Someone Else's Life

Nine: Woke up in a Dream

Here I stand before myself,
I see something’s out of place.
You tasted all my purity,
Now there’s nothing left to waste.
The feeling gets so in my way,
It’s getting lost in my delivery…
--Seether “Sold Me”

Slowly consciousness began to shroud around the boy as he moaned and rolled his head from left to right. His eyes flew open and he quickly drew an arm across them to block out the harsh light that filled the room. He grunted and was seized by blurry images that sent chills coursing through his body. His body suddenly shot up into a sitting position as he began to scream.

He looked at his arms, seeing two images, perfectly unmarred flesh, and his arms split open and bleeding out life. He was sure he’d gone mad as he continued to scream, unable to stop. Madame Pomfrey came rushing into his room, as did someone he’d never expected to see again. His eyes widened at the familiar form of his godfather, Sirius Black, looking at him in worry, and then the darkness ran through him again, and blessedly he let it take him away.

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Draco was sitting quietly at the end of the Gryffindor table for dinner; it was the third night without Harry, the third day since Harry had tried to kill himself. No he hadn’t tried. He’d succeeded, and in that moment of desperation Draco had let his secret slip. If he had it to do all over again, perhaps he would have gotten there sooner, but he knew he wouldn’t have done anything different.

Finally the curiosity was too much to hold even Hermione back. Hermione and Ron had been sitting across from the Slytherin at every meal since Harry had been admitted to the infirmary, but he’d hardly spoken a word except for, “Please pass the rolls.”

“Draco,” Hermione began and then took a deep breath. “What happened that day? Please tell us. They won’t let us see Harry, and they have him in that private room in the infirmary. They say there is someone else in there with him, but all the teachers and students are accounted for, so who is with him?”

Draco looked up at her, his grey eyes masked, but something in him broke as he looked into her soft eyes and then looked towards Ron. He then stood up and said, “Not here. Let’s go to our common room, Hermione. We don’t want anyone else to hear this or the entire school would be in a panic. Luckily Blaise is the only other witness unless you count Severus, and they both know not to talk.”

Ron and Hermione exchanged a look and stood. Draco led the way out of Great Hall and up to the Head Boy and Girl quarters. He gave the password, and soon they were in the common room. He sat in a rich plush crimson chair, while Ron and Hermione took the plush green sofa across from him.

Draco closed his eyes and when they opened again, they were a fountain of grief, relief, anger, pain, and confusion. “I thought he could handle our relationship. That morning everything was so perfect, until that paper came. That bloody photo, it was of our time in that lake. How they could have gotten that moment on camera I do not know, nor do I wish to know. I suppose it was a combination of things really. And of course Severus didn’t help with matters much. Blaise was with Harry when it happened.”

“When what happened?” Ron snapped with impatience.

“Harry died. He killed himself. He transfigured his wand into a knife and cut his arms, from elbows to wrist. He meant to die and did,” the boy said, fighting the sobs building in his throat.

Hermione and Ron looked at the boy in shock. It was Hermione who spoke first. “But why haven’t they said anything. It’s been three days. It couldn’t possibly take that long to plan a…a…fu…funeral.”

“He’s no longer dead,” Draco answered quietly.

“But how in the bloody hell is that possible?! What is going on, is he dead or isn’t he?” Ron yelled.

“He died, but then I summoned Anubis. I pleaded for Harry’s life, offered my own as sacrifice, but that wasn’t necessary. The payment was two resurrections. I got Harry back, and with Harry came Sirius Black. He is the second occupant in the private room in the infirmary. They are keeping Harry there because they don’t know how my blood could have brought him back. They don’t understand any of it,” the blond answered.

Hermione’s eyes widened. “Only a necromancer could call on a God of Death. Harry was really…”

“Yes, he was, and I want to know why he felt compelled to do that. I thought things were going so well. We were finally so close to being happy, something neither of us has had before, not completely. I knew it would be difficult, but I thought he was ready to face it. Maybe I pushed him too much. I never seem to do anything right. Gods, it should have been me dragging that knife across my arms. That thought never should have crossed his mind,” Draco’s voice was on the verge of desperation.

