Altus Amor

Transformation

Draco awoke stiffly that morning, the dull throb of his headache acting as a cruel reminder of his upcoming, sinister death. That notion made his blood rise. He would have liked to have forgotten about his young ending, but how could anyone forget something like that? The understanding sunk into Draco, binding with his sinew and chilling the very depths of his blood. It was a part of him; something he had to live with, or suffer even more within the upcoming thirty days.

The past night had been one of the most horrible in Draco’s life. He had completely broken down into a state of shock and terror, his entire reality being thrust back down on him in one brutal blow.

Slowly he forced himself into standing, hopelessly attempting to block out the pain that coursed through his every muscle, and the nauseating ache that hung in his stomach. He didn’t want to help Lucius. He knew he shouldn’t help Lucius, but right now he needed something to keep him occupied; something that would take his mind off his macabre existence.

The work hardly helped. He piloted through the day as if automated by will alone, not listening nor paying any attention to the labors he performed. Relief came with the sunset, when he could retire into his bedroom and immerse himself in a blissful unconsciousness.

Crawling into the large bed, he sunk deep into the duvet that covered his mattress, gracious of the warm heat that the fire emitted. Gazing out into the flames, he noted how they leapt in waves of crimson and ginger, dancing impossible numbers as the raw material heat flickered from shape to shape. The flames parted, leaving the back of the fireplace visible. At first, Draco thought it was his imagination and the pounding sensation in his head that made him see the way the fire opened up for an unseen being, a draft brushing past the fair-haired boy and a trace of cloth sweeping across his legs. Then he rubbed his eyes and gazed around the room, still aware of the feeling that he, as much as he would have liked to believe it, was not alone.

“Aperio,” Draco spoke a silent revealing charm, pointing his wand out to the general encompassment of the room. First nothing appeared to be happening, but slowly a rustle of fabric could be heard from a far corner, followed closely by a bashful-looking Harry, clutching his invisibility cloak as if it were all he had left.

“I was about to do that,” Harry spoke timidly from his spot on the floor. Meanwhile, Draco’s face portrayed nothing except for pure rage, despite the fact that his heart skipped a beat at the idea of having Harry Potter in his bedroom.

“POTTER, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN HERE?!?!” He yelled, jumping up from his warm nook under the blankets, throwing them aside as he walked halfway across the room.

“Alright, look, I’m terribly sorry to barge in like that--”

“SCREW APOLOGIES! WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY BEDROOM AT ONE-FUCKING-O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING?!?!”

“I was getting there! Ok, long story short: I need your help.” At this point, Draco’s face turned from an expression of fury to one of confusion and curiosity.

“What?”

“Yeah, well, you see, I sort of need some information that I thought you might be able to give me.”

“Me give information to you?? Potter, what have you been drinking?”

“Nothing! Draco, I really need your help. Will you at least hear me out?” Draco crossed his arms on his chest but remained silent. Harry took this as lead to begin.

“Alright. You probably know this already, but a the Dark Side is planning on destroying Hogsmeade.” Draco nodded albeit reluctantly, face staring up at the dark haired boy apathetically. Harry continued.

“Well, if we have any hope on preventing this then we are going to need all of the information we can get. Right now the Order is completely confused and in need of serious connections. The spies are doing nothing; they have no power or standing place among the Death Eaters. I-we- need your help.” Pause.

“And what makes you think that I would help you?” Draco stated flatly. Harry looked at him with mild annoyance, accompanied with much disappointment.

“It’s just that the last time we talked, you seemed to want a different role in life--”

“Since when does that that mean anything: our talk? Did you think that I would suddenly become Good!Draco and jump for a chance to help the Order because my life here sucked? You have it wrong, Potter, and you being here is wrong. Just--get out,” he said, trying desperately to overlook the pained expression on Harry’s pallid face.

“Actually, I thought you at least had morals; some kind of human decency. Obviously I was wrong.”

“Why do you think you know me so well?” Harry contemplated this for a moment, eyes never leaving the ex-Slytherin’s.

“You were so anxious for a reason to leave this life behind. I saw it. I heard it. I felt it. How can you sit there and say that this means nothing to you? That you don’t care about the fates of thousands of witches and wizards?”

“Did I say that? Did I say that I didn’t care? No. All I said is that I wasn’t going to help you. And honestly, you have no idea how much it hurts me to know that so many lives will be ruined.”

