Wicked

Hello dearies, here´s the new chapter! As always, thank you all very much for reading, voting and reviewing, the support is amazing!

Just to remind you once more: Draco is also referred to as Finn at times, Malcolm as Liam, so no one gets confused.

Enjoy!


Harry was grey in the face when he came back from the first lesson. He had used an excuse, as his fellow DA members had kept asking him for the date of their first meeting after Christmas, but Dumbledore had made it very clear that Occlumency came before anything else, and that Snape would be expecting him.

Harry certainly had not assumed that the lesson would be pleasant, but it had been quite different to his expectations nevertheless. He had not been able to fight Snape´s Legilimency, and had ended on his knees more often than he´d have cared for. They had finally ended it after Harry had hit his head on the edge of Snape´s desk hard enough to pass out for a moment.

Draco could see that his boyfriend ached all over when he returned to the common room, and the sickly colour of his skin only emphasized that. Harry sat down with Hermione and Ron for a moment and talked to them very quietly, but apparently was in no condition to do his homework. Finn watched him surreptitiously, unable to stave off the mixture of worry and jealousy, and wished to be able to comfort him. Harry soon got up and went upstairs, accompanied by Ron.

When the twins entered the dormitory some time later, Harry was sitting on his bed, shaking all over.

Finn immediately went to his side: “What happened?” he asked.

Ron regarded Finn with a suffering expression, then sighed: “He collapsed.”

Harry looked as though he was fighting not to vomit: “It´s just like the night before Christmas,” he ground out. “I heard him laugh, and I was experiencing his joy... Voldemort´s... he´s really happy, something´s happened... something´s he´s been waiting for...”

Draco could feel himself beginning to shake as well. Whatever it was, it couldn´t be good.

Dazedly, he allowed Malcolm to help him up and to his bed, while Ron convinced Harry to lie down.

Draco stared into the darkness long after Dean and Seamus had come in and gone to bed as well; if he closed his eyes, he would start remembering things, but if he stared into the darkness, he could pretend to make out certain shapes under the canopy of the bed if he tried hard enough: centaurs, unicorns, angels.

It would hopefully keep him occupied until he would be able to fall asleep. He flinched when the curtain of his bed moved at one point, as he hadn´t expected Harry to come over tonight, he had seemed too shaken.

Harry however wordlessly pulled the Invisibility Cloak off him and crawled into Draco´s arms. They wrapped themselves around each other in the mutual attempt to simultaneously reassure the other and seek comfort from him, and only calmed down once they were completely entwined, heartbeat to heartbeat.

Harry sighed in silent relief, his breath warm and moist on Draco´s skin: “I´m so glad you´re here,” he whispered.

“I´m sorry I couldn´t accompany you to Occlumency,” Draco murmured unhappily. “You looked terrible when you came back.”

Harry pressed his cheek against Draco´s chest and told him about the lesson: “Snape says Voldemort might try to get into my mind, just like he possessed the snake,” he concluded tiredly. “I can´t let that happen, Draco.”

He looked up again, staring at the other boy in the darkness: “He might see you. I can´t allow him to know about us.”

Fear crept through Draco´s veins once more: “I know,” he whispered. Both of them were aware that this was what Harry had been afraid of ever since the attack of Mr Weasley.

“Harry... do you think we... should be more careful?” Draco´s voice nearly gave out at the last words. What he had meant to ask was wether they should stop spending time together, but he couldn´t bring himself to voice it.

“No,” Harry said fiercely, knowing full well what Draco had meant, “no! Voldemort´s ruined enough for me already, I won´t let him separate us!”

They fell silent, reinforcing their embraces instead of further words, but both of them had a heavy heart.

Harry knew that his words had been utterly selfish; it was Draco who´d be in danger, after all. Yet he couldn´t bear the thought of being forced to return to zero; it wouldn´t be enough to have Finn around him every day. It were the nights he was living off.

He buried his nose deeper into Draco´s skin, slowly inhaling his love´s scent, and let the comforting feeling of belonging wash over him.

