Chapter Twenty
Adamas Aperio
Harry stared wide-eyed as Mona kept screaming. He stretched his hand out to touch her, but an object flew through the air and tousled itself in Mona’s hair. It was a small, white flower—
— and in the next second, Mona was gone. A drop of blood fell to the ground where she’d just been, falling as though in slow motion through the air and hitting the ground without a sound.
Harry backed away slowly, his breathing heavy and his mind in shock.
“Harry?” Draco asked, eyes as wide as Harry’s. “What— what happened to her?”
“She was hit by a curse,” Harry said faintly, staring off in the distance to where Mona had just been.
“What curse?” Draco asked.
Harry whirled around at the question, his mind coming back to reality. “The Adamas curse,” he said, his voice suddenly serious and stressed. His senses sharpening, he yelled to Draco, “Get inside!”
He opened the door and helped Draco inside, almost throwing him inside in his haste. He locked the door with shaking hands.
“We need to call the police,” he said, looking around for the telephone.
Draco stared at him. “What are you going to tell them? That Mona was here and was hit by a curse and then was transported away from here with a Port Key? Because that was what it was, wasn’t it?”
Harry looked at him, his brain processing Draco’s words. “Well, what do you suggest we do instead? We can’t do nothing— we can’t just—”
“Harry— we need to go to the Aurors,” Draco said softly. “The Muggle police can’t handle this anymore.”
It was like someone was letting the air out of a balloon; Harry’s shoulders slumped forward, his head suddenly became heavy as he closed his eyes and he sank down on the couch. Draco came over, placing a hand gently on Harry’s shoulder.
“I don’t want to go back,” he said. “I left— going to St Mungo’s was hard enough—”
Draco came up to him and took his hand. “I hate to tell you this, but you don’t have a choice.”
“You don’t hate telling me that at all,” Harry muttered.
Draco smiled slightly at him. “I thought we’d moved past that.”
“Yeah. Right. As if we ever will,” Harry said, looking up. He sighed, nodded and gave Draco a weak smile.
“Look on the bright side,” Draco said gently. “They may not recognize you. No scar, your glasses aren’t the same—” He frowned, cocking his head to the side. “But you can’t walk around in those clothes, because then everyone will stare at you anyway.”
Harry chuckled, the sound not quite happy because his throat was dry. “Well, you picked them out.”
“Hm, yes, I did, didn’t I?” Draco sounded rather proud. “Now, let’s have dinner before we do anything rash.”
“Dinner?” Harry’s head snapped up. “Oh, crap, what time is it?”
“Six twenty,” Draco said after consulting his watch. “What’s the problem?”
“I promised Myra we’d eat dinner at her apartment at seven,” Harry said.
Draco shrugged. “Forty minutes. Loads of time to get there.”
Harry paused, running his hand through his hair. “Merlin, what are we doing?” he said, feeling his heart beat hard inside his chest again. “Mona was just cursed, right in front of us and we have no idea if whoever did it is still outside the house – we could be attacked the minute we step outside. We don’t have our wands— we can’t ward the house— and we’re just standing here, talking about going to Myra’s house for dinner like it’s nothing— like Mona wasn’t just murdered— like everything is—”
“Shh,” Draco said, moving closer to Harry and taking his hand. “We don’t know for sure that she’s dead. And Mona was talking about someone. That someone was after her. Only her. Not us. If whoever cursed Mona wanted to curse us as well, then that person would have done so right then and there.”
“How do you know that? Someone is after us— someone blew up my apartment, with you in it. Maybe they just had to get Mona out of the way— maybe they’re still waiting for us—“
“They’re not,” Draco assured him. Harry didn’t question how he knew it. He knew that Draco didn’t have any proof behind his words, and it was better for Harry to pretend that Draco did have proof.
Falling silent, Draco squeezed Harry’s hand gently. Harry closed his eyes, willing his heart to slow down.
After several long minutes, Harry walked into his room to change and get ready for dinner. He ignored the way his hands kept shaking.
He devoted his mind entirely to the task of getting ready as he desperately tried to forget what had just happened. It didn’t work; in his mind, Mona’s desperate, dirty face kept coming back to haunt him.
“Can we go inside? I can’t stay— I’ll be found—”
“Adamas aperio.”
The words were like a whisper riding on the wind. Blue light crashing into Mona, making her fall to the ground, screaming in pain. Blood started to pour out of her nose, her mouth— One drop fell to the ground just as a white flower landed in her hair and took her away.
