What a Handshake Can Do (Drarry)

Year 5: Part 5

 Harry lifted the hood of his dark cloak, glancing around to make sure no one was watching him. Not spotting anyone, he grabbed his port key, teleporting to his master. He didn't notice Draco watching him from behind the currents of his bed.

The world melted and Harry closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he was in the strange field, smoke obscuring most of the details. He spotted his lord, wearing a cloak similar to Harry's. 

Voldemort turned, red eyes glowing. Harry immediately fell to his knees, putting his head on the ground. "Master," he said reverently.

"Notebook," Voldemort said, extending his slender hand. 

Harry raised his head, pulling out his journal and handing it to his lord. He watched him as Voldemort removed his hood, revealing dark hair that had begun to grow on his previously bald head. Harry bit his lip, seeing that his master's snake-ish features had become more human. Whether that was a good or bad thing, Harry didn't know. 

He watched as his lord read through the pages. He commanded that Harry write down his thoughts throughout the day, what he learned, liked or disliked. Why, he didn't really now. Voldemort had access to his mind. 

Harry could feel the weight of his consciousness on top of his own, if he reached out he could almost touch it, see it, feel it. But he would never dare do that. 

The presence was almost comforting, and sometimes he found himself extending a mental hand toward it. 

Voldemort frowned. "Where is your journal?"

Harry furrowed his brows, "What do you mean?"

Voldemort pressed his hand to Harry's neck. "Where is it!"

I don't know I don't know. "I don't know!"

"Don't talk back! Be quiet, slave, and think, think to when you last saw it, did someone see you with it?"

Harry tried to think, but the only one who might've... He remembered Draco jumping on his bed while he was writing about Umbridge giving him detention for no reason, making him use a quill that used his own blood as ink. It had been Draco. Which meant Draco had his journal.

He looked up at Voldemort, knowing he was reading his thoughts. "Useless boy. I told you to not get near him! You should've obeyed me, insolent fool."  

He felt tears start to prickle his eyes. Why would Draco do such a thing? He looked up at his master, silently begging him to let him off the hook. "Please, master," he whispered, hoping that Voldemort would be forgiving.

"No," his lord said, "I will not be forgiving. You should have known. I told you and you went against me. You do not get to disobey me without facing consequences. Would you prefer I keep an even tighter hold on your mind, invade your every thought and feeling? Maybe then you'll learn."

Harry's head began to pound as he felt the weight of Voldemort's mind crush his own. He couldn't help but scream, grabbing his head. Pressure began to build behind his eyes. "I'm sorry!" he shouted, "please stop! I'll never talk to Draco again, please just... Stop it!"

Voldemort shook his head, pointing his wand at Harry. "I don't believe you. So for the next month you will have to suffer with my mind in your head so you learn how to behave. You cannot have twisted loyalties when the war arrives."

Harry wanted to say Draco was on their side, but wasn't sure. Draco didn't seem Light or Dark. Voldemort's hold on him wouldn't let him say anything either. He looked up at his lord's glowing pupils, bowing his head. I'm sorry.

He couldn't let himself get distracted again.

-_-_-_-_-_-

Draco couldn't believe he had officially joined Dumbledore's Order. He grinned, somehow glad at his rebellion. He Who Must Not Be Named wouldn't have a hold on him anymore. He had the most powerful wizard alive on his side. Now all he needed to do was get Harry on that side as well.

The only problem was that Harry had closed himself off. He ignored Draco and if circumstances required they speak, he was harsh and rude. His eyes had changed too. They almost glowed with a neon green, almost yellow, snake-like quality. He'd seen the strange color before, but now it was much more prominent. Something had changed. And Draco knew it had to do with Cedric's death. He couldn't stop thinking about how Harry said Voldemort made him kill his boyfriend. Late boyfriend.

Who would be so heartless? How could Harry do that?

Draco sighed, descending the stairs from Umbridge's office. The woman had discussed removing Dumbledore from office to Snape while angrily scolding Draco for misbehaving in class. He had only been trying to get Harry's attention but the boy wouldn't respond to anything Draco said to him.

So the days dragged on, with Harry ignoring him and Draco desperately wanting to know why. The same empty feeling that had haunted him while he took his Draught of Lifeless Love returned to him, making every day functions harder and harder. Draco couldn't bring himself to feel anything at all. Even when he looked at Harry. Especially when he looked at Harry. 

Then Dumbledore left. Then Umbridge took over, ruining the one thing that made Draco feel worth something. 

And then Draco saw Harry use a portkey, wearing a dark robe. A robe that strongly resembled those the Death Eaters wore. 

Everything changed after that.