Knives Out

The ups and downs of Draco's disease often filled Harry with false hope that he was getting better. Some days Draco would be his old arrogant self, making pratty demands about fresh pancakes and wanting to go shopping. They'd go out, be social until Draco started to look tired and then could spend well into the night cuddling and making love.

Today he couldn't even get out of bed, but just lay there, summoning things to his bed as he glared at Harry, resentful of his health. Harry flitted around the flat, trying to anticipate Draco's needs until he was relegated to the living area for 'being too noisy.' Harry tried not to take it personally, and the good days always outweighed the bad. Hearing a loud thud from the other room above the din of the telly, Harry hopped up and found Draco in the loo.

Though he was miserably ill and hung over the toilet, Draco appeared to be lightening up, or perhaps he just realized what an arse he was being.

"Can I get you anything, Draco?"

"A new body?"

Harry sighed and knelt down next to Draco, petting his hair back from his face. He kissed his temple. "I would if I could."

Draco leaned into the affection, but kept his head down. His body lurched and retched again before he could answer. "Give me yours."

"Didn't I last night?"

He smirked and raised his head, lips a mess of puffiness from their revelry the previous night, glistening with abandoned spittle shot through with bile. "Why don't you do something useful instead of tempting me with things you know I can't have."

Harry knew that Draco was just being caustic, but he couldn't help but feel guilty that perhaps he'd pushed Draco too far physically. He realized these cycles were going to happen either way but the exertion couldn't be helping. "It's time for your potion. I'll get it." He started to stand when Draco grabbed his arm.

"If you really loved me..." he stopped to retch again and Harry watched in anguish, his body wanting to react in sympathy, but that would do no one any good. He waited for Draco's seizing to dissipate before he got up. "You'd walk on your hands to get it."

"Walk on my hands?" Harry snatched a piece of tissue from the roll and dabbed at Draco's mouth. He hadn't pulled a stunt like that since before Hogwarts. "If I fall and break my neck, I'll haunt you."

"Not for long." Draco smirked. Harry hated Draco's morbid jokes like that, but he'd walked into it.

Nothing for it now.

He looked at the tile, thinking this was going to hurt if he ended up face first on it. There was barely room to even get his palms flat and kick up. He caught the counter the first time and landed on his chest. He shot Draco a look for his snicker. Trying again, he deftly avoided the sink and was up. His neck muscles felt the most strained, and then he felt it in his wrists.

Movement... right. Harry inhaled deeply and then prayed for balance as he managed to somehow balance on one hand long enough to slide the other forward. Going on faith more than skill, he inched forward till he was almost across the bathroom. Harry opened his eyes to find himself in front of the linen closet where Draco kept the potions and he started to lower his legs.

"Hang on. Give us a song."

"What?" Harry opened his eyes and looked at Draco, so pale and leaning on his hand, elbow on the rim of the toilet bowl. He looked innocently gleeful like that, watching Harry perform, and his heart sank, knowing that he wouldn't be able to deny him. "What song?"

"I've no idea. Know any Weird Sisters?"

He did, but upside down and on the spot, Harry couldn't remember anything. He shook his head.

"Just... sing the first thing that comes into your mind."

"Er...." Harry looked around wildly as if fluffy towels or bathmats might have lyrics imprinted somewhere. "Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Draco..." he was cut off by a piercing cackle and his eyes widened.

Draco's head fell back and his hands clapped together. When he looked up again, he was beaming in delight and giggling. Harry rolled his eyes and dropped his feet to the floor. After scrambling up, he took an awkward bow. Their festivities ground to a halt when Harry noticed that he only had a few more phials of potions left. "You're almost out."

Sighing, Draco nodded and flushed the toilet. He grabbed another piece of tissue from the roll and rubbed it over his lips again as he stood. "Very well. I guess it's time to ask for more."

--

Harry continually checked in on Draco at his writing desk, hoping to see what sort of information Draco was passing to Snape. Or that's what he told himself he was doing. In truth, he was jealous that a long note was going to Snape. But he didn't ask.

The next day, Snape responded in a terse note that read quite annoyed. Perhaps Draco had been going on about how much he enjoyed being with him. That was what he liked to think, anyway. The last sentence, however, shocked him. "Send Potter along to retrieve your potions in the morning."

