(HP) Between Mirrors 02
May. 9th, 2006 01:05 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tsukinofaeriiBetween Mirrors 2/2
GWL Arc
By![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tsukinofaerii
Rating: SNIP
Alternate Timeline/Generic
Warnings: Profane, Violent, Sexual, female/female, male/male
Spoilers: Book canon Half-Blood Prince
Series: Harry Potter
Pairings: Draco/Harry, Harry/Draco
Summary: Dreams of a new sort are plaguing Harri, combined with strange hallucinations of people who could almost be familiar. Is this a new ploy sent by She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or is a deeper game in motion? The answer is just on the other side of her dreams. Complete short story.
This story is a work of transformative fiction, such being defined as a work which incorporates characters and situations which have been created by other authors/artists. No infringement of copyright is intended and no profit is being made from the creation or dissemination of this work. Harry Potter was created and is owned by J.K. Rowling. It is used with respect and admiration for the work.
SECOND PART. First part HERE
***
"Occlumency."
"Occlumency."
"Now, Harri."
Harri sank down onto the couch in the Gryffindor common room. She'd been out of the infirmary for two days, but neither friends nor girlfriend were willing to let her "forget" to practice. They'd even gone so far as to let her Slytherin into the common room after hours so they could triple-team her, the traitors. "I don't want to ask Snape for help! She hates me!"
Dracaena patted her head, perched behind her on the back of the sofa, legs crossing over Harri's midsection like shoulder-strap seat belts. "Mildly despises, love. Much different."
"Could have fooled me. The woman's psychotic."
"Harri." Hermes threw a pillow at her from where he shared an armchair with Ronnie. "You're still tired, and we all know how well you follow through with self-study. You need Snape."
"What about Black?" Ronnie attracted all of Harri's attention. Her legs were tossed sideways over Hermes lap, making her have to twist awkwardly to look at the other couple in the room. "She knows Occlumency, right?"
"You do?"
The blonde tapped her heel against Harri's hip. "Only the basics. Not well enough to train anyone."
"I'm already trained. I just need practice," she explained, slightly distracted by the velvet breeches Dracaena wore and the legs that wore them. She really did have a very nice set of calves, Harri noticed. The tight-fit velvet set them off well. And if her knees were a bit sharp, at least they weren't bony the way her own were. "Really, Snape teaches me nothing. We hate each other too much."
"I suppose..."
"We could even do it now!"
"How do we know you'll actually be studying?" Ronnie's face wore a stark frown. "For all we know, you could shut the bed curtains, cast Impervious and start shagging."
Harri, who had been thinking along that track already, flushed. "We wouldn't—"
"We'll leave the curtains open," the Slytherin decided, earning a mournful look from Harri. "I'll leave after Harri has it down for the night."
"What about Seanna and Denise?" Hermes waved a hand generally upwards, towards the girl's dorm. "Harri always said she got tossed around a lot with Snape. You don't want to wake them up." He grimaced. "They're nervous enough about sleeping in the same room with her as it is."
That had been an unexpected and terrible side-effect of Ronnie's blunder. Before, Harri had trouble talking to people because they were in awe of her "Girl-Who-Lived" status. Now more than half the people she knew acted as though homosexuality were a plague she could pass on. The first night both of her dorm mates had bunked down in the common room rather than risk Harri ravishing them in their sleep. Ronnie convinced them that it was safe, but the whole thing left Harri with a bitter taste in her mouth.
Luckily Dracaena hadn't had much problems of that type. As the self-proclaimed Queen of Snakes, other Houses tended to avoid her on basic principle. She wouldn't tell Harri what she'd had to do, but what was left of Slytherin after Volde recruited them stood by her as loyally as ever.
Thinking for a minute, Harri finally decided. "The curtains will be open. They'll just have to live with it."
"Then I'd better be off." Hermes patted Ronnie's leg until the girl moved off his lap and he could stand. "Good night, ladies. I'll see you in the morning."
Ronnie hopped up after him. "I'll go Stupefy the two blockheads, just in case," she announced, hurrying up the stairs. "I'll tell you when they're out."
Dracaena kissed the top of Harri's head. "While we're waiting on that, what do you remember about Occlumency?"
***
The room was dark, but Harri could still see her companion's hair, like a blonde beacon in the night, or a white shirt where you'd forgotten it would be. Startling in a funny way. Dracaena didn't see the humor. She worked Harri harder than Snape ever had, and made it worse because she was actually trying to help, unlike her Head of House.
"Ready?" The whisper was barely louder than a breath. Ronnie had succeed in Stupefying their room mates, but she was bollocks at hexes when her heart wasn't in it. Neither girl wanted to risk the scene that would happen if Seanna or Denise woke up.
"No?"
"Oh well. Mind clear?"
"As ever."
"Well hell. Legilimens."
The practice sessions were completely different from the ones she'd had before. Unlike Snape's virtual rape of her thoughts, Dracaena's attack almost escaped Harri's notice every time. It was a tickle just at the top of her awareness, trying to ease her thoughts out of her. Keeping her mind completely blank, she felt the attack slide off to the side. It was easy, much easier than anything she'd done with Snape.
The tickle vanished. Harri opened eyes she hadn't even realized she'd closed. "Well?"
"Keep your mind clear and go to sleep," was all Dracaena would say. The bed shifted as she slid off it. "Give it a few days of solid practice and you'll be good."
"Don't I get a good night kiss?" She grabbed for Dracaena's hand, grabbing her elbow instead, trying to project a begging air.
It worked. The Slytherin leaned down and kissed her gently, breaking away before anything could come of it. "Good night, Harri. Sweet dreams." Her slim silhouette slipped out the door and shut it behind her.
Sleep never came effortlessly on the best of nights, but the complete blankness of thought provided by Occlumency made it come close. Less than a quarter-hour after curling up under the blankets, she drifted off.
***
Moonlight bounced off the insides of Harri's eyelids, making her scrunch them up uncomfortably. The bed was warm and so soft she couldn't even feel it cradling her. Something niggled at her attention, a soft voice barely on the edge of hearing, more of a thought than anything else.
Harri, wake up.
"Nnng."
Please, there's not much time! Wake up!
"Wha...?"
You're late for Quidditch!
Magic words spoken, Harri's eyes snapped open, hand automatically moving for her glasses before she realized where she was again. The mirrors were back, throwing off so many images that she had to close her eyes. Why she thought of them as mirrors, she had no idea. They didn't reflect anything she could see.
Maybe that was the point.
The male-her, Harry, pressed up against his own side of the glass, completely oblivious to his nudity. Blood streaked down the side of his face from the scar, paling his skin out to a sickly gray that couldn't mean anything good. I need help, and you're the only one who can do it. His lips moved, but the words registered a moment out of sync, like a bad foreign film.
"Who are you?" With so many similarities between them, she found it easier to act unconcerned about her state of undress. "You're not supposed to be able to get in my mind— I did my Occlumency!"
I think Occlumency is supposed to keep others out. I'm pretty sure I'm you, so it would just make it easier for me to get in.
"You're me?" She kicked the glass. It shivered at the impact, but the only lasting result was a sore toe.
I think. He sounded apologetic. Voldemort has me in some kind of holding spell. I think he mentioned that it's kind of like the Veil— maybe that's why I can talk to you. Parallel universes or something.
He seemed so earnest, she almost pushed forward to touch the glass between them. Instead, she placed her hands behind her back. "How do I know you're who you say you are?"
He hesitated, tugging his bangs forward to hide the scar. The familiar habit was unsettling to see on someone other than herself. Finally, he ventured, You think you might like boys— well I might like boys too. For you it's probably girls.
"Try again. Dracaena and I were outed a few days ago." She found an inordinate amount of pleasure in the way his face fell.
Malfoy?
"Dracaena Black."
But— he's evil!
"Maybe wherever you are. Try again anyways."
