A Life More Ordinary

Malfoy Manor--September 3, 1992

Draco shook his head at the third offer of soup. His mother waved Dobby away and caressed Draco's warm cheek.

"Draco, my darling," she coaxed softly, "you must eat. You'll be ill."

"Not hungry," he mumbled. He felt like he was going to sick up again; just like he had when he'd woken up here in his bed. He still felt like he was trapped in someone else's nightmare. Especially when his mother had held a cool cloth to his neck, telling him that everything was going to be all right.

But it wasn't going to be all right. He could remember everything now, though it was like looking through a Pensieve full of memories that weren't his own. Except that Dumbledore had assured him that he'd really done all those things--he'd really shoved Harry and Hermione down that hole in the girls' toilet.

He'd tried to kill both of them.

And though nothing should have been worse than that; it was. His father hadn't spoken to him since he'd woken up. Not even once. He'd stared at Draco, his eyes filled with shock and then he turned his back and walked away.

Severus had followed him, leaving Draco with his mother and a consistently-twitching Dobby.

"What can I get for you, love?" his mother whispered, still stroking his brow. He stared up at her, his throat aching and willed himself not to cry. Malfoys didn't cry. No matter how awful it was. No matter that Harry would never speak to him again. He wouldn't cry.

His father wouldn't.

So he just shook his head again and tried to swallow the burn away, concentrating on his mother's melodic murmurs.

Narcissa stayed beside her son until he was asleep. She brushed his blond fringe aside with gentle fingers and kissed his brow. "Stay with him," she whispered to Dobby, her hand lingering for a moment and then she stood up and slipped out into the corridor, closing the door carefully behind her.

Low voices were drifting up from Lucius' study. Not even pausing to consider, Narcissa went downstairs and without knocking, entered. Lucius and Severus looked up, both surprised at the intrusion.

"All of this for revenge?" she asked quietly, her eyes for her husband alone.

She expected a cool answer or a subtle rebuff. She did not expect his fingers to tremble. With uncoordinated movements, Lucius set his quivering glass on the table.

"Draco explained that Harry found the diary in Ginny Weasley's cauldron," she went on, "where you'd misplaced it."

"Narcissa," Lucius said quietly, "It was-"

"Draco nearly didn't wake up," Narcissa cut in, her own harsh tone surprising her. "Do not attempt to placate me."

Lucius' hand convulsed on the stem of his wine glass. "It was meant for the Weasley girl."

Blood pounded through Narcissa's veins as she stared at her husband. "And that is all you have to say? You knew it was likely that she would be in Gryffindor--where Draco lives. Even if Harry had found it, you had already endangered our son."

Lucius closed his eyes. "I only meant to discredit him," he whispered. "I did not know it was capable of possession."

"It belonged to the Dark Lord," she spat.

"I did not consider-"

"Consider this then," she said coldly. "You nearly killed your son. Our only child."

The only sign that he had heard her was a tremor along his jaw. Too disgusted to look at him any longer, Narcissa turned away and went back to Draco.

Hours later, with darkness cloaking the house, Lucius emerged from his study. He swayed as he climbed the stairs and had to grasp the handrail or stumble back down into the parlour. He grimaced, not quite drunk enough not to realize he'd had far too many glasses of his finest wine.

When he reached the landing, he stared at Draco's half-open door. The alcohol had dampened all the consuming emotions that had churned his stomach when Dumbledore crossed the threshold with an unconscious Draco in his arms. Churned it violently when the old man had explained that Draco had been under the influence of a cursed diary.

Draco had been unconcious for hours, his magic nearly drained by the possession. Had it continued for much longer, the healer had told them tonelessly, and your son would be dead.

And as soon as Draco had opened his eyes, Lucius had looked into his son's haunted eyes and fled.

Draco was silent again now, his eyes closed as Lucius stepped into the room. Narcissa was stretched out on a conjured bed beside his, sleeping; Dobby curled into a ball on the floor.

Dizziness rolled through Lucius as he stepped to his son's bed and crouched down, peering at the pinched lines of Draco's face. There was no hint of peace there; not even in sleep. And Lucius wondered whether he was plagued with nightmares.

He hadn't watched his son sleep for many years--not since he was a baby, he supposed. Once or twice later, perhaps... when Draco had been ill with fever. But for now, he couldn't seem to make himself rise. The moonlight streaming in from behind his curtains was lighting a rectangle along Draco's cheekbone, his pale lashes nearly blending into his complexion, the sweep of fringe obscuring his eyebrow.

Of their own accord, Lucius' fingers stretched out and brushed the hair aside. Draco stirred and his eyelids fluttered open.

"Father?"