Harry wondered where he would have been taken if he’d reached for Mona a second earlier.
He wondered if she was still alive; he didn’t know anyone who’d survived the curse so he didn’t believe that she was— but why had she been taken away? Why had someone gone through the trouble of first cursing her and then removing her from Harry’s presence?
The answer was obvious – Mona had information that someone didn’t want Harry to get his hands on. Besides, the curse could have been traced to reveal the caster.
But who was the caster? He had more enemies than he cared to think about in the Wizarding world. Former Death Eaters that had escaped conviction, Death Eaters’ children, wives, families – all out for revenge. Even wizards and witches on the side that they called ‘Light’, who blamed Harry for the deaths of their loved ones. Harry had been the hero; some seemed to think that this was the same thing as the saviour and that no one that fought on Harry’s side would die.
How wrong they were.
That had been proven back in fourth year.
“Kill the spare.”
The hatred had begun growing then, the hatred and darkness that finally destroyed the Dark Lord in the last battle. It had been growing inside of him for years, perhaps ever since the first time he heard about Voldemort.
And now someone wanted to kill him again.
But then, perhaps not. What if they were out to get Draco, not Harry? Draco had been hiding for years, afraid to re-enter the Wizarding world. But since living with Harry, lots of people had found out about him, seen him and talked to him. Harry didn’t even know if Draco had gone by the name Draco Malfoy before the car crash.
When considering that it could be someone out to kill Draco, the list of enemies grew even longer and Harry found himself with a headache just thinking of it.
“Harry? Are you ready?”
Draco’s voice brought Harry out of his reverie, startling him. He had somehow managed to get dressed; he wore tight blue jeans and a white, button-up shirt with three quarter-sleeves. He attempted to comb his hair, but it fell messily over his head no matter how much he tried, so he gave up.
Draco was waiting for him in the living room. Harry’s breath caught when he saw him; Draco looked good. He was wearing black, tight pants – it wasn’t leather; some other material that Harry didn’t recognize – and an ice-blue polo. His hair was combed and neatly pulled back. Not slicked as it had been back in school; just out of his face. He wore a silver necklace with a small dragon charm on it that Harry had insisted on getting when he’d seen Draco looking at it.
Draco raised an eyebrow at him. “You look good,” he said. “Of course, even you couldn’t mismatch the clothes I picked out for you,” he added, smirking.
Harry rolled his eyes, the knot in his stomach loosening slightly. He walked over and bent down, kissing Draco on the lips, letting him know just what he thought about Draco. Draco didn’t seem to mind the attention; he wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck and deepened the kiss, letting their tongues duel in order to taste each other’s while his hands ran through his hair.
Harry finally pulled back, breathless. “Ready to go?”
Draco nodded, looking thoroughly kissed and quite dazed. “I called a taxi. It’ll be here in a minute or two.”
“What if—”
“No one will be waiting to curse us outside,” Draco said, squeezing Harry’s hand briefly.
Yet even with Draco’s assurance, Harry stayed inside, looking out through the small window on the side of the door until the taxi came. He ushered Draco out quickly once it arrived, thinking that whoever had cursed Mona might not curse him and Draco while a Muggle was present.
During the taxi-ride, Harry kept looking out through the back window to assure himself that no one was following them, until Draco placed a hand on Harry’s leg and with a meaningful look told him to stop.
Five minutes later, Harry and Draco were outside of Myra’s apartment. Draco looked at the stairs and smiled wryly.
“I guess we’ll have to do a repeat-performance of what we did at my flat,” he said and looked over at Harry. Harry nodded nervously and bent down to pick Draco up in his arms. He noticed, quite pleased, that Draco seemed comfortable with it; he just let Harry carry him, no blush creeping over his pale cheeks and no angry glare directed at him.
Myra lived on the second floor. Harry wondered how they’d gotten Draco up and down the stairs when Draco had stayed over with her back when Harry was in the hospital. Of course, with it being only two flights of stairs, it wasn’t too hard to carry Draco. He was still light in Harry’s arms and Harry supposed he’d been even lighter back then. Harry also didn’t doubt that Darius had helped them.
A few minutes later, they were safely inside Myra’s apartment.
“Oh, you both look absolutely gorgeous,” she’d grinned at them when they had entered the small apartment. “Here, let me take your jackets. Draco, you have my full gratitude for making Harry dress in a way that doesn’t make me think he’s completely colour blind.”
