Warm But Tainted Blood (Drarry)

chapter thirteen

So things go to hell. Things go to hell because things like to do that-- it is the natural state of all things to fall into disarray.

The situation previously established is already shit-- people disappearing mysteriously, dragons chilling about simply because they can-- but it certiantly proves that it can, in fact, get worse. As it turns out, teachers were not exempt from the awful circumstances, as was demonstrated with the disappearance of Professor Quirrell the week following Christmas. But it's not until George Wealsey disappears that Harry really takes care to just how shitty things can get.

Fred does not take it well.

He does not attend classes anymore-- which Harry thinks the teachers understand, consider Fred's grades do not drop... except for Potions-- and can be found at most times sitting on the floor of the library. He reads more than he's ever read before, all in a futile search to find out what could've happened to his brother.

Hermione and Harry have taken to bringing him food when he refused to come to the Great Hall-- "the answer could be in here, it writes about wards and how they've fallen in the past, just one more book and I'll be down"-- and Harry's worried. Fred and George have a codependent relationship and without each other, they are apt to fall apart.

Sometimes, Fred is dragged back into the common room by a grumbling Mr. Filch. It's odd, though, because he takes no points and is the opposite of rude. Fred explains one night that Filch sat down beside him and told him about the disappearance, later revealed to be murder, of his own twin.

Mr. Filch seems more humanized in Harry's eyes, but he's mostly just glad for the extra kindness toward Fred, who needed all compassion he could get.

Harry's not taking it well, either.

The signs are less noticable on him because he occupies himself with worry toward Fred rather than think about the dispair he himself feels. George is one of the only friends he's had, and it's more than a shame he's disappeared.

Harry, try as he might, cannot ignore the inky black stain on his mind. There is a George shaped hole in his heart and he cannot fill it in his own.

So Harry is sad. He yearns for his friend back. He yearns... and then he writes to Draco Malfoy. He thinks he is a product of his environment-- a nice little package of trust issues and unresolved trauma-- but he also thinks he will have to push through that. The part of him that's still friendless and alone in the cupboard is sometimes seductive, sometimes irresistible, and is always begging for him to stay closed off. Friends are fickle; they are just like parents, who will die, leaving you all alone in a world that loves and hates you in equal measure, or they are like the Dursley's, who hate him because he's a Potter and has something they do not.

This part of him is loud. It tells him Draco Malfoy is more a foe than friend and it is nothing less than foolish to assume otherwise.  But Harry misses George. Harry wants, more than he wants his own tightly knit circle of security to stay secure, George back.

So Harry is sad, yearning, and writing to Malfoy. He asks to accept his offered deal, on the condition that Malfoy asks his parents to search their library for both any books that'll solve the dragon epidemic, and books that might explain why children are escaping through wards seemingly impassable.

And in return, Malfoy will become Draco; their friendship secured.

Draco does not reply to the letter. He does, however, hang around Harry enough to become another unofficial member of their little group. He says the books should be in in about 6-8 weeks. Hardy grins at him and Draco grins back.

Hermione takes to Draco joining them... somewhat well. They test each other on trivia more often than they talk normally and Harry watches on with awe. (But sometimes they outright fight... which Harry does not watch on with anything-- he tends to leave rather quickly.)

"Pomegranate or orange; which one serves best as a replacement for Sacred Pineapple in a Rejuvenation Draught?" Hermione asks, her tone falsely light as she watches Draco from accross the table. Harry, who is sitting on the floor, his back against a book shelf, a forgotten essay in his lap (more interested in watching his friend's interactions, he'd say), knows Hermione is looking for a sign of weakness. She is looking for a crack in his armor, a sign that Draco is not worthy for her or Harry's companionship.

Hermione looks for weakness and does not find in. Draco fires back, as quick as ever: "Orange. Rejuvenation Draughts were first made in 1829 by Edward Jonas for replenishing energy mid-Quidditch game. The Sacred Pineapple proved to be acid enough to get one's blood pumping. Orange is more acidic than pomegranate, so in theory it would be more fitting. Though, I'm of the opinion that it should not be used at all, considering continuous use of the potion is known to cause acic reflux and official medical use of it was discontinued in 1840. But I ask of you..."

Harry was impressed. And grateful for the distraction. The world feels as if it is falling down around him, a constant warping motion that Harry struggles to keep up with. The world is not constant. But his friends, bickering and all, are. He greatly appreciates it.

He and Draco hit it off well, too. Harry takes to teaching Draco Muggle chess and Draco takes to failing spectacularly. Harry finds these moments-- the ones where he sneaks Draco into the Gryffindor common room after hours and plays chess until they're both threatening to slump over the board-- to be serene.

But even as serenity finds itself washing over him in bumbling waves, he cannot forget a certian redhead and the way he's going, going, gone. It's not fair (nothing ever is.)