Lucius' lungs squeezed painfully at the faint query; Draco's eyes were glazed with confusion. "Go back to sleep," Lucius murmured. "Your mother will worry if you are not rested..."

A drowsy smile lightened the tense features briefly and then Draco's eyes were closed once more, his chest falling gradually into the rhythm of sleep. And still, Lucius could not find the will to move away.

--

Harry woke up with a jerk, his heart racing; just as if he really was back in the Chamber of Secrets, Draco's blood-red eyes staring into his. He shivered. As his eyes adjusted to the single flickering sconce, Harry found Sirius in the chair beside his bed, his legs stretched out, his head propped on his shoulder as he slept.

He didn't look very comfortable.

Not wanting to wake him, Harry felt around for his glasses, finding them on the table after a moment. He wiggled out from under his blankets and slid to the floor as quietly as possible, squinting in the near-blackness toward Pomfrey's office. He'd never spent the night in the infirmary but he was almost certain Pomfrey had mentioned the toilet was next to her office...

Ignoring the way the shadows reminded him of the basilisk's looming fangs, he padded slowly toward Pomfrey's office, stumbling twice since he couldn't properly see.

And then a hand settled on his shoulder from behind and he jumped and let out a strangled cry.

"Hey," Sirius said softly, his voice coming nearer as he crouched down in front of Harry, "it's just me."

Harry's heart was thudding so loudly, he imagined Sirius could hear it. He let out a deep breath, Sirius' grey eyes steadying him.

"I didn't mean to frighten you,"

Harry shook his head vigorously. "Didn't." But his chattering teeth gave him away.

Frowning slightly, Sirius chanted a Warming Charm and then gave Harry's arms a brisk rub. "Where were you going with no light?" he asked as warmth spread to the tips of Harry's fingers.

"Loo," Harry answered in a whisper, shifting from foot to foot; Sirius smiled.

"Lumos," he said and held out his own wand. "Bit tricky in the dark."

"Thanks..." Harry gave his godfather a half-smile and went into the toilet. Sirius was waiting for him when he emerged, his back propped against the stone wall. He was twirling Harry's wand between his fingers. He smiled and straightened up when Harry stopped uncertainly in front of him.

Sirius' forehead wrinkled as he studied Harry. "Feeling all right?"

Harry nodded, though he wasn't really. He felt sort of ill. Nauseous, maybe.

Sirius stepped forward and cupped the back of Harry's neck. "You don't have a fever," he murmured. "Let's get you back to bed." He smiled, dropping his palm a bit so that he could guide Harry back to the bed. Instead of heeding the slight pressure, Harry twisted a little, dislodging his godfather's hand.

"I'm not tired," he said quickly before Sirius could question him.

"But it's not even half past three..." And then Harry had no idea how Sirius knew, but he nodded slowly. "Nightmare?" he asked gently.

"I keep seeing Draco's eyes..." Harry knew it sounded stupid, especially since the basilisk had really been much more frightening than Draco. Unable to stop it, he shivered again. Sirius put an arm round his shoulders and Harry relaxed, grateful that his godfather didn't comment on the absurdity of having bad dreams about red eyes.

"Would you like to take a walk?"

"Yeah?" Harry glanced back toward Pomfrey's office. "Are we allowed?"

"Probably not," Sirius said with a wink, "but I think we'll take our chances." Harry smiled. They stopped so that Harry could put his trainers on. "Even if we're sneaking out, you still need shoes," Sirius told him solemnly. "And a jumper," he decided, whisking one from the neat pile of Harry's clothes beside the bed.

"Where's Remus?" Harry whispered as they passed Hermione's bed; she was sleeping peacefully but the rest of the beds were empty.

Sirius closed the door softly behind them. "He went for a walk earlier; stretch his legs a bit."

Harry nodded, thinking it was a bit odd that Remus was wandering around the castle by himself. But then, Remus did tend to be up at night more than Sirius was.

Making patterns against the floor with the light shining from Sirius' wand--which he was still holding--Harry asked, "Do you think Dobby stole the cloak and map so that Draco could use them?" Harry wasn't exactly sure what Draco would use them for though.

"I don't know," Sirius said, his lips turned down in thought. "Dobby said it wasn't Draco that ordered him to take them."

"Can house-elves lie?"

"I should think so; to protect their masters."

Harry thought about that; about why exactly Voldemort's book had possessed Draco. "It's odd, isn't it?"

"What is?" Sirius was gazing down at him, a crooked smile lighting his face now. Harry found himself smiling as well, despite the questions milling around in his head.

"Well," he said slowly as he danced a lazy figure eight with Sirius' wand, "that Voldemort's book possessed Draco. Because that means it was almost like Draco was Voldemort for awhile, doesn't it?"