Harry closed his eyes. It made him look even more dead than he already did. She fought back an urge to tell him to open them up. Looking into a match for her own eyes was even creepier than him looking like a corpse.
When he opened his eyes again, she shuddered. Blood from his bleeding scar smeared over his lids like macabre shadow. When I faced Voldemort in first year, I almost joined him. Even in her head, the confession was almost too soft to hear. Still, something clenched tight in her throat. He said I could have my family back, and I nearly believed him. I never told anyone, so you must not have either.
If Harri hadn't been floating, her knees would have given out. She hadn't told anyone that. Not even Ronnie or Hermes or Dracaena. She'd been too ashamed, too afraid of how close she had come to selling all of them out. "Oh God."
Please help me. If Voldemort has his way, the war over here's lost. The glass shook as his fist connected with it, the thud echoing through to her side. I have to get free! You know what's at stake.
Ronnie. Hermes. Dracaena. They'd be the first to be captured and the last to die if Volde killed her. No doubt things were the same where he was. Rene and Sirrah would follow. Dumbledore would probably be considered too dangerous to torture, but no one else would get the same consideration. It wouldn't be long before the entire world fell, if the prophecy were right.
"What do I do?"
The relief on Harry's face was so strong something lightened in her heart. Her decision made, his words tumbled through her mind like water, rushing to pass on everything as fast as possible. I'm the last Horcrux. Voldemort has me trapped in the Veil, I think, while he holds my body as the Horcrux. I can't get back, and none of my friends can risk coming to save me.
"How—"
She was cut off. I can't get back, but I think you'll be able to. Just get me out of there, and I'll take care of rest.
"How—"
Again, he talked right through her. She was starting to see why people got annoyed when she did it. If we really are the same person, you should be able to possess me. Just get up and walk out.
"How do I get over there?"
It's just glass. His faintly reproachful expression made her grind her teeth.
Harri eyed the glass. Both of them had smacked it more than once, but she'd never actually tried hard to break it. She grit her teeth and made a fist, swinging it into the glass with her whole body weight behind it. The impact rebounded on her, shoving her backwards into one of the walls. Air whooshed out of her lungs and her left elbow tingled from jamming into the glass.
While she gathered her breath again, she studied the problem. Not given to thought before action, it hadn't occurred to her the being in something like free-fall would affect things. The walls were only about three feet apart. She could touch them on all sides, if she tried.
Something in that clicked.
Aha! Harry must have had the same idea. Brace—
"Brace myself. Yeah, I figured that out." He frowned, and she grinned. "Just move out of the way, little boy, and let a woman handle this." Using the target wall to push herself, she tucked tight into the opposite corner between the three collections of mirrors. She took care not to lean against the thin one, which she was starting to suspect led to her own world. Pulsating, life-warm glass pressed against her bare back, like unnaturally smooth skin. Harry moved sideways, until he'd slid all the way to the side.
"One..." Her feet lined up with the middle of the pane. "Two..." They tapped it to keep her against her bracing wall. "Three!" Shoulders wedged into the corner, Harri's legs lashed out with all their considerable strength. The mirror dented under the assault, then buckled and snapped, Shards flew everywhere, flashing a rainbow of colors before vanishing into the void.
Suddenly, there was nothing to stop Harri's momentum. Her floating body followed the path of her legs, dragging her through the hole in the false-reality she'd been trapped in. Immediately on the other side, where shed had another mirror, a hole in the glass glowed bloody-vomit green, a thin sheen of energy covering the exit. She had just enough time to wonder what that meant before panic set in. Nothing slowed her momentum, and she was streaming towards the hole feet-first. Harry grabbed her wrist as she flew past, trying to save her from the mirror-hole just behind him on his side. Something about the contact sizzled and popped, throwing her even farther away. Red-streaked green light swallowed her vision, and then the world went away.
***
The first thing Harri noticed was that her skin felt weird, like a pair of shoes that fit too loose. The feeling that she might walk out of herself if she weren't careful was disconcerting. Experimentally, she moved her hand back and forth on the cold stone floor. It felt like it was moving, but whens he opened her eyes nothing had actually changed in its position.
The second thing she noticed was that she didn't have breasts, and something extra had been added much lower.
Oh my God, I have boy bits!
Her voice bounded around in her own head, but never actually reached where she could feel her (his?) ears. She pushed up off the floor, desperate to escape the unfamiliar and slightly disgusting feeling of having exterior anatomy. With a spectral slurp, Harry's body fell away. It lay silent, barely breathing but thankfully clothed in a plain black robe. Chains trailed from his wrists and ankles, melted on the far ends. The whole room reeked of ozone and magic, making the short hairs on her neck stand up as she inched along.
Wondering if all non-ghost spirits were always naked or if she was just lucky, Harri stepped cautiously over the body, not risking being sucked back into it. Her semi-transparent feet hovered just over the floor, not actually touching it but still on firm footing as she inched past Harry. One of her feet caught on a chain, but she caught herself before falling face-first back into Harry. Free of the danger zone, she finally looked up.
Straight into the depths of the Veil.
The filthy curtain covering it had been peeled to the side, leaving the arch and roiling darkness beyond bare on the far side of the room. It looked like something had blown Harry most of the way across the room from it. The rest of his chains dangled into it from supports just outside its reach. An invisible wind pulled them so strongly they were taut, straining not to be sucked in. In her mind's eye she saw poor Neve tripping over a fallen Death Eater, could hear her crying out in fear as the curtain rippled and swallowed her up. Shuddering, she turned away from the memory.
Other than Harry and the Veil, there was absolutely nothing else in the small room. No convenient magical objects with signs saying "do not break" or weapons. There wasn't even a mouse trap. It was just a chill, damp stone room. No guards, so she assumed that no one thought the body would do anything interesting on its own. How do I get him out of here when I'm not in him?
In retrospect, she wished she had thought things out more. She usually did ended up wishing she had. Moving over to the door, she tried to peer through the crack with no success. Something moved to block the light a little, so she guessed that a guard had been stationed outside even if there were no one on the inside.
Harri gritted her teeth. Without knowing exactly what she was, she could only hope to have enough of a punch to lay out the guard on the other side. But she couldn't get Harry out the way she'd planned, which meant doing things the hard way. Grabbing the door handle, she whipped it open. The Death Eater whirled around, wand at the ready. Her fist connected solidly with the smooth white mask before he could get off a single curse or yell for help. The Death Eater stumbled backwards, mask slipping down his chin.
Dracaena's gray eyes stared at her from within the black robe, pointy features half-hidden by a Death Eater's mask.
Something in Harri went snap. Rage gathered around her like a prickly blanket. She lashed out.
You bastard! He slammed into a gray stone wall, her hands sinking through his skin by the barest amount as punched him in the stomach. His wand dropped to the floor. How could you? Jerk! Bastard! Traitor! The male-Dracaena's head made a satisfying sound as it connected with the door frame. You're— you could have been friends! You love him damn it! How could you do it? With a final meaty sound as she hit him in the stomach, the boy went down, gasping for air through his mask.
"What are you?" he gasped, iced-over velvet gray eyes closed tight in pain.
I'm a visitor, she hissed, scooping up his wand. Do you even know what you could have had?
His voice was a coughing croak, but he looked her in the eye again. "Nothing. It's Potter." Blonde tendrils of hair fell into his eyes, just the way Dracaena's did every now and then. Her heart broke a little more.
You know what? It doesn't matter. Get up. Harri's foot connected with his shin, passing through it just a little before making real contact. From the way he shuddered, it must have been unpleasant and painful. Good. You're helping me get him out of here.
"What? They'll kill me!" Real terror brought a fine sheen of sweat to his skin, even in the chilly hall. He didn't even notice her nudity. Maybe it was the fear, but she thought he was probably gay to the bone. Dracaena certainly was.
This version of her Dracaena was much dimmer than the real thing. You're dead anyways. Working for a psycho isn't the best way to stay alive, even if you win the damned war. She kicked him again. At least working on the other side, they'll protect you. Dark Witches and Wizards don't care how many minions they get slaughtered. Now get up or I'll Stupefy you with your own wand and let them punish you for failing.
