Chapter 5
It was unseasonably warm for fall when Draco snuck out of the shop ten minutes before close and locked the door behind him. He paused a moment, wondering if Mr. Nibill would somehow know Draco was sneaking off. Every second of silence eased Draco’s stiffness until finally he allowed himself a small smile.
It was a good day. Work passed swiftly, customers were friendly, and, while Mr. Nibill provided no coverage on Sundays, Draco was still ending the day with energy. Sales were good today, which meant Mr. Nibill would be in a good mood tomorrow morning. One of the potion school students had left behind a text that must have been second hand when they procured it. It was the end of term, the student may never return for it. Draco glanced again at the book, gently stroking fingers across the title: Advanced Application of Abnormal Potioning Water Classifications. Draco wouldn’t keep it. He never kept anything someone left behind, that would be too close to stealing. He would return it to the lost and found before the store opened. Here, though, on what might be the last lovely day of the year, with the sun not quite set, Draco allowed himself to enjoy his good fortune.
Draco strolled down the cobbled road. After not too far there was a bend in the road, decorated with street trees on either side of a bench. Draco walked by it nearly every Thursday. Today was the first time he sat there. He opened the book and began to read. He read until the sun set and the evening lanterns came on. Until the day’s warmth leaked away and he shivered in his well worn jacket.
It was a warming charm that gently settled over him that pulled Draco’s nose out of the text.
Draco looked up to see Harry Potter, leaning against one of the lamp polls, smiling softly down at Draco.
Draco’s stomach fluttered, which Draco thought better than a lurch. Potter hadn’t made any plans to visit today. Draco hadn’t heard from him since Wednesday. However, despite the stress of it all, Draco had liked Wednesday. There hadn’t been much time for talking Wednesday, which was perfect because Draco and Potter had always been shit at talking with each other.
“Good evening, Potter,” Draco said.
Potter nodded his head. “Malfoy,” he said formally, then chuckled. “Saw you sitting here these last ten minutes, but the shop isn’t supposed to close until just now. It’s nice to see you giving yourself a break, I wasn’t sure you had it in you.”
Draco twitched slightly, but dipped his head in an effort to hide his reaction. It brought the book into his eyesight and he took the opportunity to further explain his actions. He carefully marked the page he was on and closed the book before standing. Only then did he look back at Potter. He felt more at ease being eye to eye, or even perhaps slightly above due to his height and Potter’s slouching. At ease enough to be bold. “You say such odd things. I remember just last week I was meant to be staffing the storefront and you persuaded me away from my responsibilities.”
Potter full out laughed. He pushed off the lamp post and strolled over to Draco. Potter’s eyes were large and shining bright green as the street lights reflected off them. Draco watched Potter’s tongue flick out over his lips, and Potter bite his lower lip after. Suggestive. “Do you think I can persuade you again?” he asked, voice deep.
Draco could feel his heartbeat in his throat. He abandoned his bravado as quickly as it came, and shifted his eyes to look up and down the street. There were only a few stragglers and no one was minding two young men standing close. Draco was too aware how rarely they’d lingered in wizarding London and he wasn’t certain now was the time to start.
Draco did have to work tonight, but a quick glance at Potter’s teasing smile and heated gaze left Draco not wanting to say no. Instead he nodded towards the apothecary, not too far down the road. “C’mon, let’s talk inside,” Draco said.
Potter’s grin spread across his face. They walked together a few steps before Potter threw an arm around Draco’s shoulders, warming him beyond even his well cast charm. Draco’s heartbeat pounded louder still, he was worried Potter would feel it. Potter just squeezed him closer, otherwise comfortably silent as they returned to the shop.
Once inside, Draco took a moment to return the book to a box of forgotten things behind the front counter. One day it may be claimed, or Mr. Nibill may throw it out, but until then Draco would study fiercely.
Potter started chatting as Draco quickly closed up the shop for the night. He hadn’t taken the time before his brief trip outside.
“I know we didn’t have a plan for tonight. I had thought to swing by at closing, see if I could catch you before you left. Wondered if you might want to join me for dinner?” Potter said.
Draco frowned down at the coins he was counting. He exchanged knuts and sickles, thinking of all of the stilted conversations he’d shared with Potter over dinner. Draco stored away the excess earnings for Mr. Nibill to later deposit at Gringotts. He forced himself to smile when he looked up at Potter. “I actually need to work tonight,” Draco said.
Potter deflated a little. “Ah, I thought…”
“You can stay, if you want,” Draco said impulsively. “I’ve got nothing fancy, but I can whip up a couple toasties and you can keep me company while I’m potioning.”
Surprise flashed over Potter’s features, then the smile that crossed his face was positively wolfish. “That’s… better. Much better,” he said. He looked eager. “What can I do to help?”
That’s how Draco ended up side by side with Potter in the kitchen, bickering over how to fry a toastie, with Potter mocking Draco’s instinct for cheese to be proper instead of gooey. In the end, Potter smooth talked his way into preparing two monstrosities. Draco made Potter carry both with the excuse that he needed both hands to unlock the door to the potions lab.
Potter got to work on his sandwich while Draco got to work setting up the room for potions. The recipes were ingrained in Draco, and one by one he measured and added the exact amount of standard potioning water needed. He idly wished he could try just one of the potions four ways, with an abnormal base for each just to see how they would come out different. There was no way Mr. Nibill wouldn’t notice that.
Potter began to chatter while Draco worked, telling a story about visiting a friend who had once managed to over and undercook a singular pot roast. Draco grimaced at the image, exaggerating the reaction just so Potter would laugh again. The stomach fluttering would come back each time Potter laughed. It seems Potter narrowly escaped the friend’s second attempt at the meal. Draco wondered if he knew the friend, but Potter didn’t say and Draco didn’t want to spoil the mood by asking.
Finally, each ingredient was properly cut in exact slices, stirred in with exact strokes, and now set to simmer with exact timers magicked into red countdown clocks above each pot. Draco sighed with the satisfaction of a job well done.
Then arms wrapped around him from behind, holding him at the waste. Potter whispered huskily into his ear, “You’re so fucking hot when you’re acting all competent.”
Draco inhaled sharply. It was just a shy too long before he responded, but still he said, “So always, then?”
Potter laughed once more, a deep chuckle into Draco’s neck. Then he kissed Draco’s net wetly, and Draco’s stomach was far beyond flutters. Draco stretched his neck to give Potter room and Potter took it. “No marks,” Draco barely remembered to gasp. Potter’s complaint was only a groan, but he moved along and didn’t spend too long sucking or nibbling at any one spot. Instead, he moved his hands, slipping them first under Draco’s shirt, and then dipping them under his waistband. It was Draco’s turn to groan when Potter reached down further to grip Draco’s swiftly hardening length.