Sirius was frowning again. "In a way..."

"But it's a bit strange that Voldemort knew me, isn't it? Or was it because Draco knew me-"

"What?"

Harry stopped walking, only to find Sirius no longer beside him. When he turned, his godfather was gaping down at him.

"How do you mean, Voldemort knew you?"

Harry paused before he answered, unnerved by Sirius' tone. "Er... Well, if he wasn't just Draco, I mean... because he was talking about how I'd defeated him. And before he pushed me, he called me Harry Potter in that different voice just before my scar stopped hurting and-"

"Your scar was hurting?" Sirius stepped forward, his face full of confusion as Harry nodded. Sirius smoothed the floppy hair away from Harry's forehead, his eyes narrowing as he examined the scar. "The same way it was last year, do you mean?"

"Yeah."

Sirius glanced down at him; his hand slid down to cup Harry's chin. "Exactly like that? It may be important," he added when Harry screwed up his lips as he tried to decide.

"It hurt more," he finally admitted, not liking the way Sirius' face became sort of pinched.

"How much more?" he asked, his voice strained.

And only because Sirius had said it might be important was Harry able to answer, "Sort of like someone lit my head on fire."

Sirius' hand fell away and without a word, he pulled Harry against his chest. His breaths heaved in and out, Harry's head moving with them. He waited for a moment but when Sirius didn't say anything, he finally looked up.

"Sirius?" he whispered, as if he might disturb something vital. Sirius broke himself out of whatever trance he'd been in, turning his eyes down to Harry's face.

"Sorry," he said, just as quietly. "When I heard you through the mirror yesterday..." He cleared his throat, smiling ruefully. "I'm not quite recovered, I don't think."

Harry wondered then if Sirius had had a nightmare too. Not wanting to ask, Harry hugged him, hoping it might make his godfather feel better; just like a hug always did for him. Sirius kissed the top of his head after a minute and let Harry step back. He looked less worried, at least.

"Come here," he said, guiding Harry's shoulder, "and sit with me for a moment."

They reached the top of the stairs and together they plopped onto the first step, both of them sighing as they slouched. Sirius massaged his shoulder briefly and then drew Harry close to his side. "I know it isn't any fun to talk about it," he said, "but I think I need to know everything that happened; exactly as you remember it, all right?"

His eyes were searching, and Harry nodded and started at the beginning. Sirius listened without interrupting, only squeezing his shoulder a few times when Harry faltered over some of the more frightening moments. His heart was hammering by the time he finished describing having to listen to what was happening around him, without being able to see anything.

"Thank you for obeying me," Sirius said very softly once he'd finished, leaning over to rest his cheek on the top of Harry's head. "We wouldn't have been able to concentrate if you hadn't."

Harry smiled, glad now that he'd stayed put, instead of giving in to the urge to try to help. He'd learned that lesson last Christmas, after all.

"How did you stop the basilisk?" Harry asked, remembering that they'd never answered him.

"Rooster's crow; Dumbledore summoned one of Hagrid's." Sirius straightened and smiled at Harry, his eyes crinkling around the edges. "You were very clever though to think of a mirror."

Harry flushed, pleased again. "I read it in one of Ollivander's books... remember, we read it together last summer?"

Sirius nodded, still smiling but it faded quickly. "Did you feel pain in your scar while you were in the Chamber?"

Harry shook his head, not needing to think about it. The awful pain wasn't exactly something you wouldn't notice. "It was only when Draco grabbed me."

"And it faded when Draco..." Sirius cleared his throat, his voice wobbly as he finished, "...pushed you?"

"Right before that. When he said Hermione would be dinner." Harry shivered again even though, with both his sweater and Sirius' Warming Charm, he couldn't be cold. Sirius' arm tightened.

"Hermione's all right," he murmured. "Draco will be as well..."

Harry nodded jerkily. He still couldn't stop seeing those red eyes. If only Draco had given the book back to his father... Which brought him back to why Mr. Malfoy had had the book in the first place. Listening to the calming thrum of his godfather's heartbeat, Harry asked, "Was Draco's father a Death Eater; like Peter Pettigrew?"

He was almost certain Sirius' heart beat a little faster and he immediately regretted the question. Sirius didn't like talking about anything to do with his former friend. "Sorry," he whispered, trying to straighten up but Sirius shook his head and Harry stilled.

"Don't be," Sirius told him. "I don't want you to ever be worried about asking me questions... or telling me something when you think it might upset me." Sirius was gazing down at him, his eyes unusually solemn so Harry nodded.

"It's just that I know you don't like to talk about him..." he had to explain anyway, even though really he never worried too much about saying things to Sirius.