"I don't understand. Why does he want to meet with me?" Harry tucked in his shirt as he looked at Draco propped up in the pillows. Harry was pleased to see the color back in his lover's cheeks.

"I don't know, Harry. I'm guessing he thinks you'll give him an honest report on how I'm doing. He always thinks I'm lying to him." Draco pushed the covers down to his waist.

Grinning, Harry stood on his knees at the end of the bed. "Say that again." He leaned in and blew over Draco's flushed chest.

"Err... Snape thinks you'll give a more honest report?" Draco fanned his face and watched Harry blowing over him. "You know this doesn't count as a blow job, right?"

Harry slid to the side and helped fan Draco, pulling the covers up and down. "That's not what I was doing, and not what I meant. I meant that you called me Harry and not Potty again."

"Oh, you want to hear that again, Harry?" Draco let his head fall back against the pillows, basking in the cool air Harry was providing.

He couldn't help but grin and trail sloppy kisses over Draco's exposed neck. Then he blew over those. "Are you hot?"

"You know I am, Harry," he teased. Draco slid his hands around Harry and pulled him closer. "Mm... you're too hot for me." He pouted at Harry and threaded his fingers through his hair.

Harry tried to ignore how frail Draco was, how his bones protruded and how despite all of the rest, he still looked tired. He caressed Draco's cheek and leaned in for a long, slow kiss. "I don't want to leave," he whispered against his lips, pressing their foreheads together. "But you're almost out of potions."

"I know. I know. I don't want you to go either, but you won't be gone for long, I'm sure. It's not like you and Snape can stand to stay in the same room for an extended period of time." He looked into Harry's eyes a moment and then pulled back to reach to the nightstand for his glasses and placed them on his face. "Go on, hunter/gatherer. Harass Snape and bring me some potions."

Stealing one more kiss from Draco, Harry slipped off of the bed and straightened his glasses. "Do you need anything else before I go? Water? Tea? Toast?"

Draco threw the covers back and wiggled out of bed. "No, I'm going to get them myself. I'm feeling good today. I might see to Madam Malkin's for a cossack."

"No, wait on that and I'll go with you." Harry stepped closer to Draco to help him and Draco waved him off.

"I'm fine, Potty." Harry looked annoyed. Draco smirked. "If you hadn't ravished me so much the other night I wouldn't have needed bed rest."

"It was your idea!"

Draco gave Harry a placating kiss on the corner of his mouth. "It was worth it. Now go on. Get your boyfriend some of the good stuff, hmm?" Harry leaned in again to be halted by Draco's hand on his lips. "Keep this up and you'll never go."

"Right. I'll see you... in a bit." Harry looked longingly at Draco and then headed out of the warded flat to Disapparate.

--

It was his second trip in two months to the place he'd studiously tried to avoid since his final battle with Voldemort. Everything always came back to Hogwarts on some level, at least when it came to the second part of his life. His life was in strata. The first was marked like days carved into the inside of the cupboard on Privet Drive. The second marked with his unwanted fame and the responsibility of war, the ruined fairy tale of being rescued from his humble life. The third was now; the aftermath. Where did you go from saving the world? Right back at the start-- a boy he grew up hating who became a man he couldn't rescue from his disease.


Harry stopped for a moment on the outskirts of the barrier to Hogwarts castle, allowing himself to shed a few tears of frustration at watching his lover deteriorating. Over how Draco worked so hard to appear upbeat for Harry, as if it were somehow his obligation to seem all right with dying young-- and how Harry acted as if he didn't see right through him, and that he was just as pseudo upbeat as Draco. He didn't want to break down in front of Snape. He didn't want to break down in front of anyone, so out here on the periphery, Harry sat down and let himself go.

--

The headmaster's office was as different as it was the same as it always had been. Dumbledore gave Harry a friendly grin and Harry had taken two steps towards the portrait when Snape dramatically swept to the desk. He shooed Harry to a guest chair and took his place behind Dumbledore's desk-- no, not Dumbledore's desk, Headmaster Snape's desk now. Harry looked away, feeling his blood pressure rise. Seeing Snape here was harder than he'd thought.