Potter rocked his hips into Draco, pushing Draco against Potter’s waiting hand. Draco was alight with stimulation. In front of him the red timers steadily ticked off the seconds before he needed to return to the potions.
Draco grabbed at Potter’s arm and began to pull it out of his pants. “We can’t, we don’t have time,” Draco panted.
Potter surrendered his grasp, but only to spin around Draco to capture his mouth in a kiss. Potter was fire, thrusting his tongue into Draco’s mouth and nipping at lips. Draco whimpered, struggling to keep sense of himself as Potter grasped him, thrusting his own erection to rub against Draco’s. Potter held Draco’s hips firm to steady Draco as he led Draco backwards all the way to the lab table behind them. There, Potter pulled off to say, “I can make this quick.” Before Draco could ask what he meant, Potter dropped to his knees and Draco was watching Potter open Draco’s pants, pulling them down just far enough to release Draco’s aching cock from its hold.
Potter was a whirlwind, almost swallowing Draco down in one go before starting to bob eagerly, surrounding Draco with mind blowing sensations of wetness. Draco cried out in surprise, his hands scrambling for purchase before one found the table top behind him and the other landed on Potter’s head. Potter hallowed out his cheeks, sucking hard around Draco’s shaft as he eased forward the final inch, deep throating Draco completely. Potter didn’t stumble when Draco unthinkingly gripped his hair. Draco realized he was pulling at it and tried to relax. In response, Potter did something clever with his tongue and Draco hollered, his knuckles going white as he struggled to squeeze only the tabletop and not Potter’s head.
Somehow, Potter was yanking Draco’s pants further down as he went, until Potter could reach behind him. One digit probed at Draco’s hole, and suddenly it was wet. Draco shuddered, unable to consider if this was accidental magic or if Potter could perform wandless, wordless lubrication spells while deep throating cock. Then a finger was inside Draco, roughly shoving inside him, impatient. Then Potter found what he was looking for, and Draco cried out again. Then a second finger entered him, and Potter jabbed over and over at Draco’s prostate while sucking for all his worth on Draco’s cock, until draco’s vision went white and he threw back his head and screamed out his orgasm.
Draco felt on fire, over stimulated, ecstatic. Vaguely he was aware that Potter swallowed, his mouth working Draco’s cock until it was painful, while Potter’s hands helped steady Draco since his legs had turned to jelly.
“Merlin, what did you do to me,” Draco rasped, leaning hard against the table so he wouldn’t collapse to the floor.
Potter was laughing again, the dark chuckle that zipped up Draco’s body, valiantly trying to excite him even in this post orgasmic haze. “The clock’s run out,” Potter said, his cracked voice a sign that he wasn’t unaffected.
Draco pulled his head up to see one timer was flashing zero, and a second was about to go off. Draco swore, stumbling forward as he pulled at his pants before rushing to reach each potion in time for their next step.
When he finally finished the potions, Draco still labored to breath. He was too aware his legs were still jelly and his ass was still filled with wet lube. When he could spare a glance at Potter, Potter was lounging against a wall, grinning like the cat with the canary. His gaze was still wolfish, still hungry. Draco wanted to yell at him for his foolishness, but instead he found himself grabbing Potter by the shoulders and snogging him. Their kisses were deep and messy. Potter rubbed his still hard cock against Draco, who was nearly ready for a second go. Draco let Potter bend him over the laboratory table and fuck him hard. Potter stayed late to help Draco clean up the potion room after.
-
The next morning started blissful. Draco wondered how long a warming charm could last, he felt warm all over. The customers were grouchier than the day before, but their mood rolled off Draco and couldn’t effect him.
That is, until Mr. Nibill stormed into the shop front. Draco had only a moment to see Mr. Nibill’s dark eyes and red face before the older man grabbed his shoulder and wrenched Draco after him. Draco almost fell when he was pulled forward, then did fall when Mr. Nibill shoved him into the backroom. Draco scrambled, trying to right himself. The shop owner loomed over him glowering.
“Where is it?” Mr. Nibill demanded.
Draco immediately abandoned his attempt to stand and chose instead to cower. “Wha, what?” he stammered.
“Don’t play dumb, I know it was you. What did you do with it?”
Draco looked everywhere for a clue. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, please, what are you talking about.”
Mr. Nibill looked like he might grab Draco again in order to hit him. “You were in the potion lab last night, you took the ingredients.”
“The ingredients!” Draco shouted, trying to work through what was happening. “Yes, I made the potions just like you told me to. I’m sorry, I didn’t think I used any extra ingredients. I swear I didn’t, I only used what I needed.”
Mr. Nibill’s eyes narrowed into slits, somehow looking angrier. “You’re going to play dumb, are you? You think that will keep you out of trouble?”
Draco gapped at him, not knowing what else to do. Something had clearly went wrong, and he didn’t dare let it slip that whatever it was had happened while Draco let someone into the lab with him. “What are you missing?” he finally asked, grasping for a solution. “I’ll find it for you, I’ll fix it.”
“You’ll find it, huh?” Mr. Nibill sneered. “Alright, Draco. You go find it.” Mr. Nibill stalked over to the kitchen counter and plucked up a pad of paper kept there for quick notes. He wrote down a list and came back to Draco, who was just now starting to stand. Draco cowered back again, trying to keep distance even as he took the list from his employer.
Baneberry, hemlock, unicorn horn, arnica, sneezewort… a pit the size of a fist was forming in Draco’s stomach. He hadn’t known the apothecary carried half these ingredients. Purchasing them wouldn't be allowed by owl. Half were on the restricted list, and trying to purchase all at once would instantly raise suspicion over who you planned to poison.
Mr. Nibill sneered at Draco. “We’ll see if your theft was worth it now won’t we. I expect these ingredients procured by this afternoon, and your pay will be docked for missing the day’s work. I have half a mind to call the auror’s this instant to report you!”
“No! No. Please, this must be a misunderstanding,” Draco nearly begged. He was gripping the list tightly. “Just give me until the afternoon, I’m sure I can sort it by then.”
The laugh Mr. Nibill barked out was not cheerful. He swept away to watch the storefront without another word.
The silence in the backroom only made Draco’s panicked breathing sound louder. He needed to calm down and think. How was this even possible? Draco’s eyes slid to the door to the laboratory. He would start there. Draco rushed down the stairs, then ran to the potion cabinets, looking for a clue.
