Altus Amor

Understandings

Draco stared out into the ever-consuming darkness, back slumped roughly against the rigid dirt wall of the tunnel. Beside him Harry panted breathlessly, shoulder pressed tightly against Draco’s own, head slung over to the opposite side. Quickly he muttered a tired “Lumos,” the walls of the deep tunnel brightening to reveal an endless corridor lined with a jagged dirt edge.

He shut his eyes tightly, pain overriding his vision and blackening his mind. The constant throbbing of his head beat a hard pressure throughout his skull, but he fought it back with as much force as he could gather for just haven sprinted off a tavern roof. His mind returned to the boy beside him. Harry had (rather stupidly) risked his life in order to be assured of Draco’s safety--and he honestly couldn’t remember anyone ever even giving a damn about whether he was alive or dead before that moment. It was unnerving, to say the least, and a slightly frightening sensation that accompanied one when they knew that their life was entirely in the hands of another. The feeling was so foreign to Draco that he could hardly comprehend the emotions that went along with this--this strange sense of security.

Nevertheless, he could physically sense this bond forming between them; a connection filled with a rising passion and little remaining hatred and loathing towards each other. Despite the fact that they had an odd link, nothing, not even the highest power, could completely wipe away the loathing Draco felt blazing inside of him each moment, whether it be for Harry or Lucius or Dumbledore...

Draco couldn’t logically explain why Harry got under his skin so much, or why he felt this abnormal urge to protect him with his life, or why even his physical and emotional hurt subsided to a bearable point when he was with the dark-haired boy. It was, however, clear that no matter what happened, Harry had triggered something; some force inside of Draco that refused to be suppressed. He...he made Draco want to be different; made him want to completely turn his life around. Not that he would ever turn into a brave Griffindork. No, he would always have with him his own sense of corrupted ambition; always be a Slytherin; a Malfoy. But couldn’t that have it’s own advantages?

Time, Draco though despairingly. So little time. Twenty-nine days, is it? And seven till the center of the wizarding world is destroyed...His eyes fluttered open, and he let his gaze fall on the boy resting beside him. Harry had fallen asleep, back slumped against the cold dirt wall and legs sprawled out in a 'V' in front of him. Well, Draco didn’t blame him. They had been awake since...God, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a decent slumber. Yet there Harry lay, peaceful, his ebony hair falling in long wisps across his pallid face. Draco thought of his own self; silver-blonde with dull gray eyes. Compared to Harry, they were absolute contradictions; opposites by nature and in everyway one could have an opposite. Oh, but it was so much more than that! Not black and white, not light and dark, not good and evil. Each of them had a great deal of depth beyond a simple outward appearance and a first-meeting conclusion, and Draco fully admitted to himself that that was the main bases of his original animosity toward Harry.

But now...now he was beginning to see past all of the stupid reasons he held for keeping Potter at a distance, and was aware of this--there was no other way to put it--intensity that built up whenever he was near Harry. He knew it wasn’t love, exactly, though how he could know that when he had only felt desperation his entire life was beyond him. He chalked it up to being something you instinctively know. Not love. Passion? Lust? That strong, desperate desire to be with someone so deeply that it ruled out all common sense and left the mind baffled and excited beyond human belief?

So little time. Yes. The binds and suffocations that time held, they strapped you to its very core and spun you around so fast that the hours seem like days and the days like minutes. It was speeding by him so rapidly that he could hardly find something to grasp onto within all of it’s fury. Sensations only one as powerful and beautiful as Harry could extract from him appeared to be mere moments, whipped away from him so unbelievably quickly that they only left a faint trace of understanding streaked across his barren mind. I need more time.

Beside him, Harry’s stirred, his head falling gently on Draco’s shoulder. The light touch sent a thrill through his body, hitching his breath in his chest. When restlessness refused to cease, he decided to wake Harry, even though the last thing he wanted to do was to disrupt his serenity with awful news.

“Harry...Harry...” Draco whispered, lightly shaking the dark-haired boy lying ever so comfortably against him. He winced as Harry pulled himself up and away from Draco.

“Sorry. I must have fallen asleep...” he yawned.

“Forget about it. Look, I thought I should share with you what Kieran and I covered.” At the mention of this, Harry became quite attentive to what Draco was saying, the last bit of sleep falling away along with his innate calm.

“What? What is it? What did you find out?” Draco surveyed Harry, his eyes full of dread and worry.

