Wings & Tails

Title: Through a Stranger's Eyes
Author: badkatpat
Pairing: Harry/Draco;
Prompt #: #24 The Eye
Gift for: appleling
Rating: M
Word Count: ~22,684
Summary: There are dark things that hide in the shadows, existing only in nightmares and fables. But, what if you could see them?
Warning(s): (highlight to read)*sex, dark creatures, death, and lots of snark *
Beta: Hanyou and nico1908. Without them there wouldn't have been a story. Hanyou for keeping me on track and nico1908 for teaching me the value of the delete key.
Disclaimer: This piece of art or fiction is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. The Eye is the property of the original authors and film-makers. No money is being made, no copyright or trademark infringement, or offence is intended. All characters depicted in sexual situations are above the age of consent.



Through a Stranger's Eyes

Draco awoke with a throbbing, gut-wrenching headache. He reached up to press the heels of his hands against his eyes. The pain seemed to emanate from there, but he drew back in surprise as the tips of his fingers touched gauze. He blinked, blinked again, feeling the sticky brush of his eyelashes against the covering over his eyes.

What the hell? Draco felt around, his fingers finding soft sheets, a metal bar on each side of his bed, a small pad with five small buttons raised slightly above the surface.

“Hello?” Draco asked tentatively. “Anyone there?”

He reached out, hands stretching to find something more, to touch someone. “Anyone?” he whispered, his voice trembling now. Slowly, he drew his hands up to his face, his fingers carefully exploring the light bandage wrapped around his head. The pain in his head was slowly subsiding. As he shifted in the bed the waves of nausea along with the remaining pain made him gag.

“Ah… Mr. Malfoy. You’re awake!” a cheerful voice said. A pause, a rustle of fabric, and then a cool hand grasped his fingers, moving them gently away from the dressing. “You shouldn’t be touching your bandages. The surgery has left your eyes a bit tender and we definitely don’t want any complications by your fumbling about.”

“What? Where am I? What surgery?” Draco asked, confused and a bit sick.

A soft chuckle was his answer. “Now, now dear! You’re probably a bit fuzzy because you’ve just woken up. But not to worry, after you’ve rested a bit everything will be clearer,” the woman said.

“Please, please…” Draco begged, his fingers closing desperately around her soft fingers. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“You were brought in with trauma to both eyes. After examination, Dr. Lo determined that surgery was needed to save your eyesight. Your friend signed the papers in your stead as you were quite out of your head shouting about wizards and depth eaters, and something called a moldy wart,” the soft voice replied with a hint of amusement as she worked her fingers free of Draco’s crushing grasp.

“But, what’s wrong with my eyes?” Draco asked, his empty hands falling into his lap.

“Luv, you were essentially blind when you arrived here at St. George’s,” the soft voice replied. “But Dr. Lo is a brilliant surgeon and he pulled out all of the stops to save your sight.”

“St. George’s? Why not St. Mungo’s?” Draco asked.

“St. Mungo’s? There’s no St. Mungo’s in London! Goodness, you are confused. Never you worry. A few days rest and you’ll be right as rain,” the soft voice said, gently. He felt the touch of her hand and flinched away.

Draco heard a rustle and a sound he couldn’t identify, then felt a sharp prick to his arm.

“Oww,” he snarled, grabbing at the spot of the pain.

“You need to rest and not worry yourself. You’re going to be as good as new,” the woman’s voice said.

A clink, the sound of something being dropped in the rubbish bin and the squeak of her shoes told Draco that she was finished with him. He heard the door shut and he knew he was alone.

Draco settled back into his pillows and tried to remember what happened. It seemed on the edge of his memories; oh so close, and yet just out of reach. He sighed and wondered who would be stupid enough to bring him to a Muggle hospital. Who would have possibly thought a Muggle Doctor could do better than a Wizard healer?

He breathed in, tasting the artificial, metallic sharpness of the hospital air; his mouth went dry. If his thoughts weren’t so muddled, he would Apparate home, but was it possible for a drugged Wizard to arrive home unsplinched?

A warm drowsiness came over him and all his worries vanished as he slid into unconsciousness.

XXXXXXXX

The scrape of a chair woke Draco this time.

He sat up quickly and then pressed his fingers to his temple as the sudden movement caused a sharp pain to shoot across the side of his head.

“Steady, Malfoy,” a man’s voice said, as a firm hand gripped his arm. “The nurse said that you shouldn’t move about a lot for the next 48 hours.”

“Potter?” Draco stammered, his hands automatically coming up and reaching to find him. It wasn’t fear that made him do this, but the desperate need to know that there really was someone there and that it wasn’t part of some messed up dream. What he could discern of his dreams were impressions of dread and confusion; that the soft-voiced woman could be part of some ill-remembered nightmare.

Harry caught his hand and clasped it loosely with his own. “Hey now, no worries, eh?”

“Potter, why am I here?” Draco asked, trying to sound cool and confident, rather than weak and fearful. Not waiting for an answer, Draco continued, angry confusion in his voice, “And what the hell happened? Is this some sort of sick joke?”

“No… not any sort of joke at all,” Harry said softly. His thumb rubbed absently over the top of Draco’s hand as he held it. “The Healers couldn’t repair your sight, the damage was too severe. Harry swallowed; the noise sounding too loud in Draco’s small hospital room. “This was your only chance to regain your sight.”

“My sight!” Draco’s voice grew shrill as he struggled to sit up.

“Draco, calm down! You don’t want to move too much… your eyes, remember?” Harry ordered. He lowered his voice. “You seriously don’t remember?”

Draco shook his head, afraid that when he spoke again his voice would tremble. Blind. Helpless. “Just a bit. I was extracting Fenacular venom for a potion… then I added it to the dried Grindylow scales and…” He stopped and crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t remember anything after that.”

Harry sighed and Draco heard him shift in his chair. “I stopped by to take you to lunch and found you on the floor, mumbling. I helped you up, but I could tell that when you opened your eyes that something was terribly wrong.” He stopped and Draco could hear his uneven breathing in the silence the room.

Draco waited, afraid to ask, afraid not to, but more afraid of the answer.

“You were blind. The Healers at St. Mungo’s said that your corneas were burned away when your potion exploded.”

“You took me to St. Mungo’s,” Draco said, flatly.

“I did.”

At Draco’s silence, Harry continued, “The Healers at St. Mungo’s couldn’t do anything for you. There just isn’t any spell or potion that will repair the damage done to your eyes,” Harry said quickly, as if he needed to get it out as fast as possible. “Hermione did some research and discovered that a cornea transplant might be your best shot at getting your sight back. Healer Kellen consulted with her partner, Dr Lo, a Muggle eye surgeon, and they decided that it would be best to take you to St. George’s hospital.”

“But Muggles, Potter? You allowed Muggles to heal me?” Draco replied, in disbelief that Potter or anyone for that matter would think that he would even consider accepting help from them. He shuddered.

“Yeah, well… it was that or being blind for the rest of your life,” Harry said bluntly. “I know it’s not what you would have wanted, but Draco, it was the only way.”

“Well, at least tell me they used a wizard’s corneas?” Draco asked. At Harry’s silence, his mouth opened in shock. “Oh no. Please tell me they didn’t...”

“I have no idea who the donor was. They keep that information confidential.”

Draco grimaced, “You have no idea what you’ve done. My heritage…”

“Just stop. Whoever it was has given you a chance to see again and you should be grateful for that.”

Draco made a sound of reluctant agreement. “I should have had a say in this.”

Silence.

“Harry?” Draco asked.

“Oh, sorry, I agree. I’m an idiot. You should have had a say in it and I should have had the Healers bring you around so that I could try to convince you to have the surgery, and then listen to you whine and bitch until a Wizard donor became available, which by the way, isn’t very damn likely. Right, I’m an idiot.”

“You still are,” Draco replied tightly.

“You seem to be feeling better,” Harry said with a small chuckle. “You almost sound like yourself again.”
Draco reached for the gauze covering his eyes. “This is annoying.”

Harry swatted his hand away, and grabbed it before it could return to fiddling with the gauze. “I don’t know…”

“Sir, visiting hours are over for tonight, but you may return tomorrow, if you wish,” a stern voice interrupted. Draco could smell the faint, but unmistakable scent of a woman’s perfume. It wasn’t the same woman as before although their voices were similar. Amazing how his other senses were compensating for his lack of sight.

“Nurse?” Harry asked, “My friend here is having a bit of a problem remembering before the operation…”

“How much does he remember?” the nurse asked. Draco heard a rattle at the foot of his bed and then paper being flipped rapidly.

“Well, bits and pieces. He seems confused about the hospital.”

“There have been rare cases of spotty amnesia after surgery. Is it possible that he could have hit his head during the accident?”

Draco started to speak, but pressed his lips together when Harry squeezed his arm tightly. He heard Harry say, “It’s very possible, but will his memory come back?”

Draco heard the scratching of a pen on paper. He felt a faint shifting of air and then Harry whispered in his ear, “I’ll explain in a moment, alright?” Harry’s hand slid down his arm to Draco’s hand.

“I’ve noted the symptom in his file, but I think he may be having a slight reaction to the anesthesia. He’s only just woken so I think we shouldn’t be concerned until he’s had a bit of time of time for the drugs in his system to wear off.” Draco heard the sound of metal hitting the metal of his bed. “You two make your goodbyes. And you.” Draco could just imagine her pointing. “Need to be gone before I get back.”

“Yes ma’am,” Harry replied. “Thank you,” His fingers twined around Draco’s.

The faint squeak of shoes told Draco that he and Harry were alone again.

He heard Harry shift, the chair creaking as he moved it closer to the bed.

“What the fuck was that all about? Memory loss?” Draco sneered.

“Well, you’re not exactly well-versed in the way of Muggles and I had to make up something so if you said something that was off, no one would know.” Draco felt Harry’s finger brush a lock of hair from his face, before he continued. “l couldn’t be here when you first woke up but I needed to explain to you what happened. You can’t let them know you’re a wizard.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Draco replied. “I was awake earlier, but one of them,” Draco said with an airy wave with his other hand, “stuck a needle in my arm. And I passed out.”

Harry chuckled, his thumb back to rubbing back and forth over Draco’s hand. “Why do you think that happened?”

“I started asking…? The light just came on in the tower. “Oh shit. She knocked me out to keep me from asking too many questions.”

“Right in one,” Harry replied, “but mostly because she had orders to keep you from unwittingly talking about the Wizarding World.”

“What? Muggles that work for the Ministry?” Draco asked, confused.

“She’s a Squib,” Harry said with a chuckle. “She works for…”

“Don’t… just don’t. I do not want to know,” Draco interrupted, making a slashing motion with his hand. “Is that why you’re here too?” he asked, “to keep me from making a ruckus with the Muggles?”

Harry laughed. “Listen, I’ve got to go.”

Draco felt the soft press of lips on his and flinched.

He heard Harry sigh as the kiss ended. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Harry said and released Draco’s hand.

“Goodbye,” Draco whispered, as Harry left the room and the door clicked shut behind him.

XXXXXXXX

Draco fidgeted impatiently as he waited for the healer… no surgeon, to appear. He needed to remember that! Harry had been late and had arrived just a few minutes ago, offering a kiss as an apology. Draco had turned his head away.

Forgiveness wasn’t exactly one of Draco Malfoy’s strongest suits and Harry had crossed the line with allowing this travesty. The thought of being able to see because of a Muggle was almost too much to bear. Merlin only knew what this would do to his magic!

Harry, the one person he trusted, had allowed this to happen. He knew it was irrational to blame Potter who, with all his Gryffindor sensibilities, had probably thought it was the only choice. And it possibly was. Draco sighed. Now he had no choice but to see it through. It still didn’t excuse his being late and Draco being left alone in the hands of Muggles.

Draco jerked his head up at the sound of footsteps.

“Mr. Malfoy, I’m your surgeon, Dr. Lo.” The voice was definitely male and had the careful inflection of the foreign born.

“Dr. Lo,” Draco said with a slight nod of his head. He kept his hands clasped in his lap until Harry poked him. Draco reached out, trying not to sneer or flinch, and felt the other man grasp his hand in greeting.

“Today, we’re going to remove your bandages. Your eyes will probably be sensitive to the light, so if you feel them tearing up or blurring or if it hurts, please let me know.”

Draco nodded, and he felt Harry squeeze his arm encouragingly.

It seemed like forever as the gauze was slowly unwrapped around his head. The darkness beyond his eyelids brightened with each circuit of the wrap being undone. A hand brushed aside his hair as the last of the gauze was removed. Draco’s eyes flickered, but he fought the urge to open them wide.

“Please, open your eyes Mr. Malfoy and tell me what you see,” Dr. Lo ordered. Draco heard him take a step back.

Draco drew in a deep breath, and slowly opened his eyes. And shut them quickly. “Damn!”

“Try opening them again, but only a little,” Dr. Lo requested. “Do not be alarmed; your eyes will be sensitive.”

Slowly, Draco opened his eyes just a crack. Tears welled in the corners of his eyes, but from beneath his eyelashes, he could see figures. Blurred figures, but definitely he could see three people were in the room with him.

“Draco?” Harry asked.

Carefully, trying not to show that the light bothered him, Draco blinked. He let out a shaky breath. “It hurts, but I could see the three of you.” He squeezed his eyes shut.

“Very good, Mr. Malfoy. That is very good for a first try. Your nurse will reapply the bandages so that you do not strain your eyes. I want you to rest and we will try again later, possibly after dark.”

Draco nodded, his eyes still shut.

But the doctor wasn’t finished. “After I examine you tomorrow and all goes well, you’ll be released into home care.”

“Thank you Dr. Lo,” Harry said from beside Draco.

Draco felt two soft pads being placed over his eyes, and then a length of gauze was wound carefully around his head. The woman’s touch was gentle and he didn’t flinch.

He felt Harry touch his elbow.

“Mr. Malfoy, an aide will be by in a moment to wheel you back to your room,” the woman he supposed was the nurse said. “Dr. Lo left instructions for the nurse on duty to remove your bandages tonight. He wants you to try focusing when it’s a bit darker.”