"My father—"
Will kill you just as fast as any other Death Eater, probably.
The stark truth whitened his already-pale skin until it blended with the mask. More blonde fell in his eyes as he nodded jerkily. "F- fine."
The differences between him and Dracaena became more and more obvious as he peeled his mask off and staggered to his feet. Features that were delicate on a girl were unpleasantly sharp on a boy, pale skin made sallow by who-knew-what filthy Dark magic. His lips curled downward in a perpetual sneer that she recognized from earlier years, before she and Dracaena had called truce.
Remembering that truce, she smiled. Arse or not, maybe there was hope for this one too. I'm Harri Evans. Girl-Who-Lived. She tossed her bangs to flash the scar, enjoying the moment of shock that flashed over his face before it was hidden away.
"Great. Another one." The boy's sneer was forced even under a well-turned drawl. "Draco Malfoy. Are you going to give me back my wand?"
The last name sounded familiar. Harry had mentioned a Malfoy, and she was fairly certain that it was Dracaena's mum's maiden name. Swear on your blood that you won't betray me. Or Harry. She took a risk with a little lie. Not like a wand works on me anyways, but I don't want you summoning help.
"How do you know that?"
Just do it, or I'll hex you anyways! If boy-Dracaena were like this, she was glad to have the girl.
Draco snarled at her, confirming her guess that he would have turned them over to the first Death Eater to cross their path. "I hate you."
Save it for someone who cares, ferret. Swear.
"I swear on the blood of the ancient and most honorable houses of Malfoy and Black that I won't betray you. Or Potter." A short shiver of power settled around him on a haze of blue smoke rings. It vanished, sinking into his skin and binding him to his word. Still glowering, he held out his hand. "Now?"
Relief was a palpable thing. If he tried to betray them now, he'd drop dead before he could do it. She slapped the wand into his palm. Come on, he's— Frost formed under her feet and crackled ominously. What's that?
The wand shook as Draco pointed it down the hall. "Dementors." His breath came in fast puffs of white in the freezing hall.
Dementors on the loose, and she was incorporeal. A free buffet, as far as they cared. Just what she needed. Fast as she could manage, she back-peddled into the Veil-room, hauling Draco with her by a sleeve. How did they get here? Can you cast a Patronous?
"Like the Dark Lord would let anyone teach me a spell to defeat his best weapon?" He slammed the door and charmed it shut. His hair ruffled in the breeze from the Veil. "That won't keep them. I hope you've got a way out of Azkaban."
It didn't surprise her that Volde (or her male counterpart) would use Azkaban as a base, but it was unsettling that the war had progressed that far on the boy's side. I don't, but we have to get Harry out of here anyways. I promised him I would.
"You promised Potter?" Frost spread along the floor from under the door. He moved away from it automatically. "I thought scarhead was dead. The Dark Lord said he was. We were just guarding the idiot's body." His voice shook, insulting chatter doing nothing to hide the fear. Even as she wracked her brain to think of a way out, she wondered if it was only the oath keeping him from tossing her and Harry to the monsters.
Good-as if I don't get him free, and everyone else follows. She lifted her legs to float well above the floor as frost turned to a sheen of solid ice. Damn it, I didn't count on Dementors!
The door handle jiggled, but the locking charm kept it from turning all the way.
"Did you count on anything?"
No! It was a impulse thing!
"Gryffindors!"
The familiar tone of exasperation was a blow to the gut. She ignored it. Who all's here? Maybe it's worth running.
"Almost no one. Myself, Randal, father and a few dozen dementors. Some werewolves. A vampire. You'd never make it." The handle twisted again, a screeching groan announcing metal under heavy stress. Draco's showed white all around, like a frightened horse. "If you're going to do something, then do it!"
The handle snapped, throwing the door open. The dementor poured into the room like a black cloud of death. It ignored Draco completely, maybe because of his Dark Mark. Instead its emaciated hands reached for her languidly. She dodged, ending up near the Veil. It sucked at her, but her lack of substance kept it from having any real power to pull her in. The dementor's tattered cloak rippled but the Veil didn't bother it either. Still, knowing what the Veil could do added to the dementor's power. Terror froze her down to her core as her father's yells echoed in her ears, green light flashing over the scene in ghostly strobe while she remembered poor Neve.
Draco stood there like a lump, hyperventilating in short white bursts of air. He'd backed against the wall, body heat melting a small patch of ice off. It dripped down on his hood, down to freeze on the hem. Harry's body lay draped on the floor motionlessly, icing over as the dementor moved around the room after her.
Draco! Save Harry— he'll freeze to death! The dementor floated closer again, making her dart around the arch of the Veil.
"It'll kill me!"
Just do it or you're violating your oath! One of its hands closed on her shoulder, numbing that side of her form instantly. She yanked away, circling to the other side again. Her left arm moved sluggishly, dead, and she had to fight to move her leg at all. She couldn't even float anymore, good foot actually touching the floor to hold her up.
"Accio Potter!" The body broke free of its shell of ice and slid across the floor, directly under the dementor's floating form. Draco caught him before he slammed into the wall.
The dementor's hood moved, like it could follow the movement. It forgot her, floating after Harry and Draco. Bravely, the blonde boy stood in front of the body, shaking wand held ready. His sweat had started freezing on his skin, glittering ice crystals trailing down his temple.
No! A skeletal hand knocked the wand out of Draco's hand, then swiped back. It caught him under the arm, sweeping him up in the air and out of the way with a crunch of breaking ribs. He rolled to a stop, either unconscious or close to it. Harri tried to float over there, but her numb left side hampered her movement, slowing her down. The monster leaned over, hood falling back as it lifted Harry to meet it in a horrible parody of a passionate embrace. Its lips fastened over Harry's. Something glowed between them, fluttering before it was sucked in by the dementor.
Harri's cheeks were wet with spectral tears when it dropped the empty body back to the floor and turned to her. Its head was as skeletal as its hands, oozing green and eyeless. It didn't bother righting its hood as it floated her way.
Draco's wand rolled under her feet, visible through them, slim and exactly the same as Dracaena's. The dementor loomed, dessicated mouth hanging open. Praying that things here really were the same as at home, she ducked down and snatched it. Her dead leg gave way, tumbling her to the floor at the hem of the dementor's robes. Her eyes closed as terror threatened to lock her heart, wand pointing at it. Expecto Patronum!
The wand fought her, shuddering and throwing off multi-colored sparks. It didn't like casting a high-level spell for her, even though she was almost compatible with it. Silver squeezed out its tip reluctantly, forming into a larger-than-life queen doe. Her mother stood over her, rearing back to strike the dementor with her fore hooves. It fell under the first blow, then vanished under the rest until only a few scraggles of cloak and a smear on the stone remained to show it had existed at all. The image of Jamie Evans tossed her elegant head triumphantly and vanished, job done.
In the silence remaining after the battle, ice tinkled and began to melt.
***
By the time Draco regained consciousness a half-hour later, her benumbed side had woken to pins, needles and flaming brands of ticklish awareness. She'd dragged Harry's body over by him and had been sitting guard, feeling sick at how badly she'd messed up. An ironic, child-like voice in her head asked if she'd just committed suicide-by-proxy, getting another version of herself killed like that. Another person failed, and through them the entire world. Draco's groan came as a welcome distraction from her own morbid thoughts.
She hovered over the blonde as he tried to sit up, then winced and relaxed back to the floor. "What happened?" His gray eyes were mere slits in his pain-flushed face. "I feel like a Hypogriff mauled me. And I should know what that feels like."
A dementor this time. You were very brave, trying to hold it off that way. Harri managed a smile, though the attempt at getting Hagreen fired still caused the occasional fight between her and Dracaena. It's gone. I think you broke some ribs. She pressed down on his chest lightly, nodding when his breath hissed out. Thought so.
