoulder lifting to rub against the skin Harry had been touching like he was trying to expunge the feeling of the Auror on him - making something ache desperately inside Harry.

"Olivia is Astoria?" He repeated, hardly believing his own ears - how the fuck could that be? But Draco nodded slowly, his eyes sliding shut. "And Astoria murdered...she murdered all those people?" Again Draco nodded and Harry swallowed a lump. "Did she plant the portkey to bring you here?"

"Yes."

"But...why?" Harry tried and failed to scramble for answers in his own head. It didn't make any sense, he couldn't grasp onto it, it was like trying to climb a wall of pure silk - nothing for him to gather purchase with. Not to mention the look on Draco's face was breaking his heart into little pieces, his fingers itching to set it right - someway, somehow, except he had no idea how he possibly could when he didn't understand one bit of what was happening.

"It was a spell...she wanted to enact an ancient spell. It probably would have worked too, would have freed here from that monster."

Questions were piling up at a much too rapid rate in his head - overwhelming and making his skull feel like it was going to split if he didn't start getting some actual answers. But Draco wasn't himself and Harry had to fight against blurting out demanding questions of his own. "What spell, what happened?" He asked softly, his arm tightening around Draco, the fact that Astoria brought Draco down to these maddening tunnels to perform some sort of ritual making his skin crawl - fearful she had succeeded in some way, his eyes straying once more to their sliced hands.

He didn't know much about old magic and the ancient rituals that once were the threads that wove the purebloods together, but he knew it was powerful and once enacted hard to ever undo...

"It was a binding...a knot...but it requires...everything and even under..." Draco glanced up at him from under his hair that was a month past his pristine upkeep of it, the rest unspoken and shining bright in his eyes - a glimmer of the fire Harry was used to seeing in his gaze sparking somewhere far in their depths.

Harry's breathing became thick as he stared back, the revelation that Draco had apparently been held under Astoria's mind control for a period as she tried to entwine their beings to free her from something evil sinking to the back of his head as why she had failed pressed to the forefront. "Draco..."

"I couldn't save her." His eyes glazed over again, the spark extinguishing, his icy pale hand coming up to grasp Harry's bicep almost painfully. "She waited for me, she needed me, since she was a kid and I...I just...I tried.”

"It's not your fault." Harry rebutted, clasping onto the hand gripping him. "None of this is your doing."

"Empty words." Draco's head fell sharply forward, the gash on the back of his head still leaking in thick strands close to the roots. "Those memories...she was calling to me - begging for help. It took me too long, I didn't realize. I can't seem...to do... I failed her."

"Draco she murdered numerous people...she's not innocent in all of this."

"No, you can't hold her to those, you can't send her to Azkaban Harry. She needs help, she needs...it's Thornbee's fault, he did this to her, he twisted her, even now…she's losing." Draco's head jerked up, his gaze landing heavily on Harry's as he pleaded with him, panic lacing his words, his chest hitching like every little breath was physically painful for him. "I saw it." His voice dipped so low Harry could barely hear him, the muscle under his eye twitching. "I saw it. She needs help and...how do you do it Harry?"

"Do what?" He asked quietly, catching Draco's hand as it fell from Astoria's shoulder. God he was so cold and rambling in a way that made him seem like he had been drowning in liquor all week. Through his peripheral vision he took note of the ornate knife lying on the ground next to a smoldering cauldron, the crystal goblet with a small drop of yellow liquid clinging to the bottom. Someone had drunk from it and Harry feared he knew who.

He cursed silently and frantically searched his memory for anything that might help. But he was rubbish at this kind of thing, this was Draco's expertise not his.

Draco searched his face, silently scrutinizing him before sagging forward in what looked like pure exhaustion. "How are you always saving people? How do you manage it because I can't...she needed one thing from me and I couldn't...I'm a selfish fuck. She...almost finished it and I could see it working...was almost free of that man's grip…but all I could think about was you. If she kept talking that I wouldn't ever be able to...you again, that I wouldn't be able…that I'd lose you...I killed her chance all because I'm a selfish arse. All because I...and you..."

Harry felt like his heart was about to burst from his chest, an elation that was entirely inappropriate for the setting rushing through him - his cheeks flushing and his knees sliding closer as he wrapped his arms around the blonde. "That's not selfish. You don't have to sacrifice yourself for anyone." He tried to keep the smile from overtaking his lips as he brushed his fingers under Draco's chin and lifted his head, staring into his tormented gaze and breathing deep the scent clinging to Draco's lips. The scent that gave Harry the smallest hint of what was coursing through his veins.

Fuck. It was a vague memory of sitting in a classroom, cauldron's bubbling and stories too gruesome to ever properly concentrate on dropping from his professor's lips. He remembered this one though, was drawn to its bright color and comforting scent. But Draco said he had stopped it before she could finish, the question rested in how far did she get? He knew that these types of spells had layers in them, that there were stages that had to be completed and requirements that had to be met but he couldn't remember at what step Draco would be forced to drink from the goblet...and did she manage to wind the first thread of the binding around them?