Long after midnight, Severus Snape was still sitting at the desk in his office.

The first Occlumency lesson had been... interesting, to begin with. He had caught uncontrolled glimpses of Potter´s memory, such as his aunt´s dog chasing him, or the Dementors: unhappy, angry memories, that was for sure.

As much as Snape loathed to think about it did Potter´s impetuous fury, which Snape had seen blazing in his eyes countless times already, remind him of Lily. Lily shouting at him, her sweet face contorted with anger... he shook the image off, subconsciously scowling.

It still hurt, and it had therefore been with utter contempt that he had agreed to teach her son.

He had told himself not to let his resentment flare up so easily, had in fact spent the better of ten minutes forcing himself to calmly breathe through his nose and keep his cool mask right before Potter had arrived, but a few minutes alone with the boy were enough to tear his defences down.

It wasn´t his attitude towards the Potions Professor alone, it was his sheer being: he was too much like Lily, but every time Snape tried to concentrate on catching the essence of what had been her, in a vain attempt to numb the pain about her loss which was still as raw and terrible as though it had been on the day before, Potter did something, or say something, which could have been uttered by the imbecile that had been his father.

It was frustating, to say the least, and Snape for his part had had it with the boy.

He knew he had to forget his own qualms however, as the Occlumency lessons were serving for the greater good, as he was sure Dumbledore would have said. Therefore, he had tried to strictly concentrate on the lesson, surprised by how much past mysery the Golden Boy was actually harbouring.

Yet there had been something else, a whiff of quite the opposite: something, someone, who was presently occupying a rather large part of the boy´s mind.

Potter had managed to yank away before he could delve deeper, however, so he did not have a face to match. He smirked; it did not matter. He would find out one way or the other.

The next morning started off dull and grey; despite their worries Harry and Draco had slept soundly and groaned annoyedly when the alarm went off far too early. Both of them were still tired when they trudged down to the Great Hall with the other Gryffindors, but were pulled out of their drowsy state as soon as Hermione had received her copy of the Daily Prophet.

She yelped, drawing the attention of everyone in the vicinity towards her without even noticing: there had been a mass breakout of Azkaban.

Harry´s mind was reeling: this was the explanation for Voldemort´s happiness, nine of his most devoted followers being on the run.

Feeling shaky, he began to read the article.

His initial trepidation soon turned into anger, however: “I don´t believe it,” he hissed, balling his hands into fists. According to the article, the Minister was blaming Sirius for the incident, claiming that he as the first person to ever manage to escape from the fortress, must have helped the group.

Harry was still shaking with helpless fury; he felt the urge to run upstairs and find the two-way mirror Sirius had given him when they had left Grimmauld Place: “This way you can talk to me whenever you like and without being watched,” he had said, a sad smile on his face. Harry was already missing him, and he had not liked the thought of leaving his godfather alone in his dark old house, especially after the holidays.

He wanted to talk to Sirius now, let himself be reassured by the older wizard.

He was halfway on his feet already when Ron laid a hand on Harry´s arm, looking at him warningly, as though he had read Harry´s mind: “Don´t do something rash,” he said. “Umbridge is watching already.”

Harry allowed himself to be pulled back down, but he couldn´t stop himself from looking over at the High Inquisitor. She had put on a stony face that morning, apparently not taking in the news too well; her eyes met Harry´s however, as though she had sensed his gaze, and without thinking, he smirked at her.

He didn´t care wether she´d get back at him for that at one point, the opportunity was simply too good to miss. And it did have the effect he had been aiming for: her cheeks flushed, and her expression turned to anger.

Smirking once more, Harry turned back to his table, inexplicably feeling better due to this cheap victory, and suddenly being ravenous as well.

He reached out for a piece of toast and found someone handing him the plate: it was Finn, who in turn had been watching Harry. He raised one eyebrow and smirked as well, his eyes telling him that he had seen the small but deliberate act of defiance, and that he approved of it.

