Conquering the Darkness

Chapter 8: The Revealed

In the dungeons, the air was dank and dreary as usual. Suspended in the middle of the room, above a dancing azure flame was a large charcoal cauldron. A foreboding figure towered over it stared fixatedly at the carrot-colored concoction. The dark man was carefully squeezing the sap from the stem of a freshly pick hydrangea and counting the drops. ...Nine, ten, eleven, twelve... One more and he would stop.

"How does it go, Professor Snape?"

The man jumped and his beady eyes went wide as two drops fell into the cauldron, his hand accidentally clamping around the plant at the sudden outburst. Suppressing his rage, the angry man turned and strode to the Potions closet. A mere moment later he heard an explosion, and a satisfactory smirk spread over his thin lips as he heard the Headmaster say, "Severus, you could have at least told me it was going to explode."

The Potions Master reemerged from the closet, his usual scowl staining his face, his arms laden with ingredients. "I was thinking about it," he replied coolly, but decided not to, he finished to himself. Seeing that Dumbledore had cleaned the mess up for him, Severus set down the bottles he had procured from the closet.

"I see," came the even response from behind him.

Ignoring the Headmaster, Severus magicked another cauldron, seeing as the other had melted.

"I came to see how things were coming along," the elderly man announced. Snape glared into the cauldron and continued to prepare the potion.

"It would have been much closer to being done, had someone not gotten through my guards and ruined my potion. It will now take several more weeks before we can find the ingredients of the potion that took Draco's sight so that we may analyze what went wrong with it. Congratulations, Albus," the Potions Master growled through clenched, yellowed teeth. His Godson had to suffer for two more weeks before anything could be done. Damn that bloody bastard for ruining his potion by barging in there like that so-damn-quietly.

"Ah, I see," was all the bearded man replied.

Severus whirled about on the heel of his boot, robes billowing omnipotently around him, and faced the Headmaster. He opened his mouth to demand to be left in private, but was cut off.

"However, I do not think Mr. Malfoy will be too displeased to be left in the Hospital Wing for a longer amount of time."

Severus snapped his mouth shut, narrowing his eyes at the bright twinkle in the old man's eyes. "What aren't you telling me, Albus?" demanded the teacher.

"Whatever do you mean, Severus? What could I possibly be keeping from you?" was the enigmatic response, before the gray-haired man turned and walked toward the exit. "I suppose I shall leave you to your work, Severus. Contact me when it is ready. Good day."

Growling at the closed door, Snape decided to take a break from his potion before re-starting it. It was late and he desperately needed sleep. He would start it again tomorrow, he decided, making his way to his chambers after locking the dungeon door securely.

Upon entering his bedroom, he decidedly got out a tumbler and his strongest Firewhiskey. Collapsing into his favorite, tattered, old black leather chair, Severus uncorked the alcohol bottle and poured himself a drink, quickly downing it. Liquid fire scorched his insides, all the way down to his stomach. He scowled scathingly at nothing in particular before throwing his head back and downing another shot. He really should never have agreed to become Draco's Godfather. It was more work than he thought.

***

Draco was reclining in his hospital bed, awaiting No One's arrival. To say that he wasn't nervous would be a lie. The night before had definitely been odd on every level imaginable. He wanted to see No One again, but after yesterday, how could he react? What was normal, as far as their relationship as concerned? In reality, the outcome depended on the night and each other's moods.

Yes, last night had been the first night they had actually ended on a pleasant note.

And that warm feeling had been with him all day long.

He had even found himself smiling without reason during moments in the day and had to make a conscious effort to stop any physical display of emotion.

Yet, sitting in the bed, always seemed to make him nervous and anxious. Would No One come to visit him? Did he somehow scare the boy away last night?

What if No One was sick or hurt, or just didn't feel like making his nightly visit?

It wasn't as though he cared, or anything, Draco told himself, crossing his arms, as though this action helped prove something. No One was just something temporary and Draco refused to become dependent anything or anyone. He had often learned that through the course of his life that if one came to put faith in something often times one was left disappointed.

Wasn't that what his entire relationship with his father had been built upon?

It was about twelve in the morning, as far as he could tell from his internal clock. There were but a few hours to wait for his arrival, and often times, these hours seemed the longest of the whole day. It was the time of night when he was left alone with his thoughts and the darkness seemed bleaker than ever.

Shivering, he huddled beneath his blankets, and held onto the pillow tightly, deciding to sleep for a bit before No One came.

