Bleed Me An Ocean

Hurry, hurry, have to hurry, was Harry's only thought as he tore from the room to get help for Draco. He had seen Draco's swollen, beaten face and that had been enough to make the breath hitch sharply in his chest. Then he had seen the slender finger that jutted at such a terrible angle and the feeling of choking on air was there again. He strangled on it then. Lucius, it seemed, had nearly beat the pale boy to death.

Stopping in front of the still snoozing Fat Lady, Harry yelled at her to wake up, even going so far as to viciously rattle her frame. "Get up, you fat lard! Up!!"

With a snort and a grunt, she opened one eye to glare at the panting young man. "How rude of you, mister! Just who do you think you are?"

Not bothering to respond, Harry only barked the password at her so loud it echoed in the otherwise silent hallway. The painting swung open with another grumpy admonishment about rudeness in today's youth. Harry barely heard her question as he pelted through the hole. "What happened to your face?" was a faint echo as he took a sharp turn and began to run up the stairs to the girl's dormitory. Taking the steps two at a time, sometimes jumping three at a go, he arrived shortly. He scanned the sleeping faces until he saw Hermione's bush of brown curls peeking over her comforter.

He went to her then and shook her in much the same fashion as he had the Fat Lady's portrait. She woke fairly quickly to his frantic shaking. Instantly alert, she sat bolt upright in her bed, taking in Harry's bruised face and worried, panicked eyes.

"Harry, what's wrong? What's happened?"

"Get up, Hermione, you have to come with me right now. It's Draco, he's hurt," Harry choked out, gasping for the breath that just wouldn't seem to come.

"But Harry -" Hermione started, only to be halted by Harry tugging her anxiously from her warm nest of a bed.

"Come on, Hermione! No time for that. He's really hurt. Please," Harry pleaded, stopping to look at her. The pain in his face, the sheer terror and worry was enough to get her moving. Not even bothering with slippers, she told him to lead the way.

Harry turned on his heel and was off running again. Hermione hastily snatched her wand and followed as closely behind as her sleepy body would allow. Her mind was alert and sharp as ever, she just hadn't shaken off the lingering remnants of sleep that clung stubbornly to her muscles. She could hear Harry just ahead of her muttering shakily that they had to hurry; had to get back to Draco. Her brow creased in concern. Harry, usually so steady was nearly a wreck that morning and to say the least, she was beginning to get a little scared herself.

Managing to catch up to Harry in the corridor she asked him questions that received no response. As they finally slowed enough to open the door to the room, she grabbed Harry's arm, making him stop as he turned the knob. Looking him over quickly, but carefully, she saw that he was drunk and had apparently been in one hell of a brawl. Her face fell as she looked at him closer. "Harry, what have you done to him? Did you two have a fight?"

"What?" Harry squawked, his eyes going wide at what she was suggesting. As it sank in, he shook her off and opened the door. "Just help me, Hermione."

With a shake of her head, she followed him inside. Harry was looking around the room, worry lining his face even more. "Where is he?" Harry asked no one in particular.

Hermione only stood quietly, just inside of the door, trying to calm her pounding heart. Whatever had happened must've been bad. She spied the nearly empty bottle of liquor on the floor and her heart sank at what she thought Harry had done to Draco. She already knew they drank too much, and now this.

"Draco?" Harry called out as he walked further into the room. He didn't notice that both Hedwig and Dreizehn were seated near the trunks that sat in front of the fireplace. Nor did he notice them looking surreptitiously at the fireplace itself. An irritated hoot from Hedwig caught his attention. She cocked her white feathered head back at the fireplace, then looked at Harry. He still seemed confused, but Hermione was not.

Going to where the two animals sat expectantly she couldn't help but smile, but also wondered where Draco's own owl was. Figuring the location of the eagle owl was not in the least bit pertinent at the moment, she motioned for Harry to come over. Now that she was stooping directly in front of the trunks she could see the soft sheen of pale blonde hair. "Found him," she whispered to Harry who had come to crouch beside her.

"Thank Merlin," Harry rasped out as he started moving the trunks away from the fireplace.

Once the opening was uncovered, indeed, there was Draco. He had crammed his lean body into the tight space. He huddled against the far wall with his face turned away from the room. The position looked thoroughly uncomfortable, especially for one as tall as Draco. He looked a bit like a pretzel the way he was twisted around himself. "Draco, come out of there, please," Harry said softly, touching the silk sleeve of the shirt Lucius had conjured for him.

A barely perceptible shake of the blonde's head made Harry grit his teeth. He was furious with Lucius. It seemed he had finally done one hell of a number on the poor young man. Trying again, Harry sat on the floor and scooted closer to his lover.

"Please come out love. What are you doing in there anyway?"

"I woke up and you weren't here. I was scared, so I hid." came Draco's muffled reply.

"Well, I'm here now, so why don't you come out?"

"Because, there's someone else here, too. I heard her. Is it Hermione?"

"Yes," Hermione answered gently, her heart breaking a little bit at the defeated tone of voice. "Harry came to get me so I can try to help you. But, Draco, I can't help you if you stay sat in the fireplace all day."

"See, Draco, it's all fine, there's no one else here," Harry coaxed, at a total loss on how to get Draco out of the fireplace since he seemed quite adamant about staying there until Armageddon if need be. He tentatively reached out a hand to stroke the pale hair that fanned across the back of Draco's neck. The blonde twitched and whimpered a bit at the touch, then relaxed as he realized it was Harry.

"I don't want anyone to see me like this," he groaned against the rough stone. He was so ashamed of what had been done to him, having people looking at him seemed like the worst possible thing in the world at that moment.

Finally lighting on an idea that may work, but knowing Hermione would likely have a fit, Harry moved away from the fireplace and retrieved the bottle from where it sat by the chair. Walking back, he sat down and resituated himself a few feet from the fireplace. "Have a drink with me. Come on, Draco, you know how bad it sucks to drink alone."

Ignoring the disapproving look Hermione was giving him, Harry unscrewed the cap noisily, pleased to see the set of Draco's shoulders and head stiffen with attention. He sloshed the liquor around intentionally as he tilted the bottle back and drank loudly, making gulping sounds. Draco's head turned a bit and Harry grinned as he lowered the bottle with a loud, "Ahhh."

"Dirty tricks," Draco mumbled as he began to untangle himself from his cramped position.

Finally, he slithered from his spot in the fireplace, but refused to lift his head to look at Harry or Hermione. Laying on the floor, he stretched his arm out for the bottle. Upon doing so, he took notice of the shirt he was wearing. He hadn't even been aware that Lucius had clothed him again and the sight of the black silk clinging to his body made him loose a strangled cry as he shot to his feet.

Harry and Hermione jerked backwards, surprised at the sudden movement from the blonde. They looked on as he ripped the fine shirt off his body. With a sound of disgust he flung the now tattered garment to the floor and began to stomp it. The adrenaline coursing through his over-taxed system made the pain in his body obsolete as he screamed at the inanimate object he was pulverizing under his feet.

"Don't want that on me! Don't want that touching me! Don't want anything of his!" Draco squawled over and over.

Shaking himself out his shock, Harry grabbed the blonde around the waist and yanked him away. Pulling him close to him, Harry whispered softly in his ear, caressing his back. He felt Draco stiffen and let out another strangled cry of pain. It was at that moment he also heard Hermione's horrified whisper of "Oh my gods. Harry, what have you done to him?"

Harry released Draco and coaxed the once more docile blonde to turn around and gasped at what he saw. The Slytherin's back was a mess of gouged places and red welts that were turning into a blanket of bruises. Blood still oozed lazily from some of the cut places in his flesh. He covered his mouth with his hand in an effort to hold back the gasp that threatened to slip from his throat.

Then what Hermione had once more said to him clicked into place. He whirled on her with such rage in his eyes that she took two steps back as he stepped around Draco and stood between them. "You think I did this to him?? I would never, ever fucking hurt him! What kind of person do you think I am? Do I look like Ron to you? Hermione, how could you be so goddamned ignorant?" Harry continued to rant like that for a few more seconds before he screamed at her. "His fucking father did this to him!"