"I have prepared Draco's potions as he has asked for them. I suppose that you are wondering why it is I've called you here rather than him." Snape's expression was neutral, unreadable, but his eyes bored into Harry's, so Harry looked away.

Harry looked up at Dumbledore's portrait to answer it, a silent accusation. How could Snape sit in the same room with Dumbledore's portrait, knowing what he'd done? How did the other portraits tolerate him? "I assumed you knew that he was ill and that making the trip would be difficult and cared for Draco's well-being. Although why you couldn't just owl the potions..."

"They're too fragile to send." Snape's response was automatic, like a question he'd answered many times-- a lie he'd told so many times as to become rote. "I have called you here because the increase in potions he has asked for. I assume this is because of activities he has planned..."

The words burned already, and while Harry had promised himself to try to remain calm, he couldn't fathom sitting there for a lecture by a murdering pedophile about how he should behave around Draco. If the irony of that situation didn't strike Snape in his own mind, Harry was going to make it plain. "Oh yes, activities. That must really burn you. Does it make you jealous?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

Harry noted with some satisfaction that Snape's sallow cheeks were tinged with pink. "Oh right, I bet he's too old for your tastes now."

Snape sat back and glowered. "Then he's told you."

"Yes, he did. Do you think that you meant something to him? Do you think that--" Sitting forward, Harry was gagging for a fight, even if it was decidedly impolitic given how important these potions were to Draco.

"I'm not having this conversation with you." Snape rose from his chair, sending it skidding over the hewn floor with a reverberating shriek. Harry noted that Snape avoided looking at Dumbledore's portrait, seeing him almost have the picture in his line of sight and then turn away. "I did not call you here over such a trivial matter. I wished to talk to you about his diminishing health and what you two have been doing..."

"Just say what you mean, Severus." He spat the name out as if it were what he wanted to call him, the label he wanted to use: murderer. "Why don't you just say that you want to keep us from fucking?"

"How dare you." Snape whirled around at the vulgarity. "I only have Draco's best interests at heart. I am trying to extend what little life that man may have."

"Why? Why do you care if he lives a few more days? Especially when he's living them out with me? Why don't you just come to his flat and end him? Isn't that what you do? Don't you end lives?" When Snape advanced on him, Harry stood up and thrust his hand into his wand pocket.

"You're a fool, Potter. You'll always be a fool because you don't listen." Their wands clashed, pointing at one another's heart as they glared, eyes not faltering. "You make so many assumptions, but you don't have all the answers, you don't even ask the right questions."

"You just don't want him to be happy. You're threatened by me. You fancy yourself Malfoy's one great love, don't you?" He pushed his wand harder against Snape's chest.

Snape withdrew, shaking his head in disgust. It left Harry with his wand pointing at his back. "You don't know anything," he said quietly. He headed behind his desk and picked up a small bag that rattled with glass phials and thrust them into Harry's hand. "Just... watch out for him. Do not let him get in over his head."

"I'm taking care of him now." Harry tucked his wand back into his pocket and grabbed for the bag.

Snape looked at him again and exhaled. "There is great danger in what you two are engaging in. This is bigger than you realize."

"We use the proper charms," Harry snarled as he started to back up towards the door. He had what he needed; the last thing in the world he wanted was a safe sex lecture from Snape.

Shaking his head, Snape stared at papers sitting on his desk. "You foolish, silly man, this is a matter of life and death, his and yours."

"This about your wanting what you can't have; he's with me now. You are a filthy traitor, a murderer, and while you can provide potions and the like, he's otherwise much better without you." The expression on Snape's face barely changed as Harry spoke, much to his chagrin. He wanted Snape to be provoked, to shout, to try and hex him so that he might have a reason to back him into a corner and mercifully leave him alive. He wanted Snape to be afraid, afraid of him, to understand just how deep his hatred went and how disgusted he was that he'd had any part in Draco's life-- even if it was to save it. Twice.

Snape folded his arms and glared icily. "Get out."

With that, Harry spun around and headed out of the office.