Draco nodded. What could he say? He had no choice in the matter. Besides, the sooner he could see well enough, the sooner he would be out of this Muggle hospital.

“I could take him back, nurse,” Harry said, startling Draco from his thoughts.

Her voice sounded thoughtful as she spoke, “I suppose that would be alright. We are a little short-handed today.”

Draco knew that Harry was smiling. He allowed Harry to lead him to his wheeled chair.
Halfway down the hall, Harry stopped pushing Draco’s wheelchair.

“Harry?” Draco asked. This blindness thing was getting old.

He felt Harry lean down to his level; his warm breath tickled his ear as he spoke, “I thought you should know you have roommates. A boy and an old man were being moved in when I got to your room this morning.”

“I thought they had wards for Mu… children,” Draco said, cutting off his words.

“I thought the same thing and when I asked the nurse, she told me that he was only going to be on your floor until there was an opening in the children’s ward. Apparently he’s scheduled for some sort of treatment tomorrow morning.”

“Great. My day just couldn’t get any better.” Draco said grumpily.

“It’s not that bad. Besides, the doctor seems to think you’ll be cleared to leave tomorrow.” Harry paused, “And if you’re okay with it, I’d like to stay with you at your flat. I really think you shouldn’t be alone the whole time you’re convalescing.”

“I suppose,” Draco said thoughtfully. “Plus it would be nice to have a house-elf again.”

“Oh, right,” Harry said with a laugh.

“Potter, will I be surprised to find some of your things at my flat already?” Draco asked, allowing his hand to brush Harry’s stomach as he twisted in the direction of his voice.

“Ah… well…” Harry stammered.

“Figured as much.”

“It makes sense. I’d have to Floo home to change and shower before work and your place is much closer to the Ministry than mine,” Harry said. “I also I spoke to Healer Kellen at St. Mungo’s last night after I left. She told me that there isn’t much information on Muggle drug use on pure-blood wizards. Unlike potions, which are imbued with magic and natural elements, your immune system isn’t used to any sort of manufactured medications.” He started pushing the wheelchair again. “She thought it would be a good idea for someone to stay with you for at least a week.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” Draco said. Harry was probably correct; he had never used a Muggle drug of any sort in his life. Everything that he’d taken for any illness or malady had been either a wizard’s potion or a spell or charm. Pity he couldn’t have an enervating charm right now. He was tired, but he supposed it would play merry hell with whatever Muggle drugs were left in his system.

“Here we are. Let me help you to your bed,” Harry said, taking Draco’s hand and elbow.

“Quit it. I’m not a fucking invalid,” Draco snapped, making to yank his arm from Harry’s grasp.

“Draco,” Harry ground out, “You have roommates now, remember?” He gripped Draco’s arm a bit tighter.

Feeling the flush of embarrassment color his cheeks, Draco mumbled a reluctant, “Sorry.” Manners drummed into him since he was a child made his response automatic.

“Are you the man who had eye surgery? Nurse said you had and that you’d be able to see now. Nurse said that you were very lucky,” a small boyish voice said excitedly. “My name’s Shaun and I have the bed by the window. I like having that bed. I get to see the sun come up in the mornings and then at night I can watch the stars come out. I’m really good at astronomy. I can name most of the constellations. Nurse said that your name was Draco and there’s a constellation with that name. When they take your bandages off, I’ll be glad to show you,” the boy said, finally winding down.

“Harry,” Draco said, the unspoken plea in his voice. Get me out of here!

“Draco,” Harry said warningly, as he helped him find the edge of the bed.

“I’m… I’m interested in astronomy, too. I would like to see the constellation very much,” Draco said politely. He sat back in the bed, tired to the bone and not really wanting to talk to this Muggle child.

“Do you like games? I love card games. Do you like War?” Shaun asked.

“Shaun,” Harry interrupted. “Draco needs some rest. He’s very tired right now.”

“Oh,” Shaun said, disappointed.

Draco heard the boy bustle around then, a rattle as a bed was being climbed. The sound of a little boy making car noises came next.

“What’s he doing?” Draco whispered.

“Playing cars. He’s a quite a busy little thing, isn’t he?” Harry said with a laugh.

“I imagine so and there is something to be said for being childless,” Draco said with a sniff.

“Well, if you’re going to be testy, I’m going to go on to work now and let you rest,” Harry said.

“Alright, then,” Draco said, not entirely upset at being left alone – well, as alone as one can be with two roommates.

He felt the stubble of Harry’s beard brush his cheek. “Behave yourself, please. I don’t want to have to bring in someone to Oblivate your roommates if you let something slip that you shouldn’t,” Harry whispered.

“I will.” Draco gave a lop-sided shrug. “Besides, what do I have to talk to them about?”

Harry’s lips brushed Draco’s cheek as he stood up. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, alright? I’m pretty sure Dr. Lo will allow you to go home,” he said and squeezed Draco’s shoulder.

Draco listened to his footsteps until they faded away.

He did not want to be here at all! It smelled of Muggles and sickness. But Draco could endure this if he got his sight back. It was utterly doable, although utterly annoying. Draco felt the gauze that covered his eyes; his fingers toyed with an edge of the wrapping. He made up his mind.

“Shaun?” Draco asked. “You there?”

“Yes,” the small voice replied.

“Is it very bright in the room?” Draco asked. He was going to remove the wrap and try out these Muggle eyes. He wrinkled his nose in distaste; a Malfoy depending on something from a Muggle. How revolting!

The rustle of sheets and the patter of little feet let him know that Shaun had slipped out of bed and was near him. He steeled himself for the boy’s touch.

“The sun’s gone behind the clouds, but I can shut the blinds for you,” the boy replied.

Draco heard the hiss and rattle as the blinds were drawn. He began to unwind the bandage. Ever so carefully, he peered out under his eyelashes. The room was fairly dim, the blinds blocking most of the late afternoon sunshine. He blinked, and blinked again. There was enough light to see by, yet not enough to make his eyes water. A small boy bounded over to his bed.

“Can you see me? Can you see me now?” the little boy asked, excitement making him hop from foot to foot; an infectious grin lighting up his face.

Draco studied Shaun, his vision blurring a bit, but then clearing. Shaun was a small boy, bald, but with the brightest blue eyes Draco had ever seen. He appeared to be seven or eight. He also had on the strangest pajamas Draco had ever seen: yellow stripes with green frogs. They were worthy of a wizard.

“I can see you,” Draco replied. Shaun grinned widely and crawled up on the end of Draco’s hospital bed. Draco caught himself in mid-flinch before drawing up his legs and wrapping his arms around them.

“Oh, I’m not contagious,” the boy said with a laugh. “I’ve just got a tumor in my head again. The doctors are going to make it go away. Sometimes it makes my head hurt. It makes it hurt a lot.”

Draco frowned. “Your hea- erm… doctors can’t get rid of it?” he asked. As much as he didn’t want to, he was coming to like this small bright Muggle boy.

“Nah. Mum says it just keeps growing back. I’m going to have chem’therpy tomorrow. Mum says they’re going to give me some medicine to make it go away,” Shaun replied, his slender fingers playing with his pajama pants tie.

A wheezing hacking cough from the other side of the room caught both of their attentions. “Who is that Shaun?” Draco asked with a nod of his head toward the man in the other bed across the room.

“I dunno. Nurse said he was very, very sick and that I wasn’t to bother him. You probably ought not either. Nurse was very grumpy with me when I asked about him,” Shaun said, turning to glance at the old man’s bed. “I peeked at his chart and it said that him name was M. Carmichael. What kind of name is M?” the boy asked, as he turned back to face Draco again.

That was when Draco saw it: the long slender scar that stretched from beneath Shaun’s ear to the base of his skull. It was frightful on such a small boy so innocent and curious. With false nonchalance Draco answered, “Well, then, I think we should leave him be.”

“Would you play cards with me?” Shaun asked, “I have a new deck Mum got me.”

“Sure,” Draco replied. His ancestors were probably spinning in their graves right now. And exploding. Draco Malfoy playing cards with a Muggle boy. Not to mention having his sight repaired with corneas from a Muggle. What was the world coming to?

XXXXXXXX

Draco didn’t remember falling asleep. He blinked, his eyes feeling gritty and gooey. He really didn’t want to get up, but his bladder had other plans for him.

Quietly, he got out of bed and made his way to the tiny bathroom in the front corner of the room, padding silently across the floor, careful not to wake up the ever talkative Shaun and the very, very sick M. Carmichael. He sighed happily as he finally stood over the toilet and relieved himself.

The nurse had come in and clucked at him for removing the bandages himself, but had seemed pleased with his ability to see as well as he could so soon after surgery. Shaun had flitted about the room, excited that Draco was better and chattering away about what he was going to do when he was better too. Draco smiled to himself. It hadn’t been all bad. Except for supper, stringy meat and lumpy potatoes. A deaf, dumb and blind house-elf could have done better than that.

But it didn’t matter. He was leaving tomorrow if he had to Imperio the doctor himself.

Draco washed his hands, slipped out of the bathroom and made for his bed. Shaun was sleeping, his body curled on the hospital bed that seemed far too big for him. Draco glanced over at the old man’s bed.

Startled, he drew back. It was empty!

The door to the hall was ajar and it drew Draco to it like a moth to a flame. He glanced back at Shaun and then headed toward the door. He slipped out into the hallway, remembering to grab the back of his gown as it opened over his arse.

Damnable Muggles and their stupid gowns, he thought as he walked down the hallway, his bare feet freezing as he walked along the cold, tiled floor. Empty of the bustle of nurses and healers and the ever-present noise of visitors, the stretch of hallway seemed endless: the closed, dark doors lining it seemed to stare at him with hollow eyes. The chill reminded him of the coldness a Dementor brought. He turned, his vision blurring, and he blinked.

“I don’t want to go,” a shaky old-man’s voice whispered in his ear.

Draco spun about, only to find a long, empty hall; the floors gleaming under the florescent lighting.
“I don’t want to go,” the voice whispered again in Draco’s ear, and the sense that someone was behind him became so strong that the hair rose up on the back of his neck. He turned quickly, almost losing his balance in his haste, and caught a glimpse of a stooped, elderly man.

A knot of unease grew in Draco’s stomach.

His vision blurred again, so he blinked. The old man was right in front of him and Draco shrank back, startled.

“Sir, are you all right?” he blurted out.

The man opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly a boney hand snaked around the old man’s head and covered the old man’s mouth. Draco stumbled backwards. He looked up to find a pale face with two dark eye sockets staring at him from behind the old man. The creature’s mouth was a dark hole. Draco’s vision blurred and he blinked. The creature had moved closer in that short time. Its hands emerged from ragged black sleeves. Yellow, curved fingernails tipped in red stretched toward him.

“No!” Draco shouted and threw his hands up, closed his eyes at the horrible sight. Unable to move, he waited for the touch of those cadaverous hands.

The sharp buzz of a florescent light burning out made him jump and open his eyes.

The hallway was empty!

He drew in a shaky breath, his eyes wide as he looked up and down the hallway. A nurse turned the corner, her sturdy white shoes squeaking on the waxed floor.

“What are you doing out of bed, young man?” she asked, her eyes taking in his pale face, his trembling hands and the beads of sweat trickling down the side of his face. Her stern face softened. “Are you all right?” she asked, concern taking over.

“I… I just had a nightmare,” Draco stammered, desperately wanting to escape from this Muggle woman and this god-awful Muggle hospital, but knowing that there was no escape, at least not yet.

The nurse gently took him by the elbow. “Let’s get you back to your room,” she ordered.

Draco allowed her to lead him back to his room and see him to bed. There, with the covers drawn up, he closed his eyes and tried not to think about the strange thing he had seen.

XXXXXXXX

Sunshine beamed in between the slats of the blinds of the hospital room. A small boy turned over in his bead and smacked his lips and drifted back into deep sleep. In the bed across the room, a young blond man stirred in his bed. He opened his eyes cautiously then, smiled to himself. His vision was less blurry this morning, but after blinking a few more times it cleared to almost normal. It was nice to be able to see without a headache or his eyes watering.

Draco sat up and carefully wiped his eyes. He was almost afraid to touch them, but the goo made his eyes blurry. He looked down studying his hands, his fingers that tapered to long, slender points with neatly manicured nails. It was almost like seeing them for the first time. He flexed his hand, marveling at how perfectly the muscle retracted and straightened his fingers and how well he could see them.

A slight shadow caught his eye, and he looked up, his vision blurring, only to see a fuzzy dark-garbed figure standing next to the bed directly across from his. The figure had his back to Draco, but Draco could see that it appeared to be a man in a long black cloak.

“Are you his hea- doctor?” Draco asked, cursing himself for his slip of the tongue.

The figure ignored his question, bending over the old man’s bed.

“What are you doing?” Draco asked curiously, starting to get up.

Then he saw a cold, cruel finger trace a path down the old man’s chest.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

A moment passed, two, and Draco opened his eyes to find… nothing. The old man M. Carmichael still lay in bed, the sun still filtered through the closed blinds, and little Shaun still slept in his bed. The only thing that had changed was that the black clad figure was gone.

It had to be some sort of reaction to the anesthesia, an after surgery reaction, or hell, a reaction to being around Muggles for nearly 48 hours! Whatever it was, Draco wanted no part of it. There was no point in saying anything because surely they would send him to St. Mungo’s loony ward. Merlin knew he didn’t want to end up there!

If only the creature hadn’t seemed so real!

Draco threw off the sheet and climbed out of bed, mentally cursing the cold floor under his feet as he made his way over to the old man’s bed. He inched closer, not wanting to wake the old man or to be caught standing over him. Carmichael was lying on his side, one hand curled up under his chin, the other barely outside the blankets. Draco touched the old man’s gnarled fingers, feeling the chill of death. He sighed; it was what he’d feared. Old man Carmichael was dead.

How he had known, he had no idea, but he had, even before he’d touched the frail hand. Draco shook his head and pulled the curtain around the old man’s bed. There was no reason to let little Shaun see the body. Draco’s parents would have kittens if they ever found out that he was protecting a little Muggle boy. Thank goodness there was no one around to see him acting so unMalfoy-ish!