It didn´t mean that he wasn´t terrified by the news, but he could see that Harry´s will to give them a run for their money was imperturbable, and it calmed him immensely. He would stick to his promise to help, Draco thought, no matter what.

That evening, the atmosphere in the Gryffindor Common Room was unusually subdued. Neville had gone to bed right after classes, and had skipped dinner; one of the escaped Death Eaters was Bellatrix Lestrange after all, the very woman who had tortured his parents into insanity.

Back in Grimmauld Place, Harry had told Draco about the Longbottoms; he hadn´t been able to shake the images of St Mungo´s Closed Ward off, and needed to talk about it.

Draco couldn´t but feel bad for Neville either, but additionally, he felt ashamed of course. Or rather, once again, he mused darkly, drooping his head at the awareness of what a jerk he had been. Neville had been on the receiving end of his taunting from the very first day; he had not known about his parents, and had not cared.

He was sitting with Malcolm while everyone was doing their homework or talking quietly, but could not concentrate. After an hour of fiddling around with his quill, he got up: “Excuse me,” he murmured. “I´m going upstairs.”

Malcolm nodded, eyeing him attentively: “You all right?” he asked in an undertone.

Draco nodded: “Just tired,” he murmured and left, hoping that his “twin” wouldn´t follow him. Malcolm suspected that Draco was quite shaken by the news about the Azkaban breakout, thus he didn´t stop him. He would look in on him later.

Slowly, Draco climbed the stairs, unsure wether he was entitled to do this, but when he quietly opened the door to the dorm, he could hear someone crying right away. Draco´s stomach clenched; he could imagine what the other boy was going through, and he wanted to show him that he was not alone, just like someone had done for him.

Neville curled up on his side and tried to muffle his sobs when he heard that someone was entering; he had drawn his bed hangings close, but they didn´t shut out sounds, after all.

To his surprise, the soft steps he could hear seemed to stop right next to him, and a moment later, a hesitant voice called his name: “Neville? It´s me, Finn.”

Neville had been determined to ignore anyone who might try and talk to him, yet the concern he heard in Finn´s voice was overwhelming.

“´m in here,” he hiccuped, without turning; a moment later, the mattress shook ever so slightly, and then he felt a hand on his shoulder, making his breath hitch. He was embarrassed and ashamed to break down like that.

“It´s okay,” Finn however said tentatively, “it´s okay to cry.” And his voice was so soft and understanding that Neville freshly dissolved into tears; his whole body shook, but the hand stayed, a comforting and reassuring presence in the otherwise dark night.

Harry was also brooding rather than doing his homework; even Hermione did not insist that he had to try and keep up for once, but looked downtrodden herself. After a while, she impatiently shoved her quill aside, got up and began pacing between their seats and the nearest window, wordlessly.

Ron and Harry exchanged a look: if their friend was interrupting her homework, she was seriously distressed.

“Hermione, “ Ron began, searching for words to cheer her up or calm her down or, preferably, both, yet when he started to speak, she halted in front of the window and stared outside, her shoulders stiffening.

Before Ron could end his sentence, she suddenly turned around and stared at them with a new spark in her eyes: “Here´s something to brighten things up,” she said in an undertone, but with an unmistakably cheer in her voice. “Hagrid´s back!”

Twenty minutes later, Hermione, Ron and Harry were trudging through the snow towards Hagrid´s hut.

Harry thought of the last time he had done this, and with whom, and felt his heart beat faster.

When he had gone up to the dormitory in order to get his Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder´s Map, he had seen Finn sitting with Neville, who had still been sobbing hadn´t said a word, only looked at Finn with longing in his eyes, and the other boy had acknowledged it with a tiny smile.

Harry told himself that Draco was only helping Neville, yet despite this better knowledge he felt a pang of jealousy and was therefore glad to have his friends to distract him.

Hagrid seemed reluctant to let them in at first, the reason of which being obvious the minute he opened the door: his face looked maimed, having bloody cuts and bruises all over it. He didn´t want to tell them what had happened, and muttered something like nosy and interfering under his breath while he made tea, but in the end admitted that they had been guessing correctly and he´d been away looking for giants, together with Madame Maxime from Beauxbatons.

