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"Mr Potter, welcome to Hogwarts!"
Harry stumbled out of the fireplace in the Headmistress' office and grabbed her outstretched hand like a lifeline. Though bony and fragile in his grip, it was warm and strong, and Headmistress McGonagall's blue gaze held his in another supportive gesture. Shaking his head and blinking a few times also helped; the dizziness faded away, just to be replaced by the hot prickle of a flush creeping up his cheeks. Patting his hand, his old Head of House smiled fondly at him. "Still the old issue with traveling through the Floo Network? I thought you'd outgrow that one day, given your Seeker skills."
"Yeah, one really should think Auror training would have fixed that, but as you can see…" Harry waved his hand up and down his rumpled front, adjusted his deep purple cloak and straightened his collar and robes. A quick check if wand and potions were still safely tucked away in his thigh holster and belt, and he was ready to face whatever the day might bring.
"Professor, it's good to see you, too," he said, finally returning the smile which froze on his face as he caught sight of the other person in the room. "Malfoy? What are you doing here?"
Malfoy just looked at him and cocked his head. For just an instant the tip of his tongue darted out to wet his lips before they parted into a sneer. "Headmistress McGonagall requested my presence, Potter," he said with a glint in his grey eyes. Harry didn't honour that with a response, but flung his cloak onto a hook beside the door where another had already been neatly hung. The fine fabric and elegant cut left no doubt about to whom it belonged – Malfoy.
"Gentlemen," Minerva McGonagall said, her voice like steel, "it seems there are more things you have to grow out of." She sighed and walked around her desk, the silver setting of her heathergem brooch catching the light as she gestured for them to sit down. "In fact, you are both here because I asked Minister Shacklebolt for an Auror and an Unspeakable to investigate a very mysterious and frightening affair."
As the only unoccupied chair in the room was the one beside Draco in front of McGonagall's desk, Harry marched around his former fellow student and took a seat as gracefully as possible, making sure to pull down the tails of his black robes. The stretch of the fabric across his chest was a nice proof of his muscle training paying off. Of course, his robes still didn't fit as tightly and perfectly as Malfoy's did. Seriously, it should be impossible for a human being to always look as immaculate as Malfoy; Harry was sure there was a spell involved.
Yeah, and this train of thought was becoming ridiculous, to put it mildly. Reining in his straying eyes and thoughts, Harry returned his attention to the Headmistress.
"Mysterious affair, Professor?" He couldn't help but sneak a glance at Malfoy's relaxed pose again, cursing under his breath when the grey eyes caught him and Malfoy acknowledged his deepening blush with a twitch of his elegantly-arched brows. Damn, the git was really more perceptive than was good for him!
The Headmistress shook her head, but the small smile lurking at the corners of her mouth betrayed she was more amused than annoyed.
"Yes, Mr Potter. As I already told Mr Malfoy – who was courteous enough to appear on time, by the way – something very strange happened last night. An unknown dark force took residence in the Black Lake."
"An unknown dark force? Took residence? What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked, leaning forward. The rustle of parchment made him throw an irritated look at Malfoy. Of course the eager beaver would be prepared to take notes where a true Auror used his brain. Malfoy had the nerve to answer his frown with a wink.
McGonagall raised her voice a bit. "We don't know what it is yet, or where it came from. That's exactly what I want you to find out. All the merpeople were able to tell me is that a perfect globe which looks like it was made of black glass appeared out of nowhere and took residence at the bottom of the lake."
The Headmistress lifted a hand and reflectively patted her tight, greying bun. "The only thing we've already determined is that it's dangerous," she said.
"What happened?" Harry asked at the same time as Malfoy muttered, "Indeed."
So the git knew more about what was going on than even McGonagall. "Indeed? Sounds like you are quite familiar with that...dark force. Care to share your precious knowledge with us?"
Pink stains appeared on Malfoy's cheeks, but McGonagall stepped in before he could utter a word. "Mr Malfoy will fill you in later, Mr Potter. And now I would appreciate it very much if I could describe the current situation to you without further animosities?"
Damn, McGonagall still had the power to make him feel embarrassed like a Third Year who had transfigured a canary into a yellow bouncy ball instead of a Snitch. Harry hung his head. "Of course, Professor. Please proceed."
"Very well. First of all, Merchieftainess Murcus and I decided not to allow anybody to come near this object until we know more about it. But it seems to exude great allure. Perimeter guards detained four mermen who tried to break the safety ring, but despite all their watchfulness, a fifth was found in the morning floating in front of the globe and completely dazed. The merpeople who aren't affected say it radiates evil."
Her last words were accompanied by the frantic scratch of a quill on parchment. Harry decided to ignore Malfoy's note-taking and kept his eyes focused on McGonagall. "And neither you nor one of your predecessors," he threw a look at the portraits of former Headmasters at the walls, "know what that thing is? Surely not!"
McGonagall folded her hands on the table and looked at him, and he realised how much the wrinkles around her eyes had deepened. Her behaviour was as determined and forceful as ever and made it easy to forget how old she was, but some signs she couldn't hide. The situation must take a great toll on her.
"Sorry, Professor," Harry said, much calmer. "I know you would have solved the situation on your own if that were possible. It's just...I wouldn't have thought there are any unknown magical phenomena left, at least not of such...power. What happened to the victim?"
McGonagall cleared her throat and said, "I wouldn't have expected any other reaction, Mr Potter; if anybody knows about the cruel powers of Dark Magic, it's you and Mr Malfoy. The victim...aye. Keoma, that's the merman's name, hasn't woken up from his stunned state yet. Though that might've changed since I last received an update. If he is approachable, I want you two to question him very cautiously, am I understood? In no way are you allowed to upset him. The merpeople are very protective of their kin and can get quite belligerent. I wouldn't put it beyond them to start an attack against the, er, globe, or make investigations difficult for you by restricting access to the lake. I don't want them to act rashly."
"Understood," Harry said, echoed by Malfoy. Again, they exchanged a glance, and this time Harry couldn't suppress a smile. Under all the cool smugness Malfoy was as eager as himself to get started on the investigation.
"Just one more question, Professor," Harry said, not looking at Malfoy. "Why do we need Malfoy on the case?"
"I work in the Planet Room," Draco spoke up, not waiting for McGonagall to answer. "Assuming you even know that room exists, I won't waste my time by trying to explain to you what we're doing there. Just this much: If anyone is au fait with the mysteries of...let's call them unknown entities for the moment, then it's me."
"Really," Harry said, looking him up and down.
"Yes, really," Malfoy said, and the glint in his eyes was back.
"Gentlemen." McGonagall's voice dripped with annoyance. "Term starts in two weeks and by then I want Hogwarts to be the safe place again it has always been. I expect a daily update on your progress. Thank you."
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A breeze blew Harry's damp hair out of his face as soon as he stepped out of the greenhouse. Hot like dragon's breath, it didn't bring any relief from the bloody heat.
"Thanks, Neville." He held up the glass jar filled with gillyweed.
Neville snorted. "Don't tell me you have acquired a taste for it!"
Harry clapped Neville's shoulder and broke into a laugh. "No, I doubt that will ever happen. Sorry, mate, I can't tell you more. Classified mission, really serious Auror stuff, you know. Just the usual. Though, usually, I don't have to work with Malfoy and the suspect isn't an unknown object deep down in a lake."
Neville joined his laughter. "Yeah, Harry. Just the usual. Saving the world, killing Dark Wizards and some such stuff." Then his features sobered. "Be careful, please. I've done a lot of research on the Black Lake since I started as Professor Sprout's assistant. Strange things have happened in it over the centuries. It has become home to a lot of unique water plants and beings, and not all of them are well known to us. I'm working on cataloguing them, but it's a challenge that will keep generations busy."
"Sounds intriguing. But at the moment the only water plant I'm really interested in is good old gillyweed."