He grabbed the back of his hospital gown and went to the doorway. He squinted in the bright fluorescent light. Shading his eyes with his free hand, he made his way down to the nurse’s station.

XXXXXXXX

“I don’t understand why we can’t just take the Floo or Apparate,” Draco said, irritated. “And I don’t understand why I can’t just walk out of here. I’m perfectly fine.”

“I know, but hospitals have rules about these things and until I get you into the car, you have to abide by them,” Harry said patiently. “I’m sure you’ll be much happier at home, doing what you want.”

“Right, while you’re babysitting me,” Draco huffed, sitting down in the wheelchair and folding his arms over his chest.

Harry rolled his eyes, but grinned anyway. “Oh, here, before I forget,” he said, handing Draco a pair of black sunglasses with lightly tinted lenses.

Draco made a face. “Oh aren’t these just the height of fashion?”

“Just put them on… or don’t. Once you get outside in the sunshine, you’ll wish you had them,” Harry said, gathering up Draco’s small bag.

“I suppose,” Draco said, reluctantly.

“Here, catch!” Harry said, tossing Draco his bag.

Startled out of his sulk, Draco threw up his hand and caught it easily.

“See? Good as new! Still have Seeker’s reflexes, eh?” Harry remarked, moving to grip the handles of the wheelchair.

“I thought one of the Muggles had to take me downstairs?” Draco asked, as Harry wheeled him around and started toward the door.

“Technically, yes, but I thought you’d had enough,” Harry said.

“It wasn’t so bad,” Draco replied, tucking the bag across his lap.

“What did you say?” Harry asked.

“Never mind,” Draco said, pressing his lips together.

“Erm, right,” Harry said with a smile. “Did you want to say goodbye to anyone before we leave?”

“Merlin, Potter!” Draco exclaimed, twisting in the chair to give Harry a withering glare. “What am I? A girl?”

“Depends on if you top or bottom,” Harry said, baiting him just for the reaction.

“Twat!” Draco spat, turning back around and refolding his arms stiffly across his chest.

Laughing, Harry started forward. His quick stride got them to the elevator before Draco could figure out that Harry wanted to make sure Draco was back to his usual self.

The elevator doors opened. A gurney with a small form on it rolled out, pushed by an orderly.
“Draco?” a small, thready voice whispered.

“Shaun!” Draco exclaimed, shocked at how poorly the child looked. Where was the busy little boy Draco had played cards with last night?

Shaun reached out a trembling hand toward Draco. “I got chem’therpy this morning and I don’t feel so good.” He smiled weakly as Draco took his hand.

It was neither right nor fair that such a vibrant little boy could be so ill when there were so many people in the world living lives that they took for granted. Shaking his head, Draco forced a smile. “Sometimes things have to get worse before they get better. I mean, I went blind and then the doctor fixed my eyes and I can see very well now,” Draco said, wondering if he’d said the right thing. How could he give hope to this small boy? Forget the ancestors spinning and exploding… they were disintegrating.

“I have to get sick to get better?” Shaun whispered; his voice so low that Draco had to lean forward to hear him.

Draco nodded, not knowing what to say.

“Oh.” Shaun closed his eyes and his hand went limp in Draco’s. Draco laid Shaun’s hand back on the gurney and looked at the orderly. “Is he going to be alright?”

“It’s a tricky thing. If he survives his treatment, he should come out just fine,” the orderly said before clearing his throat. “I need to get him back to his room. It’s a good thing he’s sleeping; so many of them vomit for hours afterwards.”

Draco nodded, and Harry maneuvered the wheelchair around so that the orderly could continue down the hall. When the elevator door closed, Harry leaned down. “That was really nice. I mean, what you said to the boy.”

“Don’t you dare say a word,” Draco said, fumbling with the dark glasses Harry had given him. He slipped them on and stared wordlessly at the elevators doors as it they continued down to the first floor. It didn’t matter that the glasses were ugly as sin; they did one thing very well indeed. No one could see how watery his eyes were.
XXXXXXXX

Draco stretched out on his bed, tired but happy to be home. The ride home had been uneventful. He had been surprised to find out how well Harry knew how to drive a Muggle car. It was faster than a carriage but much slower than the Knight Bus, although that wasn’t such a bad thing at all, and after a short stop at St. Mungo’s to get Healer Kellen’s orders, Draco was home. No sick Muggles, no Muggle doctors or nurses to poke and prod him at all hours of the day and night, and definitely no hospital food.

Harry had drawn the curtains in his bedroom and gently taken his glasses off his face saying something under his breath about how they hid his eyes. He had then stared into Draco’s eyes for what seemed like forever but really it had been only a moment or two. Harry then cleared his throat and urged Draco to rest.

He didn’t feel like resting. He didn’t feel like being confined to his flat either. This looked to be a hellish week, boredom tempered with a bit of confusion. Lovely. Just lovely.

But then again, he had Harry Potter at his beck and call.

“Hey, I fixed you a snack,” Harry said entering the room with a plate with cheese and crackers and a glass of pumpkin juice. “Thought you might be hungry.”

Smiling, Draco sat up as Harry sat down, drawing one leg up on the bed before placing the plate between them. “Thanks.”

Harry nodded. “I know that you’re not used to being cooped up, but until your visit with Dr. Lo next week, you need to take it easy.”

“I think I can manage that. I’m just glad to be out of hospital.”

“I know the feeling well,” Harry said with a chuckle.

“Oh?”
“You know, a Quidditch accident here and there, one or two run-ins with Voldemort… well, let’s just say that I’ve spent a fair amount of time in hospitals,” Harry said, ignoring Draco’s wince at his use of the Dark Lord’s name.

“Well, you didn’t have a fucking bloody chicken nearly claw your arm off, now, did you?” Draco said snidely.

Harry snorted. “Glad to see you’re feeling better.”

“Hmmpf,” Draco said, reaching for a cracker and some cheese.

They sat in companionable silence, with Harry occasionally taking a cracker and a piece of cheese, the glass of pumpkin juice cradled between his legs, while Draco ate. Draco frowned. It all seemed so very ordinary.

He looked up and caught Potter grinning at him. “What?”

“I’m just glad you’re okay. I was worried about you,” Harry said, shifting a little on the bed and then hastily grabbing the glass as it tilted between the vee of his legs. “Still want your juice?” he asked, looking up and catching Draco’s sly grin.

“Erm… depends on the juice,” Draco said with a laugh.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Should have put it on the bed table.”

Draco nodded, handing him the now empty cheese and cracker plate. Probably best to change the subject. “So, what am I supposed to do all day while you’re out and about? Am I allowed to read at least?” Draco asked.

“You heard Dr. Lo. He said that you could do pretty much whatever you wanted, but to not strain your eyes. Obviously, your surgery isn’t like a charm or a spell and you’re fixed,” Harry said, standing up. “You need time to heal.”

“Right, Dr. Potter.” Draco said dryly. “It’s definitely not anything I’m used to.”

Harry stopped, and sat the dishes down on the dresser. “So, how are you doing with this?” he asked, serious now.

Drawing his legs up, Draco wrapped his arms around them. He didn’t want to get into how he felt about having Muggle surgery, wondering if the slight fuzziness of his vision was permanent, or that he hadn’t had a choice about the whole thing, or even how weird it all was. “Fine,” he said slowly. “Fine. Just a bit tired.”

Harry nodded. “If you want to rest, I can tidy up.”

Nodding, Draco unfolded his legs and arms from the tight ball he’d worked himself into and got up from the bed. He began to undress, not noticing Harry watching him from the doorway.

XXXXXXXX

A long staircase stretched before him, dark wooden steps led down endlessly. A light suspended from the ceiling flickered in spasms, sending bursts of light down the staircase. Dream Draco eased his foot onto the first step, his fingers barely touching the banister. It was a long way down, but he needed to descend these steps. It was all about the journey. He took another step down, the light flickering faster now, almost like a strobe light. Then it went out, leaving the stairwell dark, but not pitch black.

Draco looked up at the stairwell entrance. Faint light was coming from the hallway. But Draco could not climb back up the stairs, he needed to go downward. He took another step, the board creaking under his foot. He quickened his pace, one foot after the other, faster, faster, until he was nearly running. He turned on the landing, ready to speed down the next flight of stairs, but stopped. His fingers skimmed over a small frost covered spot on the banister. Draco puffed out a breath, not at all surprised when it came out as a small white cloud.

He turned, finding himself before a small window. He drew closer, squinting a little at the figures walking below. He could just make out Harry walking toward the building. But, even though the sun was out and the day was bright and cloudless, a faint shadow followed Harry.

Draco stood rooted to the spot, cold seeping into his pores. None of this made sense. He couldn’t understand how it could be so bright and clear outside and so very cold inside. He continued to watch until Harry vanished from sight. He should go back to the flat, he shouldn’t be on the stairwell. But he couldn’t move. He could only wait until Harry climbed the steps and discovered him.

Draco stood there for what seemed like forever. Finally, he heard slow footsteps from below. Potter rounded the landing below, his eyes downcast, one hand barely touching the banister.

“Potter?” Draco said uncertainly. Harry looked up; his eyes were sunken and the dark shadows underneath gave them an almost hollow appearance. He looked through Draco to the window.

“Potter…” Draco said again, desperate to have Harry notice him, to help him back to his flat, but Potter ignored him and continued up the stairs.

Something brushed by Draco, startling him. Draco looked up, seeing a dark clad figure following Potter up the steps. The creature flowed behind Potter, mimicking his steps, its arms circling around Potter, but not quite touching him.

“Harry!” Draco shouted. Potter didn’t turn, but the creature did. As it turned, it touched Potter and he stumbled on the step, dropping to one knee as he tripped.

“Damn,” he swore and steadied himself with his hands before rising.

The creature seemed to swell as it floated toward Draco. For the first time he got a close look at it. Its skin was leathery and mottled; bits of rotted flesh were oozing through small tears covering its entire face. There were no eyes, only hollow dark holes. But its mouth was truly terrifying. Jagged, yellow teeth lined its mouth. The foul stench coming from the orifice gagged Draco. Slowly, it reached toward Draco with a rotting finger, a jagged splinter of bone sticking through its putrid flesh. It moved closer, closer… until it was nearly nose to nose with Draco… except that where its nose should have been there was only a dark hole…

Draco opened his mouth to scream, but the cold emanating from the creature surrounded him, freezing him in his tracks, cracking his skin. Small rivulets of blood began to seep through Draco’s ruined flesh.
“Please…no,” he managed to whisper, feeling his lips split, as the creature began to circle him, the terrifying finger almost grazing his skin.

The creature floated before Draco and stopped. It cocked its head and pursed its mouth. Its thin lips moved in and captured Draco’s mouth. A rock-hard tongue darted into his mouth as icy claws grabbed his biceps and pulled him into a tight embrace.

Draco stared wide-eyed in horror; petrified as the creature raised a rancid hand to touch his cheek. It was a parody of a gentle gesture between lovers except that it was neither gentle nor tender. A jagged bone dug into his cheekbone, slashing up toward his eye, and Draco screamed in pain…

And woke up. Trembling, he opened his eyes to near darkness. A faint light came from the bathroom down the hallway. He heard the flush of the toilet. The memory of the creature’s kiss and touch made him feel sick. He shot up in the bed and leaned over the side, his hand clapped over his mouth. He grabbed for a small trash bin sitting nearby and vomited.

“Draco?” Harry asked from the doorway. He flicked on the hall light and his eyes widened. “Are you all right? Harry’s voice trailed off when Draco looked up at him, blond hair plastered to the side of his face, eyes wide and bloodshot. “Merlin,” Harry breathed.

Without another word, Harry went to Draco and gathered him in his arms.

“Harry,” Draco whispered, his arms moving of their own volition, circled around Harry’s waist. He gulped. “It was horrible!”

“Hey,” Harry crooned, tenderly stroking Draco’s hair off his face. “It’s okay, it was only a bad dream.” Harry continued to hold Draco close, his hands gently moving over Draco’s shoulders and back.

“I saw this thing following you,” Draco said softly. He wiped his mouth with his hand. “It was horrible.”

“It was only a dream,” Harry whispered, his breath warm against Draco’s ear.

“I know, but it was so real,” Draco persisted. How could he explain to Harry that this was the third time he’d seen the dark creature? Especially since he’d seen it leaning over old man Carmichael’s bed the morning he’d died. None of this made sense.

“You should try to go back to sleep,” Harry said. “Alright?” he asked as he stood up.

Draco wiped his cheeks, not realizing that tears had run down his face. He nodded.

Harry left the room and Draco heard the squeak of the tap; water running. Harry returned a moment later with a damp washcloth and a glass of water. He sat down next to Draco and handed him the washcloth.

“Wipe your face, rinse your mouth, and lie back down. I’ll stay here until you fall asleep” Harry said firmly, placing the glass of water on the night table before resting a hand on Draco’s knee.

Obediently, Draco wiped his face, his hands still trembling slightly. He handed Harry the washcloth and then reached for the glass, swishing the water in his mouth before spitting it back into the glass. “Why not Scourgify?” Draco asked shakily, forcing a weak smile.

“Not until you’re released. Only medical magic is allowed. Healer’s orders,” Harry replied. He took the glass and the washcloth and vanished them. He gathered Draco into his arms, and just held him.

Draco rested his head against Harry’s shoulder, enjoying the warmth and feel of the other man. A moment passed, and Harry rested his cheek against Draco’s hair. Draco could smell the faint clean scent of Harry’s shampoo, the thump of his heart, and the stubble on his cheek as he pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.

“Do you want to talk about it? I used to have horrible dreams back at school,” Harry said gently.
“Yeah, I’d heard,” Draco said. “And, no. I do not want to talk about my stupid nightmare.” Draco lay back, pulling the covers up. He glanced at Harry and gasped.

The creature was staring at him from over Harry’s shoulder. As he watched, its bony, yellow-nailed hand reached over Harry’s shoulder toward his chest, toward his heart –

“Harry!” Draco cried, jerking back up in the bed and grabbing for Harry to pull him away from the creature. It had taken the old man; it wasn’t going to take Harry too! Harry pitched forward, half on Draco, half off.