"I don't," Sirius agreed. "But that doesn't mean you shouldn't ask if you need to." He smiled a little, his eyebrows lifting expectantly. "All right?"

"OK."

Sirius nodded. "As for Draco's father," he said slowly. "I can't tell you for certain that he was a Death Eater. We don't really know much about who was and who wasn't. Peter, we know about... only because he betrayed your mum and dad."

"But if Mr. Malfoy was..." Harry squinted up at his godfather, trying to sort out his thoughts. "If he was, how come nobody found out?"

"Sometimes, when people are very powerful--or they are friends with powerful people--their misbehavior is ignored."

Harry considered that. "But he had the cursed book," he pointed out and was surprised when Sirius shook his head. "I saw him-"

"I know you did, kiddo," Sirius said, with a gentle smile. "But it would be rather difficult to prove it was his-"

"He was holding it!"

"I know," Sirius stressed and Harry bit the inside of his cheek to let him finish. "Even if he was holding it, we can't prove he didn't pick it up in Flourish and Blotts... or that someone else hadn't given it to him."

"Prove? You mean, in front of the Wizengamot?" Harry couldn't stop his eyebrows from knitting together. "Will Draco be in trouble too?"

He couldn't decide whether or not to be relieved when Sirius shook his head. "I don't know that anyone will be in trouble..." He sighed. "It's probably one of the things the headmaster wants to speak to Remus and me about."

"May I come with you when you have tea with him?" Harry asked

Sirius looked surprised at the question but he shook his head all the same. "I'm afraid not."

"But why not?" Harry asked, knowing his voice was close to a whinge, but Sirius didn't even call him on it. He simply sighed again.

"I don't know exactly what he wants to speak to us about and," he added when Harry tried to protest again, "the headmaster didn't invite you."

"That's because he didn't even want me to know Draco was possessed by Voldemort's book," Harry said, indignant. "But you would have told me, wouldn't you?"

"Yes."

"Then why can't I come? Especially if you're going to be talking about me?"

"Because Harry James," Sirius said, his voice deep with affection, "you can't. And it would make me very happy if you would accept that as my final word on the subject."

A bit startled by the use of his middle name without a tone of warning, it took a moment for Harry to remember to respond. And when he nodded, Sirius leaned down and kissed the top of his head again.

"Thank you."

Harry didn't really know what to say to that, but Sirius didn't seem to expect a response. They sat quietly then, both of them listening to the whispering of the few portraits who were still awake. Footsteps farther down the staircase shifted their attention.

"Bet it's Filch," they said at the same time; their eyes met and they chuckled.

"Still stalking the corridors?" Sirius asked with a grin.

"He'll probably try to give me detention," Harry said, making a face. But it wasn't Filch at all. It was Remus, his drawn features highlighted by the halo of light from his wand tip. He finally noticed them when he started up the staircase that they were inhabiting. His startled gaze immediately changed to worry.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his eyes zeroing in on Harry as he continued his climb.

"We fancied a walk," Sirius explained; neither he nor Harry straightened out of their slouches and after looking between them for a few seconds, Remus sat on Harry's other side.

"Trouble sleeping?" he asked and Harry shrugged; he didn't really want to explain the red eyes. "I think Madame Pomfrey would consent to another Sleeping Potion, if you'd like."

Since a Sleeping Potion wouldn't stop the red eyes, Harry shook his head.

"We'll order a cup of warm milk from the kitchens," Sirius said, squeezing his shoulder. "I suppose they'll even make us a few biscuits; if we don't let Madame Pomfrey hear us," he added with a wink.

"Chocolate?"

"Absolutely."

Harry smiled and allowed his godfather to pull him up.

--

A glass of warm milk, and two biscuits later, Harry was asleep once more. Sirius massaged his forehead and tried to still the anxious thrum of his heart, which had not settled since Harry had mentioned the pain in his scar.

"What's the matter?" Remus asked quietly. Sirius sighed and motioned him away from the bed, where he wove several privacy charms around them and explained everything Harry had told him. And before he'd even finished, Remus paled and took an abrupt seat on one of the empty beds.

"I don't know what to think," Sirius said as he sank down beside his husband. "His scar... twice now."

Remus only shook his head.

"How can it be a coincidence?" Sirius asked the world in general. Remus looked at him sharply.

"But Quirrel had nothing to do with Voldemort," he said. "It was the dark magic he'd been interacting with."

"I know..." Sirius turned to look at Harry. His throat scraping over the words, he whispered, "He could have died."

Remus gripped his hand. "Thank God he had his mirror..."

Sirius closed his eyes, grateful for the first time in many years that he and James had spent so many hours in detention.

--