--

Harry stopped by his flat to pick up more clothing and a few personal items. If Draco had noticed the slow progression of Harry's things into his space, he hadn't mentioned it beyond an amused look the crowd of toiletries on his sink. Letting himself into Draco's flat after a quick Apparition and looking down at the scrap of paper that told him where he was going, Harry stepped quietly over to his lover swaddled in blankets on the couch with a dropped copy of The Daily Prophet on the blond hardwood floor.


The discarded bag from Madam Malkin's sat neatly folded on the coffee table, the garment already put away. Not wishing to interrupt Draco's sleep after ducking in to check on him, he turned to head back to the living area.

"I was thinking that we should go to the service again Sunday morning. I've been watching them when I could get out there, but the clergy appears to change weekly. Well, they look like they're changing. Some of them appear to be just taking on the appearance of some of the Muggles attending the church." Draco rubbed his hand over his groggy face and sat up.

"I didn't mean to wake you." Harry came back and sat on the edge of the couch. He reached into his pocket for the bulging baggie of potions, which Draco took from him.

Pulling at the silver cords, Draco inventoried the bag. "It's all right. I'm sleeping my life away anyway. So Sunday?"

"That's tomorrow."

Though he looked a bit surprised, Draco nodded. "Well, just to observe. Maybe I can mug an Inferi for some hair while we're there. That way I'll fit in when I go in later."

Harry thought about Nott again. Whomever was posing as him had to have access to his hair, didn't they? Although by now he knew that there was more than one way to replicate someone's appearance. Only someone rather close to Nott would know the difference. Harry hoped
that "Nott" would turn up at the church so he could question him; maybe Draco would know the difference well enough to unsettle the fake. "All right, then. In the morning." He kissed Draco's forehead and pulled him close. "But for now, let's get you some food."

--

There was something off about the service, Harry knew it from the second they entered the church. Though the faces were as cow-eyed as ever, none of them appeared to look directly that him. Had it been this way the time before? He hadn't been paying attention then, had he? Now the whole place screamed wrong, bad, and dangerous. Keeping a protective arm around Draco, they took a spot near the back of the church. The place was silent but for the reverberations of movement, the parishioner's sallow faces coloured by the fragments of light that spilled through the elongated stained glass windows.

As the service started, Harry watched the altar boys and then the priest came out. The man was tall and proud, his ivory hair long and shiny, grey eyes cold with a flash of knife-like teeth. Harry felt Draco freeze next to him as Harry blinked a few times. Draco stood and the priest started up the aisle towards them. "It... it can't be..."

Harry jumped up next to Draco and grabbed him tightly. "No, it isn't...you know that isn't him."

What appeared to be Lucius Malfoy reached out, curling his finger to beckon them. "Come here, ickle boy. Come see your father." He appeared amused with his own play on words as he continued to advance on them in a slow saunter.

"You... who are you? I'll kill you!" Draco lunged towards the aisle but Harry held him fast. He wriggled and struggled, scratching at Harry's hands to try to force resistance. "Let me go! Let me go now!"

Harry hated to use this much force on his ailing boyfriend, but Draco was strong when he needed to be. Holding Draco with a crushing clutch, he whispered, "No... that's what he... what it wants. Don't, Draco. Come on."

"Did you bwing your ickle boyfwend, little dragon? Want your father to meet whom you've been disgracing yourself with?" Lucius pulled his wand with a flourish. "Oh, stay a while, we'll get cozy."

"You're going to die." Draco fumbled for his wand, not noticing the Inferi closing in on them.

Harry noticed it, however, and though he hated to do this, Draco was obviously too caught up with the vision of his father to make a rational decision. He gave one last look at Lucius; there was something familiar about him. However, what was familiar was incongruous with his memories of how Lucius Malfoy behaved, how he held himself, how he would react to his son. Harry tried to burn the gestures and words into his memory for future consideration.

"Come to me, Draco. Bring your children unto me," purred the faux Lucius, his visage reflecting a savage malice, as if he knew exactly what this would do to Draco, and loving the power. The Inferi just looked hungry.

Draco let out a cry of frustration that his arms were pinned down to his sides and he could not reach his wand. Harry was holding him in a vise-like bear hug. "I'm sorry," whispered Harry as he closed his eyes. He hoped Draco wouldn't struggle too much and get splinched as he concentrated on the front of Draco's flat and Apparated them there.