"Sacrifice is what you do. It's what...what I need to do."

Harry nodded slowly. "We'll find another way."

"What if there isn't one? What if this is it?" Draco whispered, his eyes wide and fear breaking through the cloudy haze and though Harry could only understand a smidgen of the responsibility Draco felt for the young woman, he knew the man was deeply torn over it - that it would leave it's mark for years to come and only scrape deeper when Draco was freed from the constrains of what Astoria had managed to do to him.

"You'll find something, that brilliant mind of yours hasn't failed you yet." He promised, grasping the side of Draco's neck when he tried to turn away from him and back towards the young woman. "Trust me."

Pale eyelashes shut over gray eyes as Draco shook his head, his fingers like sharp claws in Harry's arm. "No, no it's too risky. I can't...not again. I have to do this."

"Binding yourself to her is not the answer." Harry stated firmly, the idea of stunning Draco and dragging him physically away from the situation until he was back in his right mind roared at him but he let it linger in the back - a failsafe if it all went to shit. Because he knew Draco, knew that if the blonde came back to himself after having been ripped away from the situation against his will that he would blame himself even more - that it would eat and eat and eat at him until he turned bitter and distant.

Then there was the damn spell and the potion and would it have any negative effects if he were to break Draco away without doing something about it first?

"It is." Draco argued, his frozen fingers scrapping into Harry's skin as he grasped the dark haired man's face, his eyes still shut tight. "Release me Potter. Give me back my heart so I can do the right thing for fucking once in my life."

"No." Harry wasn't sure what he felt more in that moment - a surge of emotion over the fact that Draco had just admitted just how much he cared for him or a hopeless sorrow that the man felt he needed to rip out his own wants to mend another.  "I can't do that."

"Why the bloody hell not?" Draco cried, anguish clear in his tone and his gaze stirring with the beginnings of a storm - the sight allowing hope to light in his heart. "You do not need me, send me back to where I belong and release me. Please."

"But I do." He corrected, the arm around Draco's back dropping to his waist and tugging him closer when he tried to scramble away. "I need you so much Draco, I thought I had lost you today and I couldn't...I can't cope with that. So however much Astoria needs you I need you more because I love you and to bind yourself to her would be to shatter me and I'm fucking done with self-sacrifice."

"You don't love me." Draco said quietly, the quick jerks of his body as he tried to release himself stilling like someone had stuck him still in place with a dozen knives.

Harry smiled softly and shook his head, his hand brushing the sweaty strands of hair from Draco's forehead. "I do love you, you stubborn prat. Very, very much and if you don't stop with this nonsense and see that we will and can find another way to help her then I'm going to slash my own hand and bind you to myself before you can bolt." He threatened, not actually having any clue how one would go about doing that or even what that really meant but needing to try and get through to the other man any way he could.

Lifting a shaky hand, Draco pressed a finger to the middle of his brow as his throat worked. "Don't talk like that right now." He said through heavy breaths.

"Why?" Harry murmured, taking note of the sudden change in him and leaning forward pressed his lips lightly over the other man's, feeling the tremble that raked through him at the soft contact. "Don't think I mean it?"

"No, I...I drank the...and the smell is rather..." He trailed off and blinked his eyes at him, his chest heaving. "....Merlin Harry...I can't think with you this close."

"Why?" Harry repeated, brushing his lips over Draco's cheek and jaw, somehow managing to rise to his feet and take Draco with him, backing them away from Astoria's prone body slumped against the wall - slowly, slowly like he was leading a wounded animal. Perhaps if he could just get him far enough from the woman then his head would clear and he would come to his senses.

Draco followed him like a love lorn puppy, his feet clumsy and his arms wobbly around Harry's shoulders, his eyes blinking rapidly as Harry kept kissing his face. "You...your mouth...love kissing you." He sounded disoriented as Harry drew him back through the door and into the little square room, Draco's back connecting with the opposite wall after Harry kicked the door shut behind them. He moaned loudly as Harry pressed their lips together, his tongue slithering out to rub against Draco's and Harry felt the man's knees buckle as he squished him into the wood and plundered his mouth.

There was something very wrong with how quickly Harry lost himself in kissing Draco with Astoria unconscious behind them and the man himself drugged and very nearly bonded to someone else - both of those things no doubt major factors as to why the blonde was reacting to him almost savagely. Because even through the haze that was rolling in, Harry could now taste the sweet nature of the potion, his brain sighing softly that it held something akin to an aphrodisiac. The knowledge made him both furious at the tormented woman for trying to ensnare what was his and buzzing as it became obvious that somehow - even with mountains stacked against him and his own body telling him to do it - Draco hadn't been able to give in.

Because he already belonged to Harry.