“Colour, shape and fit-blind,” Draco corrected her with a smirk at Harry.
“Hey!” Harry said indignantly but Myra just nodded. “I have a feeling this night will be very long,” Harry muttered to himself and the other two laughed at him.
Myra had made a simple dinner; sliced potatoes and chicken with a fairly hot peanut-sauce on the side. It was delicious, which wasn’t unexpected since Myra was famous among her friends for that particular sauce and her talents on making the most of chicken.
Harry watched Myra and Draco interacting, his own mood warring between extreme happiness about his relationship with Draco and the dark thoughts and questions of what had happened to Mona earlier. Draco on the other hand seemed more than able to forget about what had happened in the afternoon. He was very pleasant and lovely towards Myra and it was obvious that they got on well. They talked and laughed like old friends, despite having only known each other for a few weeks.
The dinner ended and they moved to the couch, Harry opting to sit on the floor instead, as the couch was only big enough for two. He didn’t mind; he sat back and listened, smiling slightly, as Myra and Draco went through subject after subject, often disagreeing quite loudly on different points.
When the clock struck eleven and all three were yawning, Harry suggested that they head home.
“Why don’t you sleep over instead?” Myra asked. “One of you would have to sleep on the floor, of course, but—”
Draco smirked at her. “You want to see us in your pyjamas, is that it?”
“Well,” Myra said, smiling angelically at him, “that would be kind of hard since you didn’t bring your pyjamas, wouldn’t it? No, seeing you naked is so much more of an interest to me.”
She giggled when she saw Harry and Draco’s shocked expressions. She shrugged, still giggling. “Is Darius the only one who is allowed to talk about sex?”
“That— you— what?” Harry said, not recognizing this side of Myra.
“Oh, come on, Harry. Shut your mouth, you look like a goldfish.”
Harry snapped his mouth shut and glared at her.
They did end up sleeping over. Draco curled up on the couch while Harry was in the bathroom. When Harry came back out, Draco was asleep. Harry watched Draco with a soft, content smile on his lips, standing in the doorway to the combined kitchen and living room. He walked over and placed a gentle kiss on Draco’s lips. Draco opened his eyes briefly and smiled slightly, before falling back to sleep.
Harry stood up again.
“Got something you want to tell me?”
Myra’s soft voice startled him. He whirled around to face her. She was standing in the doorway with a smug smile on her lips. When he didn’t say anything, she said, “You care about him.”
“Isn’t that pretty obvious?” Harry asked, careful to speak quietly so as to not wake up Draco.
She raised an eyebrow at him.
“We— it just happened,” Harry said, walking over to her where she was standing in the doorway. “I just realised that he was more than just—”
She smiled. “Good,” she said. “I’m glad you realised now; I was afraid it would take you years to figure out.”
“You knew?”
“Oh Harry,” Myra said, shaking her head, her smile still in place. “Of course I knew.”
“Did he—” Harry began, but she cut him off.
“No, he didn’t say anything. I just watched you, both of you. It was written in your eyes. Besides, you fit together, in some strange way.” She paused, then said, “There’s been something else on your mind tonight.”
Harry was startled by the change of subjects and he looked down, studying the floor. “Something happened before we came here. I— I can’t tell you all about it, because— well, I just can’t.”
She regarded him carefully for several long moments, her expression soft. “What did you do before Darius met you, Harry?” she asked, but continued as though she wasn’t expecting an answer. “Draco won’t tell me anything either, although it’s obvious that he knows. What is it that’s so bad that you don’t think we’ll be able to handle it?”
She trailed off, still looking at him. Then she shook her head. “I guess we’ll find out in time. Or we won’t. But Harry, I want you to know that whatever it is, I will still be your friend. Draco knows and he still—” She trailed off, uncertainly. “I don’t think it’s all that bad, whatever it is.”
Harry listened, feeling his heart swell at knowing he had such wonderful friends. “Thank you,” he said, his voice just as soft as Myra’s. “I hope I will be able to tell you one day.”
Myra smiled and handed him the blanket and pillow she’d been holding.
“Good,” she said, turning to go into her room. “Good night, Harry.”
“Good night, Myra.”
Myra woke them up at seven as she started making breakfast for herself.
“Sorry, but I need to eat,” she said, not looking the least bit sorry as she continued making noise. Draco and Harry winced at the sound and wished they were back in the house so that they could sleep in however long they wanted.
