Hit the Floor

Chapter Nine

--

Harry was quieter than usual the next morning. He was not looking forward to his return to Hogwarts in the slightest. Once there, he would be thrust into dealing with Order members, battle plans, and his friends. None of them would go smoothly.


Harry closed his eyes as they paused at the door to the apparation room. Out of everything coming up in the next few days, Harry was looking forward to seeing his friends the least. He thought of it as a duty, something he was obligated to do. He would almost rather go face Voldemort the very second he got back, rather than face them. Ron and Hermione both had a tendency to be overly critical of his actions and how they affected his 'image'. They insisted that anything he did that did not fit in with the 'Gryffindor Code of Conduct,' was a fluke accident, and a misunderstanding. Harry wasn't sure exactly how they were going to take the massive changes he'd made since September, but chances were it would be uncomfortable.


--


Harry stood next to Draco with Snape behind them. He stared at the door to Dumbledore's office and couldn't bring himself to open it. After months spent away from the place he'd called home, he found he didn't think he would belong anymore. Behind that door were the people who had been there for most of his wizarding life, and all he wanted to do was return to Baltimore.


Draco apparently noticed his hesitation, and glanced over at him. "What's wrong, Potter? I thought you'd be leaping for joy at seeing your friends again."


Harry glared at Draco. "Shut up, Malfoy. At least I have friends to see." The statement wasn't true, and Harry knew it, but he'd say anything to distract himself from opening that door.


Draco leaned in close to Harry's ear. "Ah, but that's where you're wrong. Lie to me if you want, but be honest with yourself, Potter. You know how they'll react. You're too smart not to."


Harry stared at Draco for a long moment, and gave the barest of nods in acknowledgment of the truth. He then returned to staring at the heavy door in front of him.


"Scared, Potter?"


A ghost of a smile appeared on Harry's face. "If you had said that to me last year, I would have opened that door so fast it'd be ripped off its hinges. Now, though, my sense of self-preservation is screaming for me to run the other way, as far and as fast as I can."


Draco laughed, and gave one of his rare smiles. Harry almost missed what he said, staring at the beauty of it; it transformed Draco's face into something almost unfamiliar.


"I knew I'd turn you into a Slytherin."


The smile on Harry's face bloomed aat. at. "You wish." With that, he grabbed the handle and threw the door open.


"Harry!"


Two forms, one red, one brown, flew at him. From instincts developed through months of dueling two Slytherins, Harry threw a Stupefy at the people attacking him without a thought. Only after the two hit the floor did Harry realize it was Ron and Hermione he'd just stunned.


The laughter behind him was unmistakably Draco's. Harry spun around and glared at him.


"Think that's funny, do you?"


"Potter, you just did what I've been wanting to do for six years. Yes, it's funny. Bloody hilarious, actually," Draco said, a smirk plastered firmly on his face.


"Piss off, Malfoy," Harry said, fighting the urge to grin back. The sheer hilarity of the situation caused him to fail miserably. It seemed he wouldn't have to face his friends just yet after all. He composed himself before turning to Dumbledore, completely ignoring the two on the ground.


"What's going on, Sir? Why were we called back?" Harry asked evenly, tone belying the anxiousness he felt inside.


"Perhaps you would all like to have a seat first?" Dumbledore answered, and gestured to the chairs by his desk.


"No thank you, Sir. I'd like to know what's happened. For you to express such urgency, something big has to have happened," Harry replied in the same tone.


Dumbledore cleared his throat, his eyes widening ever so slightly. If Harry didn't know better, he would think that Dumbledore was uncomfortable. "Let's revive your friends, shall we?"


Harry narrowed his eyes. He'd learned too much recently to fall for the Headmaster's apparent stall tactics. "They're fine where they are," Harry insisted. "Tell me what's going on, and then we'll worry about them."


Dumbledore didn't listen to him, reviving the two fallen Gryffindors.


"Harry! What the hell was that for?" Ron asked, a bewildered expression on his face.


Harry tried to ignore him and remain focused on Dumbledore. He was seriously considering using his Occlumency skills to see if he could tear into the man's mind.


Dumbledore sighed and settled wearily back into his chair. Harry noted that he looked even more haggard and frail then the last time he'd seem the Headmaster.


"Harry, aren't you even going to say hello?" Hermione asked, obviously annoyed.