“Then fucking do something instead of sitting on your arse being useless! Help me!”

“No. No, because I refuse to put that many people’s lives’ in my hands, and no, because I just--don’t want to.” Harry gazed at him for a moment. Draco’s heart nearly stopped beating as he immersed himself in those emerald-green eyes.

“For once you should try to think about others,” Harry stated coldly.

“Get out!” Draco yelled, anger rising and coloring his cheeks with wisps of crimson.

“You’re weak, Malfoy. Weak.” Then with one swish of the invisibility cloak, Harry vanished into the parted the flames of the fire, stepping through the thin veil that connected one location to the other. Draco knew he was gone when the only warmth in the room was that of the fire. Regretfully, he lay back down, determined to brood later and sleep now.

The night seemed to last only a mere moment, and grudgingly Draco lifted his eyelids to meet the day. The morning light was slowly creeping in through his eastern window, presenting his heart with an alien sense of hope. The soft luminosity of each ray seeped into his soul and calmed him, while filling the room with a gentle orange glow.

Staring wistfully out the window from his bedside, Draco imagined himself in someone else’s life. He would be a common wizard, on his way to work. Perhaps he would have a family; people to come home to when the sun went down; people who cared about him; people whom he cared about in return. He would have no worried, no regrets, no struggle with dark magick, and no death. The idea that he could be free like that became permanently imprinted in Draco’s mind, making him sick with longing. A fluttery sensation arose in his chest as he thought about family--something in which he felt had nothing to do with his previous thoughts.

Then, slowly, a memory of the past night drifted into his awareness. *Harry,* he realized, the name feeling so comforting among distressing reflections. Being with his former enemy was nothing if not intense. Why had he hated him so much to begin with? Because he refused his had in friendship? Because he worked good magick? Because he was in Gryffindor? Because--but oh, didn’t those reasons seem silly now?

Draco would have chuckled had it not hurt so much to move. The more he thought about it, the more it appeared as if the knowledge of his death was freeing rather then binding. Mind you, he still found it extremely terrifying, but....

Harry. He was light. He was hope. He was--dead sexy, but that’s beside the point. He was beautiful in an innocent, exotic, hidden sort of way. And, it appeared as if Draco had finally found that one thought that quelled all of his trepidation and fear, even if the pain was only subdued for a moment. That moment had meant more to him than any other in his life.

But he had let it go....Why had he let it go? Your weak, Malfoy. The words replayed themselves over and over in his mind. It was true, and the truth hurt him, especially spoken from Harry’s lips. He was scared of letting people down, scared of what he would become if he helped the Order, scared--it didn’t matter though. He would be dead in thirty days. Screw fear--he didn’t have time. *It’s not lost. Find your light. Find your hope. Find Harry.*

__________________________________________________

Harry stepped through the fire in the common room late that night, greeted by a very anxious Ron and Hermione. Things had not gone well, not by a long shot. Malfoy was so reserved with himself that Harry had to search hard for any sign of human feeling. It was there, though, and seemed to flourish around the Gryffindor.

“So how’d it go?” Ron asked.

“Did you get the information?” Hermione followed.

“He--he wouldn’t talk to me.” Hermione and Ron frowned.

“Don’t give up. Maybe you can go back later, try again or--”

“I’m sorry, Hermione, but he’s not going to help us. It seems like he wants to, but still--”

“Well then you can’t give up! If you think he wants to help then you have to keep trying!”

“Hermione--”

“No! You were never the one to quit before. Why are you so keen on it this time? What is it about Draco that makes you think it’s hopeless?”

“The fact that he thinks it is.”

“You’ll just have to make him see differently then.”

“Hermione, listen. Draco is--something else entirely. (Ron, at this point, interjected with a ::coughHOTcough:: which Harry promptly ignored.) He is stubborn and weak and--”

“Needs you, Harry, to show him that it’s not all lost for him. Look, I know Malfoy is a prat, but at least try to get the information. You know I wouldn‘t be asking you to do this, especially with Malfoy, unless it was a real emergency.” Harry stared at Hermione for a while, contemplating what she had said. Perhaps she was right, but....

“How am I going to see him again? He completely freaked out when I magickally appeared in his room via floo powder and invisibility cloak.”

“Let me think about that for a while. In the meantime, find out ways to get him to open up.” Harry nodded, aside from the fact that he felt like an interrogation officer.

“What about me?” Ron asked eagerly.

