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Harry really should’ve listened to Hermione. He should always listen to Hermione, but sometimes he didn’t, and everything usually went to shit when he didn’t. He really needed to learn his lesson.
Maybe if he listened to her, he wouldn’t be stuck in a ridiculously opulent bedroom with his hands and feet tied together.
He glanced around, trying to find something that could help him. The bedroom was fancy, but it actually didn’t have much in it. He could jump out of one of the windows, but without the use of his arms or legs, it probably wouldn’t work very well. He could use one of the lamps as a weapon, he supposed.
What was he thinking? Harry wouldn’t be able to get out of here without help, and he hadn’t told anyone where he was. No one was coming. Not Ron, not Hermione, not even Neville or Ginny.
Suddenly, the door started to open.
He was so fucked.
In strode Bellatrix Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy, and Draco Malfoy. All of them were dressed in black, which Harry thought was a bit cliche, but he wasn’t one to criticize their fashion choices. And they did look pretty good. Draco especially.
No. He needed to stop thinking about Draco.
Still, it had been the first time he had seen him since the shit hit the fan. It was hard not to think about him.
“Where’s your leader?” he sneered. “Too cowardly to face me on his own then?”
The three of them ignored him. Harry thought he saw Draco glance toward him, but he must have imagined it.
“Harry Potter,” Bellatrix said in a singsong voice, which never stopped creeping him out. She grabbed his chin and lifted his head so he would have to look her in the eye. “Delivered yourself up on a silver platter.”
“Go to hell,” he spat at her.
“Awwww, that’s not very nice.”
“Bellatrix,” Lucius said. She grinned at him, wide and deranged, but let go of him. “Hello, Potter. Fancy seeing you again. I knew you were stupid, but not stupid enough to sneak into our house without backup.”
“I wish I could say the same,” Harry said. “Now, why the hell am I here?”
“We want to know where your little friends are. The ones we haven’t already killed.”
He snarled, throwing himself forward at them. Bellatrix punched him in the face the moment he moved, and he bit his tongue to keep himself from crying out.
Harry and his friends led Dumbledore’s Army, which tried to keep Lord Voldemort’s gang out of the government. They had too much power already, if they got into the Ministry they would control Britain and cause chaos. They used to be stronger, before the death of Dumbledore and the raiding of where they used to stay.
Only one person was at fault for that.
“Do you really think I’d tell?” Harry asked. He had already gone against Hermione’s advice, which had gotten him into hot water. He wasn’t going to add snitching to his list of bad decisions.
“We expected that,” Lucius said, with a grin that had no warmth in it.
Bellatrix reached into her sleeve and pulled out a knife, gleaming and wickedly sharp. She twirled it in her hand before pressing it to his cheek. It was cold against his skin.
“Oh no,” he said dryly. “What an unforeseen turn of events.”
She sliced his cheek with the knife, and hot blood ran down his skin. It stung, but he didn’t make a noise. Harry had had worse.
“Where are your friends?” Lucius asked again, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He was mad when this was over. He would rather die than tell them, and Voldemort wouldn’t let them kill him. He wanted to do that himself, wanted to end the Potters once and for all.
“Go fuck yourself.” He actually spat this time, and it landed on his cheek.
Lucius growled, wiping the saliva off his cheek. “Bellatrix, just don’t kill him. But make it hurt. Find me when he’s ready to talk.”
“That’s what I do best,” she said.
Lucius started out the door, but stopped when he noticed his son was following him.
“Draco, you stay,” he said. “You should get used to this type of thing. Maybe your aunt can teach you some tricks.”
Harry could hear him swallow from the bed, but he nodded. “Yes father.”
Lucius left, the door slamming behind him.
Bellatrix sliced through the rope tying his ankles together in one smooth movement, and then grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt to haul him off the bed. She threw him into one of the chairs, slicing through the rope around his wrists and tying them to the armrests of the chair before he could do anything.
“Easier for me to work,” she said, her voice sickingly-sweet as she tied his ankles to the chair.
“Anything for you,” Harry shot back.
Bellatrix raised her knife again, slicing open his upper arm. He winced, but kept his mouth firmly closed. It would make it worse for him later on, but he wasn’t about to show weakness in front of her.
Or in front of Draco.
He kept his eyes firmly on the wall behind him as Bellatrix started to cut him open, digging her knife into his thigh. This time, Harry gasped, and she smirked.
“There we go.”
She twisted the knife, making him cry out. Goddamnit it .
She continued like that, until his clothes were wet with blood and he was just keeping himself from screaming from the pain. All he could feel was the stinging of his wounds and the anger in his chest, keeping him from talking.
“I’m bored,” Bellatrix moaned, her black eyes lighting up in a way that made him scared. “I’m gonna go get one of my new toys. Draco, my dear nephew, look after him for me?”
He nodded, his face even paler than usual.
She skipped out the room, humming something. A new toy. That couldn’t be good.
“What were you thinking?” someone asked. Well, not someone. There was only one person in the room that could be talking to him, and it was the person he was pissed at.
“I was thinking about killing Voldemort,” Harry growled. “You know, the person who would kill every single one of my friends to get to me? The person who killed my parents? Who’s the reason Dumbledore’s dead? Oh wait, that was you. It’s so hard to get all the evil people not mixed up these days.”