"Hi guys," Harry said, glancing over at them briefly
"
"Hi guys? That's it? Harry, you've been gone for seven months! You didn't even say goodbye," Ron said, betrayal evident in his voice.


Harry closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. He couldn't afford to lose it this soon. He'd known coming home would be difficult, and dealing with Ron and Hermione would be worst of all, but Snape and Draco had trained him well. It wasn't that he'd stopped caring about them, but there was so much going on. So much he needed to know. "We'll catch up in a bit, right now I need to know what's happened," he said, fighting to keep his voice emotionless.


Ron and Hermione began to protest, but Dumbledore waved them silent before folding his hands under his chin. "Voldemort has planned an attack on Hogwarts," Dumbledore finally said. "Since you have not been seen in months, he's decided now is the best time to act."


"What? Then why are they here?" Harry asked, gesturing to his housemates. "You should be keeping my presence a secret!" Harry exclaimed. It didn't take a genius to figure that out, and from the sharp intake of breath behind him, he knew Snape and Draco agreed with him. The element of surprise was their most valuable ally, and the less people who knew he was back, the better. "The fact that they know I am back is not only a danger to them, but to me as well." Harry knew that his voice had taken on that cold quality that he'd hated so much in the Slytherins just a year before.


Ron and Hermione looked at him in shock. He supposed it was because of the changes in his demeanor. That, and his obvious displeasure at their presence. Yes, occasionally he'd been known to try and protect them from danger, but he'd never wanted to exclude them for his own safety.


Dumbledore looked somewhat surprised as well. "I'm sorry Harry, but we cannot keep your return a secret. The school will be attacked, and the students need to know you are here for their own peace of mind. You give them strength, and the school is already aware of your return."


Harry was seething inside. Acting as a mascot was not in his job description. "With all due respect, Sir, I don't care about their peace of mind. I'd much rather be alive at the end of this."


Snape apparently had enough. "Headmaster, you cannot be serious," he began. "If the Dark Lord is aware of Potter's presence, he will change his plans. Our best chance is to surprise him. Potter will be able to kill him before he is even aware of his presence."


"No, Severus. It makes no difference at this point. If Voldemort changes his plans, all the better. Harry's very presence may be enough to deter the attack on the school. I wish to avoid that at all costs." He turned to Harry. "My boy, I have tried to keep you from this for so long. I am sorry. If Voldemort does change his current plans, you will be able to continue your training here."


Harry stared at him incredulously. While he would rather not fight Voldemort on school grounds, it wasn't worth seven more months of killing to protect it. The students would be fine, unless Harry fell. That was something he had no intention of doing. As for the training, well, there wasn't much more he could learn. It was all a matter of practice now.


Dumbledore stood, motioning them all to the door. "I'll let the three of you get settled in before lunch. There will be an Order meeting tomorrow to discuss the plans for the potential battle."


Harry hadn't even taken two steps into the corridor before he was attacked.


"What the hell is going on, Harry? Where have you been? Why are you with these two? What have you been doing?" Ron exploded. Hermione stood next to him, nodding in agreement.


Harry sighed, and glanced behind him. Snape was already on his way to the dungeons, and Draco was inching away as well. They locked eyes for a split-second. With no more than an eyebrow raise between them, Draco turned and left. He turned back to Ron and
Hermione.


"I'm sorry, I can't tell you that." He was getting a migraine. A very bad one.


"What do you mean, you can't tell us? That's ridiculous, Harry. You tell us everything," Hermione stated matter-of-factly.


"Not this time, Hermione," Harry replied. His detached mask was firmly in place. "For you to know that would put me in danger, as well as Malfoy and Snape. Well, and you too," he finished lamely.


When Ron and Hermione began yelling in earnest, he just tuned them out.


--


Harry walked aimlessly through the halls. He'd been walking since he'd left his friends, fed up with their arguing. After yelling at him for a good ten minutes, they'd turned their attention to each other, and fought about whose fault it was that Harry apparently didn't trust them anymore. They hadn't even noticedn hen he sneaked away.


Up ahead, leaning against the wall to the corridor that led to the dungeons, was Draco.


"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, as he approached. He absentmindedly realized that he'd wandered towards the dungeons. He supposed he was used to being underground now.


