What a Handshake Can Do (Drarry)

Year 6: Part 5

*contains direct content from Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince*

Harry's eyes rolled back, head pounding in his head. He couldn't breathe, his mind swallowed by the darkness of Voldemort's presence. Spells and curses filled his head, making Harry moan with pain. He howled, begging his master to stop but he didn't. Voldemort didn't release his hold on him. What did I do? he begged, please! Help me!

Yet no one helped him. It took about ten minutes for Voldemort to finish punishing him. When the pain finally subsided, Harry fell to the floor, clutching his head with his hands, pulling at his hair. The memories of an orphanage flooded his mind, memories of a cupboard. It wasn't quite clear if it was his own memories or Voldemort's. Their minds had become one.

A sick twisted creature. Harry was no longer himself, he was apart of something bigger. He growled, trying to get to his feet, head still spinning. Where was he? A dark manor or dormitory? He could see both clearly, but which one was real, he didn't know. Thoughts that he didn't remember thinking buzzed in his head, thoughts of war and revolution.

Random spells which Harry was sure he had never learned popped into his head. One in particular wouldn't leave his mind. Sectumsempra. He didn't know what the curse did but he could feel a burning anger surrounding it, the spell was not a friendly one.

He tried to clear his head, managing to reduce the confusion to a mild buzzing in the back of his skull. Harry knew what he needed to do to clear his thoughts. Take a break.

Rubbing his face, Harry headed towards the bathroom, Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. It offered him the most privacy, the best peace. There would be no chance of someone finding him there. Little did he know that that was just what Draco was thinking at that very moment as he walked into the abandoned laboratory, struggling to keep himself from crying.

-_-_-_-_-_-

Draco Malfoy was standing with his back to the door, his hands clutching either side of the sink, his white-blond head bowed.

"Don't," crooned Moaning Myrtle's voice from one of the cubicles. "Don't ... tell me what's wrong ... I can help you ..."

"No one can help me," said Malfoy. His whole body was shaking. "I can't do it ... I can't ... it won't work ... and unless I do it soon ... "

And Harry realised, with a shock so huge it seemed to root him to the spot, that Malfoy was crying – actually crying – tears streaming down his pale face into the grimy basin. Malfoy gasped and gulped and then, with a great shudder, looked up into the cracked mirror and saw Harry staring at him over his shoulder.

Malfoy wheeled round, drawing his wand. Instinctively, Harry pulled out his own. Malfoy's hex missed Harry by inches, shattering the lamp on the wall beside him; Harry threw himself sideways, thought Levicorpus! and flicked his wand, but Malfoy blocked the jinx and raised his wand for another –

"No! No! Stop it!" squealed Moaning Myrtle, her voice echoing loudly around the tiled room. "Stop! STOP!"

There was a loud bang and the bin behind Harry exploded; Harry attempted a Leg-Locker Curse that backfired off the wall behind Malfoy's ear and smashed the cistern beneath Moaning Myrtle, who screamed loudly; water poured everywhere and Harry slipped over as Malfoy, his face contorted, cried, "Cruci—"

"SECTUMSEMPRA!" bellowed Harry from the floor, waving his wand wildly.

Blood spurted from Malfoy's face and chest as though he had been slashed with an invisible sword. He staggered backwards and collapsed on to the waterlogged floor with a great splash, his wand falling from his limp right hand.

"No –" gasped Harry

Slipping and staggering, Harry got to his feet and plunged towards Malfoy, whose face was now shining scarlet, his white hands scrabbling at his blood-soaked chest...

-_-_-_-_-

Draco woke up in the Infirmary, whole body aching. Harry stood by his bed, face red and pasty. "You're awake."

Draco frowned, trying to remember what had happened. "Didn't you...Didn't you... Attack me?"

He suddenly remembered trying to cast an unforgivable on Harry. He sat up, staring at his blood stained hands. Scars decorated his pale skin, some fading, others showing no sign of disappearing. Harry had tried to... Do what? 

He didn't want to know. 

All he knew is he had to fix Harry before it was too late. 

-_-_-_-

I can't believe I got this written on time. I've sort of lost all motivation in life. I feel like I'm losing myself. 

Weird, I know, but that's how I feel right now. Well, I barely feel anything but I haven't for years. Messed up, I know. 

I don't know why I'm writing this but I don't give a shit anymore and it's way too late at night right now. 

I'm going to be an uncle which is hella weird. 

Ew... My brother is going to be a dad. 

That's a weird thought. 

Anyway, I'm preparing for a hella big plot twist so stay tuned.