"What Gryffindor-sickness got into me that I got in a dementor's way?" he asked through clenched teeth as he forced himself to lever himself upright. The Veil pulled his hair and rumpled robes, messing them both beyond redemption. "Did I hit my head on something?"
Just tried to save Harry's life. The urgency of their situation knocked at her. Is there a floo out of here? I don't think you're up to flying piggy-back, even if there's a broom.
"And there's anti-aparation wards." His fist pressed against his chest as a shiver wracked his thin frame. "I think there's one in the warden's office."
Harri's eyes fell to the limp, empty form of the boy she was supposed to save. One ghostly hand brushed at his unruly hair. Then get out of here with the body. She could feel Draco's eyes on her, but she didn't meet them. I'll do my best on this end.
"I'm not leaving you here!"
Now she did look up, but he was looking at the Veil. Sentiment, Draco? I find that unlikely.
"Not sentiment. Survival." His lip curled. "If I show up with an unconscious Potter unannounced, my life expectancy is however long it takes for someone to draw their wand."
We don't know if spirits can use the Floo network.
"We don't know if they can't either," he insisted, finally look at her with those burning cold eyes. "Bad enough I'm a traitor on both sides. I'm not dying because you want to be a martyr, Evans."
She nodded before she realized what she was doing. Then we'd better go, before someone noticed you're not on guard.
It took some hauling and more than one use of herself as a sort of crutch, but eventually Draco was able to stand. His ribs obviously hurt more than he would admit, but pride kept him silent. Silently, she catalogued the new difference between him and Dracaena, who would have been whining like a battered puppy at the pain. He took his wand back and cast floated the body before them.
The halls were deceptively empty as they traveled down innumeral levels of stairs to the ground floor. More than once they had to dodge a dementor, but none of them showed the same interest their now-gone companion had in the chase.
Half-way down they paused in a side corridor for Draco to rest his ribs. The blonde boy leaned against the wall, relaxing by inches. Harri tried to keep her eyes peeled for trouble, refusing to be lulled by the easy time they'd had thus far.
"Why don't you have any clothes?"
The question startled her. It's about time you noticed.
"I've had other things on my mind." He tried a leer, but it came across tired and rather forced. "But now that I do..."
Give it up, I know you're not interested. His shocked expression almost startled a laugh out of her, but she held it in for fear of someone hearing. I don't know why I'm naked. Maybe it's because spirits don't have them naturally.
"Ghosts do."
I'm not a ghost.
The subject dropped and they moved on, but she could almost see the thoughts roiling in his skull. If Harry could have come back, she might have pushed it, but telling him seemed cruel now that he couldn't possible have the same thing she and Dracaena did.
The rest of their trip passed in silence.
***
This is the warden's office?
"Yeah," Draco whispered back, crouched down to listen at the keyhole. Harry lay at his feet, the spell moving him taking second place to safety for the time being. "I think it's empty."
Harri's hand clenched around the door knob. I'll open it— I don't think spells can hit me. Ready?
"No."
You never are. Now! The knob turned under her hand as she rammed her shoulder into the door. It gave with only a token protest from squeaky hinges, making her stumble into the room.
A man with a thinning head of hair as blonde as Draco's look up from the desk and stood. His eyes widened as he took them in, wand swishing in the air. A siren squealed overhead as Harri ducked down. Her body skimmed through the floor on impact. A beam of yellow light scorched the door above her head.
NOW DRACO!
"Stupefy!"
The siren stopped.
Dark hair fell into Harri's eyes. She brushed it away and got up, looking around. The fire already burned merrily, a bowl of glittering green powder resting on the mantle above it. Draco stared at the man on the floor with a look of horror. Oy! A quick smack made him look at her. We've got to go!
"That was my father," he protested, but his wand levitated Harry again.
Your father or the queen of Sheba, move it! Black silk bunched in her fingers as she hooked his robe and dragged him forward. The body followed after them smoothly, Draco holding it by the wrist. Now damn it!
With one last glance at the man on the floor, Draco grabbed a handful of floo powder and tossed it into the flames. They flared and turned emerald. Ice crept over the walls as dementors converged on the little office. "Where to?"
12 Grimmauld Place, she shouted, making sure everyone was connected before she dived into the fire. The usual whirling over-took her, spinning everything like a top as fireplaces passed by. Then they stopped. Wards like slimy feelers trailed over her. They felt around to see if they should stop them. Their group held not only a person of the house's blood, but two people who could lay claim to its ownership, and the wards gave way gracefully. The floo hiccuped, and the three of them rolled out into the kitchen in a cloud of soot.
Harri had a glimpse of achingly familiar people before she collided with Harry's body. It slurped at her worse than the Veil ever had. There was a disgusting sensation of sucking, and she found herself tumbling back into mirrors. Glass whizzed by, just the way it had when she made the first leap.
Harry tried to catch her again.
Shock at seeing him alive startled her so much she didn't remember what had happened last time they'd come in contact. Her body slammed into his, whirling then around in a circle as they rappelled off each other with a crackle of energy. It shoved her through the gaping hole in the glass and farther. The world tingled and shattered into darkness, but not before she saw Harry blown through the hole on his side.
***
A blonde strangle-hold kept Harri from shifting around in the familiar hospital bed as she finished her story. It had taken forever, since everyone but Dumbledore insisted on interjecting their own theories. When Dracaena had found out that her counterpart was a Death Eater she'd needed a whole fifteen minutes to calm down enough to stop cursing. Harri was pretty sure a new wave of anti-Volde propaganda was going to make its way through the Slytherin dorms in a few days.
When they'd woken up and she hadn't, Ronnie had screamed bloody murder and hauled her unconscious body all around the school before someone thought get her to the infirmary. They'd been waiting for hours for her to wake up, Hermes and Ronnie hovering by her bed while Dracaena's hovered in it. Their concern touched her.
"You're sure he was a Horcrux?" Ronnie asked again. "Doesn't that mean you are too?"
"I guess." Dracaena's grip around her waist almost cut off her ability to breathe. "Drac— lo—" she gasped. The arms loosened, but didn't let go.
"We should let Harri rest," Dumbledore announced, standing from her stool. "She's had quite an eventful day."
"I'll look into something that could have caused this," Hermes promised. "Ronnie?"
"Yeah, me too."
"I'm staying right here." Dracaena's gray eyes were fierce as she glared at Dumbledore, daring the old woman to comment. She didn't, only striding out of the infirmary with all the dignity of her age. Ronnie and Hermes hugged her and followed, talking in low voices.
Dracaena curled against Harri's side, wrapped as tightly around her as she could over the blanket. Her perfume wrapped around Harri, more comforting than the chocolate Doctor Pomphrey had made her eat. Her thin frame shook, but she just pressed her face into Harri's shoulder.
"I didn't mean to worry you." Harri's blunt, chewed nails ran through her fine hair.
When Dracaena spoke, her voice was muffled through Harri's shoulder. "You always do things like this. Just run off and leave me."
"I'm sorry. I had to."
"I know."
They didn't talk again. Eventually, Harri dropped back to sleep with her girlfriend curled against her side.
***
Harri?
There were no mirrors, but Harri still whirled around looking for them. A shimmering, hazy figure of a boy formed from the darkness of her dreamless sleep, green eyes merry. "I thought we were done with this!"
We are. I just thought... He shrugged. I cast Legilimens on myself. Those broken mirrors made Hermione think we might still be able to talk. His grin was very white in the void. She's usually right.
"Don't I know it." She braced herself. "I thought you were dead. The dementor Kissed you."
Yeah. Harry pushed his hair out of his eyes. We think it took Voldemort's soul since mine wasn't there. I'm not a Horcrux anymore.
If she'd been standing, Harri would have fallen. "Oh God."
That's what I said. Thank you. He tipped his head sideways, as though listening to something. Draco says thanks too, but he says "don't tell him a damned thing". What's he talking about?
