𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐏𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐒

XIII

Act XIII.

Ira furor brevis est.

Anger is brief insanity.

  

“Draco.” Harry cut him off softly mid-rant, his tone sad and desolate as he finally raised his eyes to meet stormy grey.

“He’s free.”

A myriad of emotions flitted through those grey eyes. Disbelief, hope, fear and joy until Harry couldn’t stand it anymore, especially since elation was taking deeper root in the Slytherin’s expression. And so with his dwindling courage, he rushed to finish his confession, tripping over the words in his haste. “So he came here yesterday to get you and you said “No”. He got mad and disowned you then he walked away and you were hit by the curse of Judecca. That’s when I caught you and brought you to the Infirmary.”

“What the hell are you talking about? My father came for me and I refused? I was cursed with Judecca?” Draco asked him, his voice rising in shocked hysteria. I left him? I made that choice? He thought in horrified disbelief. And father disowned me? I’m no longer a Malfoy??? His eyes widened in panic at the disturbing notion. Suddenly his head began to ache once more and a rush of pain assaulted his mind. He rubbed his forehead to alleviate the crippling pain but to no avail. It can’t be true! It just can’t be! He thought in shock. He wanted to cry, to curse, to hit something! But most of all he wanted Potter to be wrong.

“Yes. I’m sorry, Draco.” Harry tried to comfort the distressed boy, feeling the familiar stirrings of helplessness at being unable to offer anything but a few trifling words. He cursed Lucius once more for putting them all in this position.

Draco continued shaking his head, this time at the Gryffindor’s blatant lie. “You’re sorry? Potter, you really are a bad liar!” He laughed cruelly and hysterically. “If what you say really happened I doubt you’d be sorry. After all, it would be one less target on the battlefield, right?”

Harry shook his head, ready to deny such a heartless claim but Draco didn’t give him a chance. “And if I am to follow your silly attempt at deception, who cursed me with Juddecca then? Are you saying my own father hexed me with this fucking spell?”

Harry was about to open his mouth to confirm this but at the sight of Draco’s stricken face, he hesitated. Already he could see that Draco was not taking this well at all and he didn’t want to add the final blow and break him. It was too much, too fast, and he doubted that Draco could handle it all right now. So he hedged on his answer, even as guilt settled in the pit of his stomach. He knew in his heart it was Lucius that cursed his son but he really couldn’t be a hundred percent certain and he’d rather not risk hurting Draco needlessly. “We-we don’t know yet for sure.” He said softly, realizing at the same time why Dumbledore sometimes hedged on the truth himself. It was not easy to be the bringer of ill tidings.

“Look, Draco if there’s anything I could do-” Harry began to say but he was cut off by another sharp bite of laughter from the blonde.

“Yes, there is something you can do for me, Potter. You can stop lying! What did you really think was going to happen here? That I’d believe your filthy lies, cry hysterically into your robes and sign up to be a part of your bloody Order? There is no way I would turn my back on not only my father, who is by your word finally free, but my mother as well for a bunch of self righteous idiots!” Draco shook with suppressed rage. How dare St. Potter try to trick him this way! He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, ready to wipe the floor with Potter’s ugly face. He quickly rummaged his robes for his wand. Cursing when he remembered he didn’t know where the fuck it was, he yelled for the house elf nearby. “You! Get my wand! It must be in the Infirmary!”