Neville's smile was a bit sad. "Yeah, it's a pity the most interesting plants and beings turned out to be myths and nothing else. But as you apparently plan to spend a lot of time with Malfoy – don't look at me like that, I know it's only work – in the lake for your investigation, you may need this. Accio Colloquisubaqua."
Harry watched with growing curiosity as a bundle of what looked like dried mint flew into Neville's outstretched hand. "What is it?"
"Chew on a leaf until it tastes sweet, then swallow. It enables you to talk and understand whatever is said under water, no matter the language. A pity, really, that it only works under water. It would be such a breakthrough if it would solve the universal translation problem in general…" Neville's voice had taken on the wistful tone reserved for when he talked of his parents.
"I'm sure you'll find a way to make it work," Harry said.
"Yeah, maybe…" Then Neville smiled again. "Oh, and please come back tomorrow. I've got another very useful new plant for you, I just need to run some more tests to make sure it is really safe to use it."
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Watching Malfoy walk down the steps from Hogwarts' main entrance to the grounds gently sloping down to the lake, Harry thought again that he must use a spell on his garments. He looked crisp and cool, and his robes' tails didn't move a bit while Harry's flapped around his thighs in a wild dance.
As soon as Malfoy had joined him, Harry said, "Care to share your insider knowledge about that thing in the lake with me before we go down and have a look at it ourselves?" Harry tried to sound casual, though he was really excited at the prospect of facing the unknown dark force.
Yet Malfoy was an even more exciting sight. Unaffected by the wind, not a wrinkle in his robes nor a hair out of place, he looked like he'd jumped off the pages of a fashion magazine. Harry had to clench his hands into fists to resist the urge to ruffle Malfoy's impeccable appearance. Damn, he would look even more irresistible with tousled hair, lips red and swollen from messy kisses—
"Potter?"
Harry blinked, all hope of his daydream not having been too obvious shattered by the mocking glint in Malfoy's eyes. The bastard grinned like he knew exactly what Harry had been thinking. Damn, if Harry had only been more attentive when Snape had been trying to teach him Occlumency – he wouldn't put it beyond Malfoy to covertly use Legilimency on him. As the familiar tingle of another flush crept up his neck, Harry cursed under his breath and turned towards the path leading to the shore.
"Sorry, I was thinking about our next steps. I'll use gillyweed for diving." He produced the jar Neville had given him and shook it a bit, causing the slimy green stems to wiggle like a squid's arms. "What about you?"
Malfoy's amusement turned into a disgusted frown. "Ugh, gillyweed. No, thanks. No slimy green rat tails for me. I'll use a Bubble-Head Charm."
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On a hot day like this, a dive in the Black Lake should be a refreshing thing to look forward to. Yet Draco didn't like the idea. He remembered blue and golden summer days when a swim in the clear lake after classes was all he could think of. But today, the air was heavy with the scent of algae and ozone and the water was grey, a mirror of the leaden sky above. Despite the heat, it appeared cold and uninviting.
He shifted from one foot to the other as he dashed a glance at Potter, who – no surprise here – looked fit and healthy. His tanned skin glowed even in the greyish light and his defined muscles told a story of hard and regular Auror training. Draco looked down at himself and sighed. He'd always been willowy and pale and spending his days buried in the Planet Room hadn't helped the matter. If anything, he was even paler than during his school years. Also, wearing only swim trunks and a wand holster on his thigh left him feeling utterly exposed and vulnerable.
"Ready?"
Potter's voice was hoarse, and when Draco looked up at him, Potter's eyes were glued to Draco's arse. Ah, this was something to work with!
"Like what you see?" Draco asked and cocked his hip.
"Er, yeah. Nice trunks."
"Why, thank you!" Draco let his gaze wander down Potter's body and up again without haste. "Just like yours."
It was such fun to watch Potter blush for the umpteenth time today. How even such a small victory could brighten up one's day.
"Ready," he then confirmed, enjoying the pinch of bewilderment in Potter's face.
"Um, what? Oh, yeah. Okay. Fine."
Potter drew a deep breath and closed his eyes for the duration of his exhale. When he opened them again, Draco was impressed by the change in his whole appearance. This wasn't the insecure blushing Potter he knew anymore, this was Auror Potter. And fuck, Auror Potter was radiating a powerful, not to say sexy, air of authority. He seemed to have grown a few inches, standing straight with his shoulders squared. Focused and unblinking, his eyes pierced Draco.
"Is there anything else I should know about this…thing...down there? What did you mean earlier, in McGonagall's office?" Even Potter's voice was different when he was in Auror mode, deeper and a bit husky.
Draco threw a look at the lake and decided it would be for his own good and safety if Potter knew at least a bit more than he already did. "Er, yes. I think it's a magical collapsar. We call them Dark Holes. I'm working on verifying the theory that magical collapsars consist of Dark Magic and another, still unknown element."
Potter's eyes narrowed to slits. The breeze pulled at his black hair like invisible fingers, and he swiped it out of his face with an impatient gesture. "A Black Hole? You must be kidding, a Black Hole would have swallowed the whole planet instead of lying around on the bottom of a lake and hypnotising merpeople!"
"I said Dark Hole, not Black Hole. As I told you, we just only started exploring these things in the Planet Room."
"Hmmm." Potter rubbed his famous scar. "I don't like not having the smallest clue about what we're dealing with. Dark Magic is bad enough, but in combination with an unknown element… Well, it doesn't help, does it? Someone has to take care of the matter and it seems that this time we two are the Chosen Ones."
"Haha. Very funny."
"Indeed. Haha. Are you sure there isn't more you can tell me?"
Giving a one-sided shrug, Draco said, "Yes. At least, not yet."
It wasn't a lie, not really. He didn't know anything about the unknown element, all he had were suspicions and deductions.
Potter tilted his head, narrowing his eyes again. Draco suddenly understood why Potter had such a high solve rate – one had to be quite hard-boiled not to give in and confess under that kind of scrutiny. However, this was nothing compared to the interrogation methods of Draco's father. Sighing, as if he was annoyed by Potter's stare, Draco jerked his chin in direction of the lake and asked, "So, what now? Are we going in?"
"Yes."
Interesting. Not only had Potter's voice changed, but also his phrasing. The boyish splutter was gone. Giving orders and decisive, one-word answers suited him; it seemed impossible that the man standing before Draco had been a blushing mess only minutes ago. There was something fascinating about this abrupt metamorphosis. Draco swallowed – a bossy Potter should rub him the wrong way as he had always done, but here, in the damp heat, with the smell of danger looming in the air and them both being nearly naked—
"Stay behind me and have your wand ready. Remember what McGonagall said and try to avoid any unnecessary interaction with the merpeople or the Dark Hole itself. This trip is only about gathering intelligence. And chew this leaf until it tastes sweet, Neville says it enables one to understand and speak all languages as long as one is under water."
"Aye," Draco said, biting down on the mocking 'sir' which Potter's commanding tone had conjured on his tongue.
Still chewing on the leaf, he watched Potter swallow the handful of gillyweed. "Ugh, that's disgusting."
Draco immediately wished he had kept his comment to himself: Potter caught his gaze and pursed his lips, making a show of sucking the slimy green stems into his mouth like spaghetti. Draco couldn't tear his eyes away; the sight was as revolting as it was…arousing. Bossy and a tease. Who would've thought… Oh fuck. Fuckfuckfuck!
"First in," Draco shouted, and hastily cast a Bubble-Head Charm and ran into the lake. The water was warmer than he had anticipated, yet cool enough to solve his problem. After some strokes, he turned around. Treading water, he searched the shore and the shallow water for Potter, almost suffering a heart attack when something big brushed his legs.
"Fuck, Potter," Draco yelled, because it had – of course – been Potter, who now smiled at him from under the surface. He pointed at his nose and then at the slits behind his ears. Draco rolled his eyes in response. Really, he knew how gillyweed worked: Potter couldn't get up, he needed to stay under water because the gillyweed induced a change from pulmonary respiration to gill breathing. He shuddered at the thought – gill breathing, seriously! Though the webbing he detected between Potter's fingers and toes was certainly a nice feature if one wanted to swim fast and dive deep. He gave a thumbs-up sign, and without further warning, Potter coiled his body and shot head-first down into the darkening depths of the lake.