Harry had to remind himself that it had been Dumbledore who had sent Hagrid on this mission, and that he had been very aware of the risks, yet what the half-giant told them now sounded like something from a nightmare rather than a true story, and Harry realized once more how devoted Hagrid was to their Headmaster.

They were vividly discussing the matter when someone unexpectedly knocked on the door. After a moment of petrified horror, Harry, Ron and Hermione quickly gathered under the Invisibility Cloak while Hagrid hid their mugs.

Hogwarts´ High Inquisitor was standing outside, eyeing Hagrid with a look she might otherwise have spared for something unpleasant underneath her shoe.

She then introduced herself, confusing poor Hagrid, who had had no way to have heard of her before, and slowly stepped further into the cabin, all the while scanning the room as though expecting to find someone else: “I heard someone talking,” she said all of sudden, clearly hoping to catch the Gamekeeper by surprise.

“That´s me, always talkin´ ter Fang, ya see,” Hagrid said.

Umbridge raised her eyebrow at that: “There were several sets of footprints in the snow,” she pointed out.

Ron, Harry and Hermione were in cold sweat while the toadlike woman continued her interrogation. Hagrid, though clearly baffled, managed to dodge most of her questions somehow, yet it must be clear that something was off; not the best way to start, Harry thought gloomily, feeling bad for getting his friend into trouble.

When they finally got back to the castle, it was with a dull feeling instead of the initial excitement about Hagrid´s return; after Umbridge had left, dropping a line about how the Ministry was planning on getting rid of “unsatisfactory teachers”, as she put it.

The threat behind those words was so obvious that Hermione pleaded with Hagrid to keep his lessons as plain as possible when he said he had saved something “very special” for that year, but he wouldn´t listen to her.

He didn´t seem to have realized the extent of Umbridge´s influence yet, which only added to the list of worries they were currently nursing.

It was dark and silent in the dormitory when they came in.

With a sigh of relief, Harry crawled into his bed. He very nearly dozed off immediately, but then wrapped himself into his Invisibility Cloak once more and snuck over to Draco´s bed.

His boyfriend shifted a little and held up the blankets for Harry to slip under when he joined him.

Shivering, Harry snuggled against the warm body, and his mouth found Draco´s for a tender kiss: “Hey you,” he whispered.

Draco rubbed the tip of his nose against his, which was cold: “Where´ve you been?” he murmured.

Harry told him about the visit at Hagrid´s; when he came to the part about Umbridge, he felt Draco´s grip around himself tighten. And he knew it wasn´t just because of her, but because of everything that day had brought.

“How´s Neville?” he asked eventually, still too agitated to sleep.

Draco sounded a little sleepy already: “Took a long time to calm down,” he murmured, slowly running his fingers through Harry´s hair. “He´s angry, and feeling helpless... does that ring a bell?”

Harry gave a somewhat shaky laugh.

“Maybe he´ll feel better once we continue with the DA,” he replied softly.

“I hope so... he needs something to look forward to.”

Harry, feeling a sudden rush of affection, reached up and caressed Draco´s cheek: “I´m so glad to have you,” he whispered.

He could feel Draco´s smile against his palm: “And I´m glad to have you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss into Harry´s hand.

“We´ll all get through this,” Harry muttered softly. “Somehow.”

But he was especially grateful that he did not have to do it alone. Contrary to his initial apprehension had Draco not shied back from after they had had sex, but their bond rather seemed to get stronger every day.

He listened to Draco´s quiet breathing as the blond boy finally fell asleep, and his thoughts returned to Sirius once more, wishing that he could have someone to be there for him as well.

As long as he was trapped in the old house that was hardly possible, though; once again, Harry pondered the circumstances life put them all in until his thoughts began to stray and he finally succumbed to his tiredness.

Minutes later, he was fast asleep.

To Be Continued