She laughed. It bounced around the void, brightening it imperceptibly. "You'll have to figure that out on your own. I did."
Were
GWL Arc
By
tsukinofaeriiRating: SNIP
Alternate Timeline/Generic
Warnings: Profane, Violent, Sexual, female/female, male/male
Spoilers: Book canon Half-Blood Prince
Series: Harry Potter
Pairings: Draco/Harry, Harry/Draco
Summary: Dreams of a new sort are plaguing Harri, combined with strange hallucinations of people who could almost be familiar. Is this a new ploy sent by She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or is a deeper game in motion? The answer is just on the other side of her dreams. Complete short story.
This story is a work of transformative fiction, such being defined as a work which incorporates characters and situations which have been created by other authors/artists. No infringement of copyright is intended and no profit is being made from the creation or dissemination of this work. Harry Potter was created and is owned by J.K. Rowling. It is used with respect and admiration for the work.
SECOND PART. First part HERE
***
"Occlumency."
"Occlumency."
"Now, Harri."
Harri sank down onto the couch in the Gryffindor common room. She'd been out of the infirmary for two days, but neither friends nor girlfriend were willing to let her "forget" to practice. They'd even gone so far as to let her Slytherin into the common room after hours so they could triple-team her, the traitors. "I don't want to ask Snape for help! She hates me!"
Dracaena patted her head, perched behind her on the back of the sofa, legs crossing over Harri's midsection like shoulder-strap seat belts. "Mildly despises, love. Much different."
"Could have fooled me. The woman's psychotic."
"Harri." Hermes threw a pillow at her from where he shared an armchair with Ronnie. "You're still tired, and we all know how well you follow through with self-study. You need Snape."
"What about Black?" Ronnie attracted all of Harri's attention. Her legs were tossed sideways over Hermes lap, making her have to twist awkwardly to look at the other couple in the room. "She knows Occlumency, right?"
"You do?"
The blonde tapped her heel against Harri's hip. "Only the basics. Not well enough to train anyone."
"I'm already trained. I just need practice," she explained, slightly distracted by the velvet breeches Dracaena wore and the legs that wore them. She really did have a very nice set of calves, Harri noticed. The tight-fit velvet set them off well. And if her knees were a bit sharp, at least they weren't bony the way her own were. "Really, Snape teaches me nothing. We hate each other too much."
"I suppose..."
"We could even do it now!"
"How do we know you'll actually be studying?" Ronnie's face wore a stark frown. "For all we know, you could shut the bed curtains, cast Impervious and start shagging."
Harri, who had been thinking along that track already, flushed. "We wouldn't—"
"We'll leave the curtains open," the Slytherin decided, earning a mournful look from Harri. "I'll leave after Harri has it down for the night."
"What about Seanna and Denise?" Hermes waved a hand generally upwards, towards the girl's dorm. "Harri always said she got tossed around a lot with Snape. You don't want to wake them up." He grimaced. "They're nervous enough about sleeping in the same room with her as it is."
That had been an unexpected and terrible side-effect of Ronnie's blunder. Before, Harri had trouble talking to people because they were in awe of her "Girl-Who-Lived" status. Now more than half the people she knew acted as though homosexuality were a plague she could pass on. The first night both of her dorm mates had bunked down in the common room rather than risk Harri ravishing them in their sleep. Ronnie convinced them that it was safe, but the whole thing left Harri with a bitter taste in her mouth.
Luckily Dracaena hadn't had much problems of that type. As the self-proclaimed Queen of Snakes, other Houses tended to avoid her on basic principle. She wouldn't tell Harri what she'd had to do, but what was left of Slytherin after Volde recruited them stood by her as loyally as ever.
Thinking for a minute, Harri finally decided. "The curtains will be open. They'll just have to live with it."
"Then I'd better be off." Hermes patted Ronnie's leg until the girl moved off his lap and he could stand. "Good night, ladies. I'll see you in the morning."
Ronnie hopped up after him. "I'll go Stupefy the two blockheads, just in case," she announced, hurrying up the stairs. "I'll tell you when they're out."
Dracaena kissed the top of Harri's head. "While we're waiting on that, what do you remember about Occlumency?"
The room was dark, but Harri could still see her companion's hair, like a blonde beacon in the night, or a white shirt where you'd forgotten it would be. Startling in a funny way. Dracaena didn't see the humor. She worked Harri harder than Snape ever had, and made it worse because she was actually trying to help, unlike her Head of House.
"Ready?" The whisper was barely louder than a breath. Ronnie had succeed in Stupefying their room mates, but she was bollocks at hexes when her heart wasn't in it. Neither girl wanted to risk the scene that would happen if Seanna or Denise woke up.
"No?"
"Oh well. Mind clear?"
"As ever."
"Well hell. Legilimens."
The practice sessions were completely different from the ones she'd had before. Unlike Snape's virtual rape of her thoughts, Dracaena's attack almost escaped Harri's notice every time. It was a tickle just at the top of her awareness, trying to ease her thoughts out of her. Keeping her mind completely blank, she felt the attack slide off to the side. It was easy, much easier than anything she'd done with Snape.
The tickle vanished. Harri opened eyes she hadn't even realized she'd closed. "Well?"
"Keep your mind clear and go to sleep," was all Dracaena would say. The bed shifted as she slid off it. "Give it a few days of solid practice and you'll be good."
"Don't I get a good night kiss?" She grabbed for Dracaena's hand, grabbing her elbow instead, trying to project a begging air.
It worked. The Slytherin leaned down and kissed her gently, breaking away before anything could come of it. "Good night, Harri. Sweet dreams." Her slim silhouette slipped out the door and shut it behind her.
Sleep never came effortlessly on the best of nights, but the complete blankness of thought provided by Occlumency made it come close. Less than a quarter-hour after curling up under the blankets, she drifted off.
Moonlight bounced off the insides of Harri's eyelids, making her scrunch them up uncomfortably. The bed was warm and so soft she couldn't even feel it cradling her. Something niggled at her attention, a soft voice barely on the edge of hearing, more of a thought than anything else.
Harri, wake up.
"Nnng."
Please, there's not much time! Wake up!
"Wha...?"
You're late for Quidditch!
Magic words spoken, Harri's eyes snapped open, hand automatically moving for her glasses before she realized where she was again. The mirrors were back, throwing off so many images that she had to close her eyes. Why she thought of them as mirrors, she had no idea. They didn't reflect anything she could see.
Maybe that was the point.
The male-her, Harry, pressed up against his own side of the glass, completely oblivious to his nudity. Blood streaked down the side of his face from the scar, paling his skin out to a sickly gray that couldn't mean anything good. I need help, and you're the only one who can do it. His lips moved, but the words registered a moment out of sync, like a bad foreign film.
"Who are you?" With so many similarities between them, she found it easier to act unconcerned about her state of undress. "You're not supposed to be able to get in my mind— I did my Occlumency!"
I think Occlumency is supposed to keep others out. I'm pretty sure I'm you, so it would just make it easier for me to get in.
"You're me?" She kicked the glass. It shivered at the impact, but the only lasting result was a sore toe.
I think. He sounded apologetic. Voldemort has me in some kind of holding spell. I think he mentioned that it's kind of like the Veil— maybe that's why I can talk to you. Parallel universes or something.
He seemed so earnest, she almost pushed forward to touch the glass between them. Instead, she placed her hands behind her back. "How do I know you're who you say you are?"
He hesitated, tugging his bangs forward to hide the scar. The familiar habit was unsettling to see on someone other than herself. Finally, he ventured, You think you might like boys— well I might like boys too. For you it's probably girls.
"Try again. Dracaena and I were outed a few days ago." She found an inordinate amount of pleasure in the way his face fell.
Malfoy?
"Dracaena Black."
But— he's evil!
"Maybe wherever you are. Try again anyways."
Harry closed his eyes. It made him look even more dead than he already did. She fought back an urge to tell him to open them up. Looking into a match for her own eyes was even creepier than him looking like a corpse.