Draco hurried to follow him.
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Potter was a greenish shadow some yards ahead, and Draco realised now why Potter had decided on gillyweed. The big field around his head from his Bubble-Head Charm resisted his attempts to dive deeper; like a balloon filled with air it strived to rise up towards the surface. Gritting his teeth, Draco stiffened his neck and followed Potter further down.
It was getting colder and darker with each yard. Draco's view was limited, Potter's blurry form the only thing giving orientation. Also, his breathing seemed very loud in the small space inside the bubble and drowned out any other noises. It was unsettling, and looking at his pale limbs, he got the impression that he was easy to spot. Easy prey for whatever might lurk outside his range of vision.
Something grabbed his left foot, and he kicked in panic. But the grip around his ankle was firm, and then a Lumos lit up the water. Of course, it was Potter. Again. He pressed a finger to his lips and pulled Draco down beside him, then pointed at his eyes and his Lumos. Draco nodded, wishing once more he had also used gillyweed as Potter seemed to have detected a potential danger Draco couldn't see the slightest trace of. Potter let go of him, and goosebumps drifted up Draco's leg as cold water hit the spot where Potter's fingers had warmed his skin.
"Lumos!" A beam of light from his own wand cut through the duskiness until it found two mermen who were approaching them from the bottom of the lake. Their long dark hair streamed behind them, as did the strands of algae which floated from the tips of their tridents. Perimeter guards. Each of them lifted a grey hand to protect their eyes against the brightness, and it was impossible to tell if they were smiling or baring their teeth.
"Mr Potter!"
The one closer to them lowered his trident and the corners of his mouth quirked up. Draco was glad he had such perfect control over his features; otherwise he would have frowned at the sight of so many yellow and broken teeth. Goodness...but yeah. Different cultures, different beauty ideals.
"Welcome! Headmistress McGonagall announced you." The merman had a beautiful voice, warm and melodic, which made it easy to ignore his ragged appearance.
"Thank you," Potter said. "My partner Mr Malfoy," he gestured at Draco, "and I are here to have a look at the object and, if possible, we'd also like to speak with your colleague who was found floating in front of it."
The two mermen exchanged a look, then the second one said, "We'll show you the way to the Pearl of Evil. Keoma is still unconscious, but as agreed with Headmistress McGonagall, we will let her know as soon as he awakes. Follow us."
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The Dark Hole – if it really was one – had chosen a strange and lifeless spot on the lake bottom to take residence. No plants were growing here, and as far as Draco could see in the light of his Lumos, the usually rocky ground stretched flat and deserted into all directions. No fish, no shells, nothing – it was as if all life had fled the proximity of the Dark Hole.
He winced as a sudden mean headache bloomed from the bridge of his nose, the spot Trelawney had used to call the third eye. Fuck it, the pain was unbearable; now it felt as if someone were drilling holes into his temples, applying a lot of pressure. Draco put his wand away and curled up into a tight ball. A whimper escaped his lips as he swayed back and forth. This wasn't just one of his regular migraine attacks, this was worse. Without any painkilling potions at hand, he had to rely on his last-resort anti-migraine trick. Hopefully it would work on this strange new ache as well.
Wishing he was able clutch his head through his bubble, Draco closed his eyes against the onslaught of pain. It was hard to concentrate and conjure the wall of fog protecting his mind. He'd tried other pictures, but mental stone walls could be destroyed and it was exhausting to keep them up. Fog, however, didn't offer any weak points and was easy to maintain, even if his brain was otherwise occupied.
As soon as he'd Occluded his mind, the pain stopped, though a constant pressure remained as if whoever tried to gain access to his thoughts wasn't giving up. Draco relaxed and opened his eyes. His back and neck hurt, and he shuddered in the aftermath of the drilling ache. To his surprise, he had drifted a long way up towards the surface, thanks to the natural buoyancy of his bubble. The dark globe had faded to a shadow in the far distance beneath him, and Potter was nowhere to be seen.
Potter! Oh fuck, he had to find Potter! McGonagall would skin him alive if he had lost the Golden Boy. Draco grimaced as the pressure to his head increased with every stroke back to the Dark Hole.
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Though the water was quite cold so far down, sweat dampened Draco's temples. His muscles burned and his throat was dry and sore from heavy breathing. But he wouldn't allow himself a break, not before he found Potter. Preferably in one piece and unharmed, because should someone ever find out Potter had died while he was with Draco, Azkaban would be a preferable alternative.
He squinted into the greenish-grey twilight which grew darker towards the huge mass of the Dark Hole. If he hadn't been so worried about Potter, he knew he would have been fascinated by the sight. It had a perfectly round shape and looked like a giant black glass marble. Shadows swirled across the smooth surface, and watching them made Draco's blood run cold. The longer he stared, the more he got the impression that they weren't just reflections. Things were moving inside of the Dark Hole like fish in an aquarium. And there was Potter, looking very small and very – lifeless.
Fuck. Potter. Lifeless. No. Nonono!
Draco ignored his aching muscles and hurried until he was close enough, then reached out and nudged Potter's shoulder. It was like touching a corpse, his skin was cold and all body tension had left his limbs. Draco cringed at what that might imply, then swallowed and grabbed Potter's hair to tilt his head and check the slits behind his ears. They were opening and closing in a steady rhythm.
A flash of silver caught Draco's eye, and for a second he thought a water snake was attacking him. Jerking back, his own cry of dismay ringing loudly within his bubble, Draco broke into hysterical giggles.
Memories. A silver strand of memories was flowing from Potter's right temple to the Dark Hole and another string, much darker, pewter rather than silver, connected with Potter's left temple. A circuit, which reminded Draco of the simple Potions experiments they had performed in their first year under Professor Snape's unforgiving eyes. Though usually the potion should be clear after the process, not dirty.
Draco chewed his lower lip and took a closer look at the strand flowing back into Potter's head. Definitely tainted, definitely...dark.
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On the way back to the surface, Draco was more than glad about the Bubble-Head's buoyancy. He had slung his arms around Potter's chest from behind, grabbing his own right wrist with his left hand. Potter hung heavy in his grip, his shoulder blades were digging into Draco's chest and strands of Potter's hair moved across Draco's bubble like the arms of a sea anemone.
However, aside from that, holding Potter so close was…not unpleasant. It would have been quite nice, actually, if he just hadn't been so cold.
Oh, to hell with it. Cold or not, Potter was hot, and holding Potter was, well…bloody marvellous. And Draco was definitely looking forward to Potter being grateful. Which he wasn't sure would happen, because the heaving of Potter's chest became faster – he was getting short of air. Draco checked Potter's gills and cursed their bad luck; the effect of the gillyweed was wearing off quickly. The slits in Potter's skin were closing one after the other, and the blurry brightness of the surface over their heads was still far away.
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"Come on, Potter, breathe!"
Potter was very uncooperative, no change here since school. Of course he wouldn't wake up and cough up the water in his lungs after a slap to the face, no. Not Potter. Potter would never make it easy for Draco, and Draco was starting to take it personally that Potter insisted on lying there on his back, unconscious. The pebbles of the lakeshore dug painfully into Draco's knees as he grabbed Potter's shoulders and shook him.
"Potter, don't you dare and die!"
Potter didn't respond to the harsh treatment, and if there was a twitch of his lips, Draco couldn't be sure if it wasn't just from the harsh shaking. Fact was, the broad chest didn't rise with an inhale, and that meant reanimation. Searching for Potter's pulse with two shaking fingers, Draco cursed again.
"Fuck, Potter, you damn arsehole. Don't be stubborn now and breathe, for goodness' sake!"
Eventually, Draco found the right spot under Potter's jawline. "Ha, you're still alive, you bastard!" he murmured in reply to the strong pulse throbbing under his fingertips.
