Dolor Draconum

Chapter the Thirty-Fourth

Slowly, eventually, finally the exams were over, and the memory of pain began to fade. Stress had left its marks, with disturbed sleeping patterns among the students who pulled all-nighters, weight gain for the comfort eaters and weight loss for those to nauseas to eat, spots and eczema and nails bitten down to the quick, but as the summer term progressed even these signs passed, only to flare up again as the results approached. The house elves had already laid in extra stocks of tea and biscuits, knowing nervous students loved to snack, but they were in danger of running out.

When McGonagall questioned Harry about the fight, he'd blamed it on stress. And it was true, in a way, but it wasn't the exams that had him on edge. He was sick of watching Hermione and Ron struggle to close the distance between them, sick of watching Hermione waste her concern on Malfoy, and especially sick of Malfoy, just in general. It had been lunch and Hermione had caught Malfoy as he walked past the Gryffindor tables to ask him about Arithmancy. Ron had hurried to sit down, trying to ignore the interaction, but Harry had watched Malfoy shake off Hermione too roughly so she fell, slamming into the table before collapsing to the floor. And, since he'd been only a few feet away at the time, Harry had punched Malfoy.

Fortunately, Malfoy had hit back, and even more so it had been Professor Kelp who'd been first on the scene to break them up. Both McGonagall and Snape had had words with their respective pupils, of course, but it had been left in the most junior member of staff's hands to decide on a suitable punishment. Both young men had heard from Hermione how unused to punishments 'Aurora' was, and both were relieved it was her.

As a result, on Monday evening, Harry found himself dusting shelves while Malfoy rearranged books in the muggle section of the library. Harry suspected this might have been Hermione's idea. Professor Kelp had found herself a chair and set it up so she could watch, but currently, and for the past half an hour, she had been engrossed in a Muggle book titled "Titania's Guide to Love Spells". Harry doubted there was a single working spell in it.

Malfoy handed a book to Harry to dust, not even looking up. Harry checked the subject and author, and stuck it in the middle of a pile. He couldn't remember the Dewey decimal system, but he figured any kind of system would be better than what they had. Malfoy was doing the same, through some unspoken understanding.

A voice brought Harry's head up. It wasn't Malfoy or Kelp. It didn't sound like any student, as far as Harry could tell. Far too sibilant.

"Do you hear that?" he whispered, forgetting the others would have no idea what he was on about. Kelp didn't look up, while Malfoy merely glanced round at him with one mocking raised eyebrow. "A snake," Harry said.

Malfoy's eyebrow dropped and an expression of doubt and curiosity overcame his face.

"A snake?" he asked, also keeping his voice low.

"In the walls, I think," Harry said. He put a hand to his forehead. "My scar doesn't hurt. It's not Voldemort, but he does have snake servants."

"So do several students here," Malfoy informed him. "They're especially popular among Slytherins."

Despite the fact this was against school rules Harry wasn't completely surprised. However, the lack of sarcasm and suspicion coming from his enemy did leave him confused.

"Is it saying anything in particular?" Malfoy asked.

"Just 'I'm Here'," Harry murmured, listening hard. "And 'Not yet'."

"Maybe it's hunting and talking to itself," Malfoy said, shrugging.

Harry gave him a sideways look. "Ye-ah," he said. "Because that's what snakes are famous for." He stared down at the carpet, which was thick with the dust they'd removed from the books. "I'm going to tell Dumbledore."

"Tell him what? There's a snake? That means nothing," Malfoy said derisively. "This country has plenty of native snakes, for a start, which will all be coming out of hibernation at this time of year. Add to that the pet snakes, the fact Voldemort is supposed to be on the other side of the Atlantic and no one else can hear it, I'd say you're tilting at windmills because you haven't filled your pointless hero quotient of the year."

"And what if it is Voldemort's snake?" Harry asked, eyeing Malfoy suspiciously. "Do you want us to miss what might be our only warning of an attack?"

"I hope you're not implying what I think you are," Malfoy said coldly.