He stood there, his breath rasping harshly and teeth clenched tight, glaring at her. Draco stepped forward and buried his face between Harry's shoulders making a small, hurt sound in the back of his throat. He slid his arms around the brunette as he began to sob softly into the cloth of Harry's shirt. The blonde sagged against his lover in aching exhaustion. He just wanted to sleep for years, sleep until hell froze over. Then take a nap to celebrate that happening.

"I'm sorry, Harry, I just thought . . . Your face is all bruised and scratched up . . . I figured you two had been drinking and, you know, got into a fight. I really am sorry, please don't be angry with me," Hermione said, looking thoroughly ashamed of herself. She should've known better and couldn't believe that she had even entertained such a thought.

"Just help him, Hermione," Harry said, too tired to be angry anymore and even in his state, he realized just how easy it had been for her to draw that conclusion given the way they both looked. He grasped Draco's wrists somewhat tightly as he felt the taller boy begin to slide down his back, on the verge of unconsciousness yet again. "Let's get you to the bed."

He turned quickly, just in time to catch Draco who muttered faintly as he slid closer to the floor. Hoisting him up around his waist, Harry winced as Draco yelped a little. With a resigned sigh, Harry stooped a bit and gathered the nearly comatose bundle into his arms. Cradling the battered form close to him, Harry went to the bed once more and laid him down, this time having the presence of mind to place him on his side.

Hermione snapped back to herself and strode to where Harry stood over Draco, brushing his tangled hair out of his face. Draco slept fitfully, trembling and jerking. She observed that how, even in his sleep, he swiped anxiously at his mouth over and over again. "Harry, if I am going to look him over properly, we need to undress him. Not totally, but I need to see what condition his legs are in as well. If that," she waved her hand at the bruises and skinned places on Draco's front and back, "Is any indication of what the rest of his body looks like, I don't know how much I can do."

Harry just nodded dumbly and began unfastening Draco's pants as Hermione removed his shoes. Soon he lay on the bed in just his boxers as Harry and Hermione both looked on, aghast at the horrible condition of his body. It was pitifully beaten, the skin having split under the force of a boot or ringed hand in places. His palms were scraped raw, looking like ground meat in some areas. But the worst of it all for Harry was Draco's broken finger. It made him want to leave the room right then, hunt Lucius Malfoy down and break his fingers.

Hermione looked Draco over carefully as he slept on, oblivious to what was happening around him. He moaned in his sleep and Harry was angered even further as he saw tears slipping over Draco's high, fine cheekbones once more. It made him sick to think about what Draco had been through the previous night; that he'd had to go it all alone with no one there to comfort him or even try to protect him.

"Harry, will you tell me what happened?" Hermione's voice brought Harry's attention back to the present.

With a weary sigh, Harry began to speak, leaving nothing out. Hermione only listened as she looked at the footprint shaped bruises on Draco's thighs. He stomped him, she thought, revolted at the cruelty and violence Draco must've suffered. The older scars on the blonde's body hadn't gone unnoticed either and she had to wonder about those.

They were different. She thought she knew what caused them, and it made her even sadder to think. Harry really had been right, the Draco Malfoy everyone thought they knew all those years was nothing like the Draco Malfoy that really was. It was then that she truly accepted his role in Harry's life, and Harry's role in his. They needed each other, she thought, and they loved each other immensely. She was glad of it, but she also knew Draco needed more help than she could give him. The damage was just too great and she was no healer.

After Harry finished, she took a moment to absorb all that he'd said. His voice was hoarse and it crackled with emotion. She realized just how upset the events of the previous night had made him. She couldn't blame him one bit, either. But she had to know something. "Harry, why didn't you go to someone for help?"

"Because we would've been expelled, Hermione, you know that."

"I think, in this case, you likely wouldn't have been. In trouble, oh yes, but expelled, no. Although, sneaking out of school to go hang out at some rough pub may've made them consider it." She conceded.

"I think I would have been kicked out of school on my arse, especially since I have managed to cause quite a bit of damage this year. Even more than usual," he finished with small laugh.

She grinned in response as all of their adventures through the years flashed through her head. "You may be right, but, look Harry, that's not important right now. What's important is getting Draco back together, he's in a lot of pain as I'm sure you know. There's not much I can do, either, we need someone with more experience at healing than I've got. Not only that, but he needs something for the pain as well. There's naught I can do there. We need potions for that."

"Potions . . ." Harry mused, then with another sigh, he told her, "Go get Snape. He can help us. Just hurry up."

As though to punctuate Harry's last statement, Draco screamed as he rolled over onto his back. Jerking awake, he forced himself to sit up. Harry immediately went to him, soothing him with soft words and a hand on the back of his neck, gently kneading the tense muscles. Draco insistently pulled Harry down to sit beside him. As soon as Harry was seated, he settled a little. Laying back down, he turned and tucked his face into Harry's muscled stomach. "Shhh. We're going to take care of you. Hermione's fixing to go get Professor Snape and it'll be all better soon. I'll make sure of it."

Hermione still stood where she was, unsure. "Snape? SNAPE? He hates us, Harry."

"He doesn't hate Draco, though. And I don't think he hates me as much as he used to. Just go get him Hermione. He's the only other person I can think of that won't run straight to Dumbledore with this and you know as well as I do that something has to be done. Neither you or I have the experience or knowledge to do it."

"Ok, if you're sure. He's still not going to be thrilled about being woken up so early."

"He'll come," Harry said in a strained voice as he pulled Draco's rigid form closer to his warmth. His lover was obviously awake, though just barely, and Harry didn't know if it was the pain or the trauma that was taking the hardest toll on him. He was sure it was a combination of both. Draco's washed out silver eyes were just a sliver of color as he stared unblinking at Harry's dark green shirt. His gaze was hollow and empty; the light that used to flicker from his soul had dimmed into nothingness. It killed Harry.

As Hermione turned to leave, she paused for a second. "Harry, you need to cast a glamour on yourself and hide that stuff," she gestured at the whiskey, "before I get back with Snape. You also need to make sure Dreizehn is out of sight. He may be willing to provide assistance, but knowing that you're drunks with an illegal pet won't make him more amiable about it. You know this. And seeing you all beat up is going to cause more questions than there'll already be."

"Drunks? Thanks, Herm." Harry spoke dryly. "Could you give me that then so I can put it in the nightstand? I don't want to disturb Draco."

"I suppose," she said, giving Harry a doubtful look and wondering just how quickly he would put it away. As she picked the bottle up, she fought the urge to turn it upside down and pour the booze out. However, that would only serve to exacerbate the situation and besides, she was pretty sure they had more stashed somewhere. They'd only drink that instead and Harry'd be pissed at her to boot. She hadn't given up on having that talk with the green eyed young man though and as soon as circumstances allowed for it, she intended to have a nice long chat with Mr. Harry James Potter. She grudgingly handed him the bottle then left the room to fetch the Potions Master.

As he waited, Harry tried to get Draco to talk to him a little bit. "What happened, Draco? Do you want to talk about it?"

No response. The blonde just stared as his eyes clouded over with the memories.

"Answer me, please. Here, have a drink, we've got a few minutes," Harry coaxed, doing the best he could think to do as he waved the bottle before those terribly blank eyes.

Draco tentatively took the bait and propped himself up just enough to tilt the bottle back to drink hungrily. "That's good." he whispered in his raw voice.

"I know. I know," Harry said. "Have some more, it'll help with the pain."

Draco scrubbed his hand ruthlessly across his mouth, trying to believe what Harry said, but he nearly gagged at the taste he swore was still there. Taking another huge gulp of whiskey, his mind started to go blank in an ever so pleasant way. The whiskey would wash the filth away, just like Harry would keep the hurt at bay. He drank more, and more, then more. Harry only watched the desperate way he clutched the neck of the bottle; the way his slender throat worked as he swallowed.