"Okay, you're unresponsive and not breathing. You know what that means, right? Mouth-to-mouth."
He gave Potter another second to open his eyes and declare he was just kidding Draco, but when that didn't happen, he bit his lip and leaned forward. The wizarding world wouldn't forgive him if he didn't save the Saviour, so he'd better concentrate on what to do instead of staring at Potter's mouth and wondering what his lips would feel like.
With gentle hands he tilted Potter's head back and lifted his chin to open the airways. Potter's lips parted slightly, as if inviting Draco to hurry up and eventually give the kiss of life. Sliding his hand down from Potter's forehead to his nose, Draco pinched it closed and, after he inhaled as deeply as possible, pressed his lips to Potter's. Cool and pliant, they didn't move.
Until he breathed air into Potter's mouth.
Potter's arms came up fast like an Incarcerous and locked Draco in his current position, while Potter sucked the air out of him.
"Fifty points from Slytherin, Malfoy. I would've long been dead if I'd had to wait for you to save my life!" Potter said against Draco's lips in a deep, husky voice.
"You disgraceful bugger! That twitch of your mouth…I should've known!" Draco fought the pressure of Potter's arms around him, but Potter just squeezed harder and rolled to the side. Not able to do anything against it, Draco came to lay across him, his legs over Potter's hip.
"Would that have changed a thing?" Potter asked, not loosening the tight embrace for one bit.
"Well," Draco said, as he tilted his head back to take a look at Potter's face. Half-expecting a scoffing smile, he was surprised to see the seriousness in Potter's eyes and his raised brows. Even more telling was the tightly-shut mouth; not a hint of a smile was lurking in its corners – Potter really cared about his answer. Returning his gaze from Potter's lips to his eyes, Draco discovered something disconcerting. Potter's eyes were famous for their bright green colour, and Draco had been at the receiving end of their piercing glare often enough to know there had never been a trace of grey in them. And yet, now there was. A thin, pewter line circled Potter's pupils.
"No," Draco said after a moment of pretended consideration, "it wouldn't have. I never thought I'd say that one day, but I'm glad you're fine!"
Potter's eyes darkened, black pupils swallowed the grey line. Draco bridged the small distance between their mouths, and this time, Potter's lips were warm and demanding and very much alive.
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"Potter? What's wrong? You can't stop now!"
Draco lifted his head to look at Potter, who had broken their heated kiss between one second and the next and was now lying motionless beneath him. Potter's arms had fallen to his sides, and he was looking right through Draco as if he were invisible.
"Potter?" Draco waved a hand in front of Potter's face, evoking no reaction at all. Potter just kept staring into space, pupils shrunken to the size of pinheads. The pewter rings around them were back and – Draco recoiled at the sight – pulsed in a steady rhythm as if they had a life of its own.
Draco pushed himself up on his elbows and knees and after some awkward shuffling sat down beside Potter. He didn't dare to mess with whatever was going on with Potter for fear he might cause irreparable damage to Potter's eyes or worse, his brain if he tried to shake him out of this trance. The thought of sending a Patronus to McGonagall for help crossed his mind, but he dismissed it. Nobody knew how to deal with Dark Holes and their effects on human beings. A call for help would only cause worry and confusion and probably end up with them being pulled off the case.
The heat was still oppressive, so the sweat on Potter's forehead must not necessarily be a bad sign – not to forget that they had been very engaged in exploring each other's mouths and bodies only minutes ago. But staring straight up into the blinding, though hazy brightness of the sky couldn't be good for Potter's eyes. Draco shaded them with his hand, and blinked in astonishment when the pupils didn't dilate. They stayed the same small black pinheads, as if the grey outline was defining their size now instead of the degree of brightness meeting them.
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Draco lost his sense of time. The heat was unbearable, his skin had dried in minutes and he started sweating, although he just sat there beside Potter, not doing much more than blinking and breathing. The wind had died down, not the slightest breeze brought a bit of relief, and when he swept his gaze over the glassy surface of the lake, it was hard to believe time was still passing. Even the birds stayed quiet, hidden in the shadows of trees and though some insects were buzzing, the sound only added to the odd atmosphere.
Draco yawned and stretched his arms; the colourlessness of the day and the lack of noise made him feel cut off from the world, as if his senses weren't working properly.
He was more than relieved when eventually, after what could have been any span of time from ten minutes to several hours, Potter blinked for the first time since he had broken the kiss.
"Mum, Dad, please don't—" he croaked, just when Draco was saying, "Potter, damn, I'm so glad you're back!"
He grabbed Potter's arm to help him sitting up, but Potter flinched and pressed his eyes shut again. "No," he murmured, his voice pitched high like a child's, "I want to go back. Can you bring me back? To my parents?"
To his parents? His dead parents? Fuck, Potter had gone mental, no doubt about it. Draco kept his touch light as he ran his fingertips down Potter's cheek. "Shhh, Potter. It's me, Malfoy. Tell me where you've been. Where did you meet your parents? Can you describe the place?"
"Home. I was at home."
There was so much sadness and longing in Potter's voice, Draco's heart clenched at the sound. "I'm sure you'll see it again. But for now, can you tell me what happened? What did your parents do? What did you do?"
Somehow Draco couldn't stop stroking Potter's face. "Can you remember?"
"Yes." Potter frowned, opened his eyes and reached for Draco's hand. "Damn, my head hurts as if someone had split it open with an ice-pick. Help me sit up, okay?"
Draco pulled him up until he was sitting. "Better?"
"Ah, yeah. Thanks." Pressing the heels of his hands to his temples, Potter looked at Draco. "I feel strange. Did I pass out?"
Draco searched his eyes for the ring of grey. It was still there, but the pulsing had stopped and Potter's pupils seemed to function normally. "Yes, kind of. But now, try to remember. You said you saw your parents?"
Potter chewed on his lower lip and rubbed his neck. "Yes, but it's…weird. It's like a memory, like I really remember them fighting so hard. But that's impossible, isn't it?"
Despite the grey ring around his pupils, Potter's eyes were still very green. They were holding Draco's gaze as if Potter's life depended on his answer.
"I'm afraid so, yes. You were only one year old when they died. Maybe it was a dream, a lucid dream? They're said to feel very real. Your parents fought? You mean against Voldemort?"
"No, worse...er, no, that came out wrong. What I mean is, they were fighting with each other. There was a lot of yelling and hexing going on, Dad was accusing Mum of… No. I can't tell you that."
When Potter looked at Draco this time, his expression was rather suspicious. "What happened? How can I know you didn't hit me on the head and are now trying to get some first-hand information about my parents and my childhood to sell them to the Prophet? Yesterday we were still…oh, whatever, I don't know. But I do know that a little kissing and groping doesn't change everything."
Draco suppressed a sigh. Count on Potter to become difficult just at the most inconvenient time. Though given their history, his assumptions weren't that far-fetched. Draco could easily imagine himself reacting in the same way if he were in Potter's place.
"Look, I know this must be difficult for you. But remember we're both here at McGonagall's request, if you can. You trust her judgement when it comes to people, right? If she trusts me, you should give it a try, too. I promise I'm only here to help solve the case."
Potter didn't look fully convinced, but nodded. "Yeah, okay. You have a point here. Besides, the Prophet already printed so many lies about my family, nobody would be shocked by some more…" He groaned and rubbed his eyes. "Damn, my eyes feel like the sandman emptied his whole bag into them."
"Huh? Sandman?" For a moment, Draco was thrown by the unfamiliar reference, then the image clicked in his mind. "Oh, I know, you mean Dream Angus! Yes, they must be very dry, you…er, slept with your eyes open. I didn't dare to touch you, but I shielded them, so at least you don't have to worry about any damage done by direct sunlight. Strange how you are affected by the Dark Hole a lot more than I am… These dreams, or memories – if you want us to solve the case, you'd better tell me about them now, as long as they are fresh and clear."