It was right there in front of him. The very same cabinet that stored the mandrake root he’d used last night apparently had a trap door, left open by Mr. Nibill and now revealing a number of ingredients Draco hadn’t seen before. Draco leaned in to check, but then pulled back sharply. He did not actually want to know what, beyond poisonous and regulated substances, Mr. Nibill kept stored in his hidden cabinets. Draco’s heart was pounding. This felt dangerous. Too dangerous for a man trying to stay out of Azkaban.
Draco left the basement.
Instead he rushed up to his room and into his drawers. He didn’t have much, but he had spent years doing his best to save what he could. He had been able to store most of his meager savings in an account, not even a vault, at Gringotts. He also kept a small bag of coins for emergencies. He took that now.
Back downstairs, Draco considered leaving through the shop front. That was the only way he was supposed to leave. However, Mr. Nibill would be there. Draco was nearly in a panic at just the thought of facing his wrath again. Instead, he grabbed a cloak and strode past the shop front door, past the entrance to the laboratory, all the way to a small closet. Draco put his hand on the door to hold it steady, then grabbed its doorknob, pulled it towards him, and heaved it to the left until it clicked into place. With that, when Draco opened the door, he found himself looking out into a small alley. Draco left quickly, letting the door shut behind him.
Then Draco did his best not to run, which would only wear himself out and draw too much attention. He knew he couldn’t buy everything at one place, so he decided to start as far away as possible. He went from store to store, leaving immediately if met with hostility. He found one that didn’t recognize him at all, and purchased the unicorn horn and hemlock there. He left, hopeful no one would report him. In the end, he managed everything on the list, even if the owner of Apothecary St Anthony extorted Draco out of his last sickle and knut for a subpar batch of sneezewort.
Draco glanced at the clock as he stepped out of the apothecary. It was almost one PM. He still had time, he could make it back with everything and beg Mr. Nibill to believe this must have been an accident. Draco wracked his mind for reasons things might have gone wrong. Perhaps an inventory error on Mr. Nibill’s part due to the abnormal schedule due to the meeting last week. Mr. Nibill must inventory the secret supply himself, and place orders as needed from a different supplier than he had Draco work with. Why Mr. Nibill would need a second supplier, exclusively for questionable potion ingredients… Draco felt queasy and tried to convince himself it was from his physical exertion as he all but ran back to the apothecary.
Then he was there, turning a corner to see the apothecary just down the road, out of money but with everything on the list acquired. Relief flooded over Draco, but only until he saw crimson robes billow in the wind.
Draco snapped backwards, hugging the wall of a building in the hopes that he’d blend in and remain out of sight. His chest tightened with fear even as he hoped they weren’t walking where he thought they were. Mr. Nibill had threatened to call the aurors, but Draco thought he would have more time. His hopes were dashed as he watched four aurors march into Nibill’s apothecary. One, of medium build with messy brown hair, was impossible not to recognize.
It felt like Draco couldn’t breathe. The sounds of the street were drowned out but the thump thump thump of his heart beat, so loud and all consuming. He squinted in an attempt to see more clearly through the windows of the shop, but was too far away and could only see blurry shapes. He could feel himself beginning to tremble, and couldn’t focus on steadying himself against the wall or on remembering how to inhale and exhale. The world grew dizzy and Draco couldn’t control himself to make it stop.
Then fire exploded from the apothecary, an unnatural purple blast of flames. The blast decimating the windows and knocking over nearby pedestrians. The shockwave carried down the street and Draco felt its heat smack into his face and body as it passed by. The noise was deafening, Draco now heard ringing instead of his own heartbeat. It smelled strange, a sour tang instead of smoke and ash.
Draco couldn’t track how long he stood clinging to the wall behind him, hyper focused on what used to be the apothecary shop, dimly aware that there was chaos around him. He kept waiting, but no one came out of the building.
It physically hurt, but Draco strained to pull himself away from the wall and back to standing on his own two feet. Shakily, he stepped forward, then again, then he was running towards the building. He didn’t see the barrier being set up around it until an auror grabbed him as he tried to pass between a makeshift blockade.
“Whoa, there, stay back,” the auror chidded.
Draco barely spared him a glance as he tried to twist around the auror, to no avail. “Harry Potter is in there!” Draco shouted at him.
The auror’s surprise showed, and he glanced towards the building, his furrow brow showing his worry. Still, he didn’t let Draco through. “Best stay back and let us deal with this,” he said, then with a few more calming phrases he maneuvered Draco back beyond the barrier and firmed up a boundary between the public and the shop.
A crowd was forming now, and Draco could heart them repeating his own words. “Harry Potter is in there!” they whispered to each other. It looked as if an army of crimson robes had arrived to secure the scene and investigate the explosion. Gently, they were expanding their boundary, pushing the crowd away.
Draco turned and shoved his way through the crowd, squeezing between gawkers who were torn between worry and fascination. Draco barely made it through the crowd in time to sneak off into the alleyway next to the building before the Auror’s barrier cut it off completely. Despite still being unsteady on his feet, Draco ran as fast as he could to where the hidden door was. He punched at bricks, trying to remember which one would admit him. A shout caught his attention and he turned to see an auror had noticed him. Draco kept pressing bricks, even as the auror advanced down the alley. Draco was near tears, poking brick after brick with his wand. He was looking again at the auror, only a handful of strides away, when the right brick caught. Draco fell forward with a gasp, stumbling into the back room of the apothecary, barely able to slam the door shut behind him before the auror caught it. Draco scrambled for the door knob, once again pulling it towards himself with a hard yank, then lurching it to the right to lock it into place.
There wasn’t time to collapse yet, so Draco forced himself to stay standing. He did his best to gulp in deep, calming breaths, but the air was thick and sour. He turned to face the room and survey the damage.
Eerily, the small kitchenette in the backroom was not so very disturbed, despite the hole in the wall that had blown in from the shop front and the door to Mr. Nibill’s quarters blasted inwards. Wood, brick, and ash had scattered the room, denting the floors and walls, but the kitchenette remained clear and intact. The door to the laboratory appeared kicked open, the lock broken off by force. The sour smell was worse near the stairway so Draco avoided it.
Distantly, there was a shout, and muffled thuds, somewhere beyond the entrance to Mr. Nibill’s quarters. Draco stepped towards the noise.
“You!” he heard a gruff voice shout to his right. Draco realized he’d walked right past the hole in the wall and was visible from the shop front. He turned to see three aurors in the ruins of what was once the store. One was a tall, broad, vaguely familiar woman, covered in soot and a deep set glower. Draco glanced back at Mr. Nibill’s door. That was enough to set her off. “Stupify!” she shouted. Draco barely had time to yelp before a red flash of light hit him squarely in the chest, knocking him out cold.
