The Re-Sorting [Drarry, TW SMUT]

Tortured Poets.

1st POV - Harry 

I barely slept that night, every shadow and creak in Grimmauld Place twisting into visions of Draco in pain. I didn't want to sleep. I didn't want to pretend while Draco was suffering. Lupin made me. Every minute felt like an eternity of dread. I had to save him.

Lupin’s plan was simple but dangerous: gather intel on Malfoy Manor’s defenses, identify a weak point, and infiltrate the place under the cover of nightfall. With a heavy heart, I made my way to a secret meeting point with the Order. I needed every ally I could muster—and time was slipping away.

The meeting was held in an abandoned safehouse on the outskirts of London. There, the air was thick with anxious whispers and the rustle of worn maps. Sirius had been there once before, his laughter now only a memory, and his plans were the blueprint for tonight’s rescue. I spread out the maps and listened as Remus outlined the layout of Malfoy Manor with meticulous precision.

“Lucius’s family estate is fortified with ancient wards and new enchantments,” Remus explained, pointing at various red marks on the parchment. “There’s a side gate near the old stables that is less guarded, but we’ll still need a distraction.” 

I stared at the map, my mind filled with images of Draco’s face—pained and desperate. I clenched my jaw, determined. “We create the distraction. I’ll be the decoy if necessary.” 

A murmur ran through the group, but there was no turning back now. I saw fear in some eyes, anger in others, and quiet determination in a few. All that mattered was Draco, and the man I was willing to risk everything for. 

After the meeting, Remus pulled me aside. “Harry, I know you’re desperate, but remember: we’re not just rescuing one boy—we’re challenging Voldemort’s hold on these people. You need to be smart.” 

I nodded, swallowing hard. “I can’t lose him, Remus. I won’t.” 

His gaze softened for a moment before hardening with resolve. “Then let’s make sure we bring him home safely.” 

That afternoon, as clouds gathered heavy with the promise of rain, I prepared. Every spell and counter-charm I’d learned, every tactic from our past skirmishes, surged through my mind. I thought of Draco—of his hesitance, his pain, and the raw vulnerability behind those guarded eyes. I imagined his face, the way it had crumpled in fear when I saw that wand left behind, and I knew I couldn’t let that image be our future.

As dusk crept in, cloaking the world in twilight, the Order gathered for the operation. I moved silently through shadowed streets, heart pounding as we approached Malfoy Manor. My thoughts wavered between tactical focus and the fear of what I might find inside. 

A distant shout—engineered by one of our allies—echoed, and chaos erupted along the main gate. Under cover of that distraction, I slipped toward the side gate Remus had identified. My wand clutched tightly, I felt the familiar rush of adrenaline mixed with a terror that was entirely new. 

Inside, the corridors were dim and cold. Every step I took echoed as if I were trespassing into forbidden territory. I couldn’t shake the image of Draco alone and in peril, his eyes searching for a way out, his mind filled with silent screams. I pressed on, following whispered instructions from our contact inside the manor.

At last, I found the door to a sparsely lit chamber. My heart lurched when I recognized the faint smell of old smoke and magic—a scent that mingled with something else: fear, regret, and hope. I paused at the threshold, listening intently, praying that I wasn’t too late.

The rescue had only just begun, and every second counted. Every moment I lingered was a moment Draco might suffer at the hands of his own blood, at the whims of a man who could not see the pain behind the perfect façade.

I drew a steadying breath and pushed the door open, determination blazing in my eyes. Tonight, I would face the darkness that threatened to swallow us both—and I would not rest until Draco was safe. So we began.