"Wait, what do you mean, I'm much more affected than you?" Potter's eyes were red-rimmed and he was blinking rapidly. "What happened?"
Draco sighed and accepted he had to give Potter a full report before he would learn anything about the mysterious new memories.
"Okay, I lost you for a moment because my head was exploding with pain. It took me a while to shield my mind with Occlumency and when I could think straight again, you were gone. I found you floating in front of the Dark Hole, tied to it with strings of memories. I still don't fully understand what happened, but it looked like it was extracting, er, …bright…memories from your mind while at the same time sending back…darker ones. That's why I need to know what these new memories you mentioned are exactly about."
Rubbing his forehead, Potter blinked some more. Then he exhaled slowly, and when he looked up at Draco, Auror Potter was back.
"You mean, that…thing…somehow captured me and stole my memories to replace them with…its own?"
Draco pursed his lips and nodded. "Correct. And therefore I think it would be safest if you stayed away from the lake from now on."
A strange expression flickered across Potter's face. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he said, "I wonder what it took from me…" He glanced sideways at Draco. "How come it didn't do the same to you?"
"Occlumency, as I said. Potter, we need to act before more people will be harmed. I'm convinced you would have ended up in coma or even died if I hadn't broken the connection between you and the Dark Hole soon enough. So for Salazar's sake, are you going to tell me about your new memories now, or not?"
Staring across the lake where the white sky surrendered to a pale twilight heralding the end of the day, Potter chewed on his lower lip. When his gaze returned to Draco, the focused expression was back in his eyes. "All right. They are not nice memories, you know, but they are memories of my parents. No matter if they're fighting and hexing each other into next week, I want to have these memories. Even if my father is accusing my mother of having an affair with Sirius, I want them. I don't know if you can understand, but I have no other memories of my family, only a photo album Hagrid made for me in first year. I'll take what I can get as long as it helps me to get to know them."
Draco took Potter's hand before he could think about what he was doing. Running his thumb over its back, he said, "I don't think anybody can know what it's like to experience what you are going through at the moment. But…what you said about the memories, wanting them despite them being rather unpleasant ones…maybe that's why some people are so attracted by the Dark Hole and willingly open their minds to it? You didn't say anything about a piercing headache, so I assume you didn't feel it?"
"No, I didn't, though I've had one since I woke up... Yeah, that's a plausible train of thought…" Potter shrugged and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Malfoy. Can we talk tomorrow? I'm totally done in, and all I want right now is a huge piece of chocolate and some sleep."
Draco smiled, trying to signalise understanding. Though he would have preferred to talk things through with Potter right now, when his new memories were still fresh and clear, he could see that Potter was exhausted. He squeezed Potter's hand which he still held in his own, and his heart gave a small happy jump as Potter squeezed back.
"Of course. You look like death on legs. Come on, I'll help you up and take you to your room."
"Don't get your hopes up, Malfoy," Potter said in his husky voice, but he leaned heavily on Draco's shoulder and slung an arm around his waist on their way back to the castle.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Draco was just about to sit down at the Slytherin table for breakfast when McGonagall called for him.
"Mr Malfoy, you and Mr Potter sit with me." She waved for him to join her at the head table.
"Good morning, Professor. Where is Potter, er, Mr Potter?" Draco poured the tea and lifted the cup to inhale the fragrant steam; there was nothing like the special Hogwarts blend. Not even the Ministry offered anything comparable to its employees.
"I'm here," Potter said, sitting down beside Draco. "It's a shame you can get pumpkin juice only at the House tables!" He took a sip from his glass, and the thick juice left a trace on his upper lip which Draco would have loved to lick away. Instead, he said, "You really have to grow out of some things, Potter."
Potter just smiled and pressed his thigh against Draco's. When Draco looked up, Potter locked eyes with him and slowly licked the juice from his lip. "I've missed that," he said, gaze dropping to Draco's mouth.
McGonagall saved Draco by saying, "Gentlemen, how about a quick update on your progress?" Her blue eyes were sharp and attentive when she threw them a knowing look over the square lenses of her glasses.
"Er, of course, Professor." Draco put down his cup. "We decided to have a close look at the dark globe ourselves— Potter, you bloody—"
Draco bit down hard on the rest of the insult for McGonagall's sake and pulled out his wand. Potter had reached for the basket of croissants and managed to upset his pumpkin juice. The orange-coloured liquid was now flowing over the edge of the table directly onto Draco's lap.
"Oops, sorry, Malfoy. Let me fix that."
Potter's eyes were wide and innocent, but his hands, dabbing at Draco's crotch with his napkin, were not.
McGonagall's voice cut through the charged silence. "Mr Potter, I'm sure Mr Malfoy is capable of cleaning himself. Maybe you can fill me in while he is busy?"
"Er, yes." Potter sat up awkwardly and Draco cast a quiet Tergeo, sighing with relief when the sticky wetness vanished along with the heat in his cheeks.
"—and discovered nothing special. It's just like the merpeople described it. A big orb which looks as if it was made of black glass. Concerning our plans for today, we want to visit the stunned merman and see whether we can get any new information from him if he's awake."
Draco looked up from his clean and dry crotch at Potter – surely this wasn't all he would report to the Headmistress! But Potter's gaze wouldn't meet his, only the increasing pressure of his thigh against Draco's indicated that he wanted them to keep the details of their adventures of the day before to themselves.
"Very well, Mr Potter," the Headmistress said, tilting her head to one side. "I understand that you needed to get a general first impression, but I want the situation solved as soon as possible; until the end of the summer holidays at the latest."
An owl entered the Great Hall through one of the open windows. Not stopping for a treat, it just dropped a letter in front of McGonagall. The Headmistress' face fell as soon as she read the first words and she pressed a hand to her heart.
"Professor?" Draco asked.
"Professor, are you alright?" Potter insisted when she didn't answer.
McGonagall let the letter sink to her lap where she crumpled it into a ball.
"Yes…yes, I'm alright." Her eyes had lost their piercing stare as she looked up at them. "But somebody else is not – Keoma has died. Gentlemen, this gives your investigation new urgency. We need to get rid of that bloody thing in the lake!" To Draco, it sounded as she'd have liked to add, "Potter, you defeated Voldemort, most powerful Dark Wizard of our time – how much of a challenge can a Dark Hole be in comparison?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
While Draco didn't mind the taste of the Colloquisubaqua, the gillyweed was even more disgusting than he had expected it to be. But the natural ease with which he swam loops and twists like a teenage seal was worth the effort of swallowing the slimy stuff.
Potter nudged him in the ribs and Draco snapped to attention. Right in front of them a huge rock broke through the bottom of the lake like the tip of a ragged mountain. A green glow marked the entrance to a cave, beside which the merman who had led them there stopped and gestured for them to enter. After Draco had copied Potter's respectful nod, they swam inside.
Tufts of fluorescent algae hung from the ceiling like chandeliers and bathed the small but high room in a greenish glow. In the centre, Keoma lay on a crude block, tied to it with strings of luminous algae. Several thick ropes of pebbles adorned his neck and his hair wafted in a current so gentle that Draco hadn't been aware of it before. It circled the altar and the merman's hands and tailfin rose and fell from its pull as if he was waving at the visitors. Oh fuck, this bloody case was getting more eerie by the second!
When they reached the altar, Draco saw that the corpse's eyes had been covered with shells and wondered if it was part of a ritual, or done for a special reason. Maybe someone, Keoma's wife or other kin probably, wanted to hide their strange change of colour… Draco really didn't want to disturb the merman's peace, but for Potter's sake he had to check. He plucked the shell from one eye, lifted the eyelid, and—
Fuck. Grey. Pewter. No trace of yellow left.
While he was still staring, the grey ring around the enormous black pupil started to pulse.
"What are you doing?" Potter whispered, coming closer after he had drifted a full round with the current.