“You’re a bloody necromancer? Merlin, but how? Wizards have never been able to properly work death magic. The price is always too high; it would drain any witch or wizard. Gypsies can, and there are stories of Americans that can, but…” Ron said and trailed.

Draco looked toward the floor. “My mother was a daughter of Lilith, a direct descendant of Lilith’s line. She was never able to learn Necromancy, however when I was seven Lucius made a discovery about my abilities. It would seem I was a natural, so he provided me with all of the materials that I would need to learn it. He always had an interest in death magic. Yet he was never able to truly perform it.”

“Could what you have done alter Harry in some way?” Hermione asked, her voice trembling with fear of the answer.

The blond looked up, his grey eyes misty. “I don’t know. He died. I think that would be enough to change someone. I know that our magic has now fully bonded, and I can feel him, everything he feels. He awoke for a moment tonight, right before dinner. He remembered. He saw Sirius and then fell back into sleep. And of course Madame Pomfrey won’t even allow me to visit Harry. I don’t think she believes what happened to him, but she can’t explain his blood loss either, nor can she explain how a dead man could suddenly appear on the Quidditch pitch from a strike of lightening. I need to see him, and I know Harry needs me, I can feel it, like an ache…”

Hermione then looked up at the boy and noticed just how tired and worn he looked, with dark circles beneath his eyes and a haunted look in the depths of his grey eyes. He looked as though he hadn’t slept in days, and that was probably true. Hermione felt tears come to her eyes as she looked at the boy before her, the same boy that had called her names, and played countless cruel tricks on her and her friends, and who was obviously in love with one of her friends, the same friend who had tried to selfishly end it all. How could anyone try to commit suicide when someone obviously loved them so much?

“Well, have you tried his cloak? I know he used it the night he went to see you,” Ron said quietly, trying to avoid looking at the blond.

Draco suddenly looked up with a start. “Of course! Why didn’t I think of it before! She can’t send someone she can’t see away.”

Draco looked at the two Gryffindors sitting across from him and smiled, it was somewhat strained, but genuine. He wondered how they could ever be kind to him, almost be his friend, after the many things he’d done to them over the years, many things he regretted. He was grateful that they could look past all that he’d once been to them, and help him. He knew they were helping him for Harry’s sake, but still it felt good to almost have friends. He then stood up and went upstairs to his room, where he found Harry’s invisibility cloak hanging on the back of a wooden chair near the rich mahogany desk sitting next to one of the tall windows in the room. He took the cloak, feeling the velvety material, before slipping it on and heading toward the infirmary.

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The door of the infirmary was carefully pulled open as an invisible Draco slipped through the doors. He looked around, a breath of relief slipping from his lips as he hadn’t spotted Madam Pomfrey. He crept quietly through the infirmary to the door at the end, the door that led to the private room. The room where Harry had disappeared to and hadn’t been seen since.

Draco closed his eyes, his hands shaking as he reached for the door. He had no idea where his sudden nervousness had come from. He quickly choked it back and slipped into the room. He was hyperly aware of Harry in the bed by the window, and he felt the presence of someone else in the room, someone who could sense him as well. Within a matter of seconds the door was slammed behind him and Draco was being pressed against it. A strong arm was being held against his throat, and the hood of the cloak was being thrown back off of his head, making his face visible. The boy swallowed thickly as he looked into the blue eyes of a formerly dead man, Sirius Black, the price that came with Harry’s life.

“A Malfoy,” Sirius hissed. “Why would you visit Harry? Have you come to see if he’s on his deathbed? Are there rumors you little Slytherin bastards are spreading? Come to finish him off?”

Draco hardly flinched as the arm pressed harder against his throat. He just turned his head toward Harry’s bed and thought it a fitting end, to die by the price he paid to save his lover. His eyes widened as he watched Harry suddenly sit up on the bed and look toward the door. The boy fell out of bed, awkwardly got to his feet, and began staggering toward his lover and his godfather.

“No,” he croaked in a voice strained from disuse. Sirius suddenly turned toward the voice and released Draco to go to his godson, but Draco was quicker and caught Harry before he stumbled and fell.