Draco stared at him coldly. "Come on, Potter, use your head," he said as he pushed away from the wall. "I can't very well go back to Slytherin now, can I? I've been missing with you for seven months. I'm obviously on your side, and my housemates won't take that news kindly."


Harry sighed. "I hadn't thought about that," he admitted.


"Big surprise there," Draco sneered, as he kicked at the stone floor.


"Come on," Harry said, grabbing Draco by the arm and dragging him down the hall.


"Unhand me, Potter!" Draco demanded. When he realized that Harry was ignoring him, he tried to tug away. "Where are you taking me," he asked, with just a thread of uncertainty in his voice. If Harry hadn't spent the past seven months living with him, he would have missed it.


"Somewhere you can stay without worrying about being killed in your sleep," Harry replied as they moved up the stairs. "Unless, of course, you want to sleep on the stone floor in the middle of the hall. Your choice, Malfoy."


Draco didn't answer. They were silent until they hed hed the seventh floor.


"Hey, isn't this where you and your little Gryffindork friends had that club in fifth year?" Draco asked, as he looked around.


"Shut up," Harry replied. "I need to concentrate."


"Good luck there. Try not to hurt yourself," was the snarky reply.


Harry concentrated on a room for Draco as he paced. On the third pass, the plain wooden door to the Room of Requirement appeared.


"Come on."


Harry dragged Draco into the room, which looked suspiciously like their room in Baltimore. "You can stay here."


Draco looked at Harry with a calculating expression on his face. "Thanks, Potter," he said quietly.


"Whatever, Malfoy," Harry replied, but the words lacked their normal heat. He went to leave, but a hard grip on his arm prevented the action. He looked up at Draco.


"Where do you think you're going?"


It was truly amazing how fast his body reacted to that tone of voice. Low, harsh, and dangerous. Every single muscle in his body tensed, his breathing quickened, and his heart pounded. His senses seemed excruciatingly magnified. Harry could feel each finger that gripped his arm, down to the pinpricks of pain where fingernails dug in, even through his robes. The breath on his face sent shivers down his neck and back, and he could see each silvery eyelash that brushed Draco's cheek.


"Nowhere, apparently," Harry whispered.


"You've got that right."


Although now expected, the first flash of pain that came with being slammed against the wall froze Harry with shock. The stone was cold through his sh and and rough against his cheek. He moaned quietly, and Draco pushed against him relentlessly. The teeth nipping his neck released some of the pent up tension caused by the stresses of the day.


As Draco ripped at his robes and the clothes underneath, Harry idly thought about the fact that they never kissed much. Mouths were used to mark, suck, inflict, not kiss. He supposed it was too personal, that it meant too much. It would be a symbol of something they weren't, or at least, wouldn't admit they were.


The temporary submissiveness that had resulted from that first wash of pain wore off, and Harry fought the hands holding him in place. He turned around and tore at the material covering the pale skin he wanted so badly to mark as his own. Buttons flew everywhere, and there it was. Draco always made the prettiest sounds when Harry drug his fingernails down that once smooth back. Now, it was covered in scars from scratches and teeth, so much like Harry's own tanned one.


When Draco slammed him back into the wall hard enough, he knew that this was going to be one of those times. Like the time that Draco had clenched his hand so tight, he'd broken Harry's little finger. Like the time that Harry had bent Draco's arm so far behind his back, Draco had wound up with a dislocated shoulder. Like all those times that were about violence and repressed emotion.


Harry took all of the anger, all of the helplessness, and all of the fear he'd felt throughout the day, and poured it into his actions. It fueled pushing Draco to the floor. It fueled the ironlike grip on his arms, pinning him into place. It fueled the ferocity with which he tore into Draco's pure white skin. He used it to ensure that he would be the one in charge this time, and for once, Draco didn't put up much of a struggle.


The feeling of that wonderful heat surrounding him was amazing, and the feeling of Draco's nails digging into his side hard enough to break the skin made it exquisite. Harry was forcibly reminded yet again, that submissive Draco was more violent and ruthless than when dominating Harry, as if he was punishing Harry for being in control.


It was the most glorious thing Harry had ever experienced.


His mind shut down under the onslaught of pure sensation, and that was the reason he barely caught the whispered words from Draco's mouth just as Harry came.


"I'm all you have left, Potter."


--