Laughing, completely unaware of the dark creature lurking behind him, Harry wrapped his arms around Draco and lay down behind him, spooning up to his tense body. “You could have just asked,” Harry said with a chuckle.

Draco half turned, shrugging off his arms. He ignored Harry’s puzzled look and got up and searched the room for the creature, wanting to be sure that it was only he and Harry were in the room. The hallway light illuminated the bedroom enough so that it plain to see that there was no one else in the room.
“You’re acting weird. What’s wrong?” Harry asked. He started to rise.

Shaking his head, Draco motioned Harry to lie back down as he joined him on the bed. He reached back and pulled Harry’s arm over his waist.

Lifting his hand and giving a little wave, Harry extinguished the light. The room was dark again, except for the faint gleam of moonlight through the curtains.

Draco lay there a long time, his eyes wide open, unable to sleep.

XXXXXXXX

The morning light gleamed brightly into Draco’s bedroom, warm beams falling across the two sleeping men. One is curled protectively around the other, his arm resting lightly across the other’s side. One stirs and moves close enough to nuzzle the back of the other’s neck, brushing his lips across the tender flesh under his lover’s ear.

Draco stretched, tilting his head. Oh damn, that felt good. Harry kissed his neck again, and his hand circled his belly, caressing him lightly through his tee shirt. Draco shifted, turning over so that he was face to face with Harry. He gazed into languid green eyes, his eyes flickering down to slightly parted lips, and he needed… he needed to kiss those lips. Harry grinned at him and pulled him closer. He could feel Harry’s erection pressed against his thigh and he could felt his body respond. Draco blinked, Harry blurred, but he didn’t need perfect vision for this. He leaned in, halted, watching Harry’s mouth shift and he closed the distance between them. Draco kissed Harry, hesitantly, and then deeper as Harry responded eagerly.

Draco’s hand trailed down Harry’s chest, then slipped into his lover’s sleep pants. “Think this would be something the doctor ordered?” he asked with a laugh.

“You’re a randy bastard,” Harry said, smirking as he reached for Draco’s pajama pants.

Draco arched back as Harry went down on him. It was true; he was a randy bastard.

XXXXXXXX

Wizards were never meant to be house-elves, but cleaning by hand was a distraction. Draco stretched and grabbed at a sock behind the sofa. Even though it was menial work and something that could be done so much faster with magic, Draco did not dare risk using a charm to clean the flat.

There was one nice thing to be said about cleaning by hand, however it did pass the time. Harry had left for work an hour earlier. The flat definitely wasn’t the manor, which kept a team of house-elves busy 24/7, but it did give him something to do. Even so - Draco was bored already.

He sat the bottle of cleaner and rag down on the end table as he sank into his favorite easy chair. He puffed a strand of hair from his face and touched the amulet around his neck. Harry had hung it around his neck before he had left this morning saying to activate it if he needed him. Draco pulled it free from his shirt and studied it, feeling the heat from his skin in the amulet, admiring the shine of the silver surrounding a small green stone. It glinted, reflecting the sunlight illuminating the room. For a medical alarm amulet, it really was quite handsome. He blinked, his eyes blurring.

His vision was still blurry at times, and almost always when he was overly tired. It had been difficult to relax and convalesce, but he only had three more days until his doctor’s visit, so Draco forced himself to take breaks to rest his eyes.

And there were the eye exercises he was required to do. Draco Malfoy was not one to take orders from anyone, much less a Muggle, but he did like being able to see. Besides, as silly as they were, the eye exercises helped to pass the time, too.

Draco focused on the mantle, moving his eyes to the right, the left, up and then down. He blinked twice and then repeated the eye movements. Everything seemed a little clearer, a little brighter. Draco blinked twice, finished with the exercises, and started to rise, but stopped, his mouth dropping open.

The mantle was gone. Hell, the whole wall was gone! Instead of his familiar furnishings, the neatly appointed mantle, the art above, the fireplace below, there was an altar covered in white linen, a simple gold chalice, a white candle, and a spray of white roses. A Bible rested on top of the altar; a fine bookmark with a golden tassel marked its open pages. He could smell a hint of hint of myrrh.

Draco took a step forward, his arm outstretched. It seemed so real! Surely this was some after effect of the Muggle drugs he’d been given. It would probably vanish the moment he got close enough to touch it. It was nothing but an illusion just like the dark creature his mind had conjured up and his fireplace and mantle would reappear shortly. He half-smiled to himself at how silly one’s mind worked.

His hand hovered over the flickering candle. Surely, it was only his mind playing tricks on him. He would prove it to himself. He lowered his hand…and drew it back in shock and pain. The candle’s flame had burned his hand! What the hell? He glanced at the scorch mark on his palm, not believing what he saw, but the pain convincing him.

He backed up slowly, afraid to blink, afraid to take his eyes off what used to be part of his living room. He took another step back and tripped over a footstool. He fell ass over teakettle on his back, the wind knocked out of him. He lay there for a moment, stunned, before he sat up. Blinked. Blinked again.
His living room was back to normal, the mantle over the fireplace where it should be, the nicely framed landscape back in its usual place. Everything was as it should be; every detail as he remembered it.
Draco clambered up on the sofa and sat down. He was losing his mind. If he wasn’t careful he would end up in St. Mungo’s loony ward. He needed to tell Harry about this, but then again, maybe not.

Draco closed his eyes and took three deep breaths before opening them again. He looked around his flat. It was like it always was, neat, clean, and tasteful.

His vision flickered and darkened around the edges. The fireplace slowly transformed into the altar, the trinkets on the mantle changed into a brightly burning candle and chalice. The framed landscape shrunk, shifted into a large book. Draco rose, drawn to the altar, unable to stop. He inched closer to the cloth-covered table, afraid to blink lest it vanish as it had before. Worn and well-loved, the Bible was placed in a place of honor in the middle of the altar.

The words seemed to waver as Draco focused on the print. He blinked, his eyes watering, and read the lines marked, “He reveals the deep things of darkness and brings them into the light.” He stretched out a finger to move trace the writing, and the book and altar and all that it held slowly faded from sight.
Draco stepped back and reached for the amulet Harry had given him. He fingered the small sliver design, and squeezed it tightly. It was time he found out why he was seeing these visions. It had to do with the surgery; the cornea transplant he’d received. There could be no other reason. Without his magic, he needed Harry to take him to the hospital to question Dr. Lo. Right now!

“Draco!” Harry exclaimed, stumbling from the fireplace. “What’s wrong?” he asked as he hastily righted himself.

“I need to go to the hospital. I have to see Dr. Lo,” Draco said, urgently.

Harry stared at Draco and Draco knew exactly what he was seeing: a whiny boyfriend, already bored out of his mind from being stuck in his flat. “Your appointment is in three days. Why can’t you wait?” Harry asked, finally.

“I’m seeing things, hallucinating. That’s why I can’t wait,” Draco said, going to the sofa and sitting down. He rested his head in his hands, his elbows on his knees. “I think I’m going insane.”

Harry sat beside him. “Why do you think that?”

Draco looked up at him. “I saw an altar with a Bible. It was right there,” Draco said, with a nod to where his fireplace was. “And, I’ve been seeing these dark men…creatures. Hell, I don’t know what they are.”

“Oh-kay,” Harry said slowly. “Maybe it’s some reaction from the Muggle drugs?”

“No, it’s not,” Draco waved a hand dismissively. “I need you to take me to see Dr. Lo. Something isn’t right, Harry. I’m seeing these things in my dreams, at the hospital, Fuck! I’ve even seen them around you!” Draco exclaimed, poking a finger at Harry’s chest.

“Oh, right, and there’s one right here, right now?” Harry asked, spreading his arms wide, making a show of looking around for Draco’s dark creatures.

“Ass! I’m not making this up! I was sitting right there and the mantle changed. There was an altar and a candle and a book. There were white roses and I could smell them! I even burned my hand on the fucking candle!” Draco fairly shouted. “Look at my hand!” He held out his palm for Harry to examine.
Harry took Draco’s hand and examined his skin closely. “Your palm is fine. It’s not burned,” he said, his eyes sliding up to meet Draco’s.

Draco yanked his hand out of Harry’s grasp. He held up his palm in front of his face, his eyes widening. “I burned my hand,” Draco said slowly. “I did. I felt it.”

“What else are you seeing?” Harry sat down on the sofa, folding his arms over his chest.

“You don’t believe me.”

“I didn’t say that. Why don’t you start at the beginning? When did you first start hallucinating?” Harry asked.

“It was at the hospital. There was this thing… a creature if you will. I saw it in the hallway with the old Muggle who was in my room. The old man was saying he didn’t want to go and the creature came up to me.” A shiver ran down Draco’s back. “I saw it again the next morning, leaning over the old Muggle’s bed.”

Harry nodded and motioned Draco to continue.

“I went over to him and he was dead.”

“I know. The nurse told me that he was very ill and there was little chance of him leaving the hospital,” Harry said, thoughtfully. “So, when else have you seen this creature?”

“The other night, when you and I were in the bedroom... remember when I grabbed you? Well, there was a creature behind you. It was leaning over your shoulder.”

Harry nodded slowly.

Draco could only imagine what was going on in Harry’s mind. Mysterious dark creatures, vanishing fireplaces, old men dying as they do when they reach the end of their days; there was nothing to prove anything that he’d said. Draco was crazy. What other conclusion could he come to?

“You don’t believe me, do you?” Draco asked again.

“Seriously, Draco, it sounds like some sort of reaction to the Muggle drugs or the potion you were making. No one has ever seen anything like what you’ve described.”

“Well, what about Thestrals? You can’t see them unless you’ve seen someone die.”

“True, but Thestrals are magical creatures and they don’t stalk people. It’s not the same.”

“It doesn’t matter. I am seeing these things and they’re real,” Draco said firmly. “I want to see Dr. Lo or a Healer. If this is only a reaction to the potion that exploded, then I want it to stop.” He paused to look at Harry. “Are you going to take me or not?”

“Your appointment with Dr. Lo is in three days, but it probably wouldn’t hurt for you to see a Healer. If for no other reason than to rule out any other reason for you seeing these things,” Harry said thoughtfully. “It doesn’t sound like a curse or a hex to me, but logically I think it’s going to turn out to be a weird reaction to the anesthesia or medicines that you were given at the hospital.”

“So, when are we leaving?”

“Get your cloak,” Harry replied.

XXXXXXX

“Sit back, Mr. Malfoy, and let me run a few tests on you,” Healer Goran said, flicking her wand over Draco’s head. She circled around him and made another complicated movement with her wand.

Draco sat back and relaxed, watching her efficient movements. At least this was something he could trust; magic being used to diagnose and heal without crude sticking of needles and doses of chemical compounds. Although, as much as he hated to admit it, the Muggles did have one thing over magical medicine: they had been able to repair his eyes.

“So what do these creatures look like?” Healer Goran asked, studying her wand. “Would you describe them to me?”

Draco felt Harry rest his hand on his shoulder, giving it an encouraging squeeze.

“They… the creatures are dressed in black. They have the body structure of men, but their faces are horrible. No eyes, no nose, a mouth filled with yellow pointed teeth,” Draco said, shuddering. “I think they kill people.”

A skeptical expression crossed the Healer’s face, but she checked herself and schooled her expression into something more appropriate; concern and interest.

“I first saw one the night after the surgery. I didn’t pay too much attention at the time because I had a bit of memory loss and was feeling a bit fuzzy.” Draco felt Harry’s hand tighten on his shoulder.

“The nurse at the hospital said it could have been a reaction to the anesthesia. She said it would pass once the drugs were out of Draco’s system. He was fine once he was back in his apartment. That was about 48 hours after the surgery,” Harry said, helpfully.

“I see,” Healer Goran said, making small controlled movements with her wand in front of Draco’s face.

“Is that correct, Mr. Malfoy?”

Draco nodded. “I saw the creature several more times. I also had a dream about it the first night home.”

“Ah ha,” Healer Goran murmured, her sole focus on what her diagnostic magic was telling her.

She tsk’d and slipped her wand back inside her sleeve. “What you’re seeing isn’t a residual effect from the Muggle medicines, though the anesthesia was definitely a cause of your fuzzy memory.” She turned to him. “Have you seen death, Mr. Malfoy?”

“What?”

“What I meant to say, have you seen someone die?” she asked, studying him intently.

“I… I saw a teacher die, but…” Draco stammered, becoming upset and paling. This was not something he deigned to talk about, ever.

Harry shot Draco a look and interrupted, “It was during the Battle of Hogwarts.”

“Hmmm,” the Healer said thoughtfully, raising one thin eyebrow. “After you witnessed this teacher’s death, do you remember having trouble sleeping? Eating? Perhaps feeling a bit wonky?”

“Wonky?” Draco asked. “What do you mean wonky?”

“Out of sorts, not quite right,” Healer Goran replied mildly.

Draco drew in a deep breath, thinking back. “I don’t remember having trouble sleeping or eating after.”

The Healer nodded, picked up Draco’s file and riffled through it. “Your eyesight is good?”

“Sometimes my vision blurs, but most of the time, my vision is the same as before the surgery,” Draco replied.

The healer continued to reread Draco’s file, occasionally tapping her finger to her lip or raising an eyebrow. After a few minutes, she finally spoke. “Mr. Malfoy, I have no clear diagnosis, but I suspect you have a form of what Muggles call PTSD, or Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Your recent surgery has triggered feelings of helplessness, which have never been resolved, from the trauma of seeing a teacher die during the Battle of Hogwarts. I can only propose that you are superimposing what you believe a Dementor looks like with your mental image of this event, based upon your description of the creature.”

“So what you’re telling me is that it’s all in my head?” Draco asked in disbelief.

“There is no medical or magical reason that I can find for your hallucinations,” Healer Goran replied.

“Healer, what is the treatment for PTSD?” Harry asked.

“I have a few calming and serenity spells that would help, but we can use a specific Obliviation spell to remove the offending memory.” She smiled at Draco’s slack-jawed expression. “Close your mouth, dear! We only use it if the patient doesn’t respond to any other treatments. But, in all fairness, it’s a very safe and effective spell.”

