Rating:
R
House:
Schnoogle
Characters:
Draco Malfoy Harry Potter
Genres:
Drama Slash
Era:
Multiple Eras
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix Quidditch Through the Ages Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them
Stats:
Published: 09/02/2003
Updated: 06/01/2004
Words: 97,555
Chapters: 13
Hits: 86,243

Windfallen

Cinnamon

Story Summary:
A new Unforgivable is spreading like wildfire and only Harry Potter is immune to its power, and only he can soothe its effects. When Draco is hit by the curse and left for dead by his own side, a misguided sense of duty compels Harry to care for him, and in doing so, he learns more than he ever thought possible about nightmares, hatred, love, and above all, the true nature of forgiveness. Harry/Draco, semi-consensual Charlie/Harry, Ginny/Lucius, and Ron/Ginny. Post-Hogwarts, post OotP, and very dark.

Chapter 03

Chapter Summary:
A new Unforgivable is spreading like wildfire and only Harry Potter is immune to its power, and only he can soothe its effects. When Draco is hit by the curse and left for dead by his own side, a misguided sense of duty compels Harry to care for him, and in doing so, he learns more than he ever thought possible about nightmares, hatred, love, and above all, the true nature of forgiveness. Harry/Draco, semi-consensual Charlie/Harry, Ginny/Lucius, and Ron/Ginny. Post-Hogwarts, post OotP, and very dark.
Posted:
10/12/2003
Hits:
5,530

Windfallen

Chapter Three: Daisy Chains

So now you're sleeping peaceful
I lie awake and pray
that you'll be strong tomorrow
and we'll see another day
and we will praise it
and love the light that brings a smile
across your face ...
Hold on
hold on to yourself
for this is gonna hurt like hell...

The first time Lucius had kissed her was one of Ginny’s favourite memories, because it was the first time he had let her out of her room, taking her out into the gardens. She didn’t ask why she was being allowed such a privilege, didn’t really care, because she was outside and the sun was on her face and it felt like it had been years, locked up in that room…

Lucius came with her, of course, though sometime in the past few days he’d stopped seeming to be a captor and started being something else, something less frightening. He stood nearby and watched as she took off running into the gardens, unable to walk or stop to smell a single flower because there were miles and miles of paths to run and the sun was on her face and the wind was in her hair and she felt free, even though that freedom was just an illusion.

There were butterflies too, monarch butterflies and tiny blue ones, and Ginny had always loved butterflies. So she’d chased them through the garden, laughing when one got tangled in her hair, even as she gently helped it escape.

Lucius had told her later that it had been that burst of laughter that had first made him look at her as anything other than someone he was meant to keep, to guard. Because she was smiling and she hadn’t smiled in all those days spent with him up in her room, and because the way the sunlight hit her hair and made it shine like molten fire…

He’d kissed her angrily; angry that she wasn’t just a little girl, angry that nothing was ever easy, angry that she’d been so careful in freeing the butterfly. Ginny should have been scared, but somehow Lucius, even angry, did not have the power to make her afraid.

She’d been startled, of course, but had kissed him back, sweetly and gently until his fury was gone and he was kissing her back the same.

And she hadn’t been afraid.

She was afraid now, though. Because Ron was angry and he wasn’t talking to her and all he seemed to do was glare. As if she had betrayed him. And he didn’t even know the half of it. And sometimes when he thought she wasn’t looking, he’d look at her in ways he wasn’t supposed to, dark and possessive and angry ways, and she was scared.

And lonely, so lonely. She’d never felt so out of place and inadequate. As if she’d been pulled from her home and softened, smoothed, carved into something intricate and sophisticated and then returned to the Burrow where every sharp corner scratched and burned.

All Ginny wanted to do was go home. This wasn’t home any longer, this was what she had come to fear the most. Graceless and awkward and everything Ginny had been before Lucius had molded her into something smooth and elegant. And then there was Ron, with his dark, dark eyes. Ginny just wanted to go home.

***

Malfoy was sitting up and his eyes were dark and glazed. Harry hadn’t tied him up since that day he’d come home to find him screaming, and Malfoy hadn’t had the strength to try to escape. And so they existed together and talked sometimes and did their very best to forget that this was awkward and strange and that Malfoy was wasting away. And every night they slept curled up together and never ever talked about the strangeness of that.