It made Harry so sad to watch him drink in such a way. He was used to watching Draco drink, that was never a problem, but the way he was swallowing the liquor now was different, somehow it was wrong. It was like he was clinging to the whiskey and to Harry like they were the only two things keeping him alive at the moment. And, Harry reckoned, maybe they were. He blinked back more tears that threatened to fall. He was sick to death of weeping and moaning. It was time for something more and he needed to be strong for Draco. If he had to cry, then he would do it later.

"Care to share that?" Harry inquired.

"Sorry," Draco said as he pulled the bottle away from his mouth and thrust it at Harry.

"It's ok," Harry said, taking it and giving Draco a funny look as he went back to wiping his mouth furiously. "Do you want to talk about what happened yet? Tell me what he did to you."

"Hurt me. He hurt me," was all Draco said before he laid his head back down, a little higher up this time, on Harry's chest. His eyes slid closed as he listened to the steady thump of Harry's heartbeat and lost himself in the rhythm. Soon he was dozing once again, leaving Harry even more puzzled. He knew that Lucius had hurt him, that was apparent, but there was something else about Draco's behavior that he couldn't put his finger on. It disturbed him greatly though. Something about that violent scrubbing of his mouth set off alarms in Harry's head, but he couldn't name the source for it causing him such upset. Taking a final swallow of whiskey, he relented and put it in the bedside table drawer and worked his wand out of his pocket.

After the glamour was in place, Harry pulled the comforter around them and settled back into the mattress with the reassuring weight of Draco's sleeping body next to him. As an afterthought, he grabbed his wand again and uttered a spell to untangle Draco's beautiful hair. He'd learned it a couple of years back when he'd, in vain, thought of trying to make his own unruly locks cooperate. The spell had worked just fine for all of an hour and a half. He had since resigned himself to having perpetually messy hair and he was fine with that. It suited him.

Laying back once more, Harry threaded his fingers through Draco's satiny white-blonde hair.

He'd hated seeing Draco's lovely hair in such a mess. It was more unkempt these days, no doubt, but it still flowed beautifully and having seen it in such matted clumps had torn at something in Harry's chest. Everything was all so very wrong that he was finding it difficult to cope with the overwhelming occurences of late. It made him feel a little better to have been able to at least right one of the many, many wrongs he could do nothing about.

He was just starting slip into a light doze himself when the door was flung open for the second time that morning.

He nearly fell off the bed as he was assaulted by a barrage of questions from the ever-scowling Snape as he strode swiftly into the room. His face looked strained, but otherwise he seemed no different. "What is this? Why have I been . . . summoned . . . at this hour to attend to you two?"

"Hermione didn't tell you?" Harry asked, looking around the professor to see her standing back a bit, looking rather shaken.

"Miss. Granger simply insisted that I come at once due to an emergency with one or the other of you," Snape said shortly. "Pounding on my door at this hour, it had better be something good, Mr. Potter."

Harry pressed his lips into a thin line. "Sir, if it were anything good, then we wouldn't need your help." Without saying anything further he threw the comforter back to reveal Draco who had until then been hidden beneath it, his head still propped on Harry's chest.

A sharp intake of breath from the professor was proof of his shock. Harry looked him over carefully, at once pleased and dismayed to see the usually unflappable Snape gaping in horror at the blonde. "What in the name of all that is holy happened to him?" he breathed.

"Lucius Malfoy happened to him." Harry grated the name out between teeth that were once more clenched in fury. He felt a strange tingling in his body for a moment, then it faded away. He paid it no mind. "Lucius found him, took him and then did THIS to him. Loving father, huh?" Harry's voice was bitter as he snapped out the last bit.

"My gods," Snape said as he wiped his forehead absently. "What do you need me to do?"

"Fix him. He's hurt too badly for me and Hermione to do anything," Harry said. "The bastard even broke one of his fingers."

Harry lifted the finely boned hand that was draped across his ribs and showed the professor the swelled, twisted digit.

"I always wondered, but I never knew. Lucius . . . his temper with Draco has always been rather . . . short," Snape said, actually looking a bit sad. "But I really didn't think that he would do something like this to his son. Why did he take him? Furthermore, how did he take him? Don't tell me he just stormed in Hogwarts and snatched him away."

"No sir, he didn't. How he got to him isn't what is important though, helping Draco is. His father nearly beat him to death, sir," Harry said softly. "And just so you know, this isn't the first time Lucius has attacked him. He's been doing it since he was a little kid."

"I would advise you to not avoid my questions, young man. I will have an answer from you, Potter!" Snape snarled. Being angry was better than letting on how much it pained him to see Draco in such a state, all due to his own father's cruel hand.

"You will have nothing from me until you do something for him," Harry snapped back, his eyes hard and a determined set to his jaw. "He needs healing more than you need any kind of an answer. Please, sir, help him."

Snape's eyes narrowed a bit at the tone of voice Potter had used with him. He was a live wire, just waiting to snap. "Very well, you may be right," Snape said, placating the youth for the time being. He had ways of getting answers and would have them one way or another. "You're going to have to get out from under him and help me lay him flat on his stomach, if you please. I need full access to his back. Are these wounds I can see on his shoulder all or are there more? I am wagering the answer is the latter."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, gently sliding from beneath Draco. He moaned weakly as he felt Harry leaving him. His pale eyes fluttered open, only to widen with fear as he saw Professor Snape there. Harry saw and quickly told him, "I told you he was coming Draco, it's ok. He's here to help you. Please don't be afraid."

"He'll tell Father," Draco whimpered.

"I'll do no such thing," Snape said with vehemence. "What that man has done to you is an abomination, Draco."

"Draco you have to roll over now so he can see your back," Hermione said as she came to stand near the foot of the bed, her curiosity and concern winning out over her desire to stay as far away from the ill-tempered teacher as she could.

After a moment's hesitation, Draco did as she asked, his face twisting in self loathing and shame. He waited as they looked him over, drifting in and out of reality and the other place he had made for himself in his head. Try as he might though, he couldn't stay in that safe, warm room where he lay with Harry. He was always rudely yanked back to the here and now where he could still feel his father's hands on him and his . . . thing . . . sliding roughly down his throat. He shuddered uncontrollably and buried his face in the soft down of the mattress, trying with all of his might to stamp out reality. Take this world away and give me a new one, he pleaded silently in his head and right after that he arched his back off the bed as Snape touched one of the wounds on his back.

"Hold him down you two! Do as I say!" Snape yelled out.

Harry and Hermione both complied readily, she grasped Draco's legs with all her might as Harry once more sat on the bed in front of Draco to brace his own weight against Draco's arms. It was then that Harry realized something was missing as he held the thrashing blonde down.

There was no music playing. He vaguely remembered turning the stereo off before they'd left the previous evening. He released Draco long enough to point his wand at the stereo and turn it back on. He thought that maybe, just maybe, if Draco could hear something familiar; something that had always brought him so much pleasure, perhaps he would calm down a little bit. The music may serve as some semblance of a distraction from the torment he was having to endure just to try and get well again.

Resetting his firm grasp on Draco he watched as Snape prodded the same wound with a sick look of disgust on his face. As the music roared out of the speakers, he turned his head to glare at Harry with unveiled irritation.

Harry answered the glare with, "He loves music, sir. I thought if he could hear something like this, he may feel a little better."

Draco quivered in Harry's grasp and before Snape could go back to doing whatever it was he'd been doing to Draco's back, Harry took the opportunity to whisper to him. "Hush now. It'll all be over soon. Listen. Can you hear the music? I want you to listen to it, Draco. Just the music. Remember how you told me that sometimes you can just lose yourself in it? That's what I need you to do for me right now. Drift in the sea for me."

Draco nodded and tried to bury his face in the side of Harry's leg. Harry shifted around enough to let him, resisting the urge to let go of his arms and caress him, comfort him in some way. He cried out again as Snape went back to the wound from earlier, his brow furrowed in concentration, as the blonde screamed into Harry's leg. It was too much.

"Just what the fuck are you doing to him?" Harry yelled out, his own voice catching in his throat with a strange click. "You're torturing him!"