“But, the creature… it was so real,” Draco protested.

“And you have had a significant medical procedure that is quite draining on a magical person’s system. Although Muggles and Magical folk are quite similar in many, many ways, it is much more difficult for a Wizard to recover from Muggle surgery than a Muggle from a potion or a charm.” Healer Goran placed Draco’s file down and tapped it with her finger. “You were unable to participate in the decision to use Muggle surgery to save your sight and this loss of control has caused you to have these strange visions.”

Her tone softened just a bit. “Even if it wasn’t a Muggle procedure, you could still have suffered psychological damage from having control of your fate wrested from you. Many Wizards have spent time on Ward 49 for less.” She smiled. “Once you’re cleared with Dr Lo, a simple calming spell will probably help.”

“I think I’ll take that list of spells and treatments now,” Draco said with a sigh.

XXXXXXXX

“So, are you feeling better now? Knowing that you can be cured?” Harry asked, as he closed the door to Draco’s flat behind him. The car ride home had been a stony affair, with Harry driving while Draco sat silently, grinding his teeth.

“As well as one can when they’ve just found out they’ve gone ‘round the twist,” Draco said snidely. He tossed his sunglasses on the side table and turned to Harry. “I’m still telling you what I saw was real. I’m not making it up. It was as real to me as you standing there, with your arms crossed over your chest with that stupid look on your face. Healer Goran can call it whatever she wants, but I know what I’m seeing.” Draco turned and stalked into the kitchen.

Harry followed him into the kitchen, ignoring his slamming of cabinets and set about filling the kettle.

He twisted the tap shut, and turned to Draco, “Sit down. I’m making tea and we’re going to have a talk.
Alright?”

Draco pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down. He fully expected Harry to refute everything he’d said as just his imagination.

“What if I said I believe you?” Harry asked. “What if I told you that I’ve had Hermione research your dark creature?”

“You did what? Granger did that for me?” Draco asked, both astounded and relieved. Astounded that Granger would work that hard to determine if there was a basis for what he was seeing and relieved that Harry might really believe him.

“Actually, she did it for me. She’s not exactly fond of you for that Mudblood remark,” Harry replied, smiling.

“That was ages ago and we were just children.”

“True, but you know the saying, ‘Hell hath no fury…”

“Right, remind me to apologize next time,” Draco interrupted. “Tell me what she found out.”

Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny scroll. He tapped it with his finger and watched as it expanded into a large, tightly wound document. “Of course you know Hermione, she never does anything in halves,” Harry said.

Leaning over, Draco could see endless lines of neat script stretching across the parchment. “By any wild chance, did she happen to summarize that?” he asked, pointing.

“I must be rubbing off on you,” Harry said, amused.

“Just the thought of reading all that makes my eyes hurt,” Draco replied, as he massaged his temple wearily.

“It comes down to three things; dark angels, death, or demons.”

“Just lovely. A Dark Lord wasn’t enough?” Draco replied.

“A lot of what she found was myth, or Biblical folklore. Nothing concrete, really. She did mention something about grim reapers.” Harry paused, unrolling the parchment and skimming it with his finger. “Here. It says that some Muggles believe that a dark creature called a Grim Reaper, also known as Death, comes to collect the dying or those whose time is up. The Grim Reaper is usually clothed in a black robe and can carry a scythe, although in other cultures he has other names and costumes.”

“A Grim Reaper?”

“Yep. But, she also wrote that although there is much written about Grim Reapers and Death, no one has ever proven that they exist.”

“Nothing concrete and she still wrote that much?” Draco asked.
The shrill whistle of the kettle interrupted them and Harry slid out of his chair. Draco watched as he poured the water over the tea leaves in the strainer into his favorite china teapot; the one with an ornate ‘M’ on the side, the only one he’d been able to salvage from the manor.

“Biscuits?” he asked, rising.

“Yes, please,” Harry replied, pouring the tea into two mugs.

Draco already returned to the table, a plate of almond crescent biscuits between them.

Harry placed a mug before Draco and then his at his place at the table. Sitting down, Harry pulled the mug over and beckoned to the sugar bowl. Two cubes floated over and plopped into his mug.

Draco raised his mug, blew over the steaming tea and took a tentative sip. He sat the mug down, cradling it in his hand. “I know what I’m seeing is real…” and he stopped, frozen.

“What?” Harry asked. “What’s wrong?” he said a little faster.

Draco raised a hand to his mouth and pointed to a space next to Harry’s shoulder. “There, over your right shoulder. One of the creatures,” Draco said, his voice a bare whisper.

Harry looked to the right, twisting in his chair, his wand already in hand.

“Draco, there’s nothing here,” he said, irritated.

“Its hands are next to your face, can’t you feel them?” Draco breathed. “It’s drifting right next to you. Don’t move, Harry.” Draco ordered softly, his eyes darting right and left, following something unseen intently.

“What are you seeing?” Harry asked as he watched Draco’s eyes as they followed the creature.

“It’s looking at me and then back at you,” Draco whispered. He glanced at Harry’s mug and a look of disgust crossed his face.

Then as suddenly as it had appeared, the creature disappeared.

“Oh! It’s gone,” Draco exclaimed.

“This has got to stop. After your appointment with Dr. Lo, you’re going to follow Healer Goran’s instructions to the letter. This is making you crazy,” Harry said, quietly, and then lifted his mug to drink.

“Fuck, no!” Draco screamed, standing and leaning across the table in one fluid motion and knocking the mug from Harry’s hand, splattering tea over the table and floor. The mug bounced once before shattering, sending shards skittering across the floor.

“What the hell?” Harry exclaimed, jerking back in his chair.

“It put its finger was in your mug,” Draco said, his voice shaking. He shuddered, and his eyes flickered down to the table and he pointed.

Harry’s eyes followed his gaze, confused. It was only spilt tea.

The tea that had splattered on the table was shifting, changing and letters began to emerge through the steam. Draco watched as the letters faded back into the tea spill. MINE was all it said.

XXXXXXXX

“Dr. Lo wasn’t very helpful,” Draco said; disgust in his voice. “The Muggle is dead, so what’s the big deal about keeping his identity a secret?”

“Probably to protect the family,” Harry said reasonably. “But there are other channels we can go through to find out some information about your donor.”

Draco made a small noise of disbelief and continued toward the exit with Harry.

“You first,” Harry said.

Adjusting his glasses, Draco pushed through the revolving door leading to the outside. He blinked, winching just a little in the bright sunlight. At least Dr. Lo had said that with time, his light sensitivity would lessen. At least in the sunlight, there were no shadows, and no dark figures lurking in them.

Harry joined him, and they began to walk. Draco was grateful that Harry was willing to help him find out about the donor of his corneas. Surely there was something about the donor that would shed some light on his visions. Just knowing Harry believed him had lifted his spirits immensely.

“Eyes okay?” Harry asked, breaking the silence.

“I don’t see creatures, if that’s what you mean,” Draco replied.

Harry veered closer and bumped Draco’s shoulder with his own. “What do you say we go back to your flat?” he asked, in a low voice.

“Are you trying to take my mind off the creatures?” Draco asked, trying not to laugh at Harry’s attempt at looking seductive.

“Erm… something like that,” Harry replied with a grin.

“What? No work for you today?” Draco asked. He turned toward Harry, one eyebrow raised over the edge of his dark glasses.

“Well, I have an assignment tonight that I can’t get out of but I definitely don’t want my boyfriend to feel neglected.”

Draco snorted. “And how do you propose to make it up to me? Say… a night-long orgy,” he said with a comical leer.

“So, you’re going to disappoint the kids on Halloween?” Harry asked, momentarily sidestepping Draco’s question.

“Halloween? You mean I have to give out candy to the little buggers?” Draco asked, slowing his pace.

“You said you would,” Harry answered, taking a moment to push his own glasses up his nose. “I told you last month that I had this assignment and you agreed.”

“Right, and what did you promise in return?” Draco asked; a smirk on his face. Even if he’d forgotten this little task, no self-respecting Slytherin would ever agree to something without receiving something in return.

“Oh, you know,” Harry said leaning over and whispering in Draco’s ear. “A sexual kink of your choice. I thought I’d start with an invisible blow job.”

Draco’s smirk grew bigger. So did something else, southward. “I seem to recall agreeing to that, yes.”
Harry laughed. “Let’s stop at Tesco and get the candy, okay?”

“Sure,” Draco replied, enjoying how this afternoon was working out. After a moment, he turned to Harry. “Do we have time to take some candy or a puzzle book to Shaun at the hospital?”

“And to think you’ve shattered one of Hermione’s beliefs about you. You do have a heart,” Harry said, placing a hand on his chest in mock shock.

“Yeah, but I trust you’ll not tell her, right?”

Harry nodded, hooking his arm through Draco’s.

XXXXXXXX

Six bags of candy, two puzzle books, a small gift bag filled with a Muggle hand held video game and a ball cap later, Draco and Harry stood in front of the hospital.

“Taken a real liking to him, eh?” Harry asked, shifting a plastic bag stuffed with sweets from hand to hand.

“I expect it’ll look good on my resume,” Draco said, dryly, “interacts well with Muggles.”

“Bosh. You just like the little guy,” Harry replied, following Draco into the hospital. They walked to the elevator and Draco pushed the up button.

“Actually, you do quite well, functioning in the Muggle world.”

“Figured I might as well learn, since I am about one percent Muggle now, as much as I hate to admit it. I’m glad Dr. Lo cleared me. I’m itching to use my magic,” Draco said cheerfully. “Wish this damn thing would hurry up.” He poked the button again.

“Watched pot never boils,” Harry said.

“Neither does an elevator apparently,” Draco replied. At that moment the elevator dinged, and both men boarded. Draco pushed the number 3 button.

“Hey, when we get up there, I need to use the loo,” Harry said.

Draco nodded absently. “Sure.”

The elevator door opened and they stepped out into the brightly lit hallway. Harry looked left and then right, and pointed with a bag filled hand, “There.”

Harry sat his bag down and went into the restroom. Draco sat down the bag he held, and then idly examined his fingernails as he leaned against the wall waiting for Harry.

“Draco?” a small voice asked, followed by a tug on his shirt sleeve.

Draco looked down. “Shaun!” He exclaimed, squatting down to be on eye level with the little Muggle.

“I’m glad you’re here, Draco,” the little boy said. “I wanted to tell you goodbye. I’m leaving today.” But instead of sounding happy, Shaun sounded sad.

“I’m glad you’re going home,” Draco said, reaching behind him for the gift bag. “In fact, I have a going home present for you.”

Shaun shook his head no and took a step back. “I can’t take any toys with me. The man said I couldn’t.”

Draco lost his balance and slid to his butt.

“Shaun! What man?” Draco asked urgently.

The little boy turned and ran down the hallway.

“Shaun!” Draco cried, scrambling to his feet and racing after the boy. He slid around the corner and came to a stumbling stop. Shaun was walking away from Draco, hand in hand with a dark creature.

“No… oh no,” Draco breathed.

The creature turned, flicked a long split tongue at Draco and grinned a horrible, ghastly grin. “MINE,” it groaned. It raised a macabre hand and beckoned to Draco with a curl of its finger.

“Draco,” Harry panted, coming to stand beside Draco. “Why’d you run off? What’s going on?”

“It’s there… it’s got Shaun,” Draco breathed, horror-struck.

Harry stared at the empty hallway, the light flickering above casting an eerie shadow over them.
“Draco, there’s nothing here,” Harry said, stepping closer to Draco.

Without a word, Draco began to run. He ran down the hall, almost overshooting his old hospital room. Draco darted through the door.

The beds in the room were empty except for the one by the window. A curtain had been drawn around it. Sunlight filtered through the blinds into the room.

Hesitantly, Draco walked to the curtain and yanked it back. The bed was empty. There was no sign that a little boy had ever occupied it.

“Sir,” a woman in what Draco recognized as a nurse’s uniform, said curtly. “This room is…” She caught the look on Draco’s face. “Who were you looking for?” she asked.

“Shaun. He was in this room with me when I was here last week. Was he transferred to a different room?” Draco asked, his hope rising.

The nurse, a short, mousey-haired woman, averted her gaze for just a moment before looking up. Her face was full of compassion. “Sir, he passed away this morning.”

At that moment Harry appeared behind the nurse. “Excuse me,” he said as he pushed past her in the doorway and then went to Draco.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said softly to Draco who had turned his head and was fighting back a sob. Harry glanced back at the nurse.

“Ma’am,” Harry said politely, “Would you give us a moment?”

The nurse nodded and left.

Draco went into Harry’s embrace and wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck as he buried his face in Harry’s shoulder. “Draco, honey, we need to get you home right now. There’s nothing you can do here,” Harry said gently, stroking Draco’s hair.

A soft yes came from the direction of Harry’s shoulder.

Harry turned and Apparated them both back to Draco’s flat.

XXXXXXXX

“Thanks for coming over, Hermione,” Harry said. Draco heard the sound of the front door shutting.
He didn’t really remember arriving home; he only remembered Harry’s gentle touch, his soft lips, as he soothed Draco’s tremors. It had to be at least suppertime for his stomach had just growled. Draco turned over and concentrated on the voices coming from the lounge. He still felt a bit fuzzy and thinking was difficult.

“…horrible shock. He’d become quite attached to the little boy at the hospital,” Harry was saying. “He said he saw the creature with him.”

“Did you see anything, Harry?” Granger asked. Draco could only imagine her distaste at being in his home.

“No, but he really believes that he’s seeing these things,” Harry was saying, “and I believe him.”

“I see. Were you able to get the donor’s name from Dr. Lo? I brought my laptop, so that while you’re out tonight with Ron, I could do a little research.” He could imagine her fixing Harry with a steely-eyed glare before saying, “You did remember to unward an area so I can use this here, right?”

“I did. That corner, there, has been cleared of magic.

Oh damn, his favorite, the blue wing-back! Draco grinned to himself. He was feeling quite weird, wonky, like what the Healer had said. Harry must think so too. He’d gotten Draco a babysitter. Draco stifled a snort. He was losing it.