“I’m going out,” Harry said, poking his head in the door early one evening. Malfoy looked panicked and Harry was quick to reassure him. “Just for, like, twenty minutes. We’re running out of food. Is there anything you want me to pick up for you?”

It had been said out of courtesy and Harry really should have known better. Malfoy was not so far gone in his madness that he did not still show signs of being a complete prat from time to time, and ten minutes later, Harry left for the store, armed with a list of at least ten items that Malfoy had decided he needed.

He bought food first and then went to get Malfoy’s things. While standing in line and worrying that he’d taken too long and Malfoy would need him, Harry was startled to hear a not-too-familiar voice behind him.

“It’s been years.”

He turned and almost didn’t recognize her. Then he blinked. “Pansy?”

She smiled a little. “Wow, Potter, you remembered. Ten points to Gryffindor.”

More startled that she’d bothered to speak to him than anything, Harry stared for a long moment and then said, “Hi.”

She rolled her eyes. “Hello.”

What else was there really to say? And then he noticed that she was staring pointedly at the things he was holding. “Funny,” she said, eyes lifting to hold his gaze levelly. “Those are all Draco’s favourite things.”

Harry nearly panicked but then took a deep breath and said, “Malfoy? I haven’t thought about him in years! Do you two still see each other?”

“From time to time,” she said absently. “Though not lately, of course. He’s… missing.”

“Ah, sorry to, uh, hear that. I’m just shopping for myself… I happen to, umm, need some new leather gloves and… socks and such.”

She ran a finger over the smooth leather of the gloves Malfoy had insisted he needed and smiled sadly. “Ah. Well. It’s a good brand, Draco never wore anything else.”

And then she turned and walked away. Letting out a relieved breath, Harry bought Malfoy’s things and then hurried home.

Malfoy was lying there, awake, when he came in, and Harry relaxed. He’d been so scared that the madness would come again while he was gone…

“Here,” he said, setting the things down on the bed. “Socks, clothes, hair comb, specialty shampoo, and those sodding leather gloves you insisted that you needed. Why was that, again?”

“They’re comforting,” Malfoy said absently, pulling them on.

“Ah. Right. Well. There you are then.” He thought about telling Malfoy about seeing Pansy, and decided against it. “Are you going to have a bath? Want me to run it for you?”

“Bite me.” Malfoy glared. He looked ridiculous, lying there in one of Harry’s old shirts, wearing those gloves, and Harry shrugged and smiled a bit.

“Just checking. Are you gonna bathe though? Just let me know. Wouldn’t want to walk in on you or anything. I’ve got enough nightmares to deal with, thank you.”

Malfoy smiled weakly, and it was worth it, teasing him to see Malfoy smile. Harry was getting extremely worried about him.

“Maybe… After I sleep for a bit.” He looked irritated, admitting that weakness, but Harry never teased him about it or even discussed it that often, aware of how difficult this whole thing must be.

“Right. I’ll be in the kitchen, do you want anything to eat?”

“Stop treating me like I’m about to break,” Malfoy growled.

Harry sighed. “Malfoy, being hungry is not a sign of fragility, I was just being polite.”

“Well stop it,” Malfoy mumbled sleepily.

“Forgive me,” Harry said dryly.

“Forgiven,” was the soft reply, and then Malfoy drifted off into sleep.

Not twenty minutes had gone by before there came a knock on the door. Terrified that it was Charlie again, Harry tensed and didn’t move from the kitchen table, hoping that they would just go away.

They didn’t. Knocking again, they waited for about thirty seconds and then there was a soft click as the lock snapped open. Startled, Harry stood up quickly and reached for his wand. They were breaking in.

The door slid slowly open and Pansy stood there, holding her wand. When she saw him, she blinked and frowned. “Ah, damn it, Potter,” she snapped. “If you weren’t sleeping or something, why the hell didn’t you open the door?”

“What are you doing?” Harry cried. “Usually when no one answers the door, it means they don’t want company!”

“Oh, trust me, I hardly want your company,” she sneered.

“Then why are you here? Did you follow me?”

“Where is he?” she asked softly, ignoring his questions.