"I am doing no such thing," Snape responded, strangely calm. "There's something in this wound and I am trying to retrieve it without using my wand. I don't know what it could be and if it's been cursed, using magic to pull it out could cause more harm than good. And please watch your language, Mr. Potter."

Hermione gulped from her place at the foot of the bed, craning her neck to see. "Lucius wouldn't do something like that to him would he?"

"From what I have seen here this morning, I would put nothing past that vile fucker," Snape hissed.

Hermione and Harry only exchanged surprised glances at hearing their professor use such foul language. They were still staring at each other, trying with all their might to hold down the twitching, jerking blonde. Draco was trying to do what Harry asked, but he could feel the professor's fingers poking the wound, or something that was in it, apparently. Each time the man's finger touched it, it ground into his flesh, scraping the raw wound even more. Then it was gone, blissfully, miraculously gone. He went limp as the pain ceased its screeching crescendo and settled back to the sharp ache he'd already grown somewhat accustomed to by then.

He heard Professor Snape softly say from somewhere that seemed a thousand miles away, "Got it."

Snape held his hand out, palm up to reveal a sharp piece of bloody, deep green stone with black stripes on it. A piece of the malachite from the cat o' nine tails Lucius had used to flog his son with. It had come loose from the strand it was attached to and had embedded itself in Draco's back, just beneath the shoulderblade.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"The stone is malachite, why it's in his back, I do not know. Although I have an idea," Snape said flatly before asking Draco with surprising gentleness, "Did he whip you, Draco?"

A muffled response from the vicinity of Harry's thigh.

"What?" Harry asked him, straining to hear what he was trying to say.

He moved his head a little bit away from Harry and repeated, "Yes. A whip, one of the kind with lots of strands. I used to know what it was called, but I forgot. It had rocks on the ends of it."

"Rocks like this?" Snape asked, holding the stone where Draco could see it.

A quick nod was all he got before Draco once more hid his face against Harry. Hermione looked like she was going to throw up as she thought of what kind of a sick mind could come up with something like that, something so utterly inhumanly hateful to do to their child that she nearly gagged at the thought. Snape just shook his head, at a loss for words, though he would've been surprised to know that he and Hermione were thinking very much the same thing.

"Well, now that I know what it is and it seems to just be a stone, nothing more, I can use my wand to remove the other pieces," Snape said. "But first, I am going to retrieve something for the pain. If I had been informed of what was going on from the get go, I could have been a bit more prepared." He directed a very pointed look at Hermione who flushed hotly under the accusing glare.

"I apologize, Professor Snape," she said meekly, but held his gaze.

"Hmph," was his response. Turning back to Harry he said, "Keep him comfortable and keep him still. I'll return shortly with the necessary items."

Then, with the infamous snap of his robes, he whirled and was gone before anyone could respond.

"Other pieces?" Harry said incredulously to Hermione, who still looked pale. "Kali what has he done to him?"

"A lot," was Draco's dead answer as he shifted once more to lay his head on the top of Harry's leg and gaze up at him with equally dead eyes.

Harry looked down at the otherwise eerily still blonde, a bit surprised. He was sure he'd fallen asleep on him again, which he needed to do. They all needed sleep, including Hermione, she looked whipped, too. Harry figured she likely hadn't got much sleep the night before since she was prone to sitting up all night reading or studying.

There was just the barest hint of life in the blonde's eyes and it seemed to all be directed at Harry, crushing him beneath its somber weight. He longed to be able to do something to reignite the spark in Draco's faded watercolor eyes, anything to make them sparkle with laughter, or to glaze in pleasure instead of pain. For the time being though, he was lost. He could think of nothing to do other than to just be there for him, to hold him and coax him back. Because to Harry, he seemed virtually dead right then and it terrified him.

"Like what, Draco?" Hermione questioned him from the end of the bed. She saw his hand creeping back up to his mouth and suddenly, the possibility of what was making him do that hit her like a ton of bricks. Her eyes welled with unshed tears and she knew, just knew that she was right.

"Things, just things," Draco said absently, and she could practically hear the door to his secret shame slamming in her face; could almost hear the locks clicking into place as he bolted them away from being spoken aloud. Because he couldn't give voice to it, she didn't think, at least not yet. That wound, just like the multitude that littered his body was still too fresh.

She shook her head sadly and whispered angrily, "Jesus Christ!" as unbidden images stormed her imagination. She did not want to think about it. Hermione silently prayed that she was wrong, but somehow she didn't think that she was.

"What is it?" Harry asked, looking from her to Draco and back again, confused.

"Nothing, Harry, it's nothing. Don't worry about it," she said sadly, looking at Draco.

"Like hell it's not! What's wrong?" he asked again as he grabbed Draco's busily working hand and pulled it away from the blonde's mouth with considerable effort.

Catching his eyes, Hermione mouthed one word to him: "Later."

Thankfully, Snape chose that moment to barge back into the room, a pouch clutched in his hand. The small clinking sounds from inside showed that it held potions, several judging by the looks of the bag. Spelling the door shut and locking it without even asking if they wanted him to, Snape turned back to the three young people. He looked grim at the task ahead of him, but self assured. He was no healer, either, but he knew more than a few spells that were sufficient. Not only that, he knew potions and those were always handy.

"Give him this," Snape said, shoving a phial of bright orange liquid into Harry's hand without ceremony. "It's for the pain. He shouldn't feel even a twinge with that in his system, though all of his other senses will be alert."

Harry shook Draco gently to get his attention. "Professor Snape says you should take this. It'll make the pain go away."

Draco took the phial, then promptly dropped it since his hands were shaking so badly, not to mention, he'd used the hand with the broken finger. "Sorry," he mumbled shamefully as he rooted around for the phial.

"Don't worry about it, love. I'll take care of it for you," Harry said kindly as he retrieved the phial and pulled the stopper from it. "Just tilt your head back for me so you can swallow it, alright?"

Draco didn't say anything, he just did as Harry asked him to. As soon as he swallowed, he felt a soft warmth begin to spread through his limbs as the cinnamony flavor of the potion coated his tongue. Soon, he felt no pain at all and was thankful. He said so to Professor Snape, although he was once more looking dejectedly at the wall.

"You are welcome, Draco," Snape said to him, knowing who he was talking to all the same.

Snape was just as unsettled by the impassive, no-one's-home, stare as Harry and Hermione were. Trying to ignore it, he grabbed his wand and used a spell to remove three more pieces of malachite from Draco's back. He sneered at the jagged chunks of stone before he vanished them from sight to go who knew where. Straight to hell, hopefully.

It was over an hour before Snape was through tending to Draco. His finger had been set back to rights, a spell cast on it to make the swelling go down and a makeshift Muggle-type splint placed on it. The professor had done a fine job of removing many of the bruises and fading the ones that were too bad to get rid of entirely. There had been little to be done for his back since the wounds were so deep; the bruising too extensive, though he had done what he could do with such limited resources.

About halfway through the process Draco, who had dozed off, woke up screaming and flailing before turning his head to retch dryly onto the floor. He had nothing in his stomach, so he just heaved until Harry had fully pulled him back onto the bed with the help of a rather alarmed Snape. Hermione had looked on with sad eyes as Draco'd started to claw his mouth again, a terrified whine resonating from his sore throat.

Harry had once more wrenched Draco's hand away from his mouth, asking him why he was doing that, which had only served to make the blonde shake even harder than he already had been. He trembled so hard it almost looked as though he were having seizures. The action was enough to draw the concern of Snape again as well for the professor was soon moving quietly into a better position to watch him. The once proud Slytherin shuddered and trembled, his eyes screwed tightly shut while his teeth dug into his bottom lip.

To Snape it looked as if the boy was reliving a far worse nightmare behind his closed eyes than he had been told. Suddenly, Draco's pale eyelids snapped open, his face contorting into a grimace of horror and disgust as his normally silver tinted eyes washed slate grey in awful remembrance. Snape's curiosity and concern led him to come up with a last minute plan. If no one was willing to tell him what exactly had happened to Draco, then he'd find out his way. Admittedly, he was reluctant to do such a thing to the blonde, but whatever had been done to him seemed to be doing a sufficient job of driving the young man quite mad.