“Not much, to say the least. But I did find out when they are planning on destroying Hogsmeade...” He held his breath. “...one week.” Harry’s eyes widened, and he let his eyes fall to the earth, disbelief featured on his face.

“One week...” he muttered, sounding distant and slightly upset. “That leaves so little time.”

“You have no idea,” Draco whispered softly. Harry’s head shot up.

“We have to stop them.”

“What?”

“Don’t you see? We need to get more information. That way we will know enough and we can pass it onto the Order and--” Draco could have laughed at Harry’s stupidity.

“Do you not remember what just happened? You could have gotten killed! And you expect me to uncover even more information for some Order I don’t even care about?”

That was harsh. Draco knew it. The truth is, though, that he didn’t care about the Order. To him, they were just a clan of do-gooders that were trying to defeat an unstoppable evil. He hated the mention of the war--the stupid, meaningless war. It made him sick with annoyance to even analyze it.

However, Hogsmeade meant something to him. Ever since he was a child the magic that floated so freely around the small wizarding town amazed him. It was like he could actually touch each spark of the enchantments created there.

“Why the hell are you helping us if you don’t care?” Harry practically shouted, his angered echoes bouncing off the tunnel walls.

“What I meant to say is that I don’t care about the damned Order, but I’d be a fool not to be concerned about Hogsmeade! I’m not stupid. I don’t just do things for the hell of it.”

“Then why don’t you want to gather more information?” Harry questioned exasperatedly.

Draco tightened his jaw. There was no way Harry could ever understand his uncanny, primal urge to protect him, would he? Would he ever understand just how quickly writhing hatred could shift into passion?

“If you won’t come, I’ll just have to go myself.”

“No!”

“Draco! I’m not giving up on this!" Draco sighed, defeated.

Though, he had to admit, Harry deserved credit for that. It’s not everyday that you nearly get captured and still have the audacity to continue on. How refreshing.

“Alright. Alright! We’ll go. We have no allies, no lead, no plan, but we’ll go.” Harry bore a slightly shocked expression, as if he didn’t believe that Draco would actually agree.

“Thanks,” he uttered silently. Draco was overcome by an intense wave of emotion at seeing Harry so awed, so grateful towards him.

“I’m not just doing it for you.” Oh, he had to go and ruin that, didn’t he?

“I know...I know. I mean, I didn’t think--”

“Harry, it’s ok.” Harry nodded. There was a pause, then: “Don’t you owe me a conversation, Potter?” Harry almost chuckled.

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess I do.” Silence.

“Well? Quidditch? The youngest-seeker-in-a-century title wear you down a bit?” Harry shook his head.

“No, it was Dumbledore. Not that he wanted me off the team, of course. Fudge, though--after he realized what was going on, he became the paranoid one. He thought it would be best for me to quit the team. You know, too much exposure. Because, logically, loads of Death Eaters are going to swarm onto the Quidditch Pitch and abduct me while I’m flying hundreds of feet in the air.” Draco contemplated this for a moment, when Harry spoke up again.

“It’s kind of funny, don’t you think? That what Voldemort is trying to achieve is the control of wizards everywhere, and in our few short months of freedom, we are already giving ourselves up to him through fear.”

“You think? I don’t know. Perhaps your right, Harry. Perhaps the entire wizarding world is going to hell in a hand basket.” The words, ‘except for me, who is going to die soon anyway’ were on the tip of his tongue, but he fought them back.

“What was it like? To loose Quidditch, I mean.” Harry looked thoughtful.

“Honestly? It was probably worse that fighting Voldemort,” he said, lingering on that statement for a moment. “Well, maybe not quite so bad. But you get what I’m saying, right? I mean, I finally found something I was good at...something that could free me from everything that nagged at my mind...then, in the midst of all of...of this, it gets taken away from me. Have you ever had anything you loved taken away from you?” The question startled Draco, and he stuttered on his response.

“I-I’ve never really loved anything before. Well, my magic...I don’t know what I would do if that was taken away.”

“I’d imagine it would be worse than a silly sport.” Draco glanced up at Harry, who’s dark hair shadowed his already weary features. Draco observed the harsh pain that radiated so strongly from his emerald eyes, clouding their inherent calm. All he wanted to do was to wipe the hurt away, drive out every sinister thought, only to capture his lips in one kiss...that would be the world.

Draco shook himself, stunned at his own twisted passions. No. He had to ignore the blatant fact that he was inside a dim tunnel with a sexy, broken down Harry Potter. No.

Another long silence followed.