"WHAT? NO!" Draco struggled hard as Harry opened the door. He grabbed Draco's wand, and pushed him into the flat. He slammed the door and hexed it closed.

Harry pocketed both wands and dove in to grab Draco into his arms again. "Draco, you know that's not really your father. You know it can't be. Think, Draco, think. You're smarter than this."

"I know that, you think I don't know that? Don't touch me!" Draco shoved Harry away, pushing him against the couch.

"Draco..." Harry righted himself and stared Draco down, remaining calm, "It's what they wanted. They were going to capture us. They were waiting for us to show up, Draco."

Rubbing his forehead, Draco gave Harry a quick apologetic look. "I know... I know you're right. But my father, Harry. They're using my father like an... an Inferi."

"But he's still alive, isn't he?" Harry reached out for Draco and this time was allowed to hold him. Draco rested his head against Harry's shoulder.

"If you call that alive."

Harry rubbed his hands up and down Draco's back, stalling a moment as he thought about how this worked. Lucius was in Azkaban, and if he wasn't dead and not alive, he must have been Kissed. "We need to look at this practically. What that means is that whoever that was has contacts at Azkaban. It would have to be through the Dementors. What does that tell us?" He kissed Draco's temple as he tried to soothe him, he could feel the blood pumping angrily through his veins.

"Probably Death Eaters or someone associated with them?" Draco buried his face in the crook of Harry's neck, his breathing slowed to a more controlled pace.

"Or at the very least someone who would promise them people to feed on. Which obviously they could provide, given the Muggles living around there and their complete disregard for them. It was just a ploy, Draco. But it does show that they're on to us. Maybe we should wait a few weeks before you go undercover?" He started to pull Draco towards the bedroom wondering if the person posing as Lucius was also posing as Nott. No, that person wouldn't want to foil their plans. The person who posed as Lucius was definitely trying to scare them away. If those people had intended to capture them, he and Draco would still be there. That much Harry was certain of.

"I need to end this," he whispered, following Harry, allowing him to undress him down to his pants before rolling into his bed. He patted the spot next to him.

Flashing a quick smile, Harry toed off his shoes and stripped down to his boxers and followed suit. Even though he wasn't tired, he would lie here with Draco and coax him to sleep. Then he was going to owl Tonks and try to get some answers.

--

Harry awoke to the tapping of a keyboard. He sat up and grabbed his glasses; surprised to see Draco sitting there typing. Glancing to the back of the box, he didn't see any cords, and yet the glow of the monitor on Draco's pallid face was unmistakable.

"But... there's no cords..." he said, his mouth agape.

"I know. It's like magic, isn't it?"

At Draco's cocky grin, Harry scoffed. "I should've known you'd be cheating."

"There's an energy crisis, didn't you hear?"

"Are you sure you didn't just forget to pay the utilities?"

Draco blushed and cleared his throat.

As Harry moved to stand behind Draco, he heard a frantic clicking and saw windows closing. He thought he saw Tonks's name in the email program, but he couldn't be sure.

"Were you writing to Tonks?" Harry put his hands on Draco's shoulders and started to knead.

He felt Draco's muscles tighten. "Who?"

"Tonks, the Auror... your cousin?"

Draco remained tense, but he spoke casually. "Pfft. No. Disowned cousin. Besides, the Ministry wants nothing to do with me."

"Right." Although why he'd be lying about emailing Tonks was curious, it was pretty clear he wasn't going to get an answer out of Draco. "So why did you get a computer, anyway?"

"Porn." Draco turned around in his chair and smirked.

"Thought so."

"The Ministry has an appalling lack of respect for accessibility. The only way to look things up was to go to the Ministry, where I am not exactly welcomed. Muggles, however, put everything on databases, and most databases wind up on the Internet. So it was to my investigative advantage to buy one." He turned back around and waved his hand in front of the monitor and it shut down.

"What were you looking up?"

Draco smirked. "Records."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Wizards and witches I thought I saw, what became of various Death Eaters. Gavin."

"Wizards like Nott?" Harry ventured. He searched Draco's face for a response, but his expression was fixedly neutral. Draco looked away. Harry's brows rose. "What did you find out?"

"He's dead."