As luck would have it, Draco's traumatized gaze locked with Professor Snape's inscrutable black eyes at that moment. In that split second, Snape's wand flicked and his lips moved almost soundlessly as he whispered, "Legilimens."

The Potions professor gasped as the images whipped through Draco's mind. Lucius apparating them away from what appeared to be Hogsmeade, the look of horror in Harry's eyes as Draco turned to look at him, the whip and the sound of the blonde's screams as he stared at the wall, frozen with agony and fear. Lucius's contemptuous voice saying "You're a mess, a fucking mess."

Then he saw Draco being dragged forcibly to where Lucius sat calmly with a cruel light in his lead colored eyes; saw Draco deposited roughly beside his father. A gap. Then Lucius was turning and Draco went rigid. Snape shook his head then as another image flooded the boy's head, an image of he and Potter laying together in a cozy, sunny room. Suddenly it was over, Snape was back in the room with the three students, trying to piece together the fragmented images of what he'd seen.

It became apparent then that Draco was trying to block out what had happened, although he seemed to be failing as well since his terror was almost absolute. If he had erased the memories from his own mind, his emotional and mental state would've been far more stable than it currently was, at least for a time, either that or he'd have been more unresponsive than he already was; catatonic even. Building walls in ones head was a dangerous, although self preservatory practice. All walls fell eventually and the longer they were allowed to stand, the more awful the final collapse would be. Snape genuinely hoped that Draco wouldn't block them away from his mind successfully for his own sake.

The boy needed to talk about what had happened to him, yet he resolutely refused to do even that, which is what had led the professor to use Legilimency on him. But it seemed that Draco's own dissociative state had shoved the older man from his mind; he'd practiced Occlumency without even being aware of it. Snape's brow creased as he considered what he had been shown. The part beside Lucius's desk caused him a lot of concern. There had been something undeniably wrong (not to say the entire situation hadn't been) about it. Snape wasn't sure, but he could've sworn that - no - he would not think that.

He'd seen incorrectly, that was all, everything in Draco's head was moving at such a dizzying rate that he could've easily been mislead with all the blurring images. It would seem, at the rate the images moved, that Draco was also having a hard time processing all that had transpired, that he was desperately trying to sort out the images in his head even as he tried to repel them from memory.

"Sir?" Harry asked him anxiously, drawing him back to the current matter at hand, seemingly unaware of what Snape had just done. Which was for the better since Harry would have undoubtedly been furious with the teacher for being so underhandedly nosy.

Draco was giving him a strange look, but there was no accusation in it. He had likely felt the professor poking around his mind, but was too far out of it at the moment to really know anything for sure. The blonde sagged back down and buried his face against Harry's leg once more.

Snape pulled himself together and spoke to Harry. "I've done all I can really do, my healing knowledge is limited at best and since you all so doggedly refuse to take him to the infirmary, it'll have to do. I will come back soon with more potions for the pain and try to fade the worst of those bruises further after they've had time to heal on their own. Right now what you need to do is give him one of the sleeping potions I brought with me. These fitful dozes of his are doing him more harm than good, he's not even really resting."

"Yes, Professor Snape," Harry said as he looked through the pouch of potions until he found the cool blue sleeping draught.

Finding it, he nudged Draco who raised his head wearily and eyed the potion. "What's that?" He was so tired and wrung out he didn't even know a sleeping draught when he saw it. Harry told him what it was to humor him. "Ah. I knew that. Just can't seem to think. It's all so very noisy."

That statement was vaguely unsettling to Hermione and Snape, but Harry took it with a grain of salt comparitively, although it worried him the most probably. Draco did bad things when it got 'noisy' as he put it. "Just drink this and it'll be quiet again. You can finally get some sleep, Draco. You need to rest now."

"Mmm." Draco said as he allowed Harry to administer the potion. Soon his eyelids fluttered shut and he was sleeping, really sleeping. The tension leeched out of his body and he relaxed against Harry, breathing easily and calmly. Harry breathed a sigh of relief as the blonde slept peacefully for the first time that day.

Snape watched the two boys carefully, studiously avoiding Hermione who still stood at the end of the bed. He couldn't help but be irritated with her. She should've told him. Severus Snape hated being unprepared, and even worse, shocked. Which he had been. It was terribly shameful for that to occur. Miss. Granger, however, had made it happen though with her close-mouthed, yet panicked arrival. He made a note to criticize her harshly next class. That would teach her. He nodded to himself without even being aware, then decided to demand answers once more since Draco's scattered mind hadn't been of much use.

"I have provided enough potions for him to last a couple of days as I figure he will be having quite a lot of trouble with resting on his own for a while. I will bring more when I come to check on him. Now, Potter, please do regale me with the tale of how, exactly, Lucius got hold of Draco in order to do this to him. I believe I am entitled to some sort of explanation, whether or not you want to give it to me."

The man was right and Harry knew that, but he dreaded telling him anything at all. Snape was definitely going to get the carefully abridged version of the story, he just prayed that for once his lying skills were more up to par than they usually were. He chose his next few words with the utmost care, figuring he would say as much as possible using as few words as he could manage. Harry was also still alarmingly drunk, something Snape had not noticed in the turmoil of that morning as he'd been more focused on Draco, but now he was focused on Harry and it would be wise to control himself as much as possible.

With a nervous flick of his tongue over his lips, Harry took a deep breath and spoke. "We snuck out of the castle, professor. Last night after you let me go we went to Hogsmeade to see a live show. Draco loves music, almost obsessively, and I wanted to give him something to do. We spend so, so much time cooped up in this room nowadays that we needed to get away. I know it was stupid, it was rash, but we had to. Draco hates it here, and so do I."

Snape scowled. "I see. You do realize that leaving school grounds without permission is a highly frowned upon activity. You two could be in very serious trouble, Potter. Especially you considering the amount of trouble you've caused this term. Is that how Lucius found Draco?"

"Yes, sir, it is. He must've seen us leave the club and followed us or something. I had forgotten my wand. We were on our way back to get it when he grabbed Draco. I . . . I couldn't stop him." Harry shook his head sadly, filled to overflowing with guilt.

"It was a stupid thing of you two to do. You know how dangerous things are for you in particular, Potter. But it is done now, isn't it? Next time you feel like getting out for a bit, I suggest you take a walk around the school grounds instead." Snape scolded him, unable to keep the edge of anger out of his tone.

Yet, deep down, something else almost unfamiliar squirmed around. Pity. He felt terribly sorry for the two young men all of sudden. Their lives had indeed become an act of forced seclusion. It was a shameful way for them to have to live. His years at Hogwarts had been frightfully similar, but on far different grounds. He had never been popular or well liked, but they had. Until that year and their lives were turned upside down on their heads. Snape squashed the feeling and thought about what to say next.

"I think the Headmaster needs to be informed of this," he said.

"No! Please, sir, no!" Harry pleaded, his eyes wide. No one needed to know about all of this and Dumbledore's uncanny way of finding things out was the last thing Harry needed. He was certain the old man would manage to learn about more than what had happened to Draco. He'd find out about the drinking and Dreizehn, all manner of things he had no business knowing about. Snape was risky enough; Dumbledore was a kamikazee mission.

"Why are you so adamant about this?"

"Because," Harry licked his lips again, thinking as fast as his exhausted and soggy brain would allow. "Because if the Headmaster found out, he'd contact Lucius or someone else about all of this and then Draco would really be in for it then, wouldn't he? Do you honestly think Lucius Malfoy would go to jail for something like child abuse? They can't even keep him in prison for being a Death Eater and you know that. He'd skin Draco alive!"

Much to Snape's displeasure, he had to concede that Harry had a point. Albeit reluctantly, he relented. "This goes no further than this room then."

Relief washed over Harry then. Snape had agreed. He could've jumped for joy had he not been afraid he'd promptly fall over in the process. "Thank you, Professor Snape, thank you so much." He grinned at the still scowling professor and wondered if the man ever smiled. Shit, he wondered if he ever even considered smiling.