“Good. And the information from Dr. Lo?” Hermione asked crisply. Draco could hear her moving about, opening something.

Draco heard footsteps coming toward his bedroom. He quickly shut his eyes.

A creak of his bedroom door being opened slightly. Footsteps walking away, again.

“He’s still asleep. I spoke to Dr. Lo this afternoon. He gave me a name, but made me swear not to tell Draco, “Harry said.

Draco opened his eyes and perked up his ears. Harry was talking to Dr. Lo behind his back?

“Said that there would be official sanctions if anyone found out. Not to mention threatening any Wizard-Muggle joint medical endeavors in the future.”

Draco heard a very un-lady-like snort. “So, who was it? Convicted murderer? Garbageman?”

“Actually no. The donor was a monk at a church outside Kent. Our Lady of the Sacred Angels. His name was Mark Donovan, and he died in some sort of vehicle accident,” Harry said.

Nice, Draco thought. A monk. He felt like he was drifting again, but he couldn’t, he needed to find out what was going on. He sat up. Felt wobbly. Slid off the bed and crawled to the door. Leaned his face against the woodwork and peeked through the cracked door.

“I’ll check it out. I still think he’s just having an adverse reaction to the drugs given to him at the hospital. Healer Goran is one of the best at St. Mungo’s.” A silence. “How long do you think it’ll take you and Ron tonight?”

“If all goes to plan, I think we should wrap up around one,” Harry replied. “Did Ron tell you about it?”

“He said it was a round-up of wizards dealing questionable potions to Muggles,” Hermione replied.

Harry chuckled quietly. “I really need to talk to him about discussing Auror business outside the office.”

“Honestly, Harry,” Hermione said, “It’s not like I’m going to put your mission in jeopardy.”

“Right. Well, I need to go. As you know, we’re supposed to meet at four to go over the final details.”

Draco heard Harry’s footsteps growing fainter. “I appreciate you staying with him until I get home. It’s just been really difficult for him the past week…”

“I know, I know,” Hermione said. “It’s just very odd that no other cornea transplant recipient has ever reported any problems other than the normal ones; dry eyes, sensitivity to light, and blurred vision. I really believe it has something to do with the Muggle to Wizard ocular structure.”

“Whatever you say, Hermione. I don’t understand a word of it,” Harry said with a little laugh.

Draco gave a start and froze. A creature appeared behind Harry. It slowly circled him; its fingers grazed over the folds of Harry’s robes. Draco glanced at Granger, wondering if she saw it too. She didn’t. She smirked at Harry; just like she did when they were in school and she knew the answer to a question in Potions.

“Tell Ron to be careful, alright?”

“I’ll take care of him, no worries,” Harry said. The creature was now almost a shadow covering Harry, its arms circling him, its face almost pressed to Harry’s in some parody of a deep intimate kiss.

Draco watched as Harry stepped, twisted, then he was gone and so was the creature.

“No!” Draco shouted, shoving the door open and staggering into the room.

“Malfoy! Hermione exclaimed, startled. “You need to get back to bed,” she said, rising from the blue wing-back in the corner. She sat the open laptop on the floor.

“Harry…” Draco croaked. “It was there. It’s going to hurt him. His voice failed and he sagged, staring at her dully. “You don’t understand, no one understands.”

Granger grasped Draco’s upper arm and attempted to pull him to his feet. “You need to rest. The Healer sent over a potion…”

“I don’t want a potion. You don’t understand! Harry’s in danger!” Draco said, his voice rising. He jerked out of Hermione’s grasp.

“Malfoy, no, Harry is not in danger,” Hermione said calmly. “These creatures are only figments of your imagination.”

“Then why did Harry find out who my donor was and why are you doing research?” Draco demanded; his eyes now clear and glinting with anger. “Why didn’t he tell me?”

Hermione sighed and worried her bottom lip with her teeth. Unconsciously, she twisted a strand of hair between her fingers before she answered. “Harry wanted me to figure out if there were any cases of people seeing things after surgery. He’s worried about you,” she said, then pressed her lips tightly together as if she’d just realized she’d said too much, then deciding if she could say anything more. “He didn’t tell you because there wasn’t anything to tell!”

“Granger… Hermione,” Draco said hesitantly. “Did Harry tell you everything?”

“No. H3 asked me to research any creatures that were dark or could be construed as evil. He told me just tonight that you’d seen a dark creature.”

“I’ve been seeing them since the night after the surgery. I saw one of them take away the old man that was in the room with me. He died sometime in the night, but I saw him in the hallway that night with the creature. I know the creature took him. Then I’ve seen it around Harry. A lot. We were here and in the bed…” Draco stopped unsure if Granger was alright with their relationship or not. “We were in my bedroom, and I saw it over his shoulder. Then I saw an altar with a Bible. Then today when I was at the hospital to see Shaun, I saw it take him away. He’s dead Hermione! The damn thing took him away and there wasn’t anything I could do!” Draco paused, steadying himself, then continued. “I saw one here just a moment ago and it was all over Harry. I think it’s going to take him next! It wants Harry!” Draco exclaimed. “Don’t you get it? I see them when someone is going to die!” He had to make Hermione understand. He needed to find out where Harry had gone and get him away from the creature.

“Tell me everything, and I mean everything you’ve seen in detail from the very beginning. Nothing is too small,” Hermione said, grimly, going back to her laptop and sitting down and starting to type.

And Draco began to talk.

XXXXXXXX

“Are you sure you want to do this? I can go alone,” Draco said, pulling a sweater over his tee shirt. It was one of Harry’s which made it a little too short in the sleeves, but otherwise it fit.

“If the thing is after Harry, it might go after Ron next and that’s just not happening,” Hermione said, shrugging into her own jacket. “But, promise me, you’ll let me do the talking.” She looked expectantly at Draco.

Draco nodded. They were going to Our Lady of the Sacred Angels first. It was a long shot that anyone would know anything, but Hermione had insisted that it was important to get all the facts before she’d tell him where Harry would be tonight.

“Ready?” she asked, reaching out for his hand.

“Ready,” Draco said firmly as he grasped Hermione Granger’s hand for the first time, ever.

A pop, a twisting, disorienting feeling and they were there. The building looked like any other Muggle church Draco had ever seen. A simple exterior with a few stonework flourishes, the bell tower, a simple set of steps leading up to a pair of large wooden doors. A low stone wall ran around the perimeter of the church. Old, mature trees shadowed the church and the small house set off to the side.

Draco immediately peered through a window. “Hermione! There’s the altar I saw,” Draco said excitedly. “Let’s go inside.”

“Let’s start with the friary,” Hermione suggested, nodding toward the house.

“Friary?”

“Where the brothers live. I want to see if any of them can tell us about Brother Donovan,” Hermione said.

“Alright.”

Hermione strode up the walk and rapped briskly on the front door. After a moment or so, the door opened.

“May I help you, Miss?” a stooped, balding friar asked. He smiled genially.

“My name is Hermione Granger and this is Draco Malfoy,” she said, motioning to Draco. We attend Hogwarts University and we’re doing research for a joint paper on organ donation, particularly how or why a donor came to their decision. I was told that you might be able to help us,” she said politely, discretely glancing at the clipboard she held. “Brother Mark Donovan?”

“Aye, that I could,” the friar said. “Come in,” he said as he opened the door.

He led Draco and Hermione down a hallway to a brightly lit kitchen, the smell of supper still in the air, a kettle sitting over an open flame on the cooker. I’m Brother Andrew,” he said and motioned to the kitchen table. “Please sit down.”

Hermione sat down obediently, pulling a pen from her purse and setting the clipboard in front of her.

Draco on the other hand, leaned against the counter and folded his arms over his chest.

Brother Andrew glanced at Draco and shrugged before sitting down across from Hermione.

“Would you mind telling us a little bit about Brother Donovan?” Hermione asked.

“We’ve always urged charity in our parish, but Brother Mark was a true example of our mission. He was a good man,” Brother Andrew said a bit sadly.

“Did Brother Donovan ever mention his reasons for choosing to donate his organs?” Hermione asked, writing something on the paper clipped to the board. She glanced up.

“Brother Mark never really mentioned a reason. We didn’t even know he’d signed up until after the accident and we had to go through his papers. He was only able to donate his corneas, though.”

“How did he pass?” Hermione asked gently, writing again on her clipboard.

“Twas a horrid thing. A lorry was driving down the road and a little boy, the son of one of our parishioners, darted into the road.” Brother Andrew made the sign of the cross, then continued, “Brother Mark ran out and scooped him up and tossed him into the grass. Unfortunately, Brother Mark didn’t have time to get out of way.

“Terrible,” Hermione murmured, still writing. “Would you be able to tell me anything else about Brother Donovan? Did he have any particular philosophies? Ones that might explain his willingness to donate?”

The kettle began to whistle.

Brother Andrew started to rise, but Draco stopped him.

“I’ll take care of it. We’re very grateful for your help with this project,” Draco said politely, then smiled as he caught Hermione’s wink.

Draco busied himself with making tea.

“If you would like a cuppa, extra mugs are in the cabinet by the sink,” Brother Andrew offered, as he turned to answer Hermione’s question.

“Well, he believed what we Capuchin do; working with the poor and administering the word of God, but he often lectured about bringing the darkness to light.”

The kettle slipped from Draco’s nerveless fingers. “Sorry, what did you say?” Draco asked, quickly righting the kettle and placing the teapot and mug before Brother Andrew.

“Oh, Brother Mark was quite the believer of exposing the evil a man held inside to God’s holy inspection and letting the chips fall as they may. He counseled many people and brought them back to the side of light. He was quite good about that,” Brother Andrew told Hermione. He glanced up as Draco returned with two more mugs and placed one in front of Hermione and then sat down.

“Brother Andrew, that’s wonderful,” Hermione said quietly. She paused in her writing and glanced up and smiled at the friar. “He believed in helping people, regardless if they were considered good or bad. Is that correct?”

“Aye lassie, Brother Mark believed in second chances. He truly believed in making your peace with the ones you’ve wronged and with God because as it says in the Bible, man does not know the hour of his death.”

“Hmm,” Hermione hummed, bent back to her writing.

“Sir, I have a question,” Draco said, rolling the mug between his palms, ignoring the irritated look Hermione had just shot him. “Did Brother Donovan ever mention seeing the darkness in men, maybe a shadow of evil?”

Brother Andrew jerked his head up, any pretense of politeness and gentleness gone. “What did you say? Where did you hear that?” he spat out.

“During my research for our paper, I had found a quote about bringing the darkness to light and I was wondering if you could give me your take on it? The quote was mentioned in a medical record of a man who had hallucinations and eventually died during an exorcism,” Draco lied, his eyes steady on the small friar.

Brother Andrew sat for a moment, then sighed. He took a sip of his tea and the tiredly rubbed his forehead. “I probably shouldn’t say this, and I won’t speak poorly of the dead, but Brother Mark was plagued by visions. He often commented on seeing demons stalking innocent people and how little he could do to help them. It troubled him terribly,” he said, gazing down into the depths of his tea.

“So, what does it mean? He uncovers the depths out of darkness and brings deep darkness to light?” Draco asked.

“Ah, there can be many meanings to Job 12:22. One might say that God discloses truths that are best hidden in the dark of night, ones that men are unable or shouldn’t discover. Or that only God has the power to predict future events by bringing them out of the dark into the light of the day,” Brother Andrew explained.

“What would Brother Mark say about that quote?” Draco asked gently.

“He often used other scripture to help explain that particular quote. One moment,” Brother Andrew said, rising from the table and vanishing into another room off of the kitchen. He returned a moment later with a well-worn bible. “Here,” he muttered, flipping rapidly through the pages. He moved under the kitchen light and began to read. “He reveals deep and hidden things; he knows what lies in darkness, and light dwells with him.” He thumbed through the Bible again. “Or this one, “Therefore judge nothing before the appointed time; wait till the Lord comes. He will bring to light what is hidden in darkness and will expose the motives of men's hearts. At that time each will receive his praise from God.”

“So, what does it all mean?” Draco asked again, wondering if there was any other way to phrase his question so that he could get an answer that made some sense.

“My boy, it is within you to find the answer to your question. The Bible means different things to different people and only you can decide what the scripture means to you.” The friar sat down, placing the Bible on the table between himself and Draco.

Hermione tapped Brother Andrew on the arm, drawing his attention away from Draco. “Brother, would you say that…” and Draco tuned them out. He reached for the book and drew it to him, letting his finger underline the words the friar had just read. Perhaps Brother Donovan knew what dwelt in the darkness; perhaps he had seen the creatures. Draco had never seen a creature like the one following Harry until his eye surgery. Perhaps Brother Donovan had died saving a child from the deep and hidden things that hid in the darkness and that needed to be brought to the light.

“Draco, Draco,” Hermione was saying and Draco snapped out of his thoughts. “I’m finished. Do you have any further questions for Brother Andrew?”

“No, I don’t.” Draco rose from the chair, turned to Brother Andrew and offered his hand. “You’ve been very helpful. Thank you.”

The friar ushered them out and bid them goodnight. Draco and Hermione walked down the path until they were well out of sight of the friary. Draco turned to Hermione and touched her elbow. “Do you believe me now?”

“I… I don’t know. It just seems so far-fetched. But, it just seems too much of a coincidence to not believe,” Hermione replied. She pressed her lips together then nodded. “I do believe you.”

“Then where are the Aurors going tonight?” Draco demanded. “Tell me, Granger!”

“Glastonbury Tor at half-past nine, but you’re not going alone. I’m coming with you because you’re going to need help.”

Draco took a step back. “It’s too dangerous. I can’t risk any one getting hurt because of me. Not again.”

“That was a different time and you were a different person then. You’re not doing this for any other reason than to protect Harry.” She paused, and gazed at him steadily, “I wouldn’t go along with this otherwise.”

Draco nodded once. “You said that it was a routine drug raid tonight, but do you think the Aurors took into account that there would be quite a large gathering of Muggles at Glastonbury Tor tonight?”

“How do you know that? I thought you didn’t like Muggles,” Hermione remarked.

