Wicked

Dear readers, voters and reviewers, the identity of the mysterious helper will be revealed eventually, let me just say it wasn´t Snape. =) Thank you all!

mrequecky: I know it´s disturbing, but it was necessary to show how desperate the man must be- he knew he´d be killed by Voldemort otherwise for helping Draco escape, and his death would probably have been much slower and painful then.



Madam Pomfrey and Harry had waited outside while the Headmaster talked to Draco about the Pensieve.

Draco´s eyes had widened with trepidation at Dumbledore´s request. His body had started to shake, and his face had gone even paler than it already had been, but he returned the Headmaster´s gaze nevertheless: “My- my memories?”
The old man´s eyes had rested on him benignly: “You would not have to relive them,” he repeated.

Draco had made a strangled sound: “I am constantly reliving them wether I want to or not,” he whispered. “It´s just- I don´t - what they did-“ he broke off, unable to put his thoughts into words.

Dumbledore had sat down on the edge of the bed then. Lowering his voice, he had spoken gently: “There is absolutely no reason for you to be ashamed.”

Draco had turned his head away. That was easy to say, but hard to achieve. He knew that Dumbledore was only trying to help him, but he still felt so humiliated whenever his mind played those scenes over and over again, he did not wish for others to witness them.
It was simply unthinkable, even more than talking about it.

“Please, I d-don´t know if I can,” he had whispered, mortified.
Dumbledore had felt a tinge of disappointment, even though he could understand the boy´s sentiments. There was no way of forcing Malfoy into this, as he was perfectly aware of.

“Well,” the Headmaster had eventually said, “if you are quite sure about it, I am going to leave for now.” He had made to get up, but Draco, who had been struggling with himself, had said “Wait.”

Dumbledore had hesitated.

Draco had sought his gaze again, warily: “You need to know, don´t you?” he whispered. “You need to know everything...” “Yes, dear boy,” Dumbledore had replied kindly. “I do if I am supposed to react to this monstrosity.”

Draco had swallowed hard, wishing to curl up and disappear; he had never given Dumbledore much positive thought before now, as his father had taught him to despise the Headmaster, but he could see the honesty in the brilliant blue eyes, and something akin to compassion.

And he had suddenly known, just like he had known that his only option had been to turn to Potter, that he could trust the old man.

“Do it then,” he had therefore said, still barely audible. “Because I could never tell you otherwise.”

Dumbledore had considered him for a moment, his expression unfathomable, before he nodded: “Very good,” he had said. “I do understand what this means. Be assured that it is highly appreciated.”

“Sir,” Draco had begun, weakly, “please... do not show it to Harry...”

Dumbledore had nodded again, and had given him a sad smile in order to reassure him. He had hardly been able to believe that this was the same boy who had usually worn a sneer on his face whenever he had seen him.

After Dumbledore had witnessed what had initiated the change in Draco however, he felt like weeping.

No one should have to undergo such torment, especially not by his own kin. The old man was by no means a stranger to grief, horror or malignity, but it still distressed him greatly that Voldemort´s followers did not rank behind their master in their unscrupulous ways.
He had not expected any humanity left in the Dark Lord, but to see these people behave like savage beasts was truly scary.
He looked down on the sleeping Draco and took a shaky breath: it seemed that he had begun to change his mind indeed. He had persevered remarkably well, after all, and had not yielded to betray Harry even though it would have ended his ordeal.

The Headmaster was talking to Harry while Madam Pomfrey assessed Draco once more. She seemed a little cross and had conjured up the white hospital curtain once more, effectively hiding herself and Draco from view.

Harry could tell that Dumbledore was shaken. The old wizard looked at him seriously: “I will not reveal the details about Mr Malfoy´s imprisonment,” he said gravely. “It seems however that he has truly turned from the path his father had chosen for him even before he had been born.”

He told Harry about the “job” Malfoy had refused to take on, thus protecting Harry, how Lucius had eventually rejected his son and how Draco had managed to escape.

Harry was stricken: “It´s my fault then, ” he murmured, glancing over to the curtain.

“No, it isn´t,” Dumbledore replied. “And I wouldn´t have told you about it if I had thought it were. I have told you once that we have to decide between what is right and what is easy. It seems that Mr Malfoy has chosen right over easy in the end.”
Harry still felt bad about it; he would never have expected Draco to behave like that, he had always struck him rather as a coward who was only good at hiding behind people and let others do the dirty work.

“It still doesn´t explain why he has come here,” he finally managed to say.
Dumbledore´s eyes twinkled: “Doesn´t it?” he said. “I think it is quite clear, Harry.”

Harry looked down on his hands, not knowing how to reply.


The Headmaster however had another thing on his mind: “What has happened to Draco´s cloak?” he asked. Harry looked around, for the first time thinking about that: “Erm... I don´t know, actually.”