Eventually, Draco found sleep, though it took longer than he expected. His dreams were dark and cold, filled with emotions and images that never really became clear. They were not happy dreams, this much he knew, but then again, his dreams usually weren't. Yet, over the years, he had become hardened to the workings of his mind and often times he found his nightmares no longer bothered him.

The hospital wing was dark and quiet when Harry entered. This he found unusual, considering that he had become accustomed for Draco to greet him upon his entry. Yet, the only thing that met him now was his own footsteps against the cold marble floors.

Harry shivered silently to himself. He did not like this feeling of being alone in the hospital wing where the shadows contorted to visions only he could see. Visions that took the forms of his dead friends.

Calling out into the darkness, he whispered gently, "Draco?"

There was no reply, and a wave of nervousness swam over Harry's body.

He pushed up his glasses and gulped, calling out again, "Draco, are you there?"

Still no reply.

Faltering, Harry continued across the great expanse to the last bed that he had come to know very well indeed over the past two weeks.

Exhaling a sigh, Harry found himself almost laughing at the image that presented itself before him. There, amongst a sprawl of blankets lay Draco, gently holding onto a pillow. The boy looked almost innocent, his mouth slightly parted, and his form more relaxed than it had ever been.

Harry felt almost guilty as he knelt over and gently applied pressure to Draco's slim shoulder. He did not want to wake the sleeping boy, but somehow, for his own sanity, he knew he had to. Even if this friendship of theirs was far away from reality, even if there was no truth in any of it, Harry was enjoying living this lie like no other.

Waking with a start, Draco grasped a warm hand that was lying gently upon his shoulder. He inhaled quickly and instantly recognized the scent: cinnamon, evergreen, and cloves - No One.

"No One," he murmured, still slightly in a daze. He shifted and reluctantly let No One pull his hand away. Sitting up slowly, a smile graced his lips as he hastily straightened out his nightshirt, quickly covering his alabaster skin. "How are you?" he as amiably, arms wrapping self-consciously around his waist. He hated be self-conscious, but there were just some things - whether or not he was a Malfoy - that a person can't help.

Along with that fact, the boy had seen him sleeping. No One had seen him at his most vulnerable time. He didn't like to be disturbed when he was sleeping, even by the House Elves. But, for some reason, being awakened by No One didn't bother him as much as it would have had it been some other person. Maybe it was because he knew No One wouldn't hurt him- oh, wait, stop right there, he told himself. That kind of thinking will get you hurt.

He sighed internally. He knew this was only a temporary friendship- alliance, so he knew not to put too much, if he could call it this, "trust" in this. But, he couldn't help but want to be friends with No One outside this ward. To be able to escape the senseless ramblings of Pansy and Blaise, and the mindlessness of Crabbe and Goyle and talk to a more sophisticated person, like him.

Or more sophisticated, at least.

Harry grinned silently to himself. So, he had scared the snake, hm? It was amusing, to say the least, that his presence should have affected Draco so much. Of course, now, it seemed, as he watched Draco rub his arms nervously, that his presence wasn't holy unwelcome.

Admitting to both himself and the silver-haired boy, he answered, "I thought you weren't here, or had gotten well, or something."

Draco chuckled slightly. "No, I haven't. And, from what Severus told me today, I won't be for a while longer. Seems like Dumbledore, the old coot, ruined the potion he was making, so they won't be able to find what we did wrong for a few more weeks. Then it'll be more time after that to make the counter-potion. Uncle was really mad at the old bat for ruining his potion, though. I could smell the Firewhiskey," he sighed and chuckled, shaking his head slightly. He didn't really mind being in here, though. At least, not at night. During the day was a different story, completely. Without No One's company and with Pomfrey buzzing around him like an annoying fly he just wanted to zap with his wand, the day was almost less than bearable. He liked to sleep, making the night come at a faster pace. Though he never would admit this to anyone.

Maybe not even to himself.

Harry, who found himself automatically sitting down onto the foot of Draco's bed, realized that he had been holding onto Draco's foot, and promptly placed his hands into his lap and flushed. Since when had they become so...friendly? Or even that...intimate?

Harry feeling the coldness of the metal bed against his back, questioned, slightly confused, "Uncle?"

While he waited for Draco to respond, Harry noticed that the Slytherin seemed in a better humor today than he had on previous visits, and silently, Harry wondered what the cause could be. Was it because he found out that he would be staying in the hospital longer?

Harry hoped that was the reason, and he smiled softly to himself as he pushed his glasses up.