“So what about you? You were going to explain why you weren’t in Hogwarts...eh?” Draco swallowed, trepidation and apprehension forming a tight knot inside his empty stomach.

“I suppose you won’t believe me if I said community service?” Harry shook his head.

“Alright.” He could hardly believe that he was here, in a dark passageway with a Gryffindor, about to explain the difficulties of Death Eater Training Camp. “I already told you that my father pulled me out. I guess you figured out by now that he was training me to become a Death Eater? Yeah. Well, fifth year came around and he decided that he’d rather have me torturing useful victims instead of learning advanced Arithmancy.” Harry was gazing at him, emerald eyes fixed on Draco’s gray.

“When you mean torture, you mean--”

“--freaking Crucio-ing them until the pain is too much for them to humanly stand. Yes.” Draco had expected Harry to be frightened; repulsed at least. But he simply sat there, indifference mixed with slight understanding shown in his expression. Draco continued.

“It’s like, I didn’t even have a choice. One day he just shows up in my dormitory and tears me away from the only real home I’ve ever had; only to go to a bleak, isolated prison. And the people he brought in: men, with wives, with children, Harry! There was a Finnigan there once...Allan Finnigan. He was-God, he was probably the first in what were to be many--did you know the Finnigan’s had a lot of knowledge about Legendry? Of course, Lucius wanted that knowledge, needed to know what was in their heads, willing to go to extraordinary lengths to attain his demented goals,” Draco spat out, expressing each word with thorough disgust and making desperate attempts to restrain the emotion seeping out of his mouth.

“I’m sorry, Draco,” Harry said, trying to catch his eye. Draco looked up, faintly taken aback.

“Why?” He asked, dazed.

“Because each day you have to live with the memory that you took another persons life away from them; from their families who loved them; from the world they loved.” Draco felt a the knot burst in his chest, and red-hot emotion rose up to the surface.

“I didn’t mean to. Honestly! I didn’t--”

“Think? Consider? Feel?” Draco was staring in horror at Harry, who had changed from an air of understanding to one of cold truthfulness.

“None. II’m sorry.” Harry surveyed him for a moment before replying.

“Good.” He had a feeling the other boy wanted to scream ‘you should be, you heartless bastard,’ but thankfully, did not. Though, for some reason all of this didn’t bother him as much as he thought it should. He had, after all, been considering the same ideas. All of a sudden Harry looked up at him, an expression of remorse covering his tired features.

“Oh my god, Draco, I’m sorry. What you were telling me must have been so hard--I-I can’t believe I jumped on you like that,” Harry remarked, all bitterness removed from his speech. But by now, Draco’s emotional wall had been rebuilt, and he was almost able to laugh at the statement. Ah, jump on me all you can, Potter.

“You know, it’s OK I’ve accepted it.”

“But--”

“Harry, shut up for once.” The Gryffindor went silent.

“Now I believe we are in serious need of a plan. Any ideas?” pause. “Harry, you can talk now.”

“I know that, Draco, I was thinking. Do you know anyone else that would have information?” Draco look annoyed.

“Harry, I have lived with Lucius-Freaking-Malfoy for sixteen years. Do you seriously believe that I can’t think of one Death Eater that would have the inside details of this?”

“OK, stupid question. So?”

“So...no one sticks out in my mind immediately...wait! Flint mentioned this one person...Tynan Comair...” Draco let his sentence hang, creating a palpable anticipation in Harry.

“What, Malfoy?”

“It’s just, how are we ever supposed to get anymore information to begin with? It’s not like word of Lucius’s son’s treachery isn’t going to spread quickly among the DE’s. Get real.”

“Well then, we’ll just have to be quicker than the news, won’t we?”

“But what if--”

“Now it’s your turn to shut up, Draco. I say we get up out of this godforsaken hole and get to work before it’s too late. Look, I know another way out of here that isn’t in Hogsmeade and isn’t in Hogwarts. Just--do you have any idea of how we can reach this ‘Comair’ person?” Draco thought for a moment before replying.

“I’m not sure. We might get lucky though--there’s a place where Lucius and a lot of his associated often traveled to. I don’t think it’s too far from here, now that I think of it. But it‘s going to be packed with Death Eaters, especially now.”

“Whatever it is we can risk it. This is Hogsmeade, Draco.”

“I know, I know. Alright. It’s a place called Erebus's Concave, just south of where we are now, if I remember correctly.” Draco said, frowning. He absolutely loathed the idea of Harry in an area crowded with hundreds of Death Eaters, and suddenly became resolute to keep him out of the boundaries.