Harry laughed. "Of course I am," he said. "Why else would you been so keen for me to drop this? You're not nearly as smart as you like to think you are, Malfoy. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

Malfoy dropped 'Crime and Punishment' on Harry's hand, making him squeak.

"Oops," he said. "It slipped."

"How are you boys getting along?" Professor Kelp called out, glancing over the top of her book. "I don't mind you chatting, but neither of you is going anywhere until you're finished here. And that includes dinner."

"I need to see Dumbledore," Harry said desperately, massaging his bruised fingers.

"Why?" Kelp asked. Harry saw an opportunity and leapt for it.

"I think one of Voldemort's servants is here!" he said. "I need to warn Dumbledore in case of an attack!"

"Where is this servant?" Professor Kelp said, standing up slowly.

"In the walls," Malfoy answered before Harry could reply. "It's a snake. Potter has this hero complex relating to Voldemort, and, according to him, Voldemort has a snake, not that any of the rest of us have ever seen it."

'Aurora' turned her attention to him. "You believe he is projecting his fears onto other people and animals as part of this complex?" she asked. "A kind of paranoid obsession."

Harry bit his lip to keep from swearing at her. She was the one with an obsession, an obsession for psychiatry and superstitions. Draped in necklaces and bracelets all covered with occult symbols that meant no more to a real wizard than they did to a muggle. Even when they'd barely been talking, he and Hermione had complained to each other about the approach she took to Defence Against the Dark Arts. Harry had understood Voldemort from the moment they met: Voldemort wanted power. It didn't take eight months of psychology lessons to work that out.

"It is not," Harry hissed. "There is a snake back there and that snake is talking," he said, stabbing one finger towards the wall.

"Do all snakes talk?" Professor Kelp asked. "I admit, I don't know much about this field."

"Yes," Harry said, groaning in frustration. "Yes, they do. Or at least all the ones I've met have."

"What about?" Professor Kelp looked genuinely interested.

"Getting out of captivity. Hunting. The temperature," Harry shrugged awkwardly.

"And what is this one saying?"

"It's gone now," Harry said with an angry sigh. "It was talking about how it was here, and 'not yet' and something about the screaming moon."

"You didn't mention that before!" Malfoy said, surprising the others by rejoining the conversation after such a long silence. "What about a screaming moon?"

"It mentioned screams, or shouts, or something," Harry told him. "Snakes don't have so many synonyms, so I can't translated completely accurately. And it said 'most moon'. 'Most screaming moon', I think."

"That certainly doesn't sound like something a snake might say in passing," Professor Kelp commented. "I agree, Dumbledore should know." Harry felt relief flood him, and he began to stand up. Kelp waved him down again. "There's a staff conference going on right now, among the senior professors. We don't want to interrupt."

"Yes we do!" Harry said, leaping to his feet.

"No," Professor Kelp said firmly. "You have to complete your detention first. Maybe they're having a meeting because they already know. You wouldn't want to disturb them with obsolete information, would you? You two will finish doing these books, then I will personally accompany you to the headmaster's office."

"I don't need you to accompany me," Harry told her.

Professor Kelp stood up, putting her book on her chair.

"Harry Potter, you will not disturb the staff meeting, do you understand?" she said. "You do not have that right. I do not have that right."

"This is more important," Harry insisted. "I can get into Dumbledore's office. He'd want to know."

"They're not in the office," Malfoy said quietly. He was still kneeling on the floor among the books. "I saw Sn- Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall heading into the Forbidden Forest on my way here."

"They must want to consult the centaurs," Harry said. "But, but there's one here."

"Professor Firenze is at the meeting as well," Professor Kelp informed them. "Will you sit down now, Potter? Patience is a virtue."

Harry harrumphed to himself, and went back to the books. Malfoy handed him a tome from near Professor Kelp, and as Harry ran his eyes over the title he recognised it as the book Hermione had been reading a few weeks ago. He stared at it, lost in thought, until Malfoy poked him in the ribs. Harry raised baleful eyes to meet Malfoy's.

"That was uncalled for," he hissed.