"Yes, Uncle. Uncle Severus. Oh, yes, you probably don't know, hmm? Well, Severus is my Godfather, but I call him my Uncle. He loves it so much," he drawled sarcastically. He had forgotten No One couldn't know about his Uncle. Actually, No One didn't know a lot about himself. This wasn't a bad thing, of course. It was the safe thing to do; he liked it safe, contrary to popular belief.

"Oh. Yes." Harry nodded dumbly; rather intrigued and disgusted that Snape would be Godfather to anyone, willingly... Adding, to the sentence, Harry replied, "Yes, I know Snape--the professor. I have him as a...erm, teacher." Harry admitted, rather dumbly. Again. Of course he had him as a teacher. Everyone had him as a teacher.

I need more sleep, Harry told himself.

"Well, of course you do," Draco corrected mockingly, his lips turning up ever so slightly.

There was an uncomfortable silence, as there often seemed to be, but finally, surprising Harry, Draco questioned, "Do you think I could go outside again?"

Harry blinked, and squirmed nervously. He didn't know if that balcony was the safest place to be, let alone it was rather frosty out tonight, along with the fact that it wasn't as though he minded caring Draco, or anything like that, but his arms were rather sore from Quidditch practice earlier in the afternoon.

He surprised himself by replying, "If you want to."

Draco seemed pleased by the answer, and Harry smirked as he saw a boyish smile sprout onto his adversary's delicate features. It was strange, seeing Draco like this, almost willing to please, almost excited, almost the way a friend would behave.

And maybe Draco was a friend? Harry smiled to himself as he stood up and wound one arm about Draco's waist to help the boy get up. The ferret was weak, and an invalid, but somehow, that seemed to make everything more meaningful.

Draco, who nearly slipped on the slick marble floor, swore softly to himself as he clutched onto No One's frame. As usual, No One was warm, but not overbearingly so. Trying to stand up, which he found was harder than he first imagined, he spat apologetically, "God, I'm so weak."

Harry, finding that he practically had to support the small boy, chuckled and admitted, "It's not your fault."

None of this was, truth be told.

Yet, his calming words of advice didn't seem to help much and Draco only continued to explain, "They won't let me get up anymore because last time I did, I sort of destroyed all the medicine."

Harry tried not to laugh too hard. That sounded like him. An unstable Malfoy, stuck to a bed, because he had a nervous break down...not that it was that funny, more amusing.

Harry, deciding that it was best not to make fun of the Slytherin in this situation, replied only by helping the boy hoist himself up and motioned his arm so that it was resting on his back to help him be more supported.

They stood there for a moment, Draco's breath incredibly ragged, and Harry trying not to notice the smell of peppermint and the soft quality of his silver hair.

"Do you want to walk around for a bit inside?" Harry found himself asking, finding that his breath was becoming ragged as well. He tried to explain his purpose in asking, though often times he realized how eloquent he wasn't, "I mean, when you do get better, you need to be able to go back to your normal self, and walk around. So, I can help you, if you want."

Draco tilted his head up and looked in the direction that the steady voice of no one was coming. Yes, go back to normal, he thought sadly to himself, trying to suppress a sigh. Yes, I suppose it is inevitable.

"Alright, I suppose so," he conceded after a few moments of thought. He hadn't wanted to go out on the balcony, anyway; he just wanted to get out of that forsaken hospital bed he had been confined to.

Harry nodded and turned from the balcony toward the main door of the ward, figuring they could walk up and down the aisle for practice.

Draco his right hand brushed past No One's hair as he brought it up to wrap around No One's neck for more stability, gripping tightly to a well-toned shoulder.

The Slytherin had never really thought about the facial features of his guest, now that he thought about it. No One's hair was about the same length as his own. He had decided to grow his hair out at the end of fifth year, wanting a change from the monotony.

Draco's left had gripped tightly to No One's hand wrapped around his waist.

Hesitantly taking a step forward, Draco wondered if he should be doing this. He shouldn't trust No One this much, he told himself again. No One could just be a figment of his wild imagination. However, he wasn't sure if Malfoy's could have imaginary friends.

Slowly and carefully, Draco shifted his weight onto his left foot. Quickly ruling out the idea to try and start sauntering just yet, the blonde shakily brought his right foot forward, slightly past his left.

"Good job, you're doing fine. Just take it slow," he heard in his ear. A tight smile appeared on Draco's lips at No One's encouragement. His jell-o-like legs got a little stronger, and he moved his left foot again, bringing it ungracefully to the floor in front of his right.