The last thing Draco wanted was to fill Potter in about the change of eye-colour and what it might mean before he had sufficient answers himself. Hastily, he pushed the lid back down over the creepy sight and turned to Potter. "Nothing," he said, making sure he sounded casual. "Just admiring his necklaces. What do the merpeople do with their dead, by the way?"
"Have you never talked to the mermaid living in the stained window of the prefects' bathroom? The Selkies believe in rebirth. The Black Lake is only their first station. The next, to which death is the ticket, is the Silver Lake."
"That's very interesting, but no answer to my question. What do they do with the bodies?"
"I don't know. Why's that so important to you?" Potter looked at him with a frown of concern. "It's not our fault he's dead, you know that, right? We started investigating only after he had had his run-in with that thing outside; we couldn't have prevented his death from happening."
"I know, I'm just...curious." Draco bit down on his lower lip and returned his gaze to the dead merman's closed eyes. Seeing that the Dark Hole's…memories?...were apparently still active inside the body was more than disturbing. Hopefully the merpeople buried their dead under a big pile of heavy rocks!
"Okay…" Potter didn't seem to be convinced at all by Draco's answer. "No problem, we can find out. Come!"
"Wait, what are you—?" Draco asked, trying to catch Potter's hand.
"Oh, you know, I've been wanting to use the prefects' bathroom since I've stumbled out of McGonagall's fireplace. It's kind of a ritual. Whenever I'm at Hogwarts, I visit the mermaid. I have a feeling that it's about time to introduce you."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Harry?"
Longbottom's voice accompanied his insistent knocking on the door to Draco's guest room.
"His room is the one to the left." Draco did not intend to leave his cup of Hogwarts Blend and book.
"I know, but he isn't there. I thought he might be with you," Longbottom called.
"Well, he isn't." Draco leaned back in the dragonhide armchair a house-elf had fetched from the Slytherin common room at his request. If only Longbottom would absent himself now and look for Potter elsewhere.
"Malfoy?"
Fuck. Gryffindors really were the curse of his life. He cast a last longing look at his worn copy of The Golden Trio – A Character Study with the intriguing subtitle Which Trio-Type are you? Find your inner Harry, Ron or Hermione and hid it in the drawer of the side table.
"Coming," he said, sighing as he got up and cast a quiet Alohomora at the door. Metal and wood screeched as it swung open. He would have to call for a house-elf again, the door hinges could do with some drops of oil or a Lubrication Charm. "Come in."
"Thanks." Longbottom marched past Draco, directly toward the dragonhide armchair and dropped down into it, causing the coil springs to squeak. "Nice," he said, running his palms over the arm rests.
"Make yourself at home," Draco said, though he knew his biting wit was lost on Longbottom. He sat down on the other armchair, a rather uncomfortable one with a high straight backrest, and reached for his cup. Cold, of course. Stupid Longbottom, his presence alone was enough to cause a foul mood.
"What can I do for you, Longbottom? Potter isn't here, as you can see. I promise he isn't hiding under the bed either, though I have to admit that I haven't checked behind the curtains…"
Cocking his head, Neville said, "Why would he? Are you two having a secret love affair, or what?"
Oh, marvellous! Draco really would have to be more careful with his words. "Since eighth year." He threw Longbottom a sly look and batted his lashes in an exaggerated manner.
"Not bad, Malfoy. I'd almost believe you. Whatever. Harry wanted to come see me and get a fresh supply of gillyweed. He didn't turn up, so I thought maybe I misunderstood him and we were supposed to meet at his room…"
With a shrug, Draco said, "Well, he's not here, and as I have no idea where—oh no!"
Of course he knew where Potter was – back down in the lake again, getting his brain sucked by the Dark Hole. Draco's scalp prickled and he was glad for his lifelong training in keeping his feelings from showing on his face. "My apologies, Longbottom, I just remembered that I have an appointment now, so would you please…" He looked from Longbottom to the door, hoping Longbottom would get the hint.
"Oh yes, of course. Please tell Harry I was here."
Longbottom was already gone, when his head appeared around the door jamb again. "I forgot to give you this." He produced a shrunken glass jar of gillyweed from his trouser pocket.
"More gillyweed?" Draco asked.
"Yes, but a mutated form. I promised Harry to give it to him. Its effect doesn't vanish after an hour, one needs the counteragent to stop it. Fascinating, isn't it? I'm so excited! It grows at a single place very deep down in the lake. I named it after my father: Dianthus Francisci Longbottomensis." Longbottom's face lit up with pride and excitement as if he had found a way to Apparate to the moon.
"Wow, Longbottom! That's...amazing!" Draco looked at the jar – and Longbottom – with different eyes. "You don't happen to have the counteragent handy as well?"
Longbottom gave him another jar. "Dianthus Solanum Alicius. Named after my mother." He beamed brighter than a supernova.
The stems inside looked like gillyweed, but were of a dark purple which reminded Draco of an aubergine. He sighed and hoped it wouldn't be as disgusting to swallow as gillyweed; it might be nice if a useful plant tasted like Crème brûlée for once.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The drilling headache set in much earlier than last time; the Dark Hole had become stronger. But Draco had entered the lake well prepared; the fog protecting his mind was impervious. Still, the increasing pressure to his temples was getting unpleasant. Being preoccupied with Potter didn't keep the damn thing from trying to dig its way into Draco's memories as well.
The sight of Potter being tied to the Dark Hole by strings of memories was as creepy as it had been the first time. He looked very small in relation to it, or maybe the orb had gained volume – it thrived on Potter's happy memories, obviously, while he was...fading.
They really had to get rid of the bloody thing, and not just because it was McGonagall's wish.
Draco gritted his teeth and balled his fists to prevent himself from shooting a vicious Blasting Curse at the fucking orb. A simple Vanishing Spell would be too clean and easy, he wanted to see it destroyed, not just gone. But who knew what would happen to Potter's mind and brain if he cut the connection abruptly like that...although, the last time he hadn't wasted a thought at what might happen, he'd just cast a Protego and grabbed Potter the moment the strings had fallen off.
He embraced Potter from behind, locked his arms around him and pressed his chest to Potter's back. He was cold and limp, his skin nearly as pale as Draco's – the orb literally was sucking the life out of him.
"Protego!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Draco observed his work and nodded. Potter lay on the pebbles at Draco's feet, unable to do anything else but breathe. He should be safe, a Petrificus Totalus and an Incarcerous – just to make sure, with Potter one never knew – would keep him from following Draco back into the lake, no matter how strong his desire for more memories might be.
"Sorry, Potter. I bet you'll kiss me senseless for what I'm doing to you once you'll be yourself again. If you'll excuse me now…"
Potter's glare was full of hatred, but that wasn't what made Draco stumble backward. The grey ring around his pupils was pulsing fast, but what really worried Draco was that it had taken over nearly the whole iris. Only a small outline was left of the familiar green.
Potter wouldn't survive another encounter with the Dark Hole.
"Accio mutated gillyweed."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Draco was close to despair. He didn't have many spells left which had the power to destroy or otherwise incapacitate the Dark Hole. His first attempt had been a Vanishing Spell, but the red sparks had died away as soon as they had touched the black globe, and nothing else had happened. It had been the same with a Blasting Curse. Well, he hadn't fought in a war or been raised by a Death-Eater for nothing – he hadn't run out of ideas, yet.
"Duro!" Dying sparks, no reaction.
"Sectumsempra!" Flashes of light criss-crossed over the smooth black surface where the invisible sword hit the Dark Hole, but didn't even leave a scratch. The glass – if it was glass – remained unmarred. Draco fumed at the sight of the bloody thing just sitting there and being immune against all his strongest hexes and curses. Now there was only one thing left to do, a last resort he had hoped he wouldn't have to use. Aunt Bellatrix' mad cackling rang in his ears, and for the first time in his life he understood her glee in casting Unforgivables.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Goosebumps ran over his skin as the green flash of the Killing Curse shot from his wand. It shimmered and flickered, and for a moment the orb was encased in bright green fire. Draco waited for the pressure to his temples to subside, and couldn't believe when that didn't happen.