--
Bright, glaring light greeted Draco upon waking. He blinked his eyes open, then with a groan closed his eyes again. His head pounded and the light made it worse. Draco tried to shift, and found his arms bound behind him. He tried to shift, and found he was laying on his side on something hard. He forced himself to keep his eyes open long enough to adjust to the brightness. He was on the stone floor of a large open room, made up of barred cages confining what Draco assumed was his fellow prisoners. Tears stung his eyes and Draco tried to believe it was just the bright light affecting him.
Draco moved just enough to ease his stiff muscles. His shoulders ached from being held in such a rough angle. Draco rolled onto his stomach to give them relief, letting his face rest on the floor. It wasn’t so bad. The floor wasn’t nearly as grimy as Draco.
Some time later, be it minutes or hours, someone walking through the room stopped at his cell. Keys jangled then a door creaked open. Rough hands grabbed at Draco and pulled him to his feet. Draco did try to walk, but his feet kept giving out, and eventually his captor called over a second person to help hold Draco steady. The second person was dressed in auror crimson. They took him to a smaller room and sat him at a table. Then they conjured more ropes to tie him in place before leaving him there alone.
The room was too silent and too bright and Draco was bound too tight to wipe his tears away. He wondered if the aurors were leaving him to wait on purpose, or if he just wasn’t important enough for them to care about. He looked around the stark white room, with nothing but the single door betraying the perfect smoothness of the walls. Draco wondered if it was an illusion and they could secretly see him, terrified and crying.
Finally, the door opened once more and the same auror who had stupified him walked in. She’d changed clothes and taken a perfunctory shower. Something that cleaned away the top layer of ash but Draco could still see some clinging to her hair. She set a stack of folders and a vial of clear liquid down on the table, not sitting herself.
She picked up a notepad and wrote a note, then looked up at Draco with a bored expression. “I am Auror Margaret Campbell and I will be conducting this interview today. Do I have your permission to administer veritaserum?”
Draco gaped, his eyes flickering from the auror to the potion vial and back again. “I didn’t do anything!” he rasped out, finding his throat sore and rusty when he tried to speak.
“Mr. Malfoy, I’m sure I don’t need to remind you the terms of your probation require you to cooperate with any investigation you find yourself entangled in. Now, do I have your permission to administer veritaserum?”
Red with embarrassment, Draco nodded.
“I’ll need verbal consent, Mr. Malfoy,” she drawled, glancing at her wrist watch.
“Y-yes,” Draco stuttered.
The auror put down her notepad and picked up the vial. She uncorked it, and Draco held out his tongue. One, two, three drops were administered. Draco pulled his tongue in and swallowed. Both Draco and the auror paused and waited for the potion to take effect.
Draco intimately knew the warm tingly feeling creeping through his body. He tried to breath through the tingly sensation that spread down his throat. He breathed deeper, seeking the mental and emotional discipline he’d been able to sink into in his youth, his escape from his aunt and the dark lord playing tricks on his mind. For fun.
In her own way, Aunt Lestrange had cared for Draco. That is why she pushed him so hard to learn occlumency, so no one could ever force themselves onto his mind. Draco couldn’t bring himself to return to the head space he had used to hide himself from the world at sixteen. He would rather break down in front of this auror than dwell on what it had been like to be so cold hearted he could watch the death eaters torture and murder countless muggles, then return to school and crucio his own classmates. A small part ached for the freedom of boxing all his emotions away, but not enough to go back.
“Let’s begin. What’s your name?” Auror Campbell asked, writing notes as she spoke.
The words sunk into his mind, reverberating against his skull. “Draco Malfoy,” Draco said. The auror’s words in his head faded.
“What were you doing at Nibill’s Apothecary?”
“I live and work there,” Draco said, but the words didn’t fade. As Draco sat silently, the words began to shake in his mind almost painfully. He continued. “I left that morning, when I returned I saw Auror Potter and three other aurors enter the apothecary. Then there was some explosion, and I was worried. The front entrance was blocked, but I knew the alley was unlocked and I entered through the side door.”
“Tell me about the side door.”
Draco looked up at the auror. She was staring back at him. Her note pad was set aside, the quill now standing on its own, ready to self-write. Draco licked chapped lips before speaking. “I suppose it’s a secret. But Mr. Nibill told me, so not a good secret. You pull on the knob and twist it left to turn it into the door to the alley, and right to access the closest. I used it to leave that morning and left it open to the alley.” Draco grimaced. “I couldn’t remember how to get back in. I almost didn’t make it.”
“Are there other secret exits?”
Another grimace. “If there are, they’re better kept secrets.”
Auror Campbell opened a folder and pulled out a list. “Why were you carrying these substances on your person when arrested?”
Draco saw the same list of potion ingredients that Mr. Nibill had given him, in a tighter, neater script. “That’s written in the same order and everything,” Draco snarked, “Was that by chance or did you just copy the list I had on me, too?” The auror didn’t answer, and before long Draco was overcome with the need to keep talking. “The ingredients were missing,” Draco said through clenched teeth. “I swear I didn’t seal them. He said I stole them, but I never stole from Mr. Nibill, I never would. I didn’t know he even had them. I don’t know where he got them from. But they were missing and he said he would call the aurors, he would call you, if I didn’t get them back. If he told you I stole them he’s lying, he must be lying. I don’t know what happened, maybe he forgot to restock, but I never took anything.”
“You did have these substances, though,” Auror Campbell said. “Where did you get them?”
“I bought them!” Draco snapped. “I spent hours finding stores that would sell them to me, and I used every knut I had of savings to pay for it. I was going to give it to Mr. Nibill, to replace what he said went missing. He told me I had more time, I didn’t know he would call you so soon. I swore I didn’t steal anything, why didn’t he believe me?” Draco ended once again trying to blink back his tears.
The Auror was impassive as she continued. “How long have you worked for Chester Nibill?” the questions continued like that. She asked about every facet of Draco’s job, prying into the minor details of work hours and his recollection of weekly potion ingredient orders. They focused excessively on Mr. Nibill’s special orders, and the frequency different individuals collected them. When Draco’s answers became sluggish, Auror Campbell requested to once again administer veritaserum. Draco provided verbal consent. The silver lining was that Draco was becoming certain this had little to nothing to do with Mr. Nibill’s accusations that he had stolen a few potion ingredients.
“To recap,” the auror drawled, “You never saw any evidence of class A restricted ingredients?”