"You've seen him, too?" Harry stepped in closer, kneeling down to look up at Draco.

Expression wary, Draco nodded.

"How do you know he's dead?"

"That's what the Ministry says."

Harry tried to meet Draco's eyes, adrenaline rushing through his veins. Draco seemed more certain than just what the Ministry alleged. "Do you think different?"

Draco pressed his lips together and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he spoke slowly. "I think that there are many things that are not what they seem. I don't believe that Nott is someone you should worry about."

That seemed hard to believe, but it was creeping into his consciousness that Draco had mentioned another name. "Gavin, who is that? Is that... who Nott is now?"

"No." Draco slid his fingers through Harry's hair. "No, he's not Nott, he is... was... a Muggle. The one who infe--"

"Infected you."

Draco nodded. "I tracked him down, and collected other names as I could. I'm afraid I just don't have the resources to follow everyone at the church."

Obviously that would be too much to expect one person to do. Harry tried to imagine what it was like to see someone you were intimate with roaming around alive, but not alive. But then Harry couldn't presume to know how well Draco would've known any of his conquests. "How did you narrow it down to Gavin?"

Immediately Harry regretted the question, given the cold glare he received in response. "It was quite easy to piece together, actually.

"Oh, did he seem ill?"

At this, Draco pushed back and stood. "No, he didn't seem ill at all when I met him two years prior. You assume too much, Potter."

Harry stood, watching Draco pace before coming to rest in front of the window, his arms folded either in cold or irritation. "I'm sorry. You're right; I did assume... given your behaviour... was he infected when you met?"

"No."

He was disappointed that his apology didn't garner more of a response, but perhaps that was just something that Draco had expected. "So... he cheated on you?"

"On heaven and earth, Potter, there are more than just monogamous relationships; although ours was more or less on and off again. We just never seemed to be in the right place in our lives at the right time." Draco turned around, one hand over his flushed face. Harry crossed to him to hold him. After a minor struggle, Draco allowed it.

He thought of the hoops Draco mentioned jumping through and wondered how many this Gavin might've made it through. It stung a little to not be the only one who had gotten this close to Draco. Harry knew that he was sharing him with Snape already, but evidently there was also this Muggle. And Millicent. And petty as it was to think of, Ursius. "What was he like?"

"Stupid. Brave. Fierce. He never let me get away with anything," he said, resting his head on Harry's shoulder. Harry took some measure of comfort that it sounded as if it would be someone he'd like, unlike Snape.

"He sounds nice." Harry shifted them towards the bed, Draco's skin was searing hot. "Did you take your potions?"

"He wasn't nice at all. He was wretched, and mean, and petty and... he left..." Draco shook his head that he'd forgotten his potion. "He was taken, like everyone is," he whispered as he curled under the covers, drawing them up to his chin.

"You're right, he sounds awful," Harry cooed as he headed to the loo to get Draco's potion. He came back, uncorking the phial as he sat next to him on the bed. Brushing back the blond strands that were beginning to darken against Draco's wet forehead, he asked, "What did he look like?"

Harry wasn't sure if Draco was just flushed or if he were blushing. For a moment they just stared at one another, then Draco took his potion, swallowing it back in a gulp. He leaned over the side of the bed and pulled the lower drawer on the nightstand out and rifled through the old copies of books and magazines till he fished out a rather ordinary Muggle picture. Harry did a double-take at the two men in the picture arm-in-arm. With the dark hair and glasses, at a glance, he'd almost thought it was he standing in front of a kebab shop with a younger Draco. But Gavin's smile was different, and he was taller and a bit broader with an air of self-confidence he was sure he never had. "He's um... "

"Fit, I know," said Draco as he rolled onto his back again, his eyelids fluttering as the pain killers in the potion clearly started to kick in. "Reminded me of someone the first time I saw him." He smiled; eyes still closed as he felt for Harry and pulled him down onto the bed to cuddle with. "But I talked to him anyway."

It was terribly flattering to think that maybe Draco had been seeking him out, even in an abstract way. Though now it was hard to say whether Gavin was a replacement for him or he was a replacement for Gavin. But Draco's arms were warm and the covers were soft, and with the clock ticking on whatever time they would have together, Harry decided not to care.