Both realised that they wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, so half an hour later, the three had finished eating breakfast. Myra admonished them both – Draco for eating too little, Harry for eating like a pig.
“Really,” she said, “you still eat like you’re three years old.”
“What do you know about my being three years old?” Harry asked, smiling angelically at her. “Perhaps I was very well behaved back then and I need to act out my childish qualities now.”
It was actually close to the truth, but he wouldn’t admit that; Myra would take it as only teasing. She did. “Yeah, right,” she said, shaking her head.
Harry and Draco left together with Myra after having called a taxi. She waved them off, turning to walk in the other direction towards the university.
“So, how does it feel to not have to go to classes all of a sudden?” Draco asked, watching him carefully.
“Quite wonderful,” Harry said, smiling. “The only thing I need to worry about is my book, now.”
Well, it wasn’t the only thing he had to worry about, but he preferred to think about it as the only thing.
“What is it about?”
“The book?” Draco nodded. “I— It’s—” Harry hesitated. The book was personal. The others had been too, but this one was even more so.
Draco cocked his head to the side. “What is it with that book and your inability to tell me about it?”
Harry attempted a smile at him. “It’s just very personal.”
Draco harrumphed at him.
“I think it’s better if you read it yourself when I’m done with it,” Harry said nervously. “That way I don’t have to explain.”
Draco looked up at him, still scowling slightly at him. “All right,” he said at last, making it sound like he was the one giving something up.
When they got back to the house, Harry went to see the construction workers. They had their own key so that they could let themselves in when Harry and Draco weren’t home, since Harry wanted them to continue working every day of the week. Harry noted that it was definitely paying off as he walked into what had been the garage.
The tiles were up – mostly white, with a line of grey-blue tiles going around the room and black details here and there – and the shower had been finished a week back. The windows they’d put in made the almost-finished room look light and spacious.
“Hey,” one of them greeted him and Harry felt bad that he hadn’t even learnt their names.
“Hey,” Harry replied. “How is it coming along?”
“We’re just doing the final touches,” the same man said. “The electrician is coming in an hour to fix the lamps. I’m guessing you’ll be able to take your premier bath tomorrow, Mr Evans.”
Harry smiled, pleased with the report. “Sounds good,” he said.
Staying behind for a few more minutes to watch the two workers continue their jobs, Harry then came back into the house. Draco was on the couch in the living room, listening to music.
Just the way we are
I guess you've seen it now
The girl’s voice was soft, frail yet strong, like an angel’s. The slow song was sad, the lyrics deep, yet they hit strangely close to home.
A mirror of ourselves sure makes us weird
Falling down
Draco looked up at him, smiling slightly. He sang along with the lyrics, his voice just as soft as the girl’s. There was some emotion surrounding him, but Harry couldn’t tell what it was. Sadness? Not quite. Not anger, not happiness – longing, perhaps? Although for what, Harry couldn’t fathom.
From a mountain of frights
What's there to hold on to?
As the last notes of the song ended, Harry wondered what he was going to say. He wanted to say something important, something deep. Yet all that came out was, “Sad song.”
“Not really,” Draco said, breaking their eye contact and turning the player off before the next song began. “It’s a song of understanding. Of course, her lyrics are up for interpretation, I guess.”
“Who is she?”
“Lene Marlin,” Draco replied. “From Norway, I believe.”
“She’s good.”
Draco nodded.
“The pool will be finished tomorrow,” Harry told Draco. “They’re just putting in the finishing touches now.”
Draco looked at him, a strange cross between gratitude and sadness on his face. “That’s— nice.”
He didn’t need to say more; Harry understood.
Harry sat down on the couch next to Draco and gathered him close, kissing him gently before settling to just hold him. Draco sighed, quite content in Harry’s arms.
The strange mood broke when Draco suddenly began moving. He stretched out and pulled the wheelchair to him. “I’m going out,” he announced as he gracefully moved from the couch to the chair. Harry wondered if there was anything Draco didn’t do gracefully.
“Where to?”
Draco smirked slightly, reminding Harry of the Draco he knew in school. He had a hard time putting the two characters together as one; the asshole from school and the man he’d just held in his arms. “That’s none of your business, Potter.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Fine. When will you be back?”
Draco shrugged. “Later. Before five.”