“Harry, you know you can’t go in there. I won’t let you go in there.” Harry looked shocked and Draco’s consideration, and attempted to appear nonplused at the notion.

“II can make it. I’ll just blend in, you know?”

“Harry, you couldn’t blend in with a group of Death Eaters any better than a prostitute could fit in with a band of angels. Get real! They will fucking kill you, and I would rather not be there to witness your screams of ‘Draco! Draco!’ as you await to be Avada Kedavra’d.”

“I get your point, but what makes you think I’d be screaming out your name to begin with?”

“You were in your sleep,” Draco said amusedly, and Harry’s eyes widened as a deep blush crawled up his cheeks.

“I-I-I-” he stammered.

“I’m kidding, Potter.” Harry went silent, but the embarrassment was still portrayed ever so hilariously on his face.

“Come on,” Harry muttered, slowly regaining his composure. “We, err, should be going right now...if you’ll follow me,” he said, standing up and brushing himself off, “I’ll show you my secret passage.” Draco gazed at Harry’s anxious eyes, a smile toying at the end of his mouth.

“So soon, and you‘re not even giving me time to grab my wand?” Harry rolled his eyes.

“Draco, wand jokes are so incredibly overused.”

“What about broom jokes, then?”

“Do you see a broom anywhere around here?” Draco smiled, glancing down at Harry’s pants, and laughed. Harry slit his gaze in a glare a Draco before turning around and whispered ‘lumos’ to his wand, murmuring about the belief that idiocy ran in the Malfoy family. Then walked off, down the deep and incessant tunnel.

Draco stood and began to follow, eyes never leaving the back of Harry’s head. He didn’t know what it was, but there was something about the chamber they were in that made him feel rather...er...odd. It was a strange sensation, but he felt as if his mind was slowly floating away.

He shook himself, adamant of retaining his sanity till they at least had time for a proper snog...er...rest.

__________________________________________________

Running his finger along the wall, he tried desperately to remember the small inner channel that spouted off from the main passageway. He had come across it once in fifth year during an ordinary visit to Hogsmeade, and had followed it until he came to a small staircase that lead to a field directly east of Hogwarts (though Harry had to admit, he didn’t know exactly where that was in scale to the grounds.)

Damnit, he cursed in his head. The opening should be somewhere around here, he thought, carefully feeling the rigid dirt wall with his hand. Right when he was about to give up and turn around, a small cavity in the wall presented itself, and Harry paused eagerly at the entrance.

“Is this it?” Draco asked wearily, placing his wand in his robe pocket.

“I don’t see any other hole around here--Draco, don’t even,” Harry said, shooting a scolding glare at Draco’s amused expression. Then he glanced back down the long tunnel, pointing his wand as far as he could in front of him to try to see if there were any distinct markings that could show them for sure where they were. He yawned.

“You know, we should really get some sleep. I mean, we’ve been up, what, twenty-four hours already?” Harry glanced back at Draco. How could he not have noticed it before, how ashen and sunken the other boy’s featured appeared, or how he carried himself as if a great weight had been placed upon him? A sudden rush of concern flooded over Harry, and he didn’t know whether to be afraid or excited by the onslaught of emotion. In truth, he was both.

“Are you alright?” He asked, worry edging on his voice. For a moment Draco was silent, but his eyes portrayed great angst.

“I’m as good as I’m going to get, Harry.”

“I’m serious. Is there something wrong?” The ex-Slytherin seemed to waver on his spot, and shut his eyes tightly before reopening them to answer.

“Just...tired. Very tired.”

“Let’s take a rest then.”

“Rest? If you think that will help.”

“Of course it--” Harry stopped his voice as Draco swayed a bit, his fists pressed tightly against his temples. Harry quickly reached a hand out to steady him, and it was a couple moments before Draco looked back up at him. His deep gray gaze dug deep into Harry, imprinting a certain sadness upon him that, had he been paying enough attention, he would have noticed a long time ago.

Harry held Draco’s gaze, unable to break it off, and he felt something similar to fire pass through both of them. It was so intense and so passionate that they were left at a loss of words, Harry’s hand gripping Draco’s securely, knuckles white as the emotion traversed through their bodies.

It was Draco who finally spoke.

“I should really lay down,” he said, never braking Harry’s powerful gaze. It was a moment before Harry realized that there was any noise other than the rapid beating of his heart, and even longer before he conjured up the audacity to move.