When he opened his eyes again, she shuddered. Blood from his bleeding scar smeared over his lids like macabre shadow. When I faced Voldemort in first year, I almost joined him. Even in her head, the confession was almost too soft to hear. Still, something clenched tight in her throat. He said I could have my family back, and I nearly believed him. I never told anyone, so you must not have either.
If Harri hadn't been floating, her knees would have given out. She hadn't told anyone that. Not even Ronnie or Hermes or Dracaena. She'd been too ashamed, too afraid of how close she had come to selling all of them out. "Oh God."
Please help me. If Voldemort has his way, the war over here's lost. The glass shook as his fist connected with it, the thud echoing through to her side. I have to get free! You know what's at stake.
Ronnie. Hermes. Dracaena. They'd be the first to be captured and the last to die if Volde killed her. No doubt things were the same where he was. Rene and Sirrah would follow. Dumbledore would probably be considered too dangerous to torture, but no one else would get the same consideration. It wouldn't be long before the entire world fell, if the prophecy were right.
"What do I do?"
The relief on Harry's face was so strong something lightened in her heart. Her decision made, his words tumbled through her mind like water, rushing to pass on everything as fast as possible. I'm the last Horcrux. Voldemort has me trapped in the Veil, I think, while he holds my body as the Horcrux. I can't get back, and none of my friends can risk coming to save me.
"How—"
She was cut off. I can't get back, but I think you'll be able to. Just get me out of there, and I'll take care of rest.
"How—"
Again, he talked right through her. She was starting to see why people got annoyed when she did it. If we really are the same person, you should be able to possess me. Just get up and walk out.
"How do I get over there?"
It's just glass. His faintly reproachful expression made her grind her teeth.
Harri eyed the glass. Both of them had smacked it more than once, but she'd never actually tried hard to break it. She grit her teeth and made a fist, swinging it into the glass with her whole body weight behind it. The impact rebounded on her, shoving her backwards into one of the walls. Air whooshed out of her lungs and her left elbow tingled from jamming into the glass.
While she gathered her breath again, she studied the problem. Not given to thought before action, it hadn't occurred to her the being in something like free-fall would affect things. The walls were only about three feet apart. She could touch them on all sides, if she tried.
Something in that clicked.
Aha! Harry must have had the same idea. Brace—
"Brace myself. Yeah, I figured that out." He frowned, and she grinned. "Just move out of the way, little boy, and let a woman handle this." Using the target wall to push herself, she tucked tight into the opposite corner between the three collections of mirrors. She took care not to lean against the thin one, which she was starting to suspect led to her own world. Pulsating, life-warm glass pressed against her bare back, like unnaturally smooth skin. Harry moved sideways, until he'd slid all the way to the side.
"One..." Her feet lined up with the middle of the pane. "Two..." They tapped it to keep her against her bracing wall. "Three!" Shoulders wedged into the corner, Harri's legs lashed out with all their considerable strength. The mirror dented under the assault, then buckled and snapped, Shards flew everywhere, flashing a rainbow of colors before vanishing into the void.
Suddenly, there was nothing to stop Harri's momentum. Her floating body followed the path of her legs, dragging her through the hole in the false-reality she'd been trapped in. Immediately on the other side, where shed had another mirror, a hole in the glass glowed bloody-vomit green, a thin sheen of energy covering the exit. She had just enough time to wonder what that meant before panic set in. Nothing slowed her momentum, and she was streaming towards the hole feet-first. Harry grabbed her wrist as she flew past, trying to save her from the mirror-hole just behind him on his side. Something about the contact sizzled and popped, throwing her even farther away. Red-streaked green light swallowed her vision, and then the world went away.
The first thing Harri noticed was that her skin felt weird, like a pair of shoes that fit too loose. The feeling that she might walk out of herself if she weren't careful was disconcerting. Experimentally, she moved her hand back and forth on the cold stone floor. It felt like it was moving, but whens he opened her eyes nothing had actually changed in its position.
The second thing she noticed was that she didn't have breasts, and something extra had been added much lower.
Oh my God, I have boy bits!
Her voice bounded around in her own head, but never actually reached where she could feel her (his?) ears. She pushed up off the floor, desperate to escape the unfamiliar and slightly disgusting feeling of having exterior anatomy. With a spectral slurp, Harry's body fell away. It lay silent, barely breathing but thankfully clothed in a plain black robe. Chains trailed from his wrists and ankles, melted on the far ends. The whole room reeked of ozone and magic, making the short hairs on her neck stand up as she inched along.
Wondering if all non-ghost spirits were always naked or if she was just lucky, Harri stepped cautiously over the body, not risking being sucked back into it. Her semi-transparent feet hovered just over the floor, not actually touching it but still on firm footing as she inched past Harry. One of her feet caught on a chain, but she caught herself before falling face-first back into Harry. Free of the danger zone, she finally looked up.
Straight into the depths of the Veil.
The filthy curtain covering it had been peeled to the side, leaving the arch and roiling darkness beyond bare on the far side of the room. It looked like something had blown Harry most of the way across the room from it. The rest of his chains dangled into it from supports just outside its reach. An invisible wind pulled them so strongly they were taut, straining not to be sucked in. In her mind's eye she saw poor Neve tripping over a fallen Death Eater, could hear her crying out in fear as the curtain rippled and swallowed her up. Shuddering, she turned away from the memory.
Other than Harry and the Veil, there was absolutely nothing else in the small room. No convenient magical objects with signs saying "do not break" or weapons. There wasn't even a mouse trap. It was just a chill, damp stone room. No guards, so she assumed that no one thought the body would do anything interesting on its own. How do I get him out of here when I'm not in him?
In retrospect, she wished she had thought things out more. She usually did ended up wishing she had. Moving over to the door, she tried to peer through the crack with no success. Something moved to block the light a little, so she guessed that a guard had been stationed outside even if there were no one on the inside.
Harri gritted her teeth. Without knowing exactly what she was, she could only hope to have enough of a punch to lay out the guard on the other side. But she couldn't get Harry out the way she'd planned, which meant doing things the hard way. Grabbing the door handle, she whipped it open. The Death Eater whirled around, wand at the ready. Her fist connected solidly with the smooth white mask before he could get off a single curse or yell for help. The Death Eater stumbled backwards, mask slipping down his chin.
Dracaena's gray eyes stared at her from within the black robe, pointy features half-hidden by a Death Eater's mask.
Something in Harri went snap. Rage gathered around her like a prickly blanket. She lashed out.
You bastard! He slammed into a gray stone wall, her hands sinking through his skin by the barest amount as punched him in the stomach. His wand dropped to the floor. How could you? Jerk! Bastard! Traitor! The male-Dracaena's head made a satisfying sound as it connected with the door frame. You're— you could have been friends! You love him damn it! How could you do it? With a final meaty sound as she hit him in the stomach, the boy went down, gasping for air through his mask.
"What are you?" he gasped, iced-over velvet gray eyes closed tight in pain.
I'm a visitor, she hissed, scooping up his wand. Do you even know what you could have had?
His voice was a coughing croak, but he looked her in the eye again. "Nothing. It's Potter." Blonde tendrils of hair fell into his eyes, just the way Dracaena's did every now and then. Her heart broke a little more.
You know what? It doesn't matter. Get up. Harri's foot connected with his shin, passing through it just a little before making real contact. From the way he shuddered, it must have been unpleasant and painful. Good. You're helping me get him out of here.
"What? They'll kill me!" Real terror brought a fine sheen of sweat to his skin, even in the chilly hall. He didn't even notice her nudity. Maybe it was the fear, but she thought he was probably gay to the bone. Dracaena certainly was.
This version of her Dracaena was much dimmer than the real thing. You're dead anyways. Working for a psycho isn't the best way to stay alive, even if you win the damned war. She kicked him again. At least working on the other side, they'll protect you. Dark Witches and Wizards don't care how many minions they get slaughtered. Now get up or I'll Stupefy you with your own wand and let them punish you for failing.