“No,” Draco confirmed, again.
“And you are unaware of any records log related to the special orders Nibill fulfilled?”
Draco rolled his eyes up to look at the perfectly white ceiling. “No.”
“You do not know what Mr. Nibill discussed with his guests, and you were never stepped foot beyond the door to his chambers?”
“Nope,” Draco said, popping the p sound obnoxiously.
Auror Campbell’s eyes narrowed. “How do you think he rigged the explosions?” she asked unexpectedly.
Draco blinked and turned his attention back to the auror and spoke with more candor than he ever had before about his boss. “I always considered Mr. Nibill a bit of a dunce, if he rigged anything it must have been an accident. Has he been maimed for his effort?”
It was the auror’s turn to stare. “The whole place was riddled with advanced charms. It takes a lot of talent to pull off such sophisticated spellwork.”
“Sure,” Draco murmured, stretching his lips around the syllable to see how it felt to resist speaking. Not good, so he said more. “I suppose you mean the wards. There was deep magic there since I moved in. Mr. Nibill added my magical signature to them once he decided he would keep me around awhile. Only, he couldn’t do it himself. He had me leave my wand behind one night and someone else cast the spell using the magical signature from the wand.” Draco laughed, “It’s a second hand wand. I wasn’t sure it would work, but whoever it was had more talent than Mr. Nibill and I was never splinched from magical blow back. You should probably check the records, I wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. Nibill didn’t even own the store.”
The auror had picked her quill and notepad back up and was hand writing out the notes again.
“Who do you think owns the store?”
Draco shrugged, but it wasn’t enough for the truth serum. “I don’t know, I never really considered before. Maybe one of his friends, who knows.”
Auror Campbell was glaring at Draco now. “Mr. Malfoy, are you aware that assisting in the sale of potioned narcotics will land you a 20 year sentence in Azkaban?” she growled.
Malfoy stared back just as hard. “No, I don’t find those details worthy of tracking, seeing how a false accusation of theft is all it would take to send me to Azkaban for life. Or maybe you do gooders will come up with a new, impossible rule to add to my probation contract and I can be sent to Azkaban for failing to comply mere weeks before my release from probation. You needn’t threaten me with something so blaise as illegal potion trafficking to make your point, Auror Campbell. You’ve made it clear there’s no real choice in these proceedings. Please, inform me what you would like my verbal consent for next.”
At this, the auror sighed. She threw her quill down on the paper and rubbed a hand over her face. She looked tired. “Where do you think Chester would hide after his escape?”
“What escape?” Malfoy asked, suddenly chilled. The auror’s words began to ring in his head, but Draco tried to make space to process the question. But the cacophony forced him to talk. “You said escaped, you mean you tried to arrest him and he got away? How could you let him get away? You’ve been asking questions for hours about illegal potion ingredients. Dangerous ingredients. What if he finds out you arrested me? What if he thinks I told you something?” Draco’s ramblings were growing in pitch. “Merlin, I did tell you something. I told you everything. He’ll know I told you everything. That’s why you asked about a secret door. He must have had another one. Where would he have gone? Have you arrested anyone else? I told you everyone I know of who visited him, maybe he’s with one of them?”
The auror just stared soberly at him until he stopped talking. She didn’t pick up the pen again to record any final notes. When Draco quieted fully she said, “I think we’re done here. I’ll have someone show you out.” She began to stand and gather her things.
“Out?” Draco asked, softly.
“Yeah. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I don’t think you’re remotely involved,” she said. Draco flinched when she pointed her wand at him, but it was only to release all the ropes binding him. “You can go.”
Draco tried to focus through the remaining effect of the veritaserum and his aching limbs that sagged now that the ropes no longer constrained them. “Where am I supposed to go?” he asked.
The auror frowned at him. “I can’t help you there.”
Draco nodded, expecting as much. He hesitated a moment before asking, “Can I go back to the apothecary?”
The auror’s frown deepened. “No, Draco. We’re not going to be able to let you in there.”
Draco couldn’t meet her eyes. He stared down at his hands, watching his white fingers grow pink as his blood flow returned to them. They were grimy, just like his clothes. Covered in dirt and ash and smelling of sour spell mildew. “Um, is there any chance someone could maybe bring me just a few things, maybe my clothes?” he asked.
Auror Campbell didn’t say anything for a long time. Finally, she said, “I’ll see if I can find you some clothes.”
Draco nearly sobbed with relief, but he held it in. He could see his emotion was making Auror Campbell uncomfortable and he didn’t want to drive her away after she had agreed to help him. She sighed again, scooping up her things as she strode out of the office.
The wait seemed to end so quickly, this time. Auror Campbell returned with a pile of clothes, and Malfoy’s wand. “You can go,” she said again. “Jacob is just outside, he’ll walk you out.”
“Thank you, Auror Campbell,” Draco said as he accepted the gift. He lingered awkwardly a moment too long. The auror was about to ask him to leave again when Draco blurted out, “By chance do you know if Harry Potter is here?” He tested the compulsion to overshare. It was fading. “I know him, from school,” Draco explained, “and hoped I could have a moment of his time.”
The auror’s side was twice as heavy as any before it. She rested both hands on her hips and shook her head, but it wasn’t at Draco. “You should get out of here. Don’t go looking for Harry. Again, I can’t believe I’m saying it, but he’s more trouble than you’re worth.”
Draco didn’t know what to make of that, but he overstayed his welcome so he only nodded an acknowledgement and exited the room. A reedy young man with a trainee badge waited for him outside. Jacob, presumably. Jacob was a bit jittery escorting Draco through what quickly became apparent was a part of the ministry. Draco thanked whatever lucky stars still looked down on him that it was late, and his walk of shame was witnessed by so few. There was no thankfulness left in him, though, when Jacob unceremoniously shoved him into the floo and he came out through a public toilet.
Draco changed his outfit in the toilet stall, thankful that the clothes he’d been given were sturdy and warm. He cast cleaning spells on his previous outfits to little effect, but it was enough that he could carefully fold them then shrink them down small enough to store in his pocket. Afterwards, he spent that night in a park. He wasn’t meant to use the spell, but he cast disillusionment anyway so the muggle officers would let him be. His warming charm wasn’t as good as Potter’s, but it was enough he was able to collapse into sleep.
--
Draco woke up cold, thirsty, and starving. He realized he should have asked for food, Auror Campbell probably would have given him something. It was too late now.
He tried to make a plan for what to do when the auror’s try to arrest your boss for illegal potion trafficking, but ultimately fail, and then force you into betraying the only person who might otherwise have given you a chance (illegal or not). Draco crossed finding Mr. Nibill and asking him for help off of his list.
