The Re-Sorting [Drarry, TW SMUT]

HaHaHa.

1st POV - Harry

The walls of Grimmauld Place felt like they were closing in. My heart pounded against my ribs, my breath coming in sharp bursts as I stared at the wand in my shaking hand. 

Kreacher’s words echoed in my head. The house let him leave. But that wasn’t true. The house was warded, and Draco—he wouldn’t have just left.

I closed my eyes, focusing. My scar still burned, remnants of the vision—Draco on the floor, his father looming over him, Voldemort’s laughter ringing in the distance.

It had to be Malfoy Manor. 

A sickening chill settled over me as I gripped my wand tighter. Lucius Malfoy had been absent from recent Death Eater gatherings, likely punished for his failure at the Department of Mysteries. But this? This wasn’t about Voldemort testing Lucius’ loyalty. 

This was about Draco. About me. Us.

I forced myself to breathe. I needed a plan. Rushing in blindly would get me killed. Would get him killed. 

I moved to the study, yanking open drawers, shuffling through maps and old documents. The Order had discussed Malfoy Manor before—talked about how unreachable it was, how it was layered with ancient wards and dark magic. 

But I didn’t care. 

I wasn’t going to leave Draco there. 

Not in that house. Not with him. 

Footsteps echoed from the corridor, followed by the creak of the door. I turned sharply, wand raised. 

Lupin stood in the doorway, his gaze flickering from my drawn wand to the mess around me. His eyes darkened. He didn't know I was staying here.

“What happened?” he asked, stepping inside. 

I hesitated for only a second before answering. “Draco’s gone.” 

Lupin stilled. “Gone?” 

“He was taken,” I said through gritted teeth. “By his father. He—he left his wand behind.” I held it up like evidence, like it proved that this wasn’t a mistake, that Draco wouldn’t have just walked out on me. Not now. 

Lupin exhaled, his jaw tightening. “Harry…” 

I braced myself. I already knew what he was going to say—It’s too dangerous. You shouldn't go after the enemy anyways.

I didn’t want to hear it. 

“I saw him,” I cut in. “In my head. He’s at Malfoy Manor.” 

Lupin’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “We don’t know that for certain.” 

“I do." I snapped. “I know what I saw. They took him, and I’m not going to sit here and do nothing.” 

Lupin took a slow step closer. “Harry, I need you to think about this.” 

“I am thinking,” I shot back. My pulse was racing. “Draco—he doesn’t have anyone else. If I don’t go, who will?” 

Lupin’s gaze softened. “Are you telling me he means something to you?"

My throat tightened. “Help me.” 

A silence stretched between us. Lupin sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “We need more information.” 

I shook my head. “There’s no time. They’ll—” I swallowed hard. “They’ll kill him, Remus.” 

Lupin’s eyes darkened. “If we do this, we do it right. No rushing in, no reckless decisions. We gather intel, find a way inside.” 

I clenched my fists. Every second wasted was a second Draco spent at the mercy of his father, of Voldemort.

But Lupin was right. If I charged in without a plan, I’d never make it past the front gates. 

I forced myself to nod. “Fine. But we move fast."

Lupin studied me for a long moment before nodding. “I’ll contact the others. We’ll figure this out.” 

I gritted my teeth. 

I wasn’t just going to figure it out. 

I was going to bring Draco home. To me.