Choosing not to acknowledge Harry's thanks, Snape heaved a sigh and said, "Well, since I have done all I can do and gotten answers - finally - I believe I will be returning to my quarters and attempting to reclaim the sleep I was robbed of." As an afterthought he added, "If you need me again, come get me, but in the name of Merlin, do tell me what it's about this time!"

"Yes, sir," Harry and Hermione answered in unison.

The professor turned then and made his way to the door with quick strides. Stopping with his hand on the handle, he turned to Harry and Hermione. "Good day, Mr. Potter, Miss. Granger. Take care of him." With a curt nod, he turned back around, flung the door open and strode into the hall without so much as a second glance.

Harry and Hermione both sagged in relief at the professor's departure. While they were both glad he'd been willing to help Draco, the man never failed to put them both on edge like no other person on Earth could. He was, all in all, nerve wracking. Dreizehn scooted from beneath the bed where he'd been hiding the entire time and sniffed the areas where Snape had been with great interest, pausing to sneeze once in awhile as he got dust up his snout.

Harry let his head fall back and finally succumbed to the effects of the alcohol he'd tried so hard to keep at bay. It was a nice feeling to just be drunk and not have to pretend. He knew Hermione would likely snark and complain, but as he'd determined quite some time ago, he truly did not give a flying fuck what she thought. She was his friend, true, but she damn well wasn't his mother.

She cast a dubious glance at the chair and finally settled on a trunk to seat herself. "I'm beat," she said, rubbing her eyes tiredly.

"Me too," Harry said, ten times more exhausted than she was. At least she'd actually gotten some sleep the night before. "Herm, would you set the locking and silencing charms back? I don't even have the energy to get my wand."

"No problem," she said helpfully, adding an extra charm that would muffle noise from the outside as well. "I need to be getting back to the dorms shortly myself."

"About that," Harry said, "I was wondering if you'd stay for a bit, help me keep an eye on Draco. Of course you don't have to stay if you don't want to, but an extra pair of eyes would be great. If he got up before me and went to wandering around the room . . . I'm afraid of what he may do."

"What do you think he might do?" Hermione asked, remembering the scars on the Draco's body.

"Don't ask me that, please. It isn't for me to say."

"Alright," Hermione responded, she already knew anyway, but she knew Harry would never betray Draco that way. It was pretty obvious he really didn't want people to know, it was typical, really. "And yes, Harry, I'll stay. But you have to give me a break here and let me take a nap, too."

"Of course. Just, erm, I dunno where you're going to sleep," he said a bit sheepishly.

"Certainly not on the floor," she said with a sniff, looking scandalized. "How about that awful chair you've had in here forever?"

"You want to sleep on that chair?" Harry asked stupidly.

"For crying out loud, Harry, no! Are you still drunk? Wait, don't answer that," Hermione said after glancing up at him. Taking a deep breath she spoke slowly, as though explaining something to a child. Harry hated when she did that, it made him feel like a right doofus. It was usually Ron she'd used that voice with, not him, although there had been more than one occasion where he was the recipient. "What I meant was do you mind if I transfigure it into something a bit more comfortable and useful?"

"Oh! No, not at all. It is dreadful isn't it? I can't even remember where we got the thing now."

"Good. Now that's settled," she said as she stood and dragged the chair away from the wall. She thought for a moment, then nodded as she flicked her wand and said a complicated sounding spell. Suddenly, where there had once been a worn out, beaten up chair there was a small, plush and comfortable bed. "Much better and if you're nice I'll turn it into an armchair before I leave."

"That sounds great. Thanks, Hermione."

She turned and flashed a smile at Harry. "No problem. If you want I can make your bed a bit bigger, too."

"Would you? I'd appreciate it and so would Draco. It can be a bit cramped at times, although I don't mind so much and neither does he. We tend to sleep close together anyway," Harry said, a blush creeping up his neck and highlighting the tips of his ears.

Hermione only laughed. "I am sure you do. I think it's sweet, actually. Now then, let's get you a bigger bed. Hold tight to him just in case it wobbles a bit I don't want to knock him around and risk waking him up again."

First she levitated their night table a safe distance away, then with a nod from Harry telling her he had a firm grip on Draco, she used the Growth charm to make the bed expand in size. It was a smooth transition and before long the bed was a much larger, more comfortable size and she levitated the table back to the side of the bed where it belonged. Harry then gingerly disentangled himself from Draco and climbed over the sleeping young man. Once he'd settled down by him, he kicked his shoes off and sent them sailing across the room in opposite directions. Hermione glared at him and called him a slob before she sank gratefully onto her own bed. Neither one spoke anymore and soon, they too were fast asleep.

=*|*=

Hermione woke with a slight start as she felt her bed shake. Her eyes flew open to find the light of day had almost fled, draping the room in dusky shadows. Squinting a little she saw Draco looking down at the bed, puzzled.

"Harry asked me to stay and I needed a place to sleep," she whispered to the confused blonde.

"Oh," he said before shuffling around the bed to go to his trunk. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's ok," she assured him as she rolled over and propped herself up to watch him. His movements were stiff and slow; obviously pained. She frowned as she saw the whiskey bottle clutched in his hand, most likely recently liberated from wherever Harry had hidden it earlier. He flipped his trunk open and dug around for a fresh shirt. She noted that he was still only wearing his shorts and had to wonder why he wasn't freezing. Spring may have been on the horizon, but it was not there yet by any means. She'd woken up some time shortly after going to bed and cast warming spells before wearily succumbing to sleep once more. It dawned on her that she was still in her pajamas. She flushed a bit at that. She'd ran all over the castle that very morning in nothing but her sleep clothes.

She watched Draco as intently as the dim light would allow and observed that he picked a long sleeve shirt to wear. Whether he had done so because of the chill air or the need to hide his scars, she wasn't sure. Hermione figured it was a combination of both. He didn't even seem aware that she'd likely already seen them, as had Snape. Now that she thought about it, she wondered why the Potions professor hadn't said anything. Perhaps he thought all of those were courtesy of Lucius as well. Which, maybe in a way they were. She didn't know a lot about that particular sort of thing, much to her chagrin, and made a note to research it more thoroughly.

Hermione bit back an offer to help Draco dress as it seemed to cause him a great deal of discomfort. His lips were pressed into a tight line as he lifted his arms to put the shirt on. The pain relieving potion, or the whiskey one, must have been working to some extent, otherwise she was certain it would have been excruciating for him to do. She laid back down and turned onto her back to stare at the darkness that was rapidly gathering and slipping across the ceiling like a phantom thief. Draco dug around in his trunk a bit more and soon she heard him slipping on a pair of trousers with a muffled hiss of pain as he bent to pull them up. She listened to the soft snores that still came from the bed and smiled a little. Harry, always such a light sleeper, seemed totally unaware of the world at large for the moment . If only she knew how little he'd slept of late, she'd have been appalled. When Harry had that much trouble sleeping, there was definitely something amiss.

Draco walked back around her bed in his stiff-legged gait and made his way back to their bed. Hermione watched him closely and even in the dim light she could see the awful, vacant look in his eyes; could read it in his expressionless face as well. She bit her lip and forced herself not to ask the question that threatened to slip from her mouth. Instead she opted for the more rote inquiry.

"How are you feeling, Draco?"

He stopped right by the edge of the bed and it seemed to take an eternity for him to answer. Then his shoulders dropped. He turned to look at her and with a hollow voice he said, "Dirty." He turned back to the bed then, but not before she saw his hand come up and swipe at his mouth viciously, almost hitting himself, actually.

Hermione's stomach lurched and flipped in sorrow for him then. She dropped the subject, letting her head fall back against the soft down pillow. Laying there in complete silence, she fought back tears that threatened to well in her eyes, but she refused to let them come. As she listened to the tell-tale slosh of liquid and the quiet sounds of someone swallowing she angrily wondered why everything had to be so damned hard for Harry and Draco. It wasn't fair, she realized, that they had to fight tooth and nail just to have a little peace and even then it was often denied to them.