That left one person: Harry Potter. Auror Campbell’s cryptic message sat uneasy with Draco, but Draco doubted Potter would have told her he was seeing a former death eater. The unease grew. Likely, Potter wouldn’t have told anyone. Draco had known, of course, that what they did together was private. It was one thing to know when he had a roof over his head to invite his boyfriend who was keeping him secret to sleep over at. It was another to have nothing and suddenly question whether or not his boyfriend would acknowledge their relationship if Draco went begging for help.
There was a wizarding place where Potter had acknowledged Draco, that Potter visited before he and Draco were even in a relationship. Draco got up and stumbled towards Sereni-tea.
He felt a fool when he walked in to a mostly empty store and realized he had no money, right as Trina met his eyes and greeted him with a smile. “Draco! We don’t normally see you here on Tuesdays.”
Draco’s smile may have more closely resembled a grimace. “Uh, a bit of an emergency came up at work and I have the day off,” he explained. “Only, I wasn’t thinking and I didn’t bring any money. Would you mind if I just sat here a bit, until it gets busy?”
Trina tutted at him. “Don’t be silly, Draco, of course you can stay here for a while.” She began fiddling with the coffee maker, filling a cup before pushing it over to Draco. “Have this on the house,” she said.
Draco almost cried again, from the kindness. “Thank you so much, Trina, I promise I’ll pay you back.”
Trina waved him off just as the bell signaled another customer had walked in. “Go have a seat and warm up a bit,” she said. And Draco went and sat.
He stayed, as long as he could stretch out the time. He picked up a book from the free book stack the store kept and pretended to read. Really, he just watched the door in case the right guest walked in. When the lunch rush started and all the tables began to fill, Draco couldn’t pretend it was alright to stay. He put the book back and stepped out to make another plan.
It was risky, but he could go back to the ministry. Even if he had to enter from the toilets, which is what he did.
The public was allowed in the ministry atrium, so that’s where Draco stayed. He sat on a bench facing the lifts, and stayed there for hours. He ignored people who recognized him as a death eater. It wasn’t so common now, but still there were stares. He ignored ministry guards who hovered nearby to intimidate him. He had been through worse just yesterday, he could survive this. From time to time, he wandered to the public water fountain and gulped down as much as he could stomach. He watched every witch and wizard who came and went, until his vision blurred. Then he closed his eyes and took three deep, calming breaths, and opened them to watch again.
It wasn’t Potter who Draco spoke with. No, it was Draco’s own probation auror. “I heard you got yourself fired,” Auror Clark said, startling Draco out of his concentration.
Draco swiveled round to find the staunch auror leering at him. Instinctively, Draco defended himself, “I wasn’t fired,” he insisted. Being fired triggered a probation investigation, which opened too many opportunities for failure.
Auror Clark guffawed. “‘Suppose not, you just were helping your boss poison upstanding citizens.”
“No, I wasn’t,” Draco insisted. “Ask Auror Campbell, she cleared me just yesterday.”
Auror Clark’s sneer deepened. “I know a law breaker when I see one. You’re making excuses now, but in two weeks time if I don’t have an updated registration form on my desk I’ll hunt you down and put you where you belong.” Auror Clark kept talking, but a different flash of crimson robes caught Draco’s attention. He nodded along to Auror Clark’s words, even while slowly getting to his feet, trying to see over the crowd.
There. Messy brown hair. The crowd parted, and Draco could see Harry’s face. Harry was talking to someone, but turned just then to look towards Draco. He blinked, then focused his gaze from the general distance in on Draco himself. Draco smiled in relief.
“What are you smiling at, you sack of dragon dung?” Auror Clark growled at him.
Draco realized he wasn’t feigning proper defference, a requirement of surviving Auror Clark’s wrath. “My apologies, I overstepped. I am listening, though, I believe I understand how important it is I complete the paperwork. Please, how do you recommend I deliver it to you in order to make the deadline?”
Draco let Auror Clark ramble on, carefully sneaking another look at Potter, who had continued walking through the hall, and was almost past Draco. Potter was looking at a witch he was walking with, but his eyes snapped to Draco’s for just a moment. Draco tried to convey all of his desperation in his gaze, silently entreating Potter to take just a moment to help him. Potter’s expression didn’t so much as twitch, he just turned back to the witch as if he had never seen Draco at all.
Draco didn’t hear Auror Clark’s complaints this time as he watched Potter walk away. Potter didn’t glance back once before taking a floo to some other destination.
“I understand the importance of finding new employment,” Draco mumbled out, hoping that was what Auror Clark had been blathering about. “I best start immediately. Good day, sir.”
Then Draco fled the hall. His chest was tightening again, it was getting hard to breathe. Draco couldn’t be here, surrounded by all these people who hated him. He floo’ed back out to the toilets and ran outside into the rapidly darkening night. It took three tries to cast disillusionment. Each time he imagined Auror Clark checking his wand, and arresting him on the spot for dubious use of magic. Draco was too panicked in the end to cast a warming charm. He shivered and cried, unable to sleep.
He watched the sun rise, huddled under two sets of clothes, both now dirty. It was still too cold. He hadn’t eaten in over a day and he was dizzy with hunger. He couldn’t go back to the cafe, begging for more coffee. Gringotts would open soon, but they hated him there. Last time they made him wait four hours and then fill out a form requesting his own money and a forwarding address to ship it to. It had taken three days for the coins to arrive. That was too long, and he had no forwarding address.
Vaguely, he wondered if Potter had a reason to ignore him. Draco’s pride was no longer so strong that he wouldn’t forgive Potter for saving face in his workplace. It’s just, Potter was clever. If he had wanted to send a message, or reassure Draco, he could have. Likely, if he wanted to find Draco after the fact he could have done that, too. He could have used some auror tracking charm and chased Draco down to this park, rescuing him from icy despair.
At some point in the night, Draco realized Potter wasn’t coming. Maybe that’s what Auror Campbell had meant when she said he wasn’t worth it.
When the sun was full in the sky, Draco took a deep breath before pulling himself to his feet. There was one more thing he could try.
He used a public floo to jump from Diagonally to Hyde Park, but had to walk the rest of the way. And it was a long walk made longer by his complete exhaustion. He was barely managing not to trip over his own feet when he reached his destination, a large, stately home in wizard Kensington. He stumbled up to the front door then used the knocker to bang twice upon the door. The sound echoed out, announcing his arrival to anyone inside the building.