“Ron, you--you can help me.” Ron scowled, but nevertheless agreed with her before she walked away to the girls dormitory. Ron looked at Harry.

“Are you OK with all of this??”

“Yes--no--yes--well, I mean, I guess so,” he stammered.

“You wanna explain it to me?” Ron asked in his concerned-friend voice.

“I can’t even explain to myself,” Harry replied, then turned up the stairs to the boys dormitory. There was a long silence where he pondered whether Ron was going to say anything else, when he spoke up.

“Do you really like Malfoy?” Harry thought carefully about what to say. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure about anything anymore, but he needed to give Ron an honest answer. Ron deserved an honest answer.

“He confuses me.” Ron nodded understandingly.

“Not to make you feel bad or anything, but what do you see in him? I mean, it is, after all, Malfoy. Sure, he’s hot and all, but can you really ignore the horribly evil, annoying side of him? In one day, did six years just go away?” Harry had been wondering that himself.

“Like I said, he confuses me. And no, six years didn’t just go away. I still find him as maddening as ever, only...”

“You see past that?”

“Sort of--no. It’s more like our animosity is slowly decreasing with each meeting, and giving away to this--this--uncanny intensity.” Harry said. Ron looked stunned. Quite followed for a few moments while Ron trudged beside Harry, gazing timidly down at his shoes as if he were afraid to question him further.

“What is it, Ron?” Harry asked supportively.

“I--erm, well, I feel that I don’t know you anymore. I--I didn’t even know that you liked guys!” Ron said enthusiastically. Harry’s eyes widened.

“I--I--I don’t really think I do, Ron. Not most guys, at least.” Ron looked bemused.

“Then....??”

“It’s just Malfoy. And, you know what, I’m not even sure that I do like Malfoy.

“Alright. But, you know we are here to help you,” Ron said, following Harry up the winding staircase.

“I know. That’s another thing--you guys are being put in too much danger. I mean, I guess it’s fine what you’re doing right now, the research, but if we have to do more than just get information out of Malfoy....”

“You’re talking about the war, aren’t you?” Ron observed.

“I just don’t want to put you in danger. You and Hermione--you’re my best friends.”

“We’ll be OK, Harry, don‘t worry. It’s not like this hasn’t come up before. You know that we are the ones who choose to befriend you. If we didn’t accept the danger, we wouldn’t. We do it because we care about you.” Harry smiled weakly.

“Thanks,” he said, then paused.

“We should sleep,” Ron started. “Who knows what Hermione will have us do tomorrow.” Harry nodded and followed Ron the rest of the way to the sleeping chambers.

What Ron had said made Harry feel a little better, and that was worth a lot, but thoughts of Draco kept prodding at his mind as he laid open-eyed on his bed. Finally he gave up to them, submerging himself into deep ponderings.

Their meeting had once again been intense. It seemed as if every time he spoke with the silver-haired boy, his heart rate picked up about ten paces, whether it be from hate or anger or lust. That idea made Harry shiver. Never before had anyone gotten to him the way Malfoy did. And no matter how many times he told himself that he didn’t--couldn’t love Draco, the emotion was constantly there and now Harry began questioning his own resolve.

The next morning Harry sat sleepily in the potions classroom, dozing off a couple times only to be violently shaken back to reality by Hermione.

“Ow! Come on, class hasn’t even started yet.”

“It will soon...what is taking Snape so long?”

“I don’t know, but whatever it is I hope it keeps him longer,” Ron remarked. Hastily Seamus turned to the three.

“I heard he’s talking to Dumbledore. Someone managed to steal some floo powder out of his office last night!” Seamus said, then faced forward once more. Two sets of eyes turned to glare and Hermione.

“What the bloody hell were you thinking?” Ron nearly yelled.

“Well, we needed the power, and this is an emergency--I thought he wouldn’t notice!”

“Let’s just pray he doesn’t discover who did it,” Harry said.

“Yes, lets...” emerged an icy voice from the back of the room. Three heads turned reluctantly to survey a pleased-looking Snape, who stalked up hover over them in a very menacing fashion.

“Ms. Granger, tsk tsk tsk. Who would have thought--a prefect of all people--to be robbing a professor of his potions,” Snape said, his cold droll thicker than ever. Harry turned to Hermione, who’s eyes were watering slightly. Inwardly, Harry cursed.

“Professor, I swear, I didn’t--” Hermione started. Snape cut her off.