"My father—"
Will kill you just as fast as any other Death Eater, probably.
The stark truth whitened his already-pale skin until it blended with the mask. More blonde fell in his eyes as he nodded jerkily. "F- fine."
The differences between him and Dracaena became more and more obvious as he peeled his mask off and staggered to his feet. Features that were delicate on a girl were unpleasantly sharp on a boy, pale skin made sallow by who-knew-what filthy Dark magic. His lips curled downward in a perpetual sneer that she recognized from earlier years, before she and Dracaena had called truce.
Remembering that truce, she smiled. Arse or not, maybe there was hope for this one too. I'm Harri Evans. Girl-Who-Lived. She tossed her bangs to flash the scar, enjoying the moment of shock that flashed over his face before it was hidden away.
"Great. Another one." The boy's sneer was forced even under a well-turned drawl. "Draco Malfoy. Are you going to give me back my wand?"
The last name sounded familiar. Harry had mentioned a Malfoy, and she was fairly certain that it was Dracaena's mum's maiden name. Swear on your blood that you won't betray me. Or Harry. She took a risk with a little lie. Not like a wand works on me anyways, but I don't want you summoning help.
"How do you know that?"
Just do it, or I'll hex you anyways! If boy-Dracaena were like this, she was glad to have the girl.
Draco snarled at her, confirming her guess that he would have turned them over to the first Death Eater to cross their path. "I hate you."
Save it for someone who cares, ferret. Swear.
"I swear on the blood of the ancient and most honorable houses of Malfoy and Black that I won't betray you. Or Potter." A short shiver of power settled around him on a haze of blue smoke rings. It vanished, sinking into his skin and binding him to his word. Still glowering, he held out his hand. "Now?"
Relief was a palpable thing. If he tried to betray them now, he'd drop dead before he could do it. She slapped the wand into his palm. Come on, he's— Frost formed under her feet and crackled ominously. What's that?
The wand shook as Draco pointed it down the hall. "Dementors." His breath came in fast puffs of white in the freezing hall.
Dementors on the loose, and she was incorporeal. A free buffet, as far as they cared. Just what she needed. Fast as she could manage, she back-peddled into the Veil-room, hauling Draco with her by a sleeve. How did they get here? Can you cast a Patronous?
"Like the Dark Lord would let anyone teach me a spell to defeat his best weapon?" He slammed the door and charmed it shut. His hair ruffled in the breeze from the Veil. "That won't keep them. I hope you've got a way out of Azkaban."
It didn't surprise her that Volde (or her male counterpart) would use Azkaban as a base, but it was unsettling that the war had progressed that far on the boy's side. I don't, but we have to get Harry out of here anyways. I promised him I would.
"You promised Potter?" Frost spread along the floor from under the door. He moved away from it automatically. "I thought scarhead was dead. The Dark Lord said he was. We were just guarding the idiot's body." His voice shook, insulting chatter doing nothing to hide the fear. Even as she wracked her brain to think of a way out, she wondered if it was only the oath keeping him from tossing her and Harry to the monsters.
Good-as if I don't get him free, and everyone else follows. She lifted her legs to float well above the floor as frost turned to a sheen of solid ice. Damn it, I didn't count on Dementors!
The door handle jiggled, but the locking charm kept it from turning all the way.
"Did you count on anything?"
No! It was a impulse thing!
"Gryffindors!"
The familiar tone of exasperation was a blow to the gut. She ignored it. Who all's here? Maybe it's worth running.
"Almost no one. Myself, Randal, father and a few dozen dementors. Some werewolves. A vampire. You'd never make it." The handle twisted again, a screeching groan announcing metal under heavy stress. Draco's showed white all around, like a frightened horse. "If you're going to do something, then do it!"
The handle snapped, throwing the door open. The dementor poured into the room like a black cloud of death. It ignored Draco completely, maybe because of his Dark Mark. Instead its emaciated hands reached for her languidly. She dodged, ending up near the Veil. It sucked at her, but her lack of substance kept it from having any real power to pull her in. The dementor's tattered cloak rippled but the Veil didn't bother it either. Still, knowing what the Veil could do added to the dementor's power. Terror froze her down to her core as her father's yells echoed in her ears, green light flashing over the scene in ghostly strobe while she remembered poor Neve.
Draco stood there like a lump, hyperventilating in short white bursts of air. He'd backed against the wall, body heat melting a small patch of ice off. It dripped down on his hood, down to freeze on the hem. Harry's body lay draped on the floor motionlessly, icing over as the dementor moved around the room after her.
Draco! Save Harry— he'll freeze to death! The dementor floated closer again, making her dart around the arch of the Veil.
"It'll kill me!"
Just do it or you're violating your oath! One of its hands closed on her shoulder, numbing that side of her form instantly. She yanked away, circling to the other side again. Her left arm moved sluggishly, dead, and she had to fight to move her leg at all. She couldn't even float anymore, good foot actually touching the floor to hold her up.
"Accio Potter!" The body broke free of its shell of ice and slid across the floor, directly under the dementor's floating form. Draco caught him before he slammed into the wall.
The dementor's hood moved, like it could follow the movement. It forgot her, floating after Harry and Draco. Bravely, the blonde boy stood in front of the body, shaking wand held ready. His sweat had started freezing on his skin, glittering ice crystals trailing down his temple.
No! A skeletal hand knocked the wand out of Draco's hand, then swiped back. It caught him under the arm, sweeping him up in the air and out of the way with a crunch of breaking ribs. He rolled to a stop, either unconscious or close to it. Harri tried to float over there, but her numb left side hampered her movement, slowing her down. The monster leaned over, hood falling back as it lifted Harry to meet it in a horrible parody of a passionate embrace. Its lips fastened over Harry's. Something glowed between them, fluttering before it was sucked in by the dementor.
Harri's cheeks were wet with spectral tears when it dropped the empty body back to the floor and turned to her. Its head was as skeletal as its hands, oozing green and eyeless. It didn't bother righting its hood as it floated her way.
Draco's wand rolled under her feet, visible through them, slim and exactly the same as Dracaena's. The dementor loomed, dessicated mouth hanging open. Praying that things here really were the same as at home, she ducked down and snatched it. Her dead leg gave way, tumbling her to the floor at the hem of the dementor's robes. Her eyes closed as terror threatened to lock her heart, wand pointing at it. Expecto Patronum!
The wand fought her, shuddering and throwing off multi-colored sparks. It didn't like casting a high-level spell for her, even though she was almost compatible with it. Silver squeezed out its tip reluctantly, forming into a larger-than-life queen doe. Her mother stood over her, rearing back to strike the dementor with her fore hooves. It fell under the first blow, then vanished under the rest until only a few scraggles of cloak and a smear on the stone remained to show it had existed at all. The image of Jamie Evans tossed her elegant head triumphantly and vanished, job done.
In the silence remaining after the battle, ice tinkled and began to melt.
By the time Draco regained consciousness a half-hour later, her benumbed side had woken to pins, needles and flaming brands of ticklish awareness. She'd dragged Harry's body over by him and had been sitting guard, feeling sick at how badly she'd messed up. An ironic, child-like voice in her head asked if she'd just committed suicide-by-proxy, getting another version of herself killed like that. Another person failed, and through them the entire world. Draco's groan came as a welcome distraction from her own morbid thoughts.
She hovered over the blonde as he tried to sit up, then winced and relaxed back to the floor. "What happened?" His gray eyes were mere slits in his pain-flushed face. "I feel like a Hypogriff mauled me. And I should know what that feels like."
A dementor this time. You were very brave, trying to hold it off that way. Harri managed a smile, though the attempt at getting Hagreen fired still caused the occasional fight between her and Dracaena. It's gone. I think you broke some ribs. She pressed down on his chest lightly, nodding when his breath hissed out. Thought so.