Lifting his had from Draco and kneeling down within the three meter wide passageway, he said, “Yeah. Are--are you sure you’re alright?”

“Just tired,” he replied nonchalantly, spreading his long form out on the opposite side of the wall. Harry took his wand and whispered ‘incendo’ to the ground between them, creating a small but efficient fire. Then he laid down, head resting on the dirt floor, and the last image he felt before falling back into unconsciousness was Draco’s warm gaze sweeping over his body, and a tide of happiness flowing over him.

Harry awoke what seemed like hours later, a sharp twist of pain deriving from a muscle in his side. Slowly he lifted the lids of his eyes, greeted with the sight of blazing flames leaping about nearly an arms length away from his face. From behind the inferno he could see a barely-visible Draco, sitting cross legged, grasping something tightly in his hands.

It was long and slender, and Harry soon realized that it was his wand which he clung to. Somehow it had been very ornately decorated; twigs attached to the body of it to appear as tiny arms and legs. Suddenly, and in quite a trance-like and monotone voice, he whispered:

“They’ll never understand us, will they, Mr. Twig.” Malfoy had gone insane.

Harry sat up, aware of the delicate mental state of his partner. Turning to face Draco, he watched carefully as the other boy rocked slowly back and forth, eyes gazing wildly into the fire, neon flames reflected in his pupils.

“Draco.” Harry said sternly, hoping to rouse him from his current state of madness. The blonde looked sharply up at him.

“Yes?” He replied, voice rough. Harry painfully stood up awkwardly, moving over to where Malfoy sat rocking.

“Stop that,” he commanded, hand reaching out to steady the other boy. “What is wrong with you?” Draco peered up at him, face innocent yet plagued with an innate darkness.

“A lot of things. Now, though? Now?” He let a high pitched cackle breach the walls of the cavern. “I don’t know!” Harry started slowly.

“Draco. I think you need to lay down.”

“I have been! For the past six fucking hours! But then, oh, but then I heard Mr. Twig calling me.” Draco began to pet his wand lovingly, a sight which Harry had to restrain from laughing at. After all, it wasn’t everyday that you saw a sixteen year old Malfoy caress his wand. Well, not in the sense that most teenage boys do anyways.

“Yes,” Draco repeated. “And then I got to thinking, which made me think how rarely I do think like with you for example I never really thought about you in a non-bad sort of way before now.” At this point Draco took it upon himself to scoot next to Harry so that their faces were inches apart, breathing hot air onto his face.

“And I mean, now its like, so incre-incredi-inc- so very intense, and...” he paused. “You know?” Harry was utterly astonished to hear those very words exit Malfoy’s lips, that at first all words failed him. Is he serious? Does he really feel the same way that I do? Or, is he just insane...Perhaps both.

“Malfoy, are you drunk, or have you gone mad?” Draco appeared not to have heard this.

"OK, so sure, everyone always said 'Draco, what does this illegal potion do?' or 'Draco, how can I curse him without being discovered?' But did anyone ever say 'Draco, your father is an insane desperado'? Come on here! You totally knew he wanted to fucking kill me back there." Harry sighed.

“Yes, Draco.” All of a sudden the blonde acquired a sort of glazed-over look in his eyes, and whispered fervently:

“Oh Harry!” Then closed the gap in between them, mouth sealed firmly against Harry’s lips.

Harry gasped, then realized that someone was kissing him; that Draco was kissing him. He tried to push down the pleasure that floated through him, but the excitement was too great and he pushed back, tongue thrashing violently inside Draco’s mouth. His hands moved up to steady the other boy’s heaving chest as Draco thrust Harry upon the ground, mouth attached passionately to it’s partners, minds working with an animalistic quality.

What are you doing? His mind is filled with lunacies for Christ’s sake! Abruptly Harry pulled away, shoving Draco off of his tousled body, heart beating at an incredible rate. Draco Malfoy had just kissed him. He had kissed him back, with perhaps even more willingness.

Harry turned his back to the audacious blonde, listening only to his own disheveled breathing and Draco’s eager panting. It hadn’t happened right. Hell, it had been all wrong! Not to misinterpret that, the kiss had been very nice, but the circumstances...Draco suddenly becoming mental? It wasn’t genuine...something was...amiss. Harry didn’t know what it was, but there was something about Draco...something inside of Draco that didn’t fit. He could feel it. He could sense it. And he was going to find out what it was.