“Silence! Leave your story for the Head Master. No doubt that he’ll want a word with you.” Then, in a cruel whisper: “Theft. Pity this didn’t happen sooner. Oh, Rita Skeeter will have a field day.”

“Actually, she doesn’t work with the Daily Prophet anymore,” spoke a familiar voice. Harry’s stomach did a little flip as he turned around to see the fair-haired Slytherin waltz into the chamber. Ron turned to Harry and mouthed, “Malfoy?” Harry shrugged, confused, and unable to tear his eyes away from Draco.

“Mr. Malfoy, I am pleased to see you. I trust your father is quite alright?” With a somewhat disgusted expression, he nodded.

“Yes, fine. And just for the record, Hermione didn’t take the floo powder, I did. Used a summoning charm--you see, I was in short supply and needed some to arrive here. I hope you don’t mind, but my father insisted.” Harry gaped at Draco, astonished, not bothering to snicker at the disappointed expression on Snape’s face. *Malfoy lied for Hermione?* She was just as shocked, albeit grateful.

“No, it’s alright. May I ask why you are here, thought?” Snape questioned diligently.

“Potion supplies--Father is a bit short on those too. Could I have a word with you?” Snape nodded, and lead Malfoy back into his office. Ron turned to Hermione.

“He lied for you? I can’t believe it. I mean, I seriously can’t believe it.” Hermione looked up at him.

“I don’t think he lied for me. I think he did it for Harry.”

“What?” Harry asked.

“Well, he probably knows that if I get in trouble then you will somehow, inevitably, get pulled into it all. Plus, you can’t seriously tell me that he came all the way to Hogwarts just to get potion supplies, can you?” Harry was silent. Desperately he tried to fight the burning sensation in his chest that derived from the concept that Draco Malfoy was here for him. He just couldn’t logically rationalize what he felt, much less control it.

Soon Draco exited Snape’s office clutching a small paper bag. Brushing past Harry’s desk, he let a note slip onto his lap. Harry gasped, and hid the note before anyone, save Ron and Hermione, could view it.

“What does it say?” Ron asked in an eager whisper. Carefully Harry unfolded the parchment.

Slytherin dungeons after class...don’t miss it, Potter.

Harry reread the note a couple times, debating crass thoughts over and over in his head until his mind spin fervently with wild fantasies that wouldn’t be subdued.

“You’re going to go, right Harry?” Hermione questioned.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

“Good, because this is your chance. I’m sure of it.”

“I only wish I could be so sure.”

Potions seemed to last an eternity, and by the time class was five minutes till being over, Harry had accumulated a nice amount of nervous energy that was buzzing about inside of him, turning his stomach over in knots.

Slowly he exited the chamber, trepidation weighing down his each step. *It’s just Malfoy, Harry. Just Malfoy,* he reminded himself, while another part of his mind screamed, *Just Malfoy? Just Malfoy? Or, are you thinking about the outrageously sexy ex-Slytherin whom you are about to meet in a darkened corridor-Malfoy?*

“Potter?” Draco asked, stepping out from the shadows of a particularly dim section of the hallway. Harry spun around, a look of alarm portrayed on his face.

“Malfoy! What do you think you’re doing, popping out at people like that?”

“I could ask the same to you.”

“Alright, never mind. What did you want to see me about?”

“Well, if I remember correctly, you are in need of information, eh?” Harry eyed the other boy skeptically.

“If I remember correctly, Draco, you blatantly refused to give us any.” Draco stared at Harry, before nodding.

“Yeah, that was then.”

“What makes now so different?”

“Do you want the information or not?”

“Is this one of your Death Eater plans?”

“Did you know that the worst way to annoy people is to answer a question with a question?”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Harry glanced down at Draco, who had his arms crossed over his chest. *That’s odd,* thought Harry, squinting at his ashen skin. Along Draco’s left wrist ran a long red scar, seemingly from something recent.

“What’s that?” Harry asked candidly. Quickly Draco moved to that the scar was hidden. “It looks deep.”

“It’s none of your business.” Long silence. Harry decided not to question him further.

“So didn’t you say you had some information for me?” Draco nodded. “Well?”

“Well, first you have to beg me for it, then endlessly shag me up against the wall before I even consider telling you what I know.” Harry looked appalled, and tried desperately to hide his rising--blush--from creeping into his cheeks. He was quite unsuccessful.

“Relax, Potter,” Malfoy said, glancing down for a split second. “I’m kidding.”