Harry was instantly nervous. “Who?”

“Oh, come on, Potter, you think I don’t know that you were at that battle where Draco disappeared? We’ve questioned everyone from our side and they said the last time they saw him, he was on the road, and you were standing over him! And besides, then I see you in a shop buying all his favourite things? You’ve got him here, I know you do, and I want —”

“Pansy,” Malfoy greeted from the bedroom door, and Harry stiffened.

“What are you doing out of bed?” he hissed.

Malfoy, who was leaning against the doorframe and looking more pale and weak than ever, just tossed him a faintly amused look. Pansy’s eyes were shining with tears and her lower lip was trembling. “You look like hell,” she whimpered.

“Thanks,” he said dryly.

Malfoy took a step forward and his eyes widened, face turning almost gray, and Harry was by his side in an instant to catch him as he staggered and nearly fell. Swearing under his breath, Harry helped Malfoy over to the couch and then glared at him. “Stupid thing to do, Malfoy, you shouldn’t have tried to walk so far.”

Pansy’s eyes were very narrow. “Get away from him,” she snarled.

“Pansy, love,” Draco chided, trying to smile at her. It came out as more of a grimace.

“Draco,” she snapped. “Just what is going on here? What are you doing, letting him fuss over you like this? Why didn’t you come back? Why…why didn’t you send word to me?”

Draco closed his eyes, too weak to reply, letting his breath out in a soft hiss. Harry glanced over his shoulder, considered briefly, pointed his wand at her, and cast a sleeping charm. Pansy fell to the ground, and Harry then pointed his wand at the front door, which she’d left open, and slammed it shut.

Dark gray eyes met his when he turned back to Draco, and Harry swallowed nervously. “If you hurt her,” Draco threatened quietly, “I’ll kill you.”

“I won’t hurt her,” Harry promised. “As long as you go back to bed. I’ll help you.”

“I don’t need your sodding help.” Draco lurched to his feet and walked stiffly into the bedroom, trembling with the effort it took not to fall.

Sighing softly, Harry studied Pansy’s body for a long moment and then pulled a kitchen chair into the middle of the living room. He lifted her and sat her in the chair, magically binding her ankles to the legs of it and her wrists to the arms. After a moment of consideration, he cast a silencing charm on her as well. Then he ended the sleeping charm and Pansy started snarling and thrashing. He watched for a moment to make sure the binds would hold, and then, nodding in satisfaction, went into the bedroom to check on Draco.

The other boy was sleeping fitfully, but at least not caught in the grips of the curse. Rather than risk it, and feeling more exhausted than ever, he returned to the living room.

“I’m going to sleep now,” he told Pansy, who glared hatefully at him through a curtain of stringy hair. “You may as well do the same.”

She tossed her head and Harry, probably unintelligently, ended the silencing charm to hear what she had to say. “You’re sleeping with him?”

He blinked. “I sort of have to,” he said.

“If you touch him, Potter, I swear, I’ll —”

He cut off her screams with the spell, pushed her hair out of her face, and frowned at her.

“Just go to sleep. We’ll discuss all this in the morning.”

And then, body aching with exhaustion, he went back into the bedroom, stripped to his boxers, and slipped into bed beside Draco, who curled up into a tiny ball as soon as he felt Harry’s warmth, letting Harry pull himself up around him.

***

Harry made breakfast the next morning. Eggs, bacon, toast, muffins. He wasn’t all that great a cook, really, but he was nervous and couldn’t bear the thought of lying next to Draco longer than necessary, or sitting in the living room watching Pansy sleep. So he cooked.

Fixing Pansy a plate, he popped his head into the room to check if she was awake. She was, and she glared hatefully at him.

“I, umm, made breakfast,” he said.

She growled.

“If you promise not to scream, I’ll untie your hands and take the silencing charm off… Just… just don’t scream. I’m sorry about this, really, but I’ve got to keep Malfoy safe until…till I figure out how to reverse the curse.”

Her eyes were dark, calculating now, and finally, she nodded. Harry sighed in relief, untied her hands, took the gag away, and handed her a plate.

“Thank you,” she said acidly.

He tried not to be offended. “I’m going to check on Malfoy, I’ll be right back.”

