𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆

Part 1

Pairing: Harry/Draco
Summary: Having betrayed Harry Potter and been forgiven by him, Draco Malfoy tries to be worthy of a normal life, but strange elements of his past keep him from looking as though his is. With Voldemort on the lose, his father's image appearing in strange places, and all fingers pointing at him, Draco hopes he can clear his own name and save the world before Harry admits that Draco can't be trusted.
Warning: NC-17 Lemon Angst

A theft and a shower

Albus Dumbledore awoke, suddenly, in the middle of the night. There had been no noise, no intrusion. He had been dreaming a happy dream where his students had learned how to summon their favourite historical figures, and William Shakespeare and Geoffrey Chaucer were having a lovely conversation about metaphor in the Great Hall. But something sinister had woken him. He sat up, sliding his feet into the slippers on the floor. He walked into his office, pulling a red velvet robe over his shoulders and holding his wand, glowing at the tip.

He walked over to a dusty corner of his office, hidden behind the phoenix perch and a series of stacked boxes with mismatched lids. He carefully dragged the door open. An umbrella, whose handle was shaped like a beagle's head, fell and smacked against the cold stone floor, shattering the careful silence. Inside was a small cupboard. He opened it, and picked up the umbrella, and hung the duck handle from the door.

"Thanks," it woofed.

"You're most welcome." Dumbledore whispered.

"All is not well, is it headmaster," the umbrella whined, with a touch of a howl.

"Something is amiss, unless I am very much mistaken." Dumbledore sighed. He looked into the cupboard.

Inside was a series of drawers with curved, opal pulls. Dumbledore hooked his finger around one roughly in the middle and pulled the drawer open, and took out the only object within it; a small wooden box. He tapped it with his fingers, whispered a few words, and its thick lid drew back. Dumbledore carefully removed a small piece of purple cloth from inside, and looked pensively into the box. He moved his wand closer, hoping his eyes were deceiving him in the dim light. Inside was a small, highly polished piece of amethyst, with a carefully-cut hole in the middle, shining in the glow of his wand. Dumbledore stuck his finger through the hole, feeling it resignedly hit the cloth at the bottom of the box.

***

"Come on, Harry," Draco complained, the tip of his epee pressed into Harry's canvas-padded chest. Draco had landed a hit twice in a row. "You can do better than that." He pulled the weapon up and held it gracefully in front of him, inviting Harry's attack.

Harry grunted, feigned and lunged, but Draco countered easily, and counter-attacked before Harry had a chance to parry.

"You're fighting like my grandmother." He had landed the point of his epee on Harry's sternum.

Harry sighed heavily, dropping his weapon on the mat beside him and pulling off his mask. "Hey, I hear your grandmother was a serious punter." Draco chuckled. The lunge had left Harry on his knee, and now he sat back on his heels, Draco's epee still pushed firmly against his chest. With his mask off, Draco saw the exhaustion written on Harry's face.

"Potter?" Draco asked, pulling off his own mask with his free hand. He dragged the epee up Harry's chest and pressed it coolly under his unprotected chin. "I know I'm good, but even I have to admit that I'm not quite this good. What's wrong?"

"I'm feeling a bit...distracted." Harry admitted, pushing the epee away from his chin. He stood and unzipped his jacket.

"Is that what they're calling it nowadays." Draco picked up Harry's epee, and slid it and his own into their sheaths against the wall. Harry was behaving as if he were having trouble remembering he was here with him at all, Draco thought as he pulled off his own jacket, and he found himself both annoyed and worried.