The door slid open, pulled by an ancient house elf with furry ears and a gray rag tied around its waist. It was two feet tall and dressed in rags, but it still looked down at Draco’s shabby appearance.
Draco knew better than to grovel. A house elf would not acquiesce to begging. He forced himself to stand as tall as he could. “Inform your master that Draco Malfoy is here to see him,” Draco said, all false bravado.
The house elf looked unconvinced, but a look at Draco’s pale hair and sharp features must have been enough to give him a shot. The elf opened the door further and gestured Draco inside. “Stay here, touch nothing,” They said. Then they popped off to summon Mr. Selwyn.
Mr. Selwyn arrived nearly as soon as the elf left for him. “Draco, dearest, what happened to you?” he crooned. Gingerly, he touched Draco’s shoulder, patting the dirty cloth Draco had been unable to properly clean.
“I’m so sorry for coming here, Mr. Selwyn. I don’t really understand what happened, but the aurors were at the apothecary and wouldn’t tell me where Mr. Nibill is. I didn’t know where else to go,” Draco said, guilt free in his obfuscations.
“Draco, Draco, please, you’re here as my guest. Finally, you must call me Hal,” Mr. Selwyn insisted. He gripped Draco’s shoulder tighter, despite the dirt. Draco didn’t find it reassuring. “Please, come this way, you look distraught. Settle in and I’ll bring out some refreshments, hmm?”
Draco didn’t like how Mr. Sewlyn was gripping him, but the promise of food eased his steps towards a drawing room. Mr. Selwyn settled him onto a sofa. Draco sank into it, moaning into the comfort. He heard Mr. Selwyn chuckle and instantly sat up, embarrassed.
“Please, Draco, make yourself comfortable,” Mr. Selwyn purred. “I’ll be back in just a moment.”
Draco was not comfortable. He held himself rigid, trying not to look at his surroundings. This room had the familiarity of pure blood tradition. There was nothing untoward out in the open, but Draco had passed a doorway and seen house elf heads mounted further inside. Mr. Selwyn kept to old, darker ways of wizardry.
Soon, Mr. Selwyn returned, holding a tray of tea himself. He settled it onto a table in front of Malfoy before gracefully taking his own seat. For a moment, he watched Draco intently. Draco’s gaze flickered anywhere but at him. He looked at the maps on the wall, the books on the shelves, at Mr. Selwyn’s ostentatious jewelry and shiny broach. Finally, Mr. Selwyn broke the silence. “The elves are preparing something more substantial. I thought, a cup of tea while we waited.” He poured Draco a cup. “Milk? Sugar?” Draco nodded hesitantly, but Mr. Sewlyn prepared it with ease and then handed the cup to Draco. “Enjoy.”
Draco took it, and immediately drank deeply. He was starving and didn’t let propriety stop him.
“Mmm, you look exhausted. The aurors must not have treated you well,” Mr. Selwyn said.
The tea wasn’t enough to clear Draco’s light headedness. “What?” he asked, somewhat dizzy.
“When they took you in. How was their treatment?” Mr. Selwyn clarified.
“Oh, horrible. They left me tied up on the floor,” Draco said without thinking. Then he realized what he admitted and flinched. “Oh, I mean, I,” he stumbled over the words. He could think of the words, and then lost his train of thought.
Mr. Selwyn didn’t react negatively, he just made sympathetic noises. “I worried, of course. I’ve seen how cruelly they treat you and I imagined this would be worse.”
Draco felt queasy. He drank more of the tea, hoping it would settle his stomach.
“What did they tell you the fuss was all about?” Mr. Selwyn asked.
Draco rubbed his forehead, it was hurting. “Um,” he started. “I think… they asked questions about Mr. Nibill's potions. They wanted to know about ingredients. And… I think, they asked about who he sold to, who visited.”
“Did you tell them about me?” Mr. Selwyn asked calmly.
Draco didn’t feel calm. Suddenly, his heart was racing. He said, “What was there to tell? You know Mr. Selwyn, you visit the shop. You buy potions from time to time. They knew this already.”
“Hmm, that is true,” Mr. Selwyn said, still calm. “I am sad, though, you did not consider that I might not want to be associated with a suspected criminal.”
Draco found himself shaking. He tried to examine Mr. Selwyn to check his calm demeanor, but his eyes couldn’t focus on any feature. All the edges blurred and the colors morphed the longer he stared at them. Mr. Selwyn reached forward and took the teacup from him, settling it on the table before Draco could drop it.
“I understand it was hard for you, under that pressure,” he consoled. “I wonder, why did they come at all? It was bold to make a move on our dear friend Chester. What did they say?”
Draco was shaking his head before Mr. Selwyn finished speaking. “I don’t know,” he insisted. “I don’t know what happened. The potion ingredients disappeared, and I had to replace them, and when I came back Harry Potter and the aurors were there and I -”
“Potion ingredients?” Mr. Selwyn cut Draco off.
This time Draco nodded. He listed out the ingredients that were missing and once again explained his trek to replace them.
“This is strange,” Mr. Selwyn mused. He poured another cup of tea and put it back in Draco’s hands. Draco drank without thinking. “I know you’re too well behaved to have taken anything from Chester. However, I think perhaps… tell me who you let into the potions lab with you.”
Draco’s hands shook so hard this time he did drop the cup. Mr. Selwyn ignored it, his eyes only on Draco. “Harry Potter,” Draco whispered.
“Harry Potter,” Mr. Selwyn confirmed, his voice finally hardening. “You let an auror into the shop?”
Draco was shaking his head no even as he said, “Yes.”
“When?” Mr. Selwyn demanded.
Draco’s mind raced. “Sunday. And, last Wednesday, and, I don’t actually know. Many times.”
Mr. Selwyn was silent. He still lounged against his own sofa, but he was so still he could have been a statue. Draco tried to make out the shapes, but the longer he stared the more they began to morph. Mr. Selwyn’s form began to twist, reshaping to a dark shadow, and then a face too similar to a serpent…
When he spoke Draco’s imagination snapped away and it was only Mr. Selwyn again.
“Why, Draco?”
“I, he,” Draco trailed off. He didn’t want to say and he forced his mouth closed. His silence brought a familiar ringing in his mind. “Why? Why? Why? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY?” thudded inside his skull louder and louder until Draco was nauseous with it and terrified his heart would explode.
“I was sleeping with him!” Draco shouted.
The silence felt worse. It felt like worms squirming over his skin, then snakes slithering, constricting, binding his vital organs and squeezing his life away.
“Oh, Draco,” Mr. Selwyn sighed. He stood then, slowly strolling over to Draco’s sofa, where he sat. This time his hand was gentle, a soft caress of Draco’s neck and back before he pulled Draco into an embrace. “I’m so sorry, Draco.” He said.