“So, are you going to tell me or not?” Pause.

“Their using a wizard bomb, set to clear thousands of feet.”

“Why?”

“To get the Order’s attention.”

“When is it going off?”

“I don’t know.”

“Liar.”

“I’m serious, Harry. That’s actually about all I know.” Harry gazed at the other boy unhappily.

“You’re a waste of bloody time, Malfoy. You should never have come here,” he said, even though at that moment he wanted nothing more than to have him stay forever.

“No. Look, I can help. I can get more information for you, and that’s worth more than anything you or your little pals could figure out snooping around Hogwarts.”

“And why do you want to help me so much, Malfoy? Why? Why did you stick up for Hermione? Lets face it, for the last six years we haven’t exactly been buddies. Why, now, do you want to change that?” It was the question that had been on Harry’s mind since their meeting at the Shrieking Shack.

“Because, Potter. Our days are numbered. Every wizard and muggle on this planet has a death wish, ever since Voldemort rose. With all that’s going on, who has time for silly hostilities?” Harry was taken aback. He hadn’t heard Malfoy be so brutally honest, well, ever; and it was exactly what Harry needed to hear. It was so true. Who did have time for dumb animosities when the entire world was at stake?

“So what’s your plan?” Draco grinned, and lead Harry into a neighboring chamber, shutting the door securely before speaking.

Harry walked--no, skipped into the common room that evening, a smile covering his pallid features. Immediately Ron and Hermione came bounding over to him, anxious expressions covering both their faces.

“What happened?” Ron asked.

“Did you get the information?” Hermione.

“Yeah, and more. You guys won’t believe this--he’s going to help us get information from the Death Eaters.” If Hermione had appeared ecstatic about scoring full marks on her NEWTS, it was nothing compared to this.

“ARE YOU SERIOUS??”

“Yeah, it was even his idea!” Harry remarked. Ron looked stunned.

“What are you going to do?” he asked.

“Oh, that’s what I really need to talk to you about. See, he’s got this whole plan.” Harry paused. “Can we go somewhere else?” They nodded, and led him over to a secluded portion of the common room.

“Alright, well Draco knows this Death Eater guy who has a lot of information on the whole bomb thing--”

“Bomb thing?” Hermione interjected.

“OH! Yeah, they are using this huge wizard bomb that’s set to clear thousands of feet.”

“That’s terrible!”

“Not if we can stop it. Anyway, Draco is going to try to get more information of this Death Eater--Kieran Flint.”

“How?” Ron asked

“He’s Lucius’ son. I don’t think that it’ll be that dangerous.”

“No, I mean how is he going to meet with Kieran?”

“Oh, well we’re going to Hogsmeade. That’s another thing. I need you guys to cover for me.”

“Wait, why do you have to go to Hogsmeade? Shouldn’t Draco just have to go?”

“By himself? What if something happened to him? What if he got into trouble? What if--” Harry noticed the way Hermione was staring at him, eyebrows raised in a questioning glance. “I just--have to go. Trust me. I need to.”

“And this would have nothing to do with the gorgeous blonde Slytherin that would be accompanying you?” Ron inquired. Harry blushed.

“No,” he stated in a weak voice. “At least, that’s not the real reason I’m going.” Ron and Hermione exchanged a worried glance. Hermione spoke up.

“Harry, we are both glad to see you, well, err...feeling something for someone again, but did you ever think that perhaps you are carrying it a bit far?” Harry stared at his friends. Didn’t they understand that the fate of the wizarding world was at stake here?

“You guys, I’m going to I can get information!”

“But, for once, don’t you think you should quit playing the part of the hero?” Hermione commented while Harry shook his head in incredulity.

“I can’t believe you. You talk me into creating an outrageous charade to get information for the Order, and now you want me to sit around at Hogwarts and do nothing while I let Draco Malfoy handle the importance of the mission?”

“Harry-” Ron cut in.

“No! No, I’m going to Hogsmeade. I’m supposed to meet Draco in an hour anyway, by the Whomping Willow. If you want to cover for me, please do. If not--well, I’ll just be in deep shit when I get back.” Harry paused. “Bye, guys,” He said, taking one last look at Hermione and Ron, then turning hastily to walk out the portrait hole, invisibility cloak tucked safely under his arm.

“Be careful!” they voiced to his retreating back.

“You’re going to have to be,” Ron whispered miserably.