"You were woolgathering," Malfoy said dismissively. "And I, for one, would like this detention to end some time this century."

"I was just thinking of Hermione," Harry said, not really setting out to hurt Malfoy, but not sorry when he did. He waved the book at him. "She was reading this the other day."

"That's nice," Malfoy said, obviously struggling to keep his voice bland.

Harry glanced at the book again. "She's worried about you," he said, "but don't take it too personally. Like you said, you're just a charity case to her. She's glad that you've finally shown her that."

"She knew all along," Malfoy muttered bitterly.

Harry snorted. "She's a good person, Malfoy, far too good for you. She told me she never expected it to last between the two of you. You can take it to your grave that you had a chance with a beautiful, kind, intelligent girl, and you failed. You screwed up you one chance to better yourself."

"If you think I am so utterly dependent on others to shape myself-" Malfoy began to ground out.

"I'd be right," Harry responded tartly.

"We all are," Professor Kelp said, still apparently engrossed in her book. "You've stopped working again, boys."

Harry shoved the roughly onto the shelves, angry that Kelp was trying to fight his battles for him. Why couldn't she just sod off?

They worked in silence for almost half an hour. Gradually, Harry's movements became less jerky and harsh. He started sliding books back onto shelves Malfoy had dusted, satisfied that they were organised into some semblance of sense.

He felt something plucking at his cloak, and glanced over his shoulder. Malfoy stood there, holding out a book from a pile he had balanced on one arm, shoulders drooping and hair in his eyes. There was a slight frown in the centre of his forehead, and he'd bitten his bottom lip to ragged shreds.

"Why didn't she expect it to last?" Malfoy whispered.

Harry took the book from him as he tried to think of a way to answer. He didn't want to betray Hermione's confidences, and he didn't want to encourage Malfoy into making another pass at her. He pushed the book among its fellows and turned back, shrugging.

"It wasn't the sort of thing that was meant to last, she said," he told Malfoy. "She had a whole flame analogy."

"That which burns brightest burns briefest?" Malfoy asked.

"Yeah, that." Harry was feeling increasingly uncomfortable. There was an intensity in Malfoy's gaze that suggested far too much rested on the answer to his question. Harry wondered what Malfoy would do if he got the wrong answer. Maybe Hermione was rubbing off on him, because as much as he wanted to see Malfoy suffer as he had made them suffer over the years, he didn't actually want the guy to commit suicide or anything.

Malfoy's mouth quirked into a smirk.

"Don't look so dire, Potter," he said softly. "I'm not going to do anything drastic just because of that bint. Though I'm touched you're so concerned for my wellbeing."

Harry let the insult to Hermione slide as he heard the sincerity in Draco's last sentence. Malfoy really was touched.

"You've missed out, Malfoy," he said. "Yeah, she loved you, probably fairly passionately, but she's moving on now. She told me she could picture herself marrying on. She said she'd never been able to do that with you." He shrugged again, guilt creating an itch between his shoulders. "Look, you didn't just screw up, okay? It wasn't going to last anyway. It wasn't meant to be."

"And she knew that all along," Malfoy said.

"Don't you dare insinuate she was just stringing you along," Harry snapped. "She loved you, Malfoy. She still does. You don't fucking deserve it, if you ask me, but she does and that's all there is to it. You hurt her badly, you bastard, after everything she did for you, and you took her love for fucking granted."

"Language, Potter, language," Malfoy chided, but distantly. His eyes were slightly unfocused and he wasn't even pretending to look at Harry. Harry watched his adam's apple bob as he swallowed, hard, and saw the frown deepen. His stomach dropped abruptly as he realised that whatever decision Draco had been waiting for the answer to make was now made, and whatever happened next would be a direct result of this conversation.

"Are you done, boys?" Professor Kelp asked, breaking the deadlock.

Harry glanced down at the book in his hands, shoving it quickly into the first available space he saw. When Draco still didn't move, he rapidly filed away the books the other boy was holding, no longer caring for the system they had spent the last few hours creating.

"Yep!" he said breathlessly. "Can we find Dumbledore now?"