“I never said I liked them, but I do know how to read. At the hospital, before my appointment with Dr. Lo, I saw an advert in the newspaper and before you ask, I was bored enough to read a Muggle newspaper, alright?” Draco said, then went on, not giving Hermione another chance to get a word in edgewise. “It said that on Halloween Night there would be a costume contest, food vendors, and at eleven, a fireworks display.”

“Do you think the creatures will attack the Muggles, too?” Hermione asked. “Maybe we should contact the Ministry to find Harry and…”

“I doubt that they could reach him. He told me once that he never gave the correct time to his associates just in case one of them babbled about it to someone they shouldn’t.” Draco stopped at Hermione’s stricken look. “He didn’t mean Ron, or you, of course.”

“I know,” Hermione replied slowly. She sat down on the low stone wall that surrounded the church proper. “What’s your plan?”

“I just think something is going to go wrong tonight and I have to be there if it does. Harry has had a creature stalking him since my surgery and I think it’s going to attack tonight.”

“But why tonight?” Hermione asked.

“It’s’ Halloween – All Hallows Eve, a night where the entrance to the underworld opens, a night of mischief and madness by the Muggles. What better place than Glastonbury Tor?” Draco explained.

“I don’t understand…” Hermione started.

“Glastonbury Tor is said to be the home of the Underworld King, Gwyn ap Nudd. He’s a Welsh mythological figure, a dark figure associated with the underworld. It’s said that he gathers the souls of warriors who fall in battle,”

“Oh my god,” Hermione breathed, covering her mouth, putting it all together. “Your dark creature… you think it’s him?”

“I think so,” Draco said grimly. “He’s after Harry.”

“What are you going to do?”

“The only thing I can. Follow the advice of Brother Donovan,” Draco replied.

XXXXXXXX

The last rays of a blood-red sun silhouetted St. Michael’s Tower on Glastonbury Tor, or what was left of it. The original church had been destroyed in an earthquake ages ago. Yet, wizards and Muggles were drawn to the Tor because of its mystical properties. Some said that the very earth was imbued with magic from ages past. Magic from the Fae, magic from ancient wizards, and the thin veil between the Muggle and Magical world make this a very strange and powerful hill. The hill itself was rocky; the way to the top ringed with layers, spiraling from the bottom up until the land flattened out.

From the pathway to the top, Draco and Hermione watched the light fade, as they paused to catch their breath. It was a beautiful sight. One by one, torches lit the darkness like glowing jewels in the night.

“Pardon, mate,” a young man said as he bumped into Draco on his way down from the top of the Tor. Already there was a small crowd on the top of the hill. Many headed up to the top of the Tor were dressed as witches and wizards and demons and, one, a pink-winged fairy.

“So, this is it,” Hermione said, her hands on her hips. Her cloak was pulled tight around her neck against the evening chill.

Draco nodded. Tonight, All Hallow’s Eve, was a night where the opening between the dark underworld and the normal would open. The creature stalking Harry would be at its most powerful tonight.

“It was a good idea to transfigure our clothing to robes. We’ll fit right in with the others,” Hermione said as they walked up to the long path to the top of the hill.

“It seemed the thing to do. The advert mentioned that there would be a costume contest and it seemed prudent,” Draco replied, secretly pleased that Granger admitted he’d had a good idea.

They climbed in silence, moving steadily toward the top of the hill.

“When Harry told me about you two, I didn’t think it would last,” Hermione said, glancing at Draco.

“Sorry if I disappointed you, Granger,” Draco said, a frosty tone creeping into his voice.

“That’s not what I meant. You’re good for him. He seems a lot happier than he was before you started seeing each other,” Hermione said. “Ron even mentioned it.”

“Thanks. He’s good for me too,” Draco said, tersely.

“I didn’t know what to think, that maybe you would just use him and then break his heart,” Hermione paused. “It’s not like you two had the best past.”

“Why are you telling me all this? It’s been quite obvious that I’m not your favorite person. What did you call me? Oh, yes, something about being a foul, loathsome, little cockroach.”

“Well, better than Mudblood,” Hermione spat.

“Point,” Draco said quietly, dodging a drunken Muggle stumbling down the pathway.

“The point is that I care about Harry and if being with you makes him happy, then so be it. But I want you to know that if you ever hurt him, physically, mentally, or emotionally, I will personally hex your balls off,” Hermione said fiercely.

“Ooh, a little fire. Well, think about this. If I had any plans or even any desire to harm your dear little Harry, who by the way is my Harry, why the fuck would I go through what I have and be called crazy?”

“So, you love him?” Hermione asked.

Draco snorted. “You have to ask?”

Hermione smiled.

The pathway became a bit steeper and both Draco and Hermione concentrated on navigating their way up.

Love is a foolish emotion, one that will make the strongest person weak, the most cowardly person, brave and former enemies, lovers. As strange as it might seem to someone like Hermione, Draco loved Harry, although he’d rather bite off his tongue than actually say the words.

Over the horizon, the harvest moon began its slow assent into the night sky. The torches placed at intervals along the path cast flickering light along the cobbled path, while the moon gave the land a silvery glint.

The two walked in silence when finally Hermione cleared her throat.

“I hope we find Ron and Harry quickly. Whatever this thing you’re seeing will probably be lurking around nearby.”

Draco nodded and stopped in his tracks, his gaze frozen. Hermione took two more steps then turned back, puzzled that Draco who had been in such a hurry to get to the summit of Glastonbury Tor that he’d nearly been dragging her along, had stopped.

“What’s wrong? Are you seeing it again?” Hermione asked. She grabbed his wrist and gave it an impatient yank.

Draco shuddered and slowly turned to her. “You can’t see them, but there are hundreds of the creatures moving along the hill.” He pointed to the terraced land and moved his hand upward. “They’re moving up that way and there’s more on the path in front of us,” he said tonelessly, “but not so many where the torches are placed.”

“Dear God,” Hermione whispered, looking around.

As fast as he’d stopped, just as quickly Draco took action.

“Come on!” Draco urged, grabbing her hand and pulling Hermione along behind him. They ran as if the dogs of hell were nipping at their heels.

The path ended with the entrance to St. Michael’s Tower, or the remains of it. The torches placed at the edges of the cobbled square gave the place a medieval atmosphere. It looked as if they were in the middle ages. Draco looked up at the tower, panting. It stretched into the night sky until the darkness swallowed it up. Even in the near darkness, it was an amazing sight.

“Draco? I thought there would be more people up here. Most of them are heading down the path or over that way,” Hermione said, breathlessly. “Wait here,” she ordered. Quickly she darted into the tower and returned a moment later. “They’re not in there.”

Looking around, Draco could only see about twenty people, none of them Harry or Ron.

“You told me that this is where they were going to be!” Draco exclaimed.

“Hey buddy, don’t be yelling at the little lady,” a tall, bald, man said wearing a cloak with silver stars. He leaned over to Hermione and she drew back at the strong smell of liquor on his breath. “Do you need me to protect you from this guy?” he asked, jerking a thumb at Draco and staggering a little.

“No, I’m fine. But I thought there would be more people here. Isn’t there supposed to be a festival here tonight?” Hermione asked, stepping back.

“Yeah, down in the square in Glastonbury proper,” the man replied. He leered and winked at Hermione. “I can take you there if you want?”

“She’s with me, thank you very much,” Draco said curtly and took Hermione by the elbow and started to lead her back down the path. He waited until they were alone on the path heading back down toward the bottom of the hill before he spoke. “He must have meant the festival, surely.”

“I thought he said Glastonbury Tor,” Hermione replied. “I’m sorry.”

Draco shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, but…” Draco stopped. “Damn,” he muttered.

“More of them?” Hermione asked, looking around. It was apparent she wanted to see what Draco had described.

“They’re here too,” Draco said, looking back. “It’s almost like they’re oozing out of the ground.” He turned and looked around the landscape one more time and then pulled out his wand. “Lumos,” he whispered, and the tip glowed brightly.

“Put that away!” Hermione ordered. “What if the Muggles see you?”

“They’ll think it’s one of those little toys that they’re so fond of,” Draco said with a smirk. “Let’s go.”

Draco and Hermione hurried down the hill, almost running at times, until they reached the bottom.

“I’m not sure where the festival is. I didn’t even try to see it from the top,” Draco said, pausing and looking around. It was darker at the base of the hill than at the top; everything was hazy as if a mist were obscuring the path way from the Tor. Draco shivered as a creature passed by, cold trailing behind it.

“Well, the path leads away from the Tor, so we should follow it until we get out of this fog,” Hermione said, nudging Draco.

“You can see the mist?” Draco asked, as he started walking.

Shaking her head slightly, Hermione gave him a puzzled look. “Of course, it’s just a simple meteorological phenomenon that occurs when hot and cool air come together.”

“I wasn’t sure; I’m not sure what I’m seeing anymore is real and what isn’t.”

“Are they still around us?” Hermione asked, nervously pulling her cloak around her.

“They’re all heading that way,” Draco said, pointing down the path and off to the right.

“As long as you can see them, we’re going the right way. From everything you’ve told me, the creatures are attracted to people, dead or dying people.”

Draco grabbed her hand and began to run. They veered off the path and ran along the cobbled road. It seemed endless. Draco kept running; Hermione doing her best to keep up with him.

Draco’s chest burned, but he had to find Harry before the creature took him. He glanced to the right and nearly stumbled over a loose stone. There were so many of the dark creatures. Then, it occurred to him; these creatures were not just for Harry, they were also for the other people at the festival.

“Slow down, Draco!” Hermione cried, nearly falling as she lost her grip on Draco’s hand.

Draco slowed, but only a bit. They were nearly there. Clots of Muggles streamed in and out of the square. The crowd of Muggles seemed endless under the torchlight. Drinking, laughing and eating; it was a mass of noise and confusion.

Draco slowed to a walk, Hermione finally catching up to him.

The square was lit by torches set off along the edge of the street; their flickering light casting eerie shadows over the faces of the Muggles.

A small stage was set up to the far left and a band was beginning to play something that sounded like a Weird Sisters song. Along the far right were food vendors, and a long line of beer carts which were surrounded by laughing, well-lubricated Muggles.

“Draco!” Hermione shouted. “There are too many people here! We’ll never find them!”

Pulling Hermione close so that he wouldn’t have to try to shout over the noise of the crowd, Draco asked, “Maybe we should split up?”

Hermione shook her head, and pulled her wand from her pocket.

“Cool wand!” A girl with Celtic knotwork drawn around her left eye.

Hermione forced a grin and turned back to Draco. “I’ve been working on a tracking spell. It’s a variation of Point Me.”

“Point me?” Draco asked. “It finds the person you’re looking for?”

“About ninety percent of the time, but you really have to want to find the person,” Hermione said, flicking her wand slightly and then laying it flat in the palm of her hand with the narrow end pointing away from her. “Repario alio!”

Hermione’s wand quivered, then moved 45 degrees to the right and held its position. “This way.”

Draco raised an eyebrow, but allowed her to lead him through the crowd. He cringed away from one particularly large Muggle, who was leaning back and pouring beer from a plastic cup into his mouth.

Looking around, Draco saw the dark creatures gathering near the bandstand, and more sliding toward the food vendors. The creatures were moving now, sliding close to a Muggle man or woman, as if they were a darker shadow behind each person. Their bony hands snatched impatiently at their Muggle counterparts as if they were waiting for a sign.

“Hermione…”

“Ron! Ron!” Hermione shouted, and darted through a group of people. Draco hurried to keep up, momentarily losing sight of her in the thick crowd. He shoved his way through, feeling the freezing chill as he brushed a creature. Their touch made him queasy, make him want to curl up into a ball and close his eyes, but he pushed his way through, finally glimpsing a shock of bushy brown hair.

Hermione was hanging on Ron’s neck as Draco reached them.

“Where’s Harry?” Draco asked, breathlessly. It was great and glorious that the Weasel and Hermione had found each other, but there wasn’t any time to waste.

“Malfoy,” Ron sneered. “What’s he doing here ‘Mione?” he asked as he gently pulled Hermione free from her tight embrace.

“Where’s Harry, Ron?” Hermione asked. Something about her look made Ron answer her immediately.

“He’s over there getting a meat pie,” Ron said, pointing. Draco turned, and saw Harry paying a food vendor and receiving a wax paper wrapped parcel.

“Harry!” Draco yelled, and then elbowed his way through the crowd, ignoring shouts of pain as he stepped on a foot or three.

“Draco? What are you doing here? I thought you were at home?”’

“We have to get out of here. The creatures are here and they’re after you! You’ve got to believe me!” Draco cried. He glanced around nervously before meeting Harry’s amused gaze.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You heard what Healer Goran said. There are no creatures,” Harry said, unwrapping his food. “Want a bite?” he offered.

“Fuck the food!” Draco fairly screamed, knocking the pastry from Harry’s hand. Two men and a woman dressed as elves turned to stare.

“Hey!”

“Please, I’m begging you,” Draco begged, grabbing Harry’s arm. “Please.”

“Calm down. You’re making a spectacle,” Harry said, pulling Draco closer. “There isn’t anything here, no creatures; just people making complete fools of themselves and having fun. Why don’t I get you some hot cider?”

“I don’t want cider. I want us to get out of here and go home.”

Harry sighed. “Okay, okay, the creatures are here. If you really believe the creatures are here and something horrible is going to happen, then I need to stay here. These Muggles are helpless,” he said.

“Let Weasley and Granger take care of them,” Draco spat, his grip tightening on Harry’s wrist.

“Look, I’ll make you a deal. We’ll walk around, see the sights. The wizards we were after have already been caught, so I promise you nothing’s going to happen,” Harry said, as calmly as he could.

“You won’t leave then,” Draco asked, releasing Harry’s wrist and crossing his arms over his chest.

“No, I’m not,” Harry said, stubbornly.

“Alright then,” Draco said, resigning himself to the fact that Harry was being a hard-headed ass right now.

Harry smiled and took Draco’s hand. “Fireworks are at eleven and we’ll leave after that, alright?”

Draco nodded, knowing that it was as close to a compromise that he was going to get.