The blond wrapped the dark haired boy in his arms and held him close, kissing his forehead, down his cheeks, and finally his lips, which he savaged once Harry allowed his demanding tongue entrance. Sirius blinked and then took a seat on his bed, feeling that his legs could not be relied upon to hold him up. He watched the son of a Death Eater kissing his godson, and wondered what had happened in the time he’d been away.

“Why, Harry? Why?” the blond whispered once he broke off the kiss, tears streaming down his face. “We were so close. How could you do something so stupid, when we were so close to everything we’ve never had and always wanted? I love you, you stupid sod! Would you take that from me?”

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered, and Draco held out his hand and the pitcher on the night stand levitated and began to fill a cup of water, and then the cup went to his hand without spilling a drop. He gave the cup to Harry, who shakily lifted it to his lips and drained it of its contents. “Oh Gods, Draco, how do I explain it? It was strange, when I saw that photograph something changed. Darkness just swept through me like a cloud and I was gone, I don’t know where. I remember waking up in your arms and I think I was dying; there was so much blood. Did I die? Is this death?”

“You did die Harry, but you know I wouldn’t let you leave me. I brought you back. I was being horribly selfish so I brought you back. We are fully bonded now, a God spoke and said so, a God of Death of all things,” the blond answered and then he pulled the dark haired boy tightly into his arms. “I don’t want to remember you when it rains, I want you there with me, so we can feel each drop together.”

Harry wrapped his arms around the blond and kissed his fair neck, and then looked over the blonde’s shoulder to a figure on the other bed in the private room. His eyes widened as he opened his palm and said, “Accio Glasses.”

Once he had his glasses he put them on and looked at the figure on the bed. His eyes widened and he blinked several times owlishly. “Sirius?” he asked. “You’re here? Draco can you see him?”

“Yes,” the blond whispered. “He was the price I paid to keep you. He’s alive. You are aware that he is a convicted murderer. I’ll only ask this once, and take you at your word… Is he dangerous?”

“Only to Death Eaters,” came the growl from the man sitting on the bed and he narrowed his eyes and looked at the two boys wrapped in each other’s arms on the floor.

Harry looked up at his godfather and spoke clearly, “He is not a Death Eater, Sirius. He turned away from Lucius, and his mother died protecting him, and don’t call him a Malfoy. He’s been disowned, and he doesn’t go by that name anymore.”

“Then what name does he go by Harry? Has he taken yours as you two are so close now?”

Draco turned toward the man, his grey eyes blazing mercury. “I go by my mother’s maiden name. Black.”

“Your mother never shared blood with me, but you would know that, wouldn’t you? A necromancer, the result of the affair your grandmother had. And I would wager that from the moment Lucius discovered what you were he began to train you,” Sirius answered.

The boy glared at the man. “Yes, he did, from the time I was seven, which was his mistake. It was how I held out against his means of persuasion. At any rate, it was necromancy that saved Harry, and it was necromancy that somehow brought you back.”

“You bargained with Anubis, you little fool. That’s why I was sent back. Not that I’m ungrateful, but Anubis is a strange one. He likes the descendants of Lilith, but he wouldn’t grant something like this unless it could prove entertaining for him. So why would he give you audience, let alone grant you the life of my godson?” Sirius asked.

“Because we are soul bound, and I was willing to die for him to live,” Draco snapped, and then he stood, helped Harry up, and got the dark haired boy back over to the bed. “Now, you listen Harry. If you ever do that again I will follow you through the veil and we’ll go to the ground together.”

Harry’s eyes widened as he looked at the boy, and then he closed his eyes as a memory came to him. His eyes flew open as Draco brushed a strand of hair from his face and helped him to lie back down. He snatched Draco’s left hand and turned it palms up. Harry fingered the scar that now marred his lover’s palm.

“This was for me. This was how you brought me back,” he whispered in awe, and then a smile crossed his face. “You cut your heart line for me. The line of your love.”

“Without you I wouldn’t need it,” the blond responded.

The sound of a throat clearing filled the room, and both boys looked in the direction of the other bed. Sirius looked at them and shook his head. He could hardly believe that his godson, Harry Potter, son of James and Lily Potter, could have fallen for the son of a Malfoy and a half-breed lamia.