Harry was surprised that Draco would be out for so long; he wondered where the blond was going. But he didn’t have the time to figure it just then; he had to go to the university to tell them that he was quitting. Then he supposed that he would have to call Darius and Pally, he supposed. Darius because he was his best friend and Pally because she liked knowing what was going on in his life.
He took the underground to get to the university, opting not to take a taxi when Draco wasn’t with him. It was possible for them to take the underground with the wheelchair but Harry wasn’t a fan of big crowds and Draco was still getting used to the wheelchair. Over all, it was easier for them to just take a taxi.
Midmorning, the crowd on the underground wasn’t as big as it would be later in the afternoon, though, and Harry let his thoughts drift to his book and its plot and characters. He almost forgot to get off the underground when it reached his station, but luckily he was roused by the lady next to him, who was also getting off at that station.
He walked the rest of the way to the university and an hour and a half later, he was back on the underground, a free man.
The house felt strangely empty when he returned. Harry had gotten used to having Draco always being home when he got back from classes, which was why he’d panicked when Draco hadn’t been there the last time.
Harry wondered where the blond man spent his days when he wasn’t in the house.
He watched the construction workers and the electrician who had arrived and studied the structure they had brought in, the one that would help Draco in and out of the water. Getting bored after a few minutes, Harry returned to the living room where he pushed play on the CD-player.
Your words cut rather deeply,
they're just some other lies
I'm hiding from a distance,
I've got to pay the price
It was that same sweet voice again and Harry looked at the CD, curious. Lene Marlin: Playing my game it said on the blue CD cover, next to a picture of a pretty – of course – and quite young-looking girl. Harry looked through the track listing as the song continued playing. He stopped at the fourth song.
Flown away
Could it be—? Harry quickly pushed ‘next’ until he reached the fourth song.
It sounded like wind and soft piano.
I've flown too high on borrowed wings,
beyond the clouds and where the angels sing
Harry listened as though in trance. It was that song. The song Draco had been singing.
In a sky containing no one but me,
up there's all empty and down there's the sea.
No one here but me
Harry, who hadn’t realised that he’d closed his eyes, opened them to look over at the window, where Draco had been sitting when he sang it.
“You care about him.”
“Isn’t that pretty obvious?”
Since Myra knew, it wouldn’t be long before Darius knew. Although Darius had pulled away from her since falling in love with her, they still had no secrets from each other – other than that one, of course. Darius would know. Harry wondered how he would react.
”Beautiful, are they not?”
Ridiculously gorgeous was more like it. Pale, perfect skin, soft hair, grey eyes that would grow darker with anger or shine with happiness. A body that still looked incredible, albeit a bit frail, despite the wheelchair.
He shook his head, wondering just when he’d fallen so hard.
He sat down, picked up one of his books and began to read, unable to concentrate enough to write more of his book.
Several hours later, Harry heard the door open and close as Draco came into the living room.
“Smells good,” Draco said, nodding toward the food Harry was making; potatoes, roast beef, vegetables, and sauce.
“It’ll be good,” Harry replied, trying to ignore the way his heart beat just a little bit faster when Draco looked at him.
Draco suddenly noticed the music playing in the background. “You found one of my favourite CD’s, I hear,” Draco said.
“It was in the player and I just put it on. I like it,” Harry said. He bent down to kiss Draco. “It reminds me of good things.”
Draco smirked into the kiss.
Draco sat down by the dinner table and watched Harry cook in silence for a few minutes. Finally, he said, “We need to go to the Aurors.”
Harry winced. “I know.”
“When?”
Such a simple question. Harry didn’t want to answer.
“I— tomorrow?” Harry asked.
Draco nodded. “We should have gone today, or even yesterday, but I suppose tomorrow will be good enough,” he said. “I’m just going to make a phone call.”
Ten minutes later, Draco was back and dinner was served. They ate in silence, both deep in thought. Harry was worried; he didn’t want to return to the Wizarding world yet again. Going back to St Mungo’s to fetch Hermione when Draco had been sick had been bad enough – going into the Ministry to talk to the Aurors – that was just something Harry didn’t want to so much as think about. With or without his scar, he would be recognized – especially as he would have to state name and reason for wanting to speak to the Aurors. Then he would be back in Hell.
Draco touched his arm and Harry was startled out of his thoughts and memories.
“It’ll be okay,” Draco said, looking directly into his eyes. “You’ll be okay.”
Harry closed his eyes briefly and when he opened them again, he nodded briefly and attempted a small smile. Draco squeezed his arm in return.
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