“I took care of it,” Madam Pomfrey´s voice rang out from behind the curtain. “It´s in the wardrobe.”
Agape, Harry stared at the white material shielding her from view. Of course, that made sense.

A part of the Healer´s face appeared now, looking at him amusedly: “It doesn´t seem you are actually using it,” she quipped, “otherwise you might have noticed.” Harry blushed; he was indeed not using the wardrobe because he did not want to risk forgetting anything. He didn´t trust Dudley to not destroy anything which came into his hands.
Dumbledore smiled: “Very good, Poppy. I think I will take it with me. The Portkey should still be in one of its pockets.”
Harry´s eyes widened as he realized what that meant: “So you can find out where he´s been,” he murmured.
“Yes,” Dumbledore answered, his face turning serious again. “It might be of help.”

“I would ask you to stay by his side until he wakes,” Madam Pomfrey had instructed Harry before leaving. “Just in case there are any after effects from the Legilimency.”

Thus Harry had sat down on the bed with “Quidditch Through The Ages”; it was one of his favourite books and always helped him to relax.

This time, however, he found himself staring at Draco mostly, wondering about him. He was still looking ill and mangled, though the bruises on his face were starting to fade.
To hell and back, Harry thought, judging from Dumbledore´s expression after he had used the Pensieve; it seemed to suit Draco´s situation rather well.
Harry was actually glad that he had been spared to watch Draco´s torment in the Pensieve; he still had his own memories to deal with, and it was tough enough to see the Slytherin suffering from the aftermath alone.

He kept thinking about Draco´s reason to come to Privet Drive, though. For Dumbledore it seemed clear, but Harry could not believe that it was a reason so simple: had Draco sought his help because he actually trusted Harry?
Rubbish, he told himself. Respect, perhaps, in some twisted and strange way, but trust? Trust that he would be able to defend himself and Draco maybe.
He sighed; there was no way to find out unless he asked, was there? He would have to wait, as usual.


When the sleeping boy began to stir, Harry laid his hand on his shoulder to let him know he was there, and applied gentle pressure.
Draco looked at Harry groggily for a while after he had opened his eyes. He only became agitated when he remembered the talk with Dumbledore. Harry sought to reassure him: “It is over already... you are okay, Draco. You are all right...”

Reassured, Draco closed his eyes again. He vaguely remembered another person´s presence in his mind, effortly transcending his countermures, if not actually breaching them. He could sense that it did not intend to hurt him, but it felt like being conquered nevertheless. He felt exhausted now, as if he had played Chess for days. Sleep was very welcome.


He awoke in the evening; Harry was still sitting next to him, having dozed off himself. His book had slid from his knees and his mouth had fallen open, but his hand was still resting on Draco´s shoulder.
The Slytherin reached up and gently tugged at it, as the position Harry was in did not look very comfortable.

With a small grunt, Harry woke up. He blinked: “Wha- oh.” He grinned sheepishly and stretched: “How about dinner?” “Good idea,” Draco murmured. His appetite had not come back yet, but his stomach felt unpleasantly empty.
Harry scrambled off the bed; he let Hedwig out, then turned to the door: “Back in a sec...”

Draco wondered wether Dumbledore had been true to his word and not shown Harry the memories he had extracted from the Slytherin. Would Harry disdain him if he saw that Draco had not been able to defend himself? Draco then berated himself for such thoughts- Harry Potter had disdained him for as long as they had known each other, and for reasons Draco was ashamed of thinking about now.


Harry came back with deliciously smelling stew and rolls. His aunt had indeed borne in mind what Madam Pomfrey had recommended, if grudgingly so.
They ate slowly, relishing the good food; Harry had brought tea and cake for dessert. The tea had only cooled off a little under the tea cozy, and when they had finished, Draco felt satisfyingly full as he lay back onto the pillow.


Harry put the tray aside and regarded Draco with a quite unreadable expression, if unintentionally. He had yet to comprehend the fact that the Slytherin and founder of the I-hate-Harry-club for some reason had protected him.

Draco paled under Harry´s scrutiny, misinterpreting it: “You didn´t... “ he croaked, “He promised me...”
Harry quickly slid down next to him so that they were face to face: “No. I was outside the whole time,” he said. “Dumbledore keeps his promises.”

The look of relief on Draco´s sunken features was so profound that Harry couldn´t but wonder why it mattered so much wether he had seen it or not.

But Draco answered this unspoken question a moment later: “It´s been... so humiliating...” he whispered. “I felt so helpless...”

“I know,” Harry wanted to say, but then didn´t. He had not been raped, after all, that made a huge difference.

He reached up to lay his hand over Draco´s instead: “I think you have been very brave,” he said softly. “It would have been easy for you to turn me in and save yourself.”

Draco´s eyes widened: “Y-you... you know?”
“Dumbledore didn´t tell me much, only what he considered necessary,” Harry replied. “I guess he wanted me to understand...” He broke off.

