𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆

Part 16

Belong

She began to breathe, to breathe
At the thought of this freedom
Stood and whispered to her child,
Belong.
She held the child and whispered with calm, calm
Belong.

-- R.E.M., Belong

It was when the sound of Marjorie Bloom's screaming hit his eardrums, when it became audible in a crash of turbulent sounds, that he came back to himself. She was standing in the open doorway, hands over her eyes, her fingers pulling at the gauze, screaming in a high pitched, rough, bloodied wail as the silencing spell dissolved. Even in his shattered state, he recognized the danger she posed. Draco seemed to be having trouble concentrating; the thickening sphere of smoke was trembling. Harry drew his wand and cast a quick calming spell over the girl. What on earth is she doing here? He moved to press her back out of the room, but she dropped to the floor, crawling on her hands and knees toward Narcissa. She knelt now over the remains of the charm, picking up shards of it and cutting her fingers, holding them against her bandaged face. Of course. They must have used her in their attempts to transfer Voldemort. More innocent victims.

Harry was still reeling from the shock of emotion and memory. He blinked, trying to relearn the boundaries of his own consciousness as the voices and minds of the others, of Narcissa and Voldemort, receded into the background. It seemed that as the smoke seeped out of Narcissa, the more distant those voices became.

Harry trembled with memory. So now he knew where Draco had learned those seductive motions, where his experience in touching men so skillfully had come from. He shivered. He felt foolish, having presumed to make love to someone who had experienced so much horror, who must have thought him such an innocent. Draco could seduce grown men at the age of thirteen, no wonder he had been so enchanting, so perversely seductive all those years ago. He was an expert, he knew how to pull all the right strings. Harry had known all about Draco's reputation at Hogwarts; he left a cacophony of broken hearts in his wake, and could claim the virginity of a shocking number of Hogwarts students. Well, he was taught early that that was where his worth lay, wasn't he.

Cold. Where is my body, where am I? Please, my fingers are frozen, they won't move.

Harry shook his head, feeling the cool thoughts of Voldemort, still shattered and confused. It's not Narcissa who's mad, Harry realized. No no. She is completely in control. It's Voldemort who's been insane. He doesn't remember what's happened, it 's only beginning to dawn on him.

He felt a smirk curve into his brain. Lucky for me you're here, little one. Narcissa's voice was cutting. What a time my son has had keeping you occupied. You certainly underscored his 'worth', didn't you.

Harry felt ashamed. Narcissa flooded his brain with memories, his own memories. The way he had on so many occasions interrupted Draco while he read, while he listened to music, walked beside him under the snow-filled trees, working his tongue around Draco's ear, slipping a roving hand under his belt. The way he had once prevented Draco from finishing his dessert by running his fingers along Draco's trouser-clad inner thigh under the cover of an elegant tablecloth while there were eating out. He remembered the way Draco's fork had clattered onto the plate, his gray eyes turned toward him, eyebrow cocked and the beginnings of a grin on his face. I've been no better, Harry thought, horrified. No, he felt a voice whisper in his brain. No, you have been no better. And you were just as easy for him to manipulate. He felt the warm amber beneath his fingers—no, Narcissa's fingers. It tugged at him behind his eyes, he felt a rush, disappearing to nothing, like a nosebleed gushing and suddenly drying up. The charm. In Narcissa's hands.