Shackles

Chapter 5

Harry hadn't realized how much he had been relying on Malfoy to have his back until Malfoy crumbled to one knee, obviously succumbing to the effects of the potion in his system. Harry had dropped to his own knees to catch Malfoy's limp form when he toppled forward. He tried not to think of how very small and vulnerable his body felt in Harry's arms.

"Of course I can't just leave you here, you git," he snarled down at Malfoy's face.

He didn't know where he had to go, but wherever it was, he wasn't leaving Malfoy here in this creepy place. When he thought of how he would have felt being left alone and powerless to protect himself, he shuddered. Then, he carefully maneuvered Malfoy's body over one shoulder in a Muggle fireman carry and slowly stood.

He had Malfoy's right wrist in his hand to secure him properly. Malfoy's pale skin was smooth under his fingers, up until the rough edges where the manacles had rubbed him raw. He stroked the underside, near the pulse point, and felt that Malfoy's heartbeat was steady.

"Don't worry, I won't drop you," he said, even though Malfoy couldn't hear him.

He strode out the door, keeping a close lookout for anything that might be a threat, but there was nothing else in the dark hallway as far as he could tell. Still, he went forward, slowly but surely, hoping that somewhere there was a light at the end of the tunnel. It was a very long hallway, and at the end was a winding staircase. Harry climbed, making sure that Malfoy's head didn't hit the wall.

Once in a while, he'd glance down at Malfoy's face, obscured by a curtain of platinum hair. He could just make out the pointed tip of his nose and the curve of his sharp mouth.

"You're a smart guy, Malfoy. You said you knew what was going on. Figured it out, did you? And here I am, looking at the exact same clues and not having any idea what's going on. It's a good thing I have you along, right?"

The staircase ended, and now he was in a vast room with just a glimpse of light at the very top. Harry couldn't see where the light came from, but the walls were completely smooth and he had no wand. On the other side of the cavernous room was another door. Harry marched across the room, eyes still on the lookout for enemies. His footsteps echoed as he made his way to the door.

"You know," he remarked conversationally to Malfoy, "I think this is just a test to see how far I'll carry you. Which is a stupid test, because I'd carry you until I couldn't walk anymore. If they think I'll abandon you because you were a Death Eater, they're not a very good judge of character – yours or mine."

After a while, his shoulder began to ache with the strain. He almost kept going in spite of the pain, but eventually drew to a halt.

"I promised I wouldn't drop you, so we're going to have to stop for a bit, okay?" Harry shifted Malfoy's weight so that he could lower him to the ground. "I know, I know. Time is of the essence, Potter. I'll be okay in a few minutes."

He sat on the floor, cradling Malfoy in his lap, leaning his head on Harry's shoulder and holding it there gently with one hand. This close, he could feel Malfoy's breath against his neck and the warmth of his skin through their layers of robes. It was strangely comfortable, the weight of Malfoy's pliant and sleep-heavy form in his arms.

"You smell like spices. Sort of like cinnamon." Harry glanced down at the top of Malfoy's head. "What am I doing Malfoy, smelling your hair? I think I'm going round the bend."

He briefly rested his own head against Malfoy's, marvelling at the silk-like texture under his cheek. Something in his chest was clenching up, and it was time to move again, before it broke.

"Let's go, Draco. Can I call you that?"

He picked up Draco again, balancing his weight and carrying on. He would be there soon, he was certain of it. Another hallway, another staircase, more empty rooms. It was eerie in a way, and Harry had never been so glad to have someone with him, even though Draco was unconscious.

He didn't know how long it had been, but finally, he came to a room that was lit up on the inside. Harry hurried towards it and found that this room had a door. Trying to open if while carrying Draco was an interesting endeavour. It required him to get the handle shoved down and then that he kick the door open with one foot, all while balancing Draco's weight so he wouldn't fall.

The room was white, and filled with potions. Harry couldn't believe it. There was a space in the middle, where he put down Draco gently, using his cloak to cushion Draco's head.

"One of these is somehow important. Do you think that this is where I will find Love's First Kiss?"

Harry looked around at the potions. They were lining all four walls of the white room in clear vials, enough for one swallow each. There were so many that Harry despaired of ever finding the right one from among them. There were clear ones, and thick ones that looked like mud. A few Harry thought he recognized. Polyjuice potion for one, and perhaps Veritaserum if that was one of the clear ones. He also recognized Felix Felicis near the top.

"What did you say about Love's First Kiss, Malfoy?" Harry murmured, frowning. "You've mentioned so many potions today that I think they're getting mixed up in my head. First in the dungeon, then in the pensieve..."

He looked down at Draco's mangled wrist that he'd wrapped a bit of his t-shirt around and tied off to keep it from getting dirt in it. Harry pulled the makeshift bandage up slightly and found that the potion in Malfoy's cuts was blue. The Muse from the memories was blue too, right?

"No, it was purple," Harry mocked himself aloud. "As if I can tell the difference."

He thought about it, but the dungeon seemed like it was years ago rather than a few hours. He remembered saying something about Fawkes... and the ingredients. Phoenix ash.

"One of them was red, wasn't it, Draco?" he asked, trying hard to think. "Deep red and cinnamon. It can't be blue, because that was the other one, the one that put you to sleep. You smell like cinnamon, did you know that?"

He looked around the room, and found that there were several potions that could probably be classified as somewhat red. He separated the reddish ones from the rest and set them on the floor in front of him. Trying to remember what Snape said about Potion Identification, he examined them.

"No, this one is more orange than red. This one's translucent. Urg, this one has bits in it. I don't want to know."

Next, he started uncapping them, one-by-one. One let out a cloud of golden sparks as soon as it was opened. Another one released a jet of grey steam.

"This one smells like sulphur. That one smells like blood. What the heck is up with these potions?"

The scent of cinnamon washed over him, and he examined the potion in front of him. It was a very very dark red, looking a bit like a girl's lipstick colour, or at least he thought so. Just to be sure, he uncorked the other ones too, but the rest were different. One released a cloud of bubbles and the rest smelled like strawberry jam, rubber bands and maple respectively.

"I'm hoping that I've got this right and it's not a blue potion that smells like cinnamon or something like that." He looked over at Malfoy's face. "This could end in disaster, you know. I'm not any good at potions. Now how am I supposed to get this into you?"

He considered just tipping the entire thing down Draco's throat, but there was something about this potion that was different. Harry didn't think it was supposed to be ingested.

"Love's First Kiss. Right. Should be obvious."

He trembled a little, and used a single finger to swipe some of the potion across his own lips. Taking a deep, calming breath, he slid a hand behind Draco's head, leaned down and pressed their mouths together. After a moment, he drew back.

"I'm no Prince Charming, Draco. But please wake up. I need you on my side."