He brought a plate into the bedroom, chewing his lower lip nervously. Malfoy wasn’t awake yet, so he left the plate on the dresser and went back into the other room with Pansy.

They sat in long and awkward silence.

“Why are you doing this?” Pansy finally spat.

Harry blinked. “Excuse me?”

“This. Why? Why are you keeping Draco and me here?”

“I…well, I’m keeping you because I don’t want to have to kill you and I also don’t want you going back to his father and telling him that Draco’s here. As for him… I’m keeping him because…he needs me.”

“For what? And since when have you cared what Draco Malfoy needs?”

“He did me a favour; I owe him.”

“Fine way of showing gratitude, keeping him here against his will.”

“I saved his life, Pansy. In keeping him here, I’m hoping to save his sanity as well.”

She considered this for a moment, and then said quietly, “You honestly want him well?”

“I don’t want him to suffer. There’s been so much suffering.”

“Then let him go with me. I…I know some things that can help with the effects of the curse.”

“Let you take him back and join Voldemort’s forces again? That’s stupid.”

“I’ll take him away!” she cried. “We’ll go far away and you’ll never have to see us again. I’ll take him away and make him stay there until all this was over.”

“What’s the difference, me keeping him prisoner or you?”

“Just… just listen to me, alright? Let me take him and you’ll never see either of us again.”

Harry considered, and then said, “But if Dumbledore finds a cure, I’ll be able to cure Malfoy.”

“There is no cure. We haven’t found a cure yet. There are… things… that lessen the effects, but nothing to cure it.”

“Not yet. But there will be. Every curse has a counter-curse.”

“The Killing Curse doesn’t.”

Harry didn’t have a reply to that, and finally, he said, “If you take him, you take the only source of information our side has about this sodding curse of yours. He’s invaluable to our side.”

“Your side doesn’t even know you have him, do they? You haven’t told them.”

“I felt it better if no one knew,” he said stiffly. “You can’t take him.”

Pansy studied his face for a long moment and then said, “Can I… stay with him, then?”

Harry was surprised. “You’d do that?”

“For Draco, I would.”

“You love him?” He didn’t know why the thought unsettled him.

“He’s my best friend,” she said defiantly. “You’d do the same for Granger.”

Would he? Harry didn’t know anymore. Freedom was so rare and important these days. “You can’t leave, if you stay. You have to stay in the flat. And you can’t owl anyone. I don’t know if I can trust you.”

She tilted her chin up stubbornly and said, “I wouldn’t leave without him, and he doesn’t seem willing to leave.”

“I told you… he needs me.”

“I don’t understand why.” She looked shrewd and calculating now, and he squirmed uncomfortably.

“He said that he remembers that they’re just nightmares when I touch him.”

Pansy’s eyes widened for one second and then narrowed, though she didn’t comment.

Running a hand through his hair, Harry thought for a moment, and then said, “I’ll untie you, but first…” He found a piece of parchment and charmed it, before returning to her. “Sign this. It’s charmed, and if you leave, it’ll be massively painful. I doubt you’ll get more than a few steps out the door.”

She glared hatefully but took the quill from him, scribbling her name. “Fine,” she snapped.

He untied her, still not sure he was doing the right thing, and the first thing she did was fly into the bedroom and slam the door.

Harry sat nervously in the living room, listening to the muffled hum of their voices through the wall.

***

“It’s a strawberry,” he told her, rolling his eyes. “Surely you’ve eaten strawberries before.”

“Never dipped in chocolate,” she replied, slowly and warmly and he was touching her with one hand, on her stomach, smooth fingers tracing lazy circles, and his other hand was holding a strawberry dipped in chocolate to her lips.

He treated her like a pet sometimes, but Ginny didn’t mind. She liked to be petted, to be taken care of. To be stroked and held and fed from his hand. She opened her lips and let him push the berry in, chewing slowly. The berry burst on her tongue and the chocolate melted and she let her eyes flutter shut.

“It’s lovely,” she told him, and he idly kissed her neck. He’d told her once that she was his and he wanted to touch every inch of her with his tongue, and sometimes he got so angry, because her skin was so white and because it was marred with freckles. A Malfoy does not like anything that belonged to him to be marked except by him, he told her, but she secretly thought he adored them. Once he’d tried to paint every freckle with a drop of chocolate, and then spent endless hours trying to lick it all off, and she’d giggled and every time Ginny laughed, Lucius would reward her with a kiss on the lips.