Draco´s eyes lingered on him: “I´m not brave...” he murmured. “I just- wanted to nettle Lucius.”
It took Harry a moment to realize that the last part was meant to be a joke, but he also sensed the truth behind it.
Draco had indeed chosen right over easy. Harry would have loved to know why, what had compelled the Slytherin to question his formerly highly valued pureblood family, but he felt he had no right to ask, at least not now.

“I guess it worked,” Harry said, trying to lighten the mood further: “You have some experience with that, after all. Ferret.”
Draco smiled faintly: “Just had a bad day back then, is all.” “No, you didn´t,” Harry teased. “You just didn´t see it coming!”

They looked at each other, trying to recall their former mutual animosity. It seemed far away and ridiculous, seemed to have nothing to do with their current selves.


“Do you reckon it will be different from now on?” Harry couldn´t but ask.

Draco shrugged minutely: “I would hope so,” he said softly. “I don´t want to go on bullying people... I am really ashamed for how I behaved.” His face fell.

“Hey,” Harry redirected Draco´s gaze on his own:“You have at least realized it,” he stated equally softly.“You have seen that you were wrong, and are willing to change that. Not many people would.”

Draco drew a shaky breath: “Yes, but- what do you reckon will happen at school? I´m still in Slytherin... and the others...” he didn´t need to finish the sentence for Harry to understand what he was thinking.
“It won´t be easy,” he said honestly. He could vividly imagine what Draco very probably was going to have to go through, and why the Slytherin dreaded it; he himself had suffered from public disdain as well after all and knew how hard it could be on you.

“And what if I am too weak... if I fall back into my old behaviour...” Draco´s voice was flat now.
“What are you afraid of?” Harry asked gently. “Of the people or yourself?”

Draco didn´t answer anymore. He closed his eyes, too worn out to deal with these emotions now.

Although he was precoccupied with worries about the future, Draco slept quietly through the night.

After Madam Pomfrey had left in the following morning, he closed his eyes again and slept some more.

He hardly talked to Harry when he woke up in the early afternoon but appeared rather broody. His voice was subdued whenever the Gryffindor tried to engage him in a conversation; Harry assumed that Draco was doubting his ability to cope with the further developments, whatever they were going to look like, and watched him closely.

Draco had curled in on himself for the rest of the day, vainly hoping to escape his thoughts.


That night however, his nightmares returned with a vengeance. He could feel their hands on his body, could feel pain surging through him, and then a shadowy figure approached, having long blond hair and red snake-like eyes, holding a chain... he backed away from it, whimpering, but found he couldn´t move, as something was there holding him, more Death Eaters, more enemies...
And then a voice penetrated the loud rush of blood in his ears, telling him to calm down, and he realized that the hands holding him were not hurting him.

As the darkness surrounding him diminished, he recognized the voice and allowed it to take over, to guide him back to reality.

He found himself in a small, dark bedroom with Harry Potter, who was talking to him soothingly, and suddenly didn´t mind anymore that Harry knew what had happened to him, as it meant he didn´t have to pretend he was all right when he wasn´t.

He struggled to regain his breath and finally lay still as he felt Harry´s hand stroking his hair and shoulder; this didn´t even strike the Gryffindor as awkward anymore, he was just glad that the Slytherin responded to his attempts to get him out of his frenzied state.

Draco eventually grabbed Harry´s hand and held it tight, needing the contact. In opposite to Harry, he had always had someone to comfort him, either his parents or his stuffed toy dragon. He wondered about that and where it might be right now; it had been very soft and cuddly, and in the end severely loved off.


He awoke two more times that night, sweating and trembling. Each time Harry was there, and each time Draco tried to fight off the other´s hands af first before he found back to reality.

With a patience he did not know he possessed Harry tucked him back in every time, drawing the blankets up to Draco´s chin to make him feel safe.
Harry finally lay back on his own pillow and fell asleep soon, tired from having been woken repeatedly


He dreamed confusing stuff; people were weaving in and out of his sight while he was walking down a dark corridor, his wand at the ready. He wanted to reach the far end because he knew something was waiting for him there, but then he heard a whimper, it was calling him back... and he knew he had to go for it, thus he turned and followed the sound until he had found its source: it was Draco, lying with his back to Harry on the cold ground, and he was shaking.

Harry tried to reach out to him, but he couldn´t touch him for some reason, knowing that this was Malfoy... and then he suddenly was awake, and the whimper was right there, next to him.

Harry shoved the remnants of his dream aside and inched closer to Draco; unlike in the dream, he did not hesitate to touch him, but slipped underneath his blanket and wrapped his arm around him just like he had done before, whispering soothing words of comfort.

Draco eventually calmed down; the warm body next to him provided a shield, and someone was there with him, someone who held him close and would not let them come near him ever again.

To Be Continued