Draco hadn’t realized he was crying until his tears stained Mr. Selwyn’s sweater.
“What did you say to him, make yourself at home? Feel free to explore? My home is your home?”
Draco shuddered. “I don’t remember. Something like that,” he said.
Mr. Selwyn patted his shoulder again. “Of course, you didn’t know he was using you.”
Draco choked on air, trying so hard to stop crying. All he had been doing was cry in front of people. He remembered once again, what it was like to be a child and choose to be cruel instead of feeling this hurt. Mr. Selwyn let him sob, making shushing noises and holding him like he was still a child. When Draco finally stopped, Mr. Selwyn let him pull away, but Draco felt his stare linger, considering. It felt like ink, staining his skin black wherever Mr. Selwyn’s eyes lingered too long. Draco wanted to claw at his skin and pull out the ink before it could settle like the dark mark on his arm.
“What’s done is done, Draco. You were weak, and that auror took advantage. We cannot blame you for how low the Ministry has sunk to persecute good men like Chester.”
Draco turned to look at Mr. Selwyn, watching his shape shift slowly again, terrified about what it would reveal. “I don’t know if Mr. Nibill was a good man,” Draco whispered.
Mr. Selwyn paused too long. Silences had begun to fill with ominous hissing in Draco’s mind. The hand Mr. Selwyn reached out morphed into a snake. When Draco tried to lurch away it grabbed him, teeth sinking into Draco’s flesh. No, it was just a hand, gripping his arm firmly.
“What brought you here today, Draco?” Mr. Selwyn asked, his voice hard again. “Did the aurors tell you to come? Did this Harry send you?”
Draco shook his head, but didn’t take his eyes off Mr. Selwyn’s hand, terrified it would turn back into a snake if he let it. “Harry… Potter… he wouldn’t look at me. He walked by and left me there, with the probation auror calling me names and threatening to arrest me. They didn’t tell me to do anything, just leave. Leave and don’t come back until it was to be put away in Azkaban for good. I had nowhere to go. I slept in a muggle park, in the cold. I haven’t, I haven’t eaten. There was no one left, no one cared at all about me. No one but you, Mr. Selwyn.”
Mr. Selwyn smiled slowly. His grip on Draco eased, “It’s Hal, Draco. If you’re going to come here begging for my help you should finally call me by my name.”
Draco gulped. “Hal,” he said. Then, “please, I need your help.”
Mr. Selwyn - Hal - smiled larger. He released Draco’s arm entirely and slid closer to him. His hand brushing against Draco’s cheek, fingers carding through his hair. “I wish you had chosen me instead of that scoundrel. Why not me?”
“I’m afraid of you,” Draco said, too honest and unable to stop the words from tumbling out.
Hal made a considering noise, his smile growing wider. “I can work with that,” he murmured, gripping Draco’s hair to hold him still as he leaned in. Draco froze, seeing a cobra instead of a man, with spiral eyes mesmerizing him so he was trapped in place.
Three loud thunks rang out, rumbling through the house. Draco blinked, and again Hal - Mr. Selwyn - was just a man. Mr. Selwyn cursed the interruption. He might have ignored it, but the thunks rang out again, echoing off walls and reverberating within Draco’s brain, amplifying a dizziness that overwhelmed him. When Hal released him, Draco slumped down onto the cushions.
Mr. Selwyn’s eyes traveled over the younger man’s body, his desire clear.
Then the house elf popped into the room to summon him to the front door. The booming noise still rang in Draco’s head, and he couldn’t hear their conversation.
Then the room was empty, leaving only the memory of Mr. Selwyn’s touches on Draco’s skin. Draco clawed at his neck, trying to pull away the violation. He yanked at his hair, tearing out pieces by the roots. The room began to swarm with darkness, until a rattling breathy noise hissed out from the doorway where Draco had seen the elf heads. Icy wind crawled over his clammy skin.
Draco panicked. He scrambled, falling off the couch, then crawling forward until he could get back on his feet. He ran away from the darkness, until light returned. When he looked back, nothing was there. The drawing room was filled with light. Draco’s chest still pounded, but he couldn’t place why he was so afraid.
Then he heard the voices, each a familiar timber and cadence.
Mr. Selwyn was saying, “Since you have no legal authority to be here on my property, I must ask you to leave.”
“You won’t get a better chance than this to cooperate with our investigation,” said Harry Potter. Hearing it was like warmth wrapping around Draco, the warming charm Draco had waited all night for Potter to cast.
Draco stumbled forward again, until he was in the foyer and could see Potter through the open door. He glowed brilliantly, silvery blue radiant light, like the patronus Draco had never been able to cast. Draco tried to walk towards him, but stumbled and fell.
“Malfoy?” Potter asked. Draco looked up from the floor to see Mr. Selwyn blocking Potter’s entrance into the house.
“You cannot come in!” Mr. Selwyn hissed. Draco saw a snake larger than Nagini, instead of a man. Draco cowered from it.
“For the love of - he collapsed! I can come in to give aid even if you don’t invite me,” Potter said, trying to push past.
“He’s my guest, I can tend to him without your assistance. In fact, your intrusion is standing in my way.”
Potter glared at Selwyn, then at Draco, then at Selwyn again. Draco couldn’t keep track of what he was seeing, his vision kept morphing between monsters, Potter’s radiance the only constant.
“Malfoy? Malfoy can you hear me?” Potter was calling. “I need you to ask if you need help. Do you need help?”
The word “Help? Help? Help? HELP? HELP? HELP? HELP? HELP?” thundered. Draco whimpered as it tore into his mind. He knew whatever he said would matter, but he didn’t know how. Draco whimpered as the memory of Potter in the atrium, walking past him, played in his head over and over, a vivid display of the hopelessness of counting on Potter to save Draco. The silver blue light began to fade from the room, dipping the foyer into an impossible darkness that should not be possible. Rattling hisses echoed from deep in the house, a promise of further nightmares.
With effort, Draco pushed himself back up to standing. He did it to stare down both men, who just looked like men.
“I don’t need your help,” he said. “Neither of your help.” and he shoved past both of them to walk out the door. Sunlight flooded his senses, blinding him. His world was dizziness.
Draco didn’t get the chance to collapse again, because suddenly Potter was there to catch him.
“Malfoy? Are you alright? Stay with me, can you hear me?” the words were fading. “Shit, hold on, hold on.” Draco tried to grab hold of Potter, who had wrapped an arm around him and apparition both wizards away.