He flinched, and Harry got some kind of twisted satisfaction from knowing he hurt him.
“I had to,” Draco said. “It was for my family.”
“Oh, fuck off, you arsehole. You betrayed us. You gave us up. Even after-” He just kept himself from saying it. Even after I told you I loved you .
Harry was pretty sure Draco knew what he meant anyway.
Those couple months with him was the best and worst time of his life. He had fallen in love with his platinum-blonde hair and his stormy gray eyes, and it had felt amazing. Kissing Draco had felt better, and fucking him into the mattress at night, and waking up holding him in the mornings.
And then Voldemort had shown up, and he found out that Draco was a spy. He had been working with him all along.
Everything had been a lie. Everything. He had never loved him. Now, the memories were just painful.
“You disgust me,” Harry said.
Before he could say anything back, Bellatrix came skipping back inside, holding some kind of metal contraption with a lot of wires. Draco’s eyes widened when he saw it, and his mouth opened as if he was going to protest.
But he didn’t say anything. Of course he didn’t. It wasn’t like he cared.
She dropped the contraption on the ground, taking the wires and pressing them to his head. She was smiling the whole time, like she knew she would enjoy what came next.
Harry was sure he wouldn’t.
“Where are your friends?” she asked again, her fingers toying with the switch that he assumed would turn the machine on.
“Up your ass,” Harry said.
She shrugged, still smiling, like she hadn’t wanted him to tell anyway. Then Bellatrix flipped the switch.
And Harry forgot everything else. He forgot how angry he was at Voldemort and Bellatrix and their whole gang of bigots and bullies, forgot the hope he had for getting away and going home, forgot how much he hated Draco, forgot how much he still loved him.
Because all he could feel was pain, and he screamed .
The time after she switched on that wretched machine was hazy. He could remember screaming, and he could remember how much everything hurt, and he could remember doing his best not to tell Bellatrix where his friends were. He was pretty sure he succeeded, because he also remembered her and Lucius being very mad before they and Draco left to do something.
And then Harry remembered passing out, the blackness comforting.
He was being shaken awake though, hands shaking his shoulders. Someone was saying something, his name maybe? It was hard to tell. He was so tired, and everything still hurt.
“Goddamnit, Harry, wake up!” the person yelled. He sounded sad. Huh.
Harry blinked, his vision slowly coming into focus. He was still in that bedroom. His clothes were wet with something, blood and sweat and hopefully not urine, and they were sticking to his skin. His whole body throbbed.
And Draco was standing in front of him, looking like he was on the verge of tears. Harry had the sudden urge to reach up and cup his sharp jaw. Then he remembered how much he hated him, and locked the urge away.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, sounding as cold as he could.
Draco gasped in relief, smiling. God, he hated how much he had missed that smile. “Thank god, you’re alive.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“I’m getting you out of here.”
Wait. What?
Harry took a second to process the impossible information.
“Don’t lie to me,” he said. “Not again.”
“I’m not,” Draco said, and he sounded so heartbreakingly honest. He sliced through the ropes holding his wrists with a knife, probably one he stole from his aunt. “You’re escaping. No one’s going to follow you, I promise.”
He finished cutting his ropes, and Harry stood up. He swayed for a moment, dizzy and in pain, but Draco grabbed his arm and steadied him.
“Ten seconds after I leave, break the window and jump out,” he said. “Or climb out. Whatever. We’re only on the second floor, so it shouldn’t be too hard. Then run like hell.”
Draco turned to leave, but Harry grabbed his arm this time. He spun him around, trying not to relish in touching him again.
“What?”
“Why are you doing this?” Harry asked. “Why are you helping me?”
He bit his lip, looking up to meet his eyes. His gaze was steely, those eyes just as striking as when they were together. “I lied. About a lot. About most of it, really, and I’ll be sorry for that until the day I die. But when I was with you and your friends, I was happy. And I realized how wrong the Dark Lord is. How wrong . . . Voldemort is. And how I am not happy here, how I’ve never been truly happy until I got out. Anyways, I lied about most of it, but I never lied about us. I love you, Harry.
“I know I can’t expect you to feel the same way, especially after how I betrayed you,” Draco continued, not noticing how Harry’s world had just flipped upside-down. “But I still love you. I always have. I-”
Harry cut him off by grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him into a kiss. It was all teeth, all heat and passion and emotions barely simmering under the surface. It was one of the best kisses he had ever had.
He pulled away with a pop , knowing if they continued they wouldn’t be able to stop, gasping for breath. So was Draco.
“I’m still mad at you,” he said.
“You have every right,” Draco replied.
“I still love you too.”
His jaw dropped. “You-you do?”
“Yeah. I do. I’ve never stopped,” he admitted. “Meet at our spot in two days at noon?”
He nodded, smirking. Harry’s breath caught in his throat. “I’ll be there. Now I need to leave, before we both get caught.”
Draco left, and it hurt to see him go.
After ten seconds, he grabbed one of the lamps and threw it at the window, shattering it. He slid down one of the drainpipes, before taking off for home.
Draco had made a mistake, sure. But he had let him go free, had broken him out at his own risk. He was guilty, and he was trying to make amends.
That was enough for Harry.