“Hungry?” Harry asked, leading Draco through the crowd toward a food booth.

Draco couldn’t stop himself from looking around; there were so many of dark creatures.

“You really see something, don’t you?” Harry asked, studying Draco’s face intently.

Draco shrugged, and forced himself to look straight ahead. “Yeah.”

“Well, Ron and I will take care of them if they start trouble. It’s already 10:30, so we won’t stay that much longer.” Harry said, releasing Draco’s hand and putting his arm around his waist.

Maybe Harry was right. They would only be here an hour longer and what could possibly happen? A Muggle choking on a deep-fried Mars bar? “I still think we should leave,” Draco said, not quite giving in, but realizing that this was one battle he wasn’t going to win.

“The roast pork smells really good,” Harry said, leading him to a stand with a gas grill. The pork sizzled and popped. He looked at the server. “One, please.”

The grease dripped down and the flames shot up, tongues of fire feasting on the roasting meat. The server piled meat onto a crispy roll and wrapped it quickly. Harry handed over a few bills and motioned for Draco to take the food.

“Ah shit,” the server cursed.

Draco took a bite of his sandwich, not really tasting the meat, and watched idly as the man began to fiddle with a gas container. It suddenly seemed colder and darker.

“Harry,” Hermione said, coming from behind them. “Ron and I are going to leave and…” She stopped and stared. “He’s changing that wrong!”

Suddenly, a flame caught the escaping gas and a plume of fire shot up, catching the side of the booth on fire. The gas tank shifted, buckling as gas spewed forth.

A girl screamed. Shouts of “Run!” rang out and the crowd around the booth began to stumble over themselves in their haste to get away.

Something popped. The server tossed a fire extinguisher aside and tore out of the booth screaming, “It’s gonna blow!”

It was madness, pure and simple. People trampling other people trying to get away as the flames caught the canvas awning around the booth. The fire leapt from booth to booth, licking at wood and canvas. Suddenly a deep fryer caught fire, the grease feeding the flames. The wind picked up sending sparks and tongues of flame up into the air.

As the world dissolved into pandemonium of sound and flame and people running in terror, Harry pulled his wand and shrunk the tank. It exploded with a small pop. There was no time to think about blending in or hiding their existence from the Muggles.

“Harry!” Draco shouted. “It’s spreading!”

Harry shouted something back and turned and darted past Draco, flicking his wand and extinguishing fires as he ran. Draco didn’t wait.

Pulling his wand, he ran across the square, dodging falling bits of decorations as he followed his boyfriend. The dark creature was behind Harry, mirroring his steps. Draco slid to a stop as a creature reached through an old Muggle’s chest, darkness spreading over the old man and muffling his screams. The creature yanked a small glowing light from the man’s chest before it began to fade. The faint image of the man remained for only a moment before it vanished with the creature.

Another creature sped by Draco as he stood there. Stunned, he watched as it knocked a brown-haired man with a fire extinguisher off his feet and sent him stumbling into a flaming tent. The creature covered him with its body and held him down as the flames spread over the man’s body. He struggled and cried and screamed and then was still, flames covering his body until he was nothing but a scorched mass. The creature reached into the man’s chest, pulled a glowing globe out and swallowed it, then oozed into the ground.

A gas tank exploded, flaming metal and fuel flew over the square before raining down on people and booths.

“Draco!” Hermione yelled, running up to him, a small burn across her forehead. “The fireworks!” she gasped. “Harry…. We need to”

He didn’t wait, but steadied his hand and laid his wand over his palm, narrow end reaching over the tips of his fingers. “Repario alio,” he whispered as he concentrated on finding the fireworks, imagining the smell of gunpowder, sulfur, and chlorine, imagining the smell of Harry’s hair, the feel of his fingers as they trailed over Draco’s bare skin, the intense green of his eyes, and he felt the wand begin to move across his palm. And he ran as he never had before.

The fireworks had been stored not too far away from the festivities in a small fenced area. An empty chair was lying on the ground, knocked over when the person guarding them had left. Harry was dampening the crates of pyrotechnics with his wand when Draco came running up. A creature reached for Harry and then shied back. It was larger than the other creatures, and more solid.

The creature turned and faced Draco. Its twisted mouth shifted into a horrible imitation of a smile.

Draco caught a glimpse of gold circling the creatures head. It looked like a crown from ages past.
“Gwyn ap Nudd!” Draco yelled.

The creature glanced at Draco then moved toward Harry.

Darkness surrounded Harry and still he managed to wave it off as he concentrated on keeping the fireworks from exploding. He didn’t see the dark creature, but the force of his magic pushed it away. For the briefest moment, Draco thought that he’d been overly concerned; that Harry could take on anything and win; then it happened.

The creature pulled Harry into an invisible embrace, its gnarled hands digging into Harry’s shoulders. Harry’s wand wavered in his hand, before dropping to the ground. His eyes grew large behind his glasses as the first firework shot up in the air, showering sparks over the square.

“Expelliarmus!” Draco cried, aiming his wand at Harry. The burst of light hit Harry and the creature forcing them apart. The creature cringed as the magical light glazed over its dark form.

Another firework went off; a Roman candle blazing high into the sky before exploding.

For only a moment, the creatures were gone, leaving Harry and Draco alone with the fireworks that were rapidly starting to hiss, signaling their imminent explosion. Draco pulled Harry away and pointed his wand at the small fenced in area. “Protego!”

The fireworks exploded, the chain link fence bulging out from the force of the blast but not ripping apart. Small bits of firework casings hit the invisible shield, creating a light gray smear inside the protective barrier.

“Protego! Harry screamed, having picked up his wand. Draco chanced a glance at him. He was concentrating so hard that the cords of his neck were straining.

Draco heard Hermione shout behind him and felt her magic swirl around his and Harry’s. Faintly he heard another voice, then felt Weasley’s magic combine with their joint spell.

The flames and bits of casings spun up into a column, illuminating the night sky. A creature crept past them, disintegrating slowly as the light grew ever brighter.

“Verto Lux Lumos!” Draco cried, whipping his wand in a quick zigzag at the rising fire and exploding fireworks. This had to work! The only way to force the creatures away was to destroy the darkness and make it brighter than day. He had to do this for Harry.

The flame and light changed, thinning out from a thick column of flame and destruction into a glowing light that grew brighter as it absorbed more energy. Even the fires were dying out as the spell drew their power and destructive force into the light.

Draco gripped his wand firmly, pouring his heart and soul into this spell. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face. He concentrated on the spell and on Harry. Sweet, loveable, Harry; Harry who needed to be protected for once.

A creature spun by, whipped up into the force of the rising column, splintering into tiny shards and vanishing as light poured over it. The square was awash in light, the darkest corners illuminated. The light surrounded them, driving the creatures back to their dark, unholy home underground.

Draco’s hand trembled, but he gritted his teeth and fought to hold his wand level, to control the spell and not allow it to overwhelm his group and the few remaining Muggles in the square. The light was growing brighter; dazzling his eyes and causing them to tear up as pain began to shoot through his head.
Without a word, Harry put his hand on Draco’s, his fingertips just touching the dark wood of Draco’s wand, and Draco could feel Harry’s magic flow through his hand, combining with his and the spell became easier, less a struggle to control.

“Slowly,” Harry said, as he moved their hands slightly. “Let it fade.” His words sounded soft, almost comforting, but Draco knew he had to be shouting to be heard over the roar of flame and light still flowing up the column into the sky.

Draco obeyed, and the light began to diminish, drawing back into the fire burning steadily in the small fenced area. Only the wood of the crates was left and it had been transformed into a small bonfire. The flames were under control now; burning only to consume the remains of the crates.

Wavering on his feet, Draco felt Harry’s arms encircle him, holding him upright.

The sound of fire engines grew in the distance.

“How did you know what to do?” Harry asked breathlessly.

“Brother Donovan told me; it was in his Bible,” Draco replied, fighting the urge to rub his eyes.

“We need to get out of here,” Harry said suddenly. “Ron’s called for damage control and it’s probably best that you’re not here when they come.”

Draco nodded, turned and wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck, wanting only to be close to him, to feel his heart beat next to his, to know that the creature…. Draco jerked out of Harry’s embrace, and scanned the square for any trace of the dark creatures.

“Are they gone?” Harry asked.

The square was a ruin, the remnants of booths and food carts strewn about, pieces of clothing dropped as the Muggles had fled for their lives. Draco closed his eyes and turned away at the sight of dead bodies.

“Gone,” Draco whispered, not knowing whether to laugh or to cry from the madness of it all.

The flashing lights of the fire truck glazed over the edge of the square. Draco could faintly make out the Muggle climbing down from the cab.

“Now,” Harry said, gripping Draco’s hand.

The darkness, the feeling of being squeezed through a bottle was almost a relief to Draco.

XXXXXXXX

Draco leaned against the brick wall outside the Delhi Dinner and waited. Harry had wanted to walk a bit before going back to Draco’s flat. Draco could think of many other ways to burn off nervous energy, but he was just glad that the night was almost over and Harry was safe. The smells wafting out of the small corner restaurant were quite appealing.

“Hey!” Harry said, as he slipped out the Delhi Diner’s door, wincing a bit as it slammed behind him. “Got your favorite in here,” he said patting the largish takeaway bag clutched in his hand.

“I told you I’m not that hungry,” Draco said – before his stomach growled loudly and made a liar out of him.

Harry smiled, and looped his arm in Draco’s. “Doesn’t matter. Leftovers are always better the next day.”

“There’s never leftovers with you around,” Draco said, chuckling, pushing off from the storefront.

Everything was back to normal or what passed as normal when you were involved with Harry Potter. It was amazing how fast one could go from fear and pure adrenaline to calmness and contentment.

They walked a few steps to the corner, paused, then began to cross. Traffic was light at this time of the night and the few cars and trucks that were on the main street were Muggles probably on their way home, too.

A squeal of tires and the sound of a racing engine made Draco whip his head around. Headlights blinded him and he heard a horn blaring as the vehicle bore down on them. In the split second he had, Draco shoved Harry away as hard as he could, fear freezing his heart as he thought he saw a dark creature reaching for Harry. Then an intense jolt of pain plunged him into darkness.

XXXXXXXX

Darkness, the feel of a bed underneath him. Draco’s fingers crept over the soft sheets before touching a small bar along the bed. Pain stabbed through his head and he groaned.

“You’re awake,” Harry said quietly.

Draco blinked, then blinked again. He could see! For the briefest of moments, he had the distinct feeling of déjà-vu and that he was in a Muggle hospital.

“Where am I?” Draco asked, starting to sit up.

Harry gently pushed him back down. “St. Mungo’s. You’ve got a bit of a concussion.”

Draco lay back and closed his eyes. “What happened? You’re okay?” he asked wearily.

“Never better,” Harry replied, before taking Draco’s hand in his own. “You did save my life, though.”

“Right,” Draco drawled. Harry was taking the piss out on him. “Did I get hit by that truck or whatever it was?” Draco asked, mentally checking to make sure everything worked. Leg. Check. Foot. Check. Breathe in and out without pain. Check.

“Well, not exactly. What you saw was the Knight Bus. Come to find out, Ernie was on break and Stan Shunpike was taking a turn at the wheel. Sadly, our suppers are either all over my shirt or on the ground.” Harry smirked. “Obviously, Stan is a worse driver than Ernie, but he didn’t even hit the curb when he rounded the corner and came at us.”

“Oh gawd,” Draco said, feeling embarrassed for overreacting; the Knight Bus was spelled to not cause harm no matter how badly it was driven.

“Although, the lorry behind the Bus didn’t have as much luck. The driver told me that the brakes failed and he couldn’t slow down for the turn. He ended up smashing into the side of the Delhi Dinner. Mezbaan was quite pissed, to say the least,” Harry said with a small laugh.

“So… what… what happened?” Draco asked, feeling a bit fuzzy for a moment. “If I didn’t get hit by a truck, then why do I feel like shit?”

Harry fought to control his laughter. “It’s not funny, but after everything tonight, you ran into the lamp post and knocked yourself out.” Laughter won.

“It’s not funny!” Draco exclaimed and then winced. He shook his head gingerly at Harry. “So how long am I in for?”

“Just until tomorrow morning. Observation.”

A tall red-headed witch poked her head into the room. “Excuse me, Mr. Potter? Visiting hours are long over and Mr. Malfoy needs his sleep if he’s to be allowed to leave tomorrow.”

“I’d rather go home now. A simple charm would take care of this,” Draco said.

“Because of your recent surgery, the Healer in charge would rather not. He feels that whatever healing that can be done naturally, should be done that way,” she replied patiently, as if talking to a small child, before fixing a stern gaze on Harry.

“Alright, alright,” Harry said, taking the hint. “Let me just have a moment in private to say good night.” A smile tugged at the edges of his lips as he stood up from his seat next to Draco’s bed.

Draco glanced up at him in consternation. Harry usually didn’t give into authority so quickly.

“Make it quick,” she replied tartly, before leaving the room.

“Harry…” Draco started, but he stopped, and then grinned.

Harry had pulled out his invisibility cloak out of his pocket and was adjusting it over his shoulders. He pulled the hood up and winked at Draco. “Believe I owe you a favor,” he said before flipping the hood over his head and vanishing from sight.

The door opened. “Mr. Potter, I must insist…” the nurse started to say, then stopped, and looked around the room.

She looked at Draco sternly. Her eyes flickered around the room before coming back to rest on Draco.

Draco shrugged, affixing a most innocent expression on his face. “Harry had something important to attend to.”

The nurse pursed her lips. “Get some rest, Mr. Malfoy.” She went to the door and stopped, turned back and scanned the room one last time before slipping out and closing the door firmly behind her.

Draco began to laugh softly. He watched as a dent formed on the edge of the bed, almost a perfect impression of what Harry’s knees might do to a mattress. Heard a whispered charm to lock the door and watched as the sheet was drawn off his body by invisible means.

He watched, amused, as his hospital gown was pulled up and the dents in his bed changed positions. He held his breath.

“You’re going to like this,” Harry whispered.

And Draco did.


The End




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