"What Gryffindor-sickness got into me that I got in a dementor's way?" he asked through clenched teeth as he forced himself to lever himself upright. The Veil pulled his hair and rumpled robes, messing them both beyond redemption. "Did I hit my head on something?"
Just tried to save Harry's life. The urgency of their situation knocked at her. Is there a floo out of here? I don't think you're up to flying piggy-back, even if there's a broom.
"And there's anti-aparation wards." His fist pressed against his chest as a shiver wracked his thin frame. "I think there's one in the warden's office."
Harri's eyes fell to the limp, empty form of the boy she was supposed to save. One ghostly hand brushed at his unruly hair. Then get out of here with the body. She could feel Draco's eyes on her, but she didn't meet them. I'll do my best on this end.
"I'm not leaving you here!"
Now she did look up, but he was looking at the Veil. Sentiment, Draco? I find that unlikely.
"Not sentiment. Survival." His lip curled. "If I show up with an unconscious Potter unannounced, my life expectancy is however long it takes for someone to draw their wand."
We don't know if spirits can use the Floo network.
"We don't know if they can't either," he insisted, finally look at her with those burning cold eyes. "Bad enough I'm a traitor on both sides. I'm not dying because you want to be a martyr, Evans."
She nodded before she realized what she was doing. Then we'd better go, before someone noticed you're not on guard.
It took some hauling and more than one use of herself as a sort of crutch, but eventually Draco was able to stand. His ribs obviously hurt more than he would admit, but pride kept him silent. Silently, she catalogued the new difference between him and Dracaena, who would have been whining like a battered puppy at the pain. He took his wand back and cast floated the body before them.
The halls were deceptively empty as they traveled down innumeral levels of stairs to the ground floor. More than once they had to dodge a dementor, but none of them showed the same interest their now-gone companion had in the chase.
Half-way down they paused in a side corridor for Draco to rest his ribs. The blonde boy leaned against the wall, relaxing by inches. Harri tried to keep her eyes peeled for trouble, refusing to be lulled by the easy time they'd had thus far.
"Why don't you have any clothes?"
The question startled her. It's about time you noticed.
"I've had other things on my mind." He tried a leer, but it came across tired and rather forced. "But now that I do..."
Give it up, I know you're not interested. His shocked expression almost startled a laugh out of her, but she held it in for fear of someone hearing. I don't know why I'm naked. Maybe it's because spirits don't have them naturally.
"Ghosts do."
I'm not a ghost.
The subject dropped and they moved on, but she could almost see the thoughts roiling in his skull. If Harry could have come back, she might have pushed it, but telling him seemed cruel now that he couldn't possible have the same thing she and Dracaena did.
The rest of their trip passed in silence.
This is the warden's office?
"Yeah," Draco whispered back, crouched down to listen at the keyhole. Harry lay at his feet, the spell moving him taking second place to safety for the time being. "I think it's empty."
Harri's hand clenched around the door knob. I'll open it— I don't think spells can hit me. Ready?
"No."
You never are. Now! The knob turned under her hand as she rammed her shoulder into the door. It gave with only a token protest from squeaky hinges, making her stumble into the room.
A man with a thinning head of hair as blonde as Draco's look up from the desk and stood. His eyes widened as he took them in, wand swishing in the air. A siren squealed overhead as Harri ducked down. Her body skimmed through the floor on impact. A beam of yellow light scorched the door above her head.
NOW DRACO!
"Stupefy!"
The siren stopped.
Dark hair fell into Harri's eyes. She brushed it away and got up, looking around. The fire already burned merrily, a bowl of glittering green powder resting on the mantle above it. Draco stared at the man on the floor with a look of horror. Oy! A quick smack made him look at her. We've got to go!
"That was my father," he protested, but his wand levitated Harry again.
Your father or the queen of Sheba, move it! Black silk bunched in her fingers as she hooked his robe and dragged him forward. The body followed after them smoothly, Draco holding it by the wrist. Now damn it!
With one last glance at the man on the floor, Draco grabbed a handful of floo powder and tossed it into the flames. They flared and turned emerald. Ice crept over the walls as dementors converged on the little office. "Where to?"
12 Grimmauld Place, she shouted, making sure everyone was connected before she dived into the fire. The usual whirling over-took her, spinning everything like a top as fireplaces passed by. Then they stopped. Wards like slimy feelers trailed over her. They felt around to see if they should stop them. Their group held not only a person of the house's blood, but two people who could lay claim to its ownership, and the wards gave way gracefully. The floo hiccuped, and the three of them rolled out into the kitchen in a cloud of soot.
Harri had a glimpse of achingly familiar people before she collided with Harry's body. It slurped at her worse than the Veil ever had. There was a disgusting sensation of sucking, and she found herself tumbling back into mirrors. Glass whizzed by, just the way it had when she made the first leap.
Harry tried to catch her again.
Shock at seeing him alive startled her so much she didn't remember what had happened last time they'd come in contact. Her body slammed into his, whirling then around in a circle as they rappelled off each other with a crackle of energy. It shoved her through the gaping hole in the glass and farther. The world tingled and shattered into darkness, but not before she saw Harry blown through the hole on his side.
A blonde strangle-hold kept Harri from shifting around in the familiar hospital bed as she finished her story. It had taken forever, since everyone but Dumbledore insisted on interjecting their own theories. When Dracaena had found out that her counterpart was a Death Eater she'd needed a whole fifteen minutes to calm down enough to stop cursing. Harri was pretty sure a new wave of anti-Volde propaganda was going to make its way through the Slytherin dorms in a few days.
When they'd woken up and she hadn't, Ronnie had screamed bloody murder and hauled her unconscious body all around the school before someone thought get her to the infirmary. They'd been waiting for hours for her to wake up, Hermes and Ronnie hovering by her bed while Dracaena's hovered in it. Their concern touched her.
"You're sure he was a Horcrux?" Ronnie asked again. "Doesn't that mean you are too?"
"I guess." Dracaena's grip around her waist almost cut off her ability to breathe. "Drac— lo—" she gasped. The arms loosened, but didn't let go.
"We should let Harri rest," Dumbledore announced, standing from her stool. "She's had quite an eventful day."
"I'll look into something that could have caused this," Hermes promised. "Ronnie?"
"Yeah, me too."
"I'm staying right here." Dracaena's gray eyes were fierce as she glared at Dumbledore, daring the old woman to comment. She didn't, only striding out of the infirmary with all the dignity of her age. Ronnie and Hermes hugged her and followed, talking in low voices.
Dracaena curled against Harri's side, wrapped as tightly around her as she could over the blanket. Her perfume wrapped around Harri, more comforting than the chocolate Doctor Pomphrey had made her eat. Her thin frame shook, but she just pressed her face into Harri's shoulder.
"I didn't mean to worry you." Harri's blunt, chewed nails ran through her fine hair.
When Dracaena spoke, her voice was muffled through Harri's shoulder. "You always do things like this. Just run off and leave me."
"I'm sorry. I had to."
"I know."
They didn't talk again. Eventually, Harri dropped back to sleep with her girlfriend curled against her side.
Harri?
There were no mirrors, but Harri still whirled around looking for them. A shimmering, hazy figure of a boy formed from the darkness of her dreamless sleep, green eyes merry. "I thought we were done with this!"
We are. I just thought... He shrugged. I cast Legilimens on myself. Those broken mirrors made Hermione think we might still be able to talk. His grin was very white in the void. She's usually right.
"Don't I know it." She braced herself. "I thought you were dead. The dementor Kissed you."
Yeah. Harry pushed his hair out of his eyes. We think it took Voldemort's soul since mine wasn't there. I'm not a Horcrux anymore.
If she'd been standing, Harri would have fallen. "Oh God."
That's what I said. Thank you. He tipped his head sideways, as though listening to something. Draco says thanks too, but he says "don't tell him a damned thing". What's he talking about?
She laughed. It bounced around the void, brightening it imperceptibly. "You'll have to figure that out on your own. I did."
Were