She wanted to rant at something, to spit in its face just for spite because she had found herself in a very similar boat with them. It seemed that anyone who associated with the pair automatically became a pariah of some sort. All except Neville and she figured that was because he'd always been so unobtrusive anyway, likely he had just slipped under everyone's radar in that way only Neville seemed to manage with most people, the exception largely being Professor Snape who'd taken a profound dislike to him from day one.

It was all just so cruel and stupid. It left her feeling disgusted and with a coppery taste in her mouth like old metal pipes. She recognized the flavor as anger for some reason. Seemed everyone was pissed about one thing or another these days and she hopped on the bandwagon as well, though her rage was nothing compared to Harry's newfound deep seated loathing of, well, damn near everything.

Her frown only deepened as she heard whispers from the bed, then she realized it was singing. Draco was singing to himself. It was at once lonesome and comforting. Even at such a low volume she could tell he had a beautiful voice. Straining her ears she could just make out a snatch of what he was saying. "And I am falling away, and all my life is falling away as time goes on."

She felt her face threaten to crumble at the words. It was awful because she could tell how much he truly felt that, the evidence was in the feeling he put behind that one overheard line. It was also the only feeling she'd heard in his voice since forever it seemed and it was a sorrow drenched, resigned tone that made her think of his heart being tattered to hang in listless shreds on his sleeve. She couldn't believe she'd ever live to see the day where she actually thought Draco Malfoy possessed such a thing as a heart, but she did now and wondered if it had been damaged beyond repair. She hoped not, with all of her might she hoped not. A glimmer of hope rose to the surface of her dirge as she recalled how he'd clung to Harry so, and she thought that no, maybe his heart wasn't broken, just cracked. Cracks like the one she thought was in his were hard to mend, but it could be done and she could think of no one more capable of doing so than Harry.

She lay there with her hands behind her head simply thinking as she waited for Harry to awaken since attempting a conversation with Draco in the state he was in seemed to be an exercise in futility. He had quieted back down and was drinking in silence, a heavy sigh or the sound of the liquid moving around as he lifted the bottle time and again were the only indication he was even awake. The shadows in the room had lengthened, stretching their sooty fingers into all of the corners of the room, stroking, pushing, strangling the light away until the entire room was drenched in omnipotent blackness. Hermione found she didn't mind at all. She was comfortable and having quietly cast another, stronger warming spell, she was cozy as well.

Hermione nearly came out her skin over an hour later when she heard gasping sounds from the bed and the sound of someone thrashing around. At first she thought it was Draco until she heard him softly calling Harry's name, his voice edged with tension and surprise. With a strangled scream Harry sat bolt upright in the bed, panting for breath. Hermione quickly grabbed her wand and flew off of her own bed whilst saying "Lumos"

She raced to the end of the bed and looked at Harry's sweat-slicked face. His eyes were wide with lingering upset until Draco's pale hand reached out for his and took it without a word. Glancing quickly to the side, Harry sighed, glad to see the blonde, even though he looked drawn and lost. He pulled Draco gratefully to him, burying his face in the blonde's neck as he inhaled his scent deeply. "Thank the gods. This has got to stop!"

"What's going on Harry? Was it Voldemort?" Hermione asked.

Harry lifted his head away from Draco, who promptly lowered his own head to Harry's shoulder. "No, Herm, it wasn't. He's stayed out of my head almost the entire term. It's just I've been having nightmares lately, recurring nightmares to be more exact. They're . . . terrible. This one especially."

"What are they about?" she asked.

Harry looked at her with purpose as he stroked soft blonde strands, as much to soothe himself as Draco. "I'd rather not talk about it," he said as he cast a sideways glance at Draco, then looked back at her.

"I understand," she said as she flicked her own eyes to Draco and then back to Harry to indicate she got the gist of what he was trying to nonverbally communicate.

Draco remained silent, just as he had nearly all day. He didn't even indicate that he could hear them, though she was pretty sure he could. He turned his face away from Harry's neck and propped it on his shoulder instead, looking around without the slightest indication he was actually seeing the room in front of him. His mouth looked like he had chafed it raw. It was red in places, almost bloody looking in others as though he'd rubbed the skin away completely. A closer look in the now dimming light of her wand as her concentration on the spell wavered, showed her that he had. He'd literally scraped his lips bloody with his constant swiping. She gestured with her wand for Harry to look, renewing her concentration on the spell to give him the best illumination possible.

His face fell. He just didn't understand why Draco was doing that! It was so out of character, even for Draco who always seemed on the lookout, consciously or not, for some new way to hurt himself. But Harry knew that cutting brought relief to Draco for some strange reason, as did all of his picking and poking. The latter two things in particular were almost meditative acts and the cutting seemed to hypnotize him. Yet this, the scrubbing of his mouth, seemed to do nothing but worsen his agitation, shoving him further into his shell with each brutal stroke of his hand.

Even as the two watched, that thin fingered elegant hand began to drift back to his lips. Harry caught it in a bone crushing grip. "Stop, Draco, leave it alone. You've rubbed it raw already, please don't make it worse."

"I have to," Draco said in that same hollow voice. "Gotta get it off." He tried to yank his hand out of Harry's grip, but he refused to let him go. That only made Draco struggle harder, whining in frustration only to plead with Harry in a mad tone of voice. "Can't you see it? I can't make it go away. I can fucking feel it, Harry. Just let me go!"

"No!" Harry said firmly as he pulled Draco against him even tighter. "What are you talking about?"

Draco just stopped his weak, yet valiant, struggles and protests, opting to hide his face in Harry's chest instead of answering. A shudder ripped through his body as he sobbed dryly against the firm reassurance of his lover. Hermione had lit a few candles by then and she sat down heavily on her little bed, bowing her head with her hand over her mouth as she played what Draco had said over and over in her mind.

"Hermione?" Harry called out to her, a bewildered look on his face. Was she going to break down on him as well? He certainly thought so as her shoulders trembled a little bit, but when she looked at him her eyes were dry.

"Harry, could you please walk me back to the tower? I know it's kind of a bad time, but I need to speak to you in private."

She noticed Harry visibly stiffen at her words. Knowing that he thought she meant to have that long overdue talk about drinking with him, she said, "No, Harry, it's not about that."

"What's it about then?" he inquired a bit suspiciously.

She turned her warm brown eyes to Draco and the look of concerned worry in them made up Harry's mind. He nodded his agreement and spoke gently to Draco, telling him that he was just walking Hermione back to Gryffindor house and he'd be back soon. The blonde nodded against Harry's chest before moving back to his earlier spot and reclaiming the abandoned bottle.

Harry slid off the foot of the bed, making his way to the door, choosing not to bother with trying to locate his shoes at the moment. Hermione, he noticed belatedly was barefoot as well. As they made to step into the hallway, she made a soft exclamation before turning back to her bed and rapidly uttering a spell. In its stead there now stood a cushy, oversize black suede armchair.

"Wow," Harry breathed in delight.

"That was a hard one, even for me. Getting the fabrics right is a real pain. I thought about giving you something in plaid but thought better of it. Professor McGonagall would have surely made off with it if she saw it," Hermione joked.

Harry laughed as she had hoped. The image of the Transfiguration teacher furtively darting her eyes around before hefting a plaid armchair and running away with it really set him off and he told Hermione as they made their way into the hall. She giggled a bit herself, the sound light and musical in the empty corridor.

As they made the short trip to Gryffindor Tower, they quieted down and Hermione grew serious once more. "Harry, about Draco. That thing with his mouth?"

"Yes? Do you have any idea why in the hell he's doing that?" Harry asked anxiously.

"Yes, actually, I do. Harry, think about the things he's said today. I know he's not said much, but think about it. He and I woke up before you did and when I asked him how he felt, he said "dirty"."

"Ok," Harry said slowly, not understanding what she was getting at.

Hermione sighed heavily. Gods but Harry could be thick sometimes. It was a quality she usually found endearing about him, but right then it frustrated her to no end. She really didn't feel comfortable coming right out and saying what she thought. "Think about it Harry! Remember what he said right before we left when you stopped him from doing that? What he did to the shirt he was wearing this morning? All of that. Think!"