“So you are soul bound?” Sirius asked in contempt, and almost snorted at the absurdity of the thought.

Draco’s left eyebrow went up with amusement. “As I recall hearing once, you, yourself had the beginnings of a soul binding, but you turned away from it. You grew to hate the one that shared the bond with you, and so you never fully bonded. You discovered it while you were young. You made him grow angry and bitter, and then you played cruel tricks on him, and nearly killed him using your best friend! Which is strange because you also saw the beginning of a soul binding for Harry’s parents and helped push that along. Why would you deny it for yourself?”

“That is not your concern,” Sirius growled and shot a glare at the boy.

“No,” came a silky deep voice from the doorway. “But it is mine. Isn’t it Black?”

Harry looked toward the door, which now stood open, and then back to his godfather, even in the limited light from the moon outside he could see that his godfather had paled considerably. Severus Snape entered the room and closed the door behind him, careful to ward it, and put up a silence charm.

“Are you afraid, Black? Afraid of what your precious godson would think if he knew? I trusted Draco enough with the truth. Potter knows most of it, as he fell into my Pensieve during his fifth year and saw some of the cruel things you and your friends did to me. It wasn’t James leading them those times though, was it?”

Harry tried to sit up, but Draco crawled into bed beside him and held him against him, his body wrapping around him, as if in protection. Harry sighed and watched what was unfolding before him. He looked at how shaken his godfather looked.

“Why bring this up now? You could have saved me from Azkaban and you didn’t. That makes us even. That was twelve years of my life gone, that you could have spared,” Sirius snarled.

Snape let out a bitter laugh. “And what of all the years of my life that you could have spared?”

“Have you any idea what it was like? Dementors everyday!”

“What memory did you live over and over again? Tell me that much. You owe me that at least,” Severus said, his voice chilling.

Sirius’ eyes widened as he looked at the sallow Potions Master before him. “You have the answer to that, Snape.”

The sallow, lank haired man smiled for a moment and then his expression quickly soured. “I would have relived the moment that came after. You killed me with the words that followed. You made me weak enough to turn to that thing. You made me weak enough to take this!” Snape yelled as his nostrils flared in his anger, and then snatched up the sleeve of his left arm, and the dark mark was clearly visible.

Sirius flinched at the sight of it. “You made a choice.”

“As did you. Even after what happened with Lupin, I would have forgiven you, even him. I wasn’t spiteful then, not until that night. And so after that I thought I would find a way to pay you back. After Lily… After the Potters were killed I decided enough was enough, I never meant for them to die. So I went to Dumbledore, but by then they had caught you and accused you of those crimes. I wanted to speak in your defense, but I remember when you saw me standing with Dumbledore as they brought you into Azkaban the look you gave me, and then you had no trial. Of course my word wouldn’t have made much difference. It never meant anything to you before, did it?”

Sirius chuckled. “Is this where you profess undying love for me? You did that once before.”

“And you turned it against me,” Snape spat back.

“So what do you want from me?” Sirius asked.

“Nothing,” Snape answered. “You are no longer worth anything to me anymore. You saw to that years ago. Do as you will. Live your life when you gain your freedom, but leave me alone.”

“Fair enough,” Sirius said. “But I had no intentions of bothering you to begin with.”

“Then Goodbye Sirius. I never got to say that before,” Snape said, and then he turned to his godson and Potter lying together on the bed. “Draco, you will never know how lucky and cursed you truly are. Goodnight.”

With that, Snape took down the wards and silencing charm, opened the door, and with a sweep of his robes left the room. Harry looked at his godfather as Sirius watched the man walk out of the door, and was about to say something, but Draco’s firm grip on his shoulder stopped him.

“It isn’t your place, Harry,” he whispered, and then he kissed the dark haired boy’s neck, just below his right ear and continued in a soft voice, “I love you.”

“Tonight almost feels like waking up in a dream,” Harry said sleepily, and smiled as Draco held him closer, and took his glasses off for him. He felt warm and at peace as unconsciousness came to sweep him into dreams of light instead of the darkness that had plagued him.

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