He liked to play with her hair, because it reminded him of heat and flame, he said, and she liked to play with his because it reminded her of cold and snow. They burned up together and she hadn’t burnt that way since Tom had told her he loved her and touched her and stroked her and made her fall apart in his arms and then marked her forever with pain and betrayal and blood. He’d painted her with her own blood, but Lucius never hurt her. He worshipped her.

No one had ever worshipped her before, and Lucius did; he worshipped her for her innocence and her purity and she was his little doll, his toy. He worshipped her with his teeth and his tongue and his mouth and she fell apart every time and he seemed to take longer and longer each time to put her together again, only each time, it was like he kept a part of her for himself, took a part of her inside him and never gave it back.

And now she was no longer whole, because every part that mattered was inside him.

One time they made love in the gardens, in the middle of the night, under an endless sky of stars, and she’d woven daisy chains and he’d watched and, though he hadn’t smiled, he told her—

“I don’t think that’s very ladylike.”

Ginny glanced up, startled, memory falling away like shattered strings of a spider’s web. “Charlie?”

He smiled gently. “How are you, sweetheart?”

“Charlie.” She sounded sullen now. “I was thinking.”

“About what?”

“Daisy chains.”

“I taught you to make those, do you remember?”

She studied him petulantly. “You called me unladylike.”

“I meant that you were out of bed, without your robe. Just your nightgown. Mum would be appalled.”

“My mum is dead,” she said blankly. “It’s just my brothers I’ve got to worry about. Ron isn’t around, is he?”

“He’s downstairs.”

She hurried away from her bedroom window and grabbed her robe.

“What were you doing?”

“Remembering, I told you.”

“Oh, yes, daisy chains. I remember.” He smiled at her. “I’m glad to see you’re out of bed.”

“We should have gardens,” she told him absently, crawling back into bed. “I like gardens. Flower gardens, in the middle of the night, under a starry sky…”

He frowned. “Ginny?” he whispered uncertainly.

She blinked and looked at him blankly. “Oh, Charlie,” she said. “When did you get here?”

***

It was different, after Pansy arrived. The atmosphere in the flat was changed, not to mention the potions she brewed for Malfoy left a lingering scent of ingredients Harry did not care to ask about. She claimed the potions would take a few days to come into effect, and when they did, Malfoy would rapidly regain strength, though never to his full capacity. Even then, he’d still suffer the nightmares.

She was incredibly protective of Malfoy, hovering over him, fussing over him, and Malfoy hated it. She slept on the couch, however, because despite everything, her touch did not soothe him.

So each night, Malfoy would fall asleep first, and then Harry would lie beside him, making sure to touch him, and fall asleep next to him. They woke up, more often than not, tangled together. Sometimes Malfoy would fall into nightmares in the middle of the night, waking Harry, who would curl as tightly around him as he could and whisper soothingly until the nightmare faded, and the sleepless nights were getting to him. He grew pale and jumpy, and even Malfoy noticed.

“You look like hell,” he said one morning, when Harry woke up slowly in his arms. He blinked and stared blankly at Malfoy for a long moment.

“I’m sorry,” he said, apologizing for being the first thing Malfoy had to see in the morning.

Malfoy frowned but didn’t reply. Harry shifted out of his arms, tidying his hair and reaching for his glasses. Then he turned and studied Malfoy. “You’re getting so small,” he said quietly, frowning.

“Fuck you,” Malfoy replied, his eyes fluttering shut weakly.

Harry stormed out into the living room. “Pansy,” he growled, and she sat up instantly on the couch, eyes flying open.

“What?” she said, irritated.

“He’s wasting away. He’s dying! Why aren’t the potions working?”

“I told you!” she snapped. “It takes a few days for his strength to recover.”

“Well, I don’t like it!”

“You think he does?”

Harry closed his eyes, rubbing his temples. “It’s just… I hate… It’s just… I hate him. But it seems so wrong. He’s not even Malfoy anymore, he’s… broken. Never mind.”

“Trust me, Potter, I understand,” she said sardonically. “If anything, I’m surprised you understand.”

