Sep 12 2008
Expiation
Title: Expiation
Author: dorrie6
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: The characters and universe presented in this story belong to JK Rowling.
Note: 1/14/06 for the “handshake” challenge at hd_flashfic.
*****
Expiation
It was long and bony, a little bit sallow, definitely unclean, and rather bulbous at the thumb where it thrust toward him. It made Draco quite ill to look at it, actually. The fact that it was attached to Potter on the other end didn’t help at all.
“Lost your mind, have you Malfoy?”
Draco shifted his view to the left, and met the slightly more welcome sight of Granger slapping Weasley on the arm.
“What? He’s just lying there,” Weasley protested. “I heard that some of them lost their–”
“Ron!” Granger hit him harder.
Potter stared. “He hasn’t lost his mind.”
Weasley shrugged and crossed his arms, nudging Granger roughly with his elbow.
“Obviously–” Draco’s voice was embarrassingly groggy. He cleared his throat. “Obviously it’s you who’ve lost your mind, Potter.” He sniffed. “Get that thing away from me.”
“No.” Potter thrust his hand out further.
“Suit yourself.” Draco sank back into the bed, grimacing at the smell. No matter how many different ways he’d transfigured that mattress, he couldn’t quite get rid of the smell.
“I’m not leaving, Malfoy,” Potter screeched loudly.
“That’s unfortunate.” Draco rolled over, covering his head with the pillow.
“Malfoy!” Potter was louder still. Draco pulled the pillow closer.
“Harry, we haven’t much time.” That was Granger again.
“I know!” Potter snapped, and then quickly softened. “I know. Just–I need a minute.” He was actually whining now. “Please, Hermione. Just a minute, I swear.”
For a moment everything was quiet. Granger sighed. “We’ll be outside.”
“We’ll what?” Weasley was making a fuss, as usual.
Draco groaned and lifted the pillow slightly. “Potter, your friends are in a hurry. End of the world or something, I’m sure. Go with them. You’re wasting your time here.” He replaced the pillow, only to have it torn away from him by another hand.
Potter’s eyes bulged in a ludicrous manner. “Look, there isn’t much time, but you have to come with me.”
“Now I know you’ve lost your mind,” Draco said, rolling away from Potter’s face.
“I’m serious, Malfoy. There are people coming–” Potter horrible face was nearly smashed against his. “It isn’t safe for you at all.”
Draco sat abruptly, forcing Potter to jump back. “Since when are you concerned about my safety, Potter?”
“Malfoy, please, I don’t have time to explain.” Potter held out his hand again, his wand clutched tightly in the other.
Draco raised his eyebrow. “That’s the best you can do?”
“Yes.” Potter looked pathetic. “Please.”
“Forget it, Potter. I’ll take my chances.” Draco snorted. “Besides, for all I know this is just some filthy plot of yours anyway.”
“Of mine? When have I ever–” Potter’s face had gone red. “Malfoy, look, this isn’t a plot. People know where you are.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”
“People who would harm you,” Potter said, looking exasperated.
“Again, this is an obvious fact.” Draco smiled.
“No, Malfoy–” Potter sighed comically. “Other people. People I–”
“What, your people, Potter?” Draco laughed. “You’re here to protect me from your own rabid mob? And I’m supposed to trust you? Have you truly gone mad, Potter?”
“Malfoy, I know it sounds all wrong, but please–”
“And what exactly is it that you think I have to lose, Potter? What?” Draco shouted. “I have no family, no home. Do you honestly think there is anything left you people can take away from me?”
“No.” Potter stood very still. “There isn’t.”
“That’s right, there isn’t.” Draco turned back to the regrettable mattress. “Now you’ve already done enough, haven’t you? Just leave me alone.”
“No.” Potter grabbed his arm. Draco glared. Potter let go, his face red again. “I mean, that’s not what I–” He turned away, looking at the door. “What you have left is–no one can take it away, Malfoy. Not unless they–” He turned quickly back to Draco. “Just come with me. Please.”
Draco sighed. “Are you saying they’re coming to kill me, Potter? Because really I don’t care anymore.”
“No, Malfoy.” Potter’s voice was suddenly soft. “They aren’t coming to kill you.”
Draco froze. “They–” The words formed like molasses around his tongue. “They’re using Dementors?”
Potter nodded slowly, pushing his hand forward again. It was inches away from Draco’s face. “Malfoy, you offered this to me once, and I refused. Don’t–” His voice broke a little. “Don’t refuse this.”
Any number of things might have dominated Draco’s thoughts at that moment–his father’s face, angry and surprised as he fell at Professor Snape’s hand–his mother’s crumpled form in the ruin of their home, her skin pale against torn, red curtains–even the unidentified, rotting corpse that had once occupied this bed. Yet in this one brief, vital moment, the only vision Draco’s mind could bring forth was Harry Potter’s ridiculous, bulging, pleading eyes.
There was a sharp knock at the door, followed by Granger’s clipped tones. “Harry, I’m sorry, but we have to go now.”
“Yes!” Potter called to her. He looked at Draco. “Malfoy?”
The knock came again, more urgently this time, as a strange hum sounded in the distance. Potter’s hand shook slightly.
Draco took it.