Fuckfuckfuck, the fucking marble even resisted the Killing Curse! And on top of that, it had the audacity to still try to get access to his memories. Draco pressed his hands to his temples in a useless gesture. He had no idea what to do now.
Yet.
Draco let go of his head and looked at the Dark Hole again. Every enemy had a weakness, he just had to find it. He swam a slow circle around the globe, watching the shadows inside forming everchanging patterns like clouds on a stormy day. What a vicious thing it was, sucking happy memories from other life forms, while at the same time filling them up with sad and dark ones in order to take over their brains and bodies.
The picture of Potter being tethered to the orb crossed his mind and the mere thought of a direct connection to those shadows made his blood run cold. How much Potter must miss his parents if he willingly sacrificed true happy memories – which he couldn't have too many of, considering what he'd been through – for false and tainted ones of them.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thanks to a Flame Freezing Charm, the fire in McGonagall's office provided a cosy atmosphere without overheating the room. McGonagall sat at her desk, a tray with a steaming tea pot at her elbow.
"Your Patronus sounded very urgent, Mr Malfoy. I hope it is good news?" The way the Headmistress raised her brows and looked at Draco over the rim of her glasses indicated she already knew it wasn't.
"I'm afraid not, Professor." Draco sat down in the same chair as on the day of his arrival and accepted the cup of tea she offered by raising the pot. He would never decline a cup of delicious Hogwarts Blend, come heat wave or high water. "Thank you. There's nothing like a cup of tea when things...get out of hand. Professor, I need your help."
McGonagall's eyebrows crept up even higher. "What about Mr Potter? He's supposed to help you, and I must say, this constant refusal of you two to cooperate—"
"No, Professor. It's not like that."
"Then pray enlighten me."
That was the difficult part. Draco took a sip from his cup to wet his throat. "Uh, er, Mr Potter...is not, er...himself at the moment."
"What do you mean, he is not himself?" Beady blue eyes pierced Draco's in a silent demand to speak precisely and in full sentences.
"Professor, this will all sound very strange, and you'll most likely be inclined not to believe me. But please, hear me out. As I told you during our first meeting, I'm an expert on Dark Holes, but our knowledge about them is still so fragmentary that a lot of things I can only conjecture instead of offering solid facts."
"Well, I think that can't be helped, then. Go on, what are your assumptions?"
"The Dark Hole is a kind of entity, a life form that ensnares its victims through a kind of allure. From what I've observed these past days, it lives on happy memories which it sucks from those who fall for this allure."
McGonagall shook her head. "What kind of appeal could that be? The merpeople spoke of temptation, too, but wouldn't explain what it was that attracted them so much."
With a tired nod, Draco said, "They wouldn't tell you because it's very personal. All I can say for now I know from Mr Potter. He has exposed himself to the...dark globe twice, and I'm afraid it has affected his ability to think. The Dark Hole doesn't seek an open fight, it operates much more subtly. It offers memories of persons or situations the victims yearn for and would do anything to get more of. Mr Potter, for example, was offered memories of his parents—"
"Oh no. That is insidiously evil, indeed. I understand. Go on, please!" McGonagall's hands were shaking as she put down her teacup.
Draco didn't need to be told twice. "Yes, evil, that's why I said he's not quite himself. The Dark Hole gives him ugly glimpses of them, where they fight and hex each other, but he wants them nevertheless. Better these, he said, than none at all. In exchange, it takes happy moments from him."
During his explanation, the Headmistress had regained her composure and looked more determined than shocked now.
"Just a moment." The steel was back in her voice, it didn't waver with doubt anymore. "This doesn't sound like an educated guess to me. How do you know about this exchange of memories?"
"I saw it happen. Mr Potter floated in front of the Dark Hole and it looked like he was tied to it with strings of memories. The one leaving his right temple was silver, that's why I assume this were happy memories. The string returning to him on the left was dark, like pewter."
Draco swallowed. Very strange how he needed to swallow all the time, though his mouth was dry despite the tea. "Professor, that thing violates the brains of its victims and causes a kind of addiction. It establishes a direct connection between itself and their minds; I could only resist because I'm trained in Occlumency."
"Mr Malfoy, are you aware of what you are saying? You make it sound as if this entity is some kind of...Dementor breeder?" McGonagall's cup forcefully met the saucer.
"Now that you mention it...interesting theory. It would explain the shadows living inside it. But we can discuss this later. What's important now is that Mr Potter has reached a critical point. I'm sure he will die if he comes near that thing ever again. To me, it looks like he has almost lost all his happy memories and is filled up to the brink with dark ones. You can see it in his eyes, they have turned from green to grey, just like the dead merman's ones. Luckily, Mr Potter's still have a bit of green left."
"As he is in such dire circumstances I hope you brought him to the hospital wing?"
Only her eyes betrayed her worry; her voice was calm and she sat very straight, her hands closed around her cup. Her attitude was admirable, given the circumstances.
"Yes, Madam Pomfrey and Long—, er, Mr Longbottom are taking care of him. Though I doubt they can do much else besides keeping him from going into the lake again and feed him chocolate."
Draco took a sip of his tea and watched McGonagall think. Though he had never been a fan of the former Gryffindor Head of House, Draco considered himself very lucky that McGonagall was still Headmistress. The thought of having to go through this with a younger and less battle-tested witch or wizard who would have certainly become hysterical by now made him cringe inside.
McGonagall pursed her lips and folded her hands, then sat up even straighter. "I presume you already tried to vanish or destroy the Dark Hole and failed, otherwise you wouldn't be sitting here."
Draco put his cup down. "Of course. I tried every known spell, but it seems to be immune against them all."
"Muffliato!" McGonagall threw a cautious glance at the portraits on the walls of her office, then lowered her voice. "Did you also use…"
"Yes. I thought in this exceptional case the end would justify the means, but even the Killing Curse didn't show any effects." He shrugged, then startled when the Headmistress shook her head and snorted.
"What a fool I've been to think I was too old for life being able to surprise me anymore… But we knew it wouldn't be an ordinary case from the beginning, aye? So I suggest we start thinking of a solution out of the ordinary. I want Mr Potter to be on board, and maybe Mr Longbottom will also be of help as he has become an expert of the flora and fauna of the Black Lake."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"We need a new plan," Draco said after filling Potter in about what had happened since his last encounter with the Dark Hole.
Potter looked at him with his strange grey eyes, pale-faced and somehow looking smaller. All the liveliness had left him and Draco couldn't believe this was the man he had admired and desired so much the day before when they had sneaked glances at each other's arses at the shore. He had to fight the constant urge to tell him that everything would be fine soon.
"What's that to do with me?" Potter asked, his voice as expressionless as his face.
Exchanging a look with McGonagall, who appeared to be much more concerned now than she had in her office, Draco took Potter's hand. It was cold, and Potter didn't return the pressure. At least he didn't pull his hand back, either.
"Potter, don't let me down now. You are always the one who knows what to do when all possibilities are exhausted. You know how to defeat Dark Magic. Come on, think! I can't do this without you." He held Potter's gaze, concentrated on the bit of green that was left and tried to reach the forceful man he knew must still be there.
A single nod was the answer. "Okay," Potter said in his new toneless voice. "Here's what I think you have to do. You're not going to like it."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Promise you won't let him near the lake," Draco said to Longbottom who had accompanied him to the shore. The heat wave was still going strong, and all life seemed to have slowed down and lie still, waiting to exhale with the first cool breeze
"I won't." Longbottom held Draco's gaze as he was handing him a new jar of shrunken gillyweed. His eyes were of a similar green as Potter's and the absence of grey filled Draco with hope.
Draco dutifully chewed on a leaf of Colloquisubaqua, then opened the jar and frowned at the smell. "I really hope I'll never have to use the stuff again when this is over!" He gulped down the gillyweed; it was like swallowing snails. The things one did for the greater good…
As the gills started forming behind his ears and down his neck, he dived into the water and swam towards the Dark Hole. Gone was the joy he'd experienced the last time over the effects of the gillyweed; now there was nothing to look forward to.