That night, the dreams were worse than ever. Harry had been sleeping fitfully on the couch while Pansy brewed more potions when the first screams came from the bedroom, and Pansy was the first to Malfoy’s side, Harry following a few moments later.

“He’s burning up,” she whispered, touching Malfoy’s forehead. “I’ll get a cold cloth.” She hurried away and Draco thrashed, arching up off the bed.

“Fuck,” Harry whispered, stroking his arm. Malfoy calmed nearly instantly, falling back and breathing heavily. “Shh, it’s alright, I won’t let you go,” he soothed, sitting beside him and pulling him onto his lap. Malfoy’s head fit on his shoulder easily and he whimpered into the side of Harry’s neck, arms automatically wrapping around Harry’s neck.

Pansy was watching from the doorway. She came into the room and looked at Harry strangely as she stroked the cloth across Malfoy’s forehead. “Do you love him?” she asked, as if it was a perfectly normal thing to wonder. Harry Potter loving Draco Malfoy.

He stiffened and stared at her in shock. “What?”

“Do you love Draco?” she repeated.

Harry’s eyes were naturally drawn to Malfoy’s face. He studied his pale, parchment-like skin, his dark eyelids like bruises against it, his silver hair. “No,” he said.

“Are you sure?” she asked. She smiled, but it was not a sweet smile. “He’s fairly easy to love, the hard part is realizing that you do and you usually come to see that when it’s too late.”

“I don’t love him,” Harry said, completely startled by the idea. “I hate him, I’ve always hated him.”

She studied him. “He hates you too.”

“I know.”

“And yet now he’s curled up in your arms and you’re cradling him against your chest.”

“It helps him.”

“You hate him. Why do you care what helps him?”

“I don’t like it when he hurts. That doesn’t mean I love him,” Harry said defiantly. “You’ve lost your mind.”

“Maybe.” She smiled again. “Keep holding him like that and letting him whisper against your throat, Potter, and see how long you keep on hating him. Keep him still and keep him quiet.” She left the room.

Harry stared at Malfoy’s face for a long, long time as Malfoy slept in his arms, before finally putting Pansy’s words out of his mind. She was crazy, obviously. Harry Potter love Draco Malfoy?

But this wasn’t really Draco Malfoy, because Draco Malfoy would never curl up against him and whisper against his throat. This was someone that looked like Malfoy and even sounded like him from time to time, but it was a broken Malfoy, and that was the only reason Harry was allowed to hold him. Because someone had to hold the pieces of Malfoy together.

He held him until the middle of the night, when Malfoy stirred and woke. “Potter?” he whispered, voice hoarse.

“It’s alright.”

“I thought I died,” he said wonderingly. “Everything was burning, and I thought I’d died because it all went away.”

“Shh. Go back to sleep.”

He laid his head back on Harry’s shoulder. “Just don’t let go,” he whispered, before falling back asleep.

Harry shifted, laying Malfoy on the pillow and stretching out beside him, facing him. He watched the moonlight spill across Malfoy’s face, his eyelids flicker with dreams that were not nightmares, watched his pulse flutter in his throat, and sometime, just before dawn, Harry leaned forward and brushed a whisper kiss across Malfoy’s lips, just to be sure. Because he didn’t love Malfoy, and the kiss proved it, because he kissed him and it was cool and empty and just a kiss.

But he pulled back and his eyes flickered up to Malfoy’s and Malfoy’s were open and sleepy and dark. But they closed, very slowly, and Malfoy leaned forward and kissed him, and it was warm and soft and careful, fragile and gentle. His breath was feathering against Harry’s face and Malfoy’s hand was tucked under his cheek and he was so young and fragile, like the kiss, and Harry might have loved him then. But only a little.


Author notes: This chapter took an incredibly long time to post, I know. I was incredibly busy. It's also not as long as usual, but I had to end it there. The next chapter will come out as soon as I can find a moment to read through it again, I promise, and I'll try to make it longer than this one.
The lyrics at the beginning of the chapter are from the song Hold On by Sarah McLachlan, thanks Kerri, for suggesting them for me. Dedicated to Tracy, Aarynn, and Sarah, for support and endless converstations about this story. Without you guys, it never would have been written.