And Harry did, all to no avail. "His father beat him senseless, Hermione. That's all I can think of. I'm sorry if I seem like I am being difficult here, I'm really trying but I can't come up with anything."

"Oh, Harry! You can be so hopelessly oblivious sometimes!"

"Why can't you just tell me then?" Harry asked, growing just as frustrated as Hermione.

"Because, if I just tell you, you likely won't listen to me. Here, think about this, how many types of abuse can you think of? What's the worst kind that comes to mind when you do?" she said a little more patiently.

After a moment, Harry stopped cold in his tracks, swallowing thickly. "There's one I can think of that's worse than all the others combined. Se-" He cut himself off, unable to force the words out of his mouth. "Do you really - no, no, no!"

"Yes, Harry, YES! All the things he's said about being dirty, about not being able to "get it off". It all makes sense doesn't it? I'm sorry, but that is what I think." Hermione's eyes were gentle as she looked at her horrified friend. All the color had drained from his face at the revelation. Even as she watched his eyes hardened and narrowed into stony, emerald slits. There was a slight tremor in the floor beneath her feet and she noticed the lights flickering. Her eyes widened as the blue and red sparks Nyx had seen began to snap from his fingers as well. "Harry, you have to calm down, right this instant. Please. Can't you feel that? You're doing it. Stop. Control it. Don't make another mess like last time."

Amazingly enough, he actually seemed to hear her and tried to will his anger down along with his magic. There was only minimal progress. The lights stopped flickering, the sparks lessened but did not go away and the tremor in the floor calmed to a low vibration.

"Good, it's working, but you need to try harder than that to make it totally go away. Come on, please, you can't risk another outburst."

Harry focused all of his energy into forcing it back, he begged it to go away. He was scaring himself, even. These outbursts of late had been sudden and nearly uncontrollable. This one, though not as immediate as the one with Ron, seemed to be the makings of one hell of a doozy. He had the distinct notion that it was simply charging itself up. He did all he could think to do - he denied what he had already determined was true. That didn't work, the thought was too firmly planted in his mind. So, instead, he switched tracks and thought of something that made him happy.

Draco when he laughed, or when he flashed him one of his rare, but dazzling smiles. The feel of Dreizehn's warm tongue, happily licking his face the first day he got him and the tentative warbling howls he'd just started vocalizing. They were horrid sounds for the time being, but Harry knew one day he'd get it right and let out a true wolf's howl. That hauntingly ethereal sound that Harry had only had the chance to overhear in the rare nature program at the Dursleys and from the throat of what had once been Remus Lupin, transformed by the moon's glowing light. He thought back to the joke Hermione had made earlier as they left and the way she was still his friend despite what he'd initially feared. The welcome burn of whiskey in his belly. All of these things swirled across his mind's eye and soon he realized the floor was once again still, just as the strange tingling in his arms and fingers was gone. He exhaled shakily and opened his eyes to meet Hermione's.

She looked on the verge of panic, then relaxed and offered him a small smile. "You did it, you controlled your inner magic."

Harry allowed himself a slight grin as well, indeed he had controlled it. He was making progress and that proved he could still get angry, he didn't have to keep himself on a short leash like he'd thought he would have to. "Thank Merlin." Harry laughed a little. "We need to hurry it along, I can't leave Draco alone too long when he's like this."

"I know, it's ok though, I can make the rest of the walk myself. I just wanted to talk to you about that," Hermione said, offering him an understanding smile. "I'm sorry, Harry, for what it's worth."

"I know, Hermione, it's not your fault. None of this. It's not Draco's either, though knowing him I am sure he'll beg to differ."

"Just look after him, it's all you can do. And love him, Harry, he really needs that right now."

"I will and I don't think I will ever stop loving him, to be perfectly frank. I never would've thought he, of all people, could have such an effect on me, but he has. For that, I am thankful," Harry told her, his eyes alight with love for the blonde.

"I wouldn't have thought so either, but Harry, even though things are crap right now . . . just know that I am glad he's a part of your life. One of these days you two are going to have a great life together, a happy life." Hermione's own smile was tinged with sadness as she thought briefly of Ron. She may have the same one day, but it wouldn't be with him and made her ache with the loss.

Harry flashed her a grin at her words. "A season in Hell will have been well spent for that then. Thanks for everything, Herm."

Then he did something he hadn't done since the first night she'd come back into his life. He stepped forward and pulled her against him in a crushing hug which she returned just as fiercely.

"Well, goodnight," she said, smiling without sadness again as they broke the embrace. "Since I slept all day I can spend tonight reading I guess."

"I guess so. G'night Hermione." Harry waved as he turned and went the opposite way back to their rooms.

=*|*=

Harry entered their room to find Draco curled up in the chair, staring at the wall. Harry noticed he had shoved it back against the opposite wall at least. Having it sitting in the middle of the floor when they were both prone to bumbling drunkenly around in the dark really wasn't the best idea in the world.

"Hey, you. I'm back," Harry called softly as he reset all the charms on the room, employing the muffling charm he'd realized Hermione had used earlier as well. He wished he had thought of that one sooner.

Pale eyes glanced at him, skimming over his body only to slide back to his face. The relief in those grey eyes was almost palpable as he offered Harry a ghost of a smile as Harry came to stand in front of him. The chair was no doubt large enough to seat two, even if it was a bit cramped. Hermione had made the thing so large it was practically a small-scale loveseat instead of an armchair.

"Scoot over a bit," Harry said to Draco.

"Mmm," was all the response he got as the blonde shoved himself over, unfolding his legs from the seat to place his feet on the floor. It was then Harry saw that Draco had retrieved a fresh bottle as well. He was glad of that. However, the blonde's slight wince of pain did not go unnoticed as he gingerly leaned against the back of the chair without thinking. He kept forgetting about his back. It wasn't everyday he got it torn to pieces by his father. At least not while he was in school, anyway.

"You ok?" Harry queried as he sat down beside him.

"Forgot about my back, that's all," was Draco's soft, scratchy response. His throat hurt like mad, strained and sore from all the screaming he supposed. The whiskey helped as much as it didn't. It was doing a grand job of numbing the aches in the rest of his body to a dull, beating throb. It made him think of someone oh-so softly tapping a snare drum. But everytime he swallowed the whiskey, it burned his throat anew, searing it open and making it hurt all over again, then it would curl through him and that pain would be just a vacant memory as well.

Harry thought for a bit. Then said, "Do you want another potion? I don't think it'll mix negatively with the alcohol and cause you any harm. It didn't this morning at any rate. Snape left you enough for a couple of days, in case you didn't know."

A nod from Draco had Harry getting back up from the squishy comfort of the chair to get the pouch with Draco's medication in it. Finding the violently orange, almost flourescent, potion in the bag he went back to the chair and handed it to his lover as he reseated himself. After taking it, his eyes slid shut in silent gratitude. He still felt so tired, exhausted beyond all reason. He wanted to learn how to disappear completely. Was that so much to ask?

Harry could see the frown pulling at Draco's abused mouth and he frowned as well. "Come here, I want you close to me."

Draco didn't respond, which Harry was coming to expect, but he did as he was asked. In other times it could have even been said that he did it happily. He just did it now, out of love and his desire to be held by the one person he felt could truly keep him safe from harm. Actual happiness was nothing more than a myth; a rumor, to him at the time. He twisted around in the chair until his head was in Harry's lap and his long, slender legs dangled over the arm of the chair. In a matter of minutes, his eyes slipped shut and he was sleeping. Harry smoothed the hair back from his forehead and took the bottle from Draco's surprisingly tight grip. Settling back after his first sip, Harry lost himself in thoughts about what Hermione had just revealed. As he did so, he knew instinctively that it was going to be one long night.

A/N: What? Did you really think I'd leave you alone? I still don't trust the site to stay stable, but I'll be around. Got ya a handful of chapters. *waves* Hello.

Btw, can anyone tell me wtf is up with the formatting on here? I have had to come back and edit this about four times now and it is getting a little old. *is annoyed*