Potter's words were a quiet echo in his mind. "You can only affect it through a direct connection." A direct connection was the key, but also the thing Draco dreaded most. The new plan was logical. If he did everything right, the evil orb would be gone in minutes. If he failed, he would end like the dead merman. No one would be able to save him; he was the only one trained in Occlumency, the only one who could approach the Dark Hole unharmed.
This was how Potter must have felt like when he walked through the Forbidden Forest to meet the Dark Lord for their last stand. Fuck. Draco would have never envied Potter for being the Chosen One had he known what it really meant: facing the very probable chance of dying.
The black shadow of the Dark Hole loomed in the distance. Time to shield his mind. Raising layer after layer of fog around his thoughts, Draco swam on and waited for the drilling ache to attack.
When it did, it was cruel – the probe was pushed into his temples with merciless pressure. He hunched his shoulders and squeezed his eyes shut against the onslaught. But even through the blinding pain Draco sensed there was more. Behind the power and the aggression lurked the fear of a child locked in the dark, the immeasurable sadness of a truly lonely mind, and somehow that hurt even more.
Cold and slimy fingers slid through the boreholes and dug through his mind, attacking the protected areas. Draco fought hard to find the balance between using enough Occlumency to stay capable of acting while at the same time allowing the entity access to selected memories he'd decided he could live without. His brain was like a suspect's room searched by an Auror team, all drawers pulled out and upended, wardrobes ransacked, armchairs and sofas slit open.
He had to act, they were almost through with all furniture and upholstery. The walls of fog wouldn't hold much longer.
Draco opened his eyes and when he saw both memory strands pulsing and flowing steadily, he lifted his wand arm and aimed at the giant orb before him.
"Imperio!"
Silence. The slimy fingers slipped away and the rampage stopped so suddenly that Draco waited for it to return and fill the vacuum of silence in his head. It didn't, but he had to fight to keep his eyes open as exhaustion, heavy like a bag of stones, started to slow his movements and pull him down.
Floating limp and too spent to do anything against it, he watched the last few red sparks sink into the orb. The shadows swirling inside froze and slid down the glass walls. Draco knew he had a task to fulfill, that there was still something he had to do, but he was just so tired. Maybe, if he only allowed himself a moment of sleep…
He must have dozed off because the voice he was hearing could only be a dream.
"Malfoy! Hey, Malfoy!"
This insistent voice, wait, this was… Draco cast up his eyes.
"Longbottom?"
Longbottom didn't answer, just shoved something between Draco's lips as he floated next to him.
"No, let me be, I'm tired…" Draco was even too weak to slap Longbottom's hand away which still tried to push something in his mouth. He turned his head away. "Fuck, what the hell are you doing here?"
"Harry sent me. He said you would need this." Eventually, Longbottom showed Draco what he was trying to feed him.
"Chocolate?"
When Longbottom nodded, Draco took a bite, and then grabbed the bar with both hands and gobbled it down as fast as possible. It tasted heavenly, even mixed with a bit of lakewater. It was like eating pure life energy.
"Can you go on now?" Longbottom asked, waving in the direction of the Dark Hole. "It doesn't look as if you were already done with it. I mean, it's still there..."
Draco had swallowed the last mouthful of delicious sweetness, and choked on it at Longbottom's words. The connection, he had lost the direct connection!
"Longbottom, I...I've lost the connection! How am I supposed—"
Longbottom reached out and squeezed Draco's shoulder. "Don't panic," he said. "Look at me. Breathe."
Draco did as he was told, his heart was racing in his chest and he seemed not to have enough gills to provide him with a sufficient amount of oxygen. He was dizzy, lightheaded, and it was good not to think but just look into Longbottom's eyes and breathe.
"Here, have some more." Another piece of chocolate was pressed to his lips and again, the wonder happened. His brain started working again. Okay, he had lost the direct connection. But the Dark Hole was still under the Imperius Curse. And he knew how to establish a direct connection with another mind, had done it often enough. Still, the thought was revolting. It was one thing to allow the Dark Hole access to his brain, but another to willingly enter the Dark Hole's brain...mind...whatever.
Longbottom must have sensed his reluctance; he squeezed Draco's shoulder again with an encouraging smile. Draco didn't feel like smiling back, but he nodded and said, "Do me a favour, Longbottom. Don't lose touch when I'm...in there, okay?"
"I won't."
Wow, Longbottom wasn't a man of many words. But he would provide action, and that was worth a lot more.
Again, Draco raised the walls of fog to lock away his thoughts, aimed at the orb and yelled, "Legilimens!"
What a difference! The Imperio showed great effect. No debilitating ache anymore, no pain and no slimy fingers probing his brain. Draco pushed forward, all his senses alert and high as a kite on adrenalin. He was more than glad to feel Longbottom's hand on his shoulder as he entered the dark mind. It was like an anchor, a physical link to the world outside.
It was cold in there, a cold that made Draco believe he would never feel warm again. He shivered, ripples of goosebumps drifting over his skin. Sadness overcame him, so deep and bitter and immeasurable he wanted to weep and never stop. He wanted to cry a river and drown in it, just not to have to endure this any longer. And it still got worse. The shadows had sunk to the bottom and were reaching out for him like beggars, their eyes and mouths fathomless black holes. He would have lost himself in them if it hadn't been for Neville's warm hand grounding him. It was a reminder of all that was good and worth living for and it was exactly what he needed to find the strength to end all this.
"Leave," Draco said, choking on the overwhelming need to cry. "Leave, and never come back."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"This has to stop," Neville declared, handing out chocolate bars to Draco and Potter. "I can't go to Honeydukes three times a day and buy ridiculous amounts of chocolate. They are already out of Chocolate Frogs, and they're starting to give me strange looks!"
"Thank you, Longbottom." Draco peeled the wrapping paper off his bar and took a hearty bite. He'd lost count of how many he'd already had that day, but seriously – when it came to Honeydukes, one could never have enough. He cast a look at Madam Pomfrey when some crumbs landed on the sheets of his bed. "My apologies, Madam Pomfrey. I would offer you a piece, but I'm sure you wouldn't take their medicine away from your patients, would you?"
Madam Pomfrey's gentle Tergeo left only the smell of clean cotton behind, and as soon as the bed looked impeccable again, she said, "Be glad it's still the holidays, Mr Malfoy. Otherwise I would have thrown you out long ago. And you, too, Mr Potter. No need to smile smugly! You both look happier than ever."
It was true, Draco discovered as he checked Potter's eyes. They were green; wonderful, bright, emerald green, without the slightest hint of grey. A Honeydukes wonder. Though he had to admit that Weasley's Wizard Wheezes also had their part in his and Potter's fast recovery. The daily owls laden with chocolate and all the joke articles had certainly helped to chase the misery and the false memories from their minds. As had the new memories he and Potter were making at night. Draco couldn't help the grin spreading across his face at the thought.
"Professor," Potter said as Headmistress McGonagall joined the small group gathered around their beds. "Is it time again?"
McGonagall smiled and took a shrunken Pensieve from the pocket of her robes. "Yes, gentlemen, time for your daily dose of happy memories." She put the Pensieve on the ground and only a quiet sigh betrayed it hadn't been as effortless as it looked. Draco wished he would be as flexible when he reached her age. Though, as long Potter kept doing these incredible things with his legs at night he'd probably be as bendy as a contortionist by then.
"Finite Incantatem," McGonagall said, and while the Pensieve grew to its original size, her eyes flickered between Potter and Draco.
"Alone or together?" Her voice gave away the smile she hid.
Draco looked at Potter, whose lips parted in a wide grin. Really, she should know by now.
"Together."
Longbottom had been right. They were having a secret love affair, only that it was neither a secret nor an affair any more.
It was love.