Feeling No One move with him, Draco felt a little safer. He continued to move his jelly legs in the appropriate manner, his confidence growing with each step. He could feel No One's strength through the close proximity of the two of them, the Slytherin practically leaning against No One for support. Along with No One reassuring comments that he could do it periodically piercing his concentration, Draco made it to the door and back with little complications.

Harry was surprised at how well Draco was doing. He didn't doubt the boy never got out of bed, so when the boy was walking down the row of beds with him, he was certainly surprised. Especially at how flawlessly he was doing it. He was paying attention to Draco, lest he fall, so he didn't really notice when the sick boys' shirt slowly rose up due to the constant rubbing of his arm against the fabric.

Harry also tried to show support to Draco by telling him he was doing a good job. And it seemed to be working do to the fact that the pale boy's lips always quirked upward when he said something.

"Well done...Draco," No One congratulated as the two boys turned to make another round.

"Thanks," Draco replied, a smug grin on his lips. See, I'm not an invalid, he told himself.

As Draco took a step forward, not paying much attention to what was happening, he slipped on the cool marble floor. His right arm tightened reflexively as his left arm shot out to grab No One's right arm.

Harry automatically tightened his grip around Draco's slender frame, hands clutching at his slim hips.

"Are you alright?" Harry breathed as the two of them stood transfixed, almost as if they would collapse if one of them moved.

"Yes," came the muffled reply from somewhere against his chest.

"Good," he responded, slowly moving his hands. His hand coming in contact with something, he froze again.

"What's this?" he asked, more to himself than Draco.

Draco, too, froze. He hastily tried to stand and found that he only slipped more, exposing more of his flesh.

Ever so slowly, Harry leaned around the boy he clutched tightly to himself and peered down at his skin. Deep pink scars marred ivory skin in spidery tendrils that crept all over the skin he could see.

"What happened to you?" he asked again, concern drenching the hushed inquiry. His Quidditch-callused fingers delicately tracing the blemished skin.

"You can see them?" a shaky voice questioned from the safe confines of Harry's chest.

"How couldn't I?" the dark-haired boy beseeched incredulously.

He felt a ragged breath exhaled on his chest as he finally lifted Draco to stand properly on his feet, his hand still possessively encircling his waist.

Draco swallowed and hesitantly pulled the hospital shirt over his head, turning around in No One's grasp.

Gasping, his large eyes roamed over the rose-tinted, vein-like scars adorning his back, side, and disappearing into his low-riding pants. A large area on his shoulder blades was like this, as well.

"What happened?" he asked again, anger flaring in his voice. Not at Draco, but at whomever had done this to him.

Draco shook his head and shivered against the cold night air. He couldn't believe he had willingly shown his scars to a complete stranger. But he had seen them, so that meant he could be trusted, right?

"You shouldn't be able to see them. The glamour is supposed to be seen only by the one who cast it, and me," he informed No One stiffly. He really didn't want to re-live the painful memories again.

"You shouldn't have had to feel this, Draco," he said softly, the anger quickly being replaced by sadness.

"But I did, and there is nothing I can do about it, now is there?" he shot, icily. He moved to don his shirt again, but was halted in his action when he was pulled against No One's chest.

"Tell me what happened, Draco," a firm voice pleaded in his ear.

"My father used acid on my back as a punishment. That, along with spells, have made me a hideous being. Are you happy?" he supplied, glad he couldn't cry.

"I'm sorry, Draco," came the tense reply after long, tension-filled moments of silence.

"I don't want your pity," he spat, trying to pull away from the warm and comforting embrace of his visitor. He couldn't, however, weeks of lying in bed having zapped his strength.

He found himself being, again, lifted in strong arms, the clock chiming the end of the nightly visit. He felt ridiculously weak and feminine at being carried like this at the moment, thinking only babies and brides were carried like this.

Clutching his shirt, Draco found himself being gently placed in his bed, and his blankets being pulled up to his abdomen.

"No one deserves that from anyone, Draco. Especially not from their father. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. You have my word," Harry whispered in Draco's ear before righting himself and making his way out of the Infirmary. His mouth curved up slightly as he heard a quiet 'Thanks' just before he clicked the door shut.

He made his way mutely toward his dormitories, silent shaking with anger. Since when had he gotten so emotional? It was just Draco Malfoy, after all.

Just Draco Malfoy...

Before he reached Gryffindor Tower and the portrait of the fat lady, Harry bitterly slammed his fist against the wall. The pain was immense, but at least it felt better than what was going on inside. It was all hell, and there was nothing Harry could do about it.

Not a damn thing.

The fat lady mumbled, "Out of bed again?"

But Harry didn't reply and dumbly made his way to find sleep.