Cabin Fever (dm.hp)

T E N

☽ ☽ ☽

"Harry." A hushed, raspy voice brought Harry to consciousness. "Harry, you must wake up."

"Mmm, gimme a sec..." Harry yawned and stretched his arms above his head.

"We don't have a second, Harry."

"Professor?" Harry was wide awake, scrambling to sit up. He reached for the lamp and turned it on, revealing the old man sitting in front of him. It was as though every time Harry saw him, Dumbledore aged by 50 years.

"Yes, Harry. I'm sorry to wake you, I wouldn't have if this wasn't of utmost importance." Dumbledore's tone was grave, as if he was about to deliver the worst news Harry could ever imagine.

"What is it, sir?"

"I think it's best to show you, rather than try to explain. It'll save us both from an old man's rambling." Dumbledore gave Harry a small
smile. The younger man couldn't help but notice that it seemed forced.

Dumbledore conjured a circular shallow basin filled with what seemed to be water, though it had a slight shimmer to it. Harry recognized it immediately as a pensieve.

"Memories, sir?" Harry asked, a puzzled expression on his face.

"Yes, Harry. Memories. My own memory in fact. I'd like to show it to you." Dumbledore's gestured to the pensieve floating in front of them. Harry nodded and took a deep breath before plunging his head in.

•••

"I don't understand, sir. Something about that seemed... off." Harry said when they emerged from the memory.

"Tampered with, even?" Dumbledore replied. Harry gave a gentle nod. "We are correct in assuming this. I believe there is something in that memory that Horace is ashamed of."

"What would he be ashamed of, sir?"

"He may have disclosed sensitive information to young Tom Riddle. It is absolutely essential that we know just what Horace told him."

"How are we meant to do that?" Harry's confusion was growing greater every second.

"You remember how fond he was of you, don't you Harry?" Dumbledore grasped Harry's arm and looked at him with an intensity Harry had seen only a handful of times before.

"Yes, sir. But how is that meant to do anything when I'm here?"

"When the time is right, Harry, I will come back and collect you."

"But when will that be, sir?" Harry felt anxious, wanting to be sure he'd be ready when Dumbledore came for him.

"When the time is right." Dumbledore stood and vanished the pensieve.

"Wait, sir. Should this be something kept between us?" Harry glanced to the wall that separated them from Draco.

"Yes, Harry. It would do us well to keep this a secret." Dumbledore gave Harry another small smile. He then disappeared so quickly that if Harry didn't know better, he'd have thought it was a dream.

Harry spent the night wondering how he was supposed to help recover Slughorn's original memory. What did he tell Riddle that was so important? What sort of dark magic could Slughorn have known about? Why was Harry the one who had to find out?...

•••

Harry couldn't sleep after Dumbledore had left. Around 5am, he decided to continue his wonderings outside. He threw on a jumper and stumbled down the stairs.

The crisp spring air greeted Harry once he opened the back door. The birds sang loudly, the dewdrops sparkled on the freshly green grass. Harry breathed deeply and closed his eyes. Something about the bashful sun peeking through the clouds cleared his mind.

"Lovely morning, isn't it?" Draco said from behind Harry. The raven haired boy kept his eyes closed and nodded. He was used to Draco's sudden appearances by now. He felt slender fingers lace with his own.

"Can we talk?" Draco asked nervously.

"That's what we're doing, isn't it?"

"You know what I mean, you ass." Draco gently nudged Harry's shoulder with his own.

"What's on your mind?" Harry opened his eyes and ran his thumb over Draco's knuckles.

"I wanted to explain why I'm here with you."

"Oh. Okay. Let's sit?" Harry's heart began to race. He had been wondering why the Slytherin needed a safe house for months. They sat on the top step as they did nearly every day.

"Just...promise you won't be upset." Draco played with their interlocked fingers. Knowing he couldn't make that promise, Harry stayed silent.

"Figures." The blonde scoffed, letting go of Harry's hand.

"Draco, I can't promise I won't be upset. You know that. I can promise that I'll listen and let you explain though, before making any assumptions." Harry grabbed Draco's hand and tried to look as reassuring as possible.

"Okay, I guess that's fine." Draco took a deep breath, trying to inhale courage and exhale his fear. "My father, he'd been in Azkaban since you were all at the Ministry." Harry winced visibly at the mention of that night, his heart squeezing with the pain of the loss he suffered.

"Yes, I know that." He said, attempting to keep his voice steady.

"He's out now. Along with my Aunt Bella and the others. He came home at Christmas."

Harry felt as though he was going to be sick. Aunt Bella. Draco's Aunt Bella. Murderer of his godfather.

"The Manor has been housing a lot of guests this year." Draco's voice wavered. "The Dark Lord has been there since that night at the Ministry. He- he's turned my home into a literal torture chamber, Harry. I couldn't sleep, the... the screams were too loud. And even when they stopped, I could still hear them."

Harry was frozen. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't blink. He was sure his heart had stopped beating too.

"When my father and the others came home... there were a lot of meetings I had to attend." Draco continued. "Harry, they planned to Mark me over Easter break."

"That's in a couple of weeks, isn't it?" Harry asked. He was surprised he even had a voice anymore.

"Yes." Draco let out a sob. "I don't want this, Harry. You have to know that. I never wanted this. If I could, I'd choose a whole new family, a new name... I'd change everything, if I had the choice."

"There's always a choice, Draco."

"Not for me, there isn't."