#fig should have just taken hogwarts express

[sukipearl]

she is never getting in a flying carriage again

[devilrising]

Fallen Draco, Pt. 12

This story is following a prompt set by @mymindsmadness

Summary: AU where Draco is a fallen angel, and the way he gets his wings back is by guiding Harry in defeating Voldemort, but it all goes wrong when Draco starts falling in love with Harry.

Word Count (Part 12): 3,382

Word Count (Total): 38,650

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Mentions of abuse/torture (non-graphic)

***

24th April, 1998

An entire week passes in a blur. Rapid movement would be the two best words to sum it all up. Hermione had indeed Apparated to Weasley that time in Rivington Woods, but not because she was annoyed or disgusted. No, instead she left because of a coin in her pocket? The details are a little bit fuzzy, but she said something about ‘the DA’ and ‘encrypted’. It’s probably a form of communication, and I will have to find out in more detail. Regardless, Weasley had called her out to the Forest of Dean. When Harry and I had finally arrived close to an hour later — after talking things through and deciding that we are both in for the long haul — the clearing was bustling with activity. There were even more plans in place that I had no idea about, including something to help rescue Mother.

Thoughts of my mum pull me from my mind, and I glance over to the still vacant room across the hallway. Grimmauld seems to know that something is wrong, trying desperately to cheer all of its occupants up with random bursts of new colour on the walls, or random vases on cabinets that appeared from thin air. Harry and I are still in our separate rooms, but Hermione and Weasley (who is very annoyed that I can’t quite call him Ron yet) share a room on another floor. The house is also filled with other people that Harry seems to have collected somehow. He assures me that each of them serves a specific purpose, but I haven’t been told what those purposes are. I haven’t been told much of anything.

“Draco, here you are!” My attention snaps to Harry at the sound of his voice, and I watch as he walks into the drawing room. Flopping down onto the sofa next to me, he runs his eyes over my wings. I’ve stopped trying to spell them away or cover them, and now they are permanently out in the air. Harry seems absolutely fascinated by them.

“Here I am,” I concede. “You after something?”

“A man can’t stop and talk to his boyfriend occasionally?”

A blush creeps up the back of my neck. The word ‘boyfriend’ still feels exceedingly odd. “Oh please,” I say. “You never see me during the day, you’re working,” I chide. “And it’s very important work, so if you aren’t asking me something then you should probably head back.”

Harry scowls half heartedly. “What if I was using you as an excuse to leave?” He laughs, unable to keep the serious expression on his face for long.

I roll my eyes. “That’s what I am to you? An excuse?!”

“Of course not Dray!” I glare at the horrid nickname that Harry has shifted into using. “I merely needed a distraction.”

I cock my head at him, and his eyes widen. I scowl, knowing exactly what he is staring at. “Yes Harry,” I sigh. “There are feathers. There have been feathers for just over a week by now.”

“I know,” Harry winges. “But they’re gorgeous.”

I shake my head and twist around on the sofa so that my back is to Harry. I can feel his grin from behind me as I lay back into his chest. My wings fold slightly, uncomfortable. They don’t stay like that for long though, not with Harry running a reverent hand across them. He smooths them out and caresses the dull-looking feathers. I had assumed that by now they would be back to lush white, but no. Still the ugly brown. Sometimes I wonder if they’ll ever change back. Maybe my life is too far tainted for the consequences to ever truly leave.

“What are you thinking of?” Harry asks slowly.

“Nothing,” I shake my head. “Just wondering if my feathers will become white again or not.”

“That’s not it,” Harry says. “The thoughts looked much darker than that.”

Sighing, I reply, “What if my life is too dark, and they are permanently stained…”

Harry rubs soothingly across my feathers, calming me down just as I was about to spiral out of control. There is nothing positive in my past to look back on, it’s just not worth it.

“Harry! Draco!” A head of bushy hair rushes into the drawing room. “I thought I’d find you in here,” Hermione says as she hurries towards us. Her eyes roam over our position on the sofa, and a blush reappears on my cheeks. I can’t find it in myself to move though, so she’ll have to get over it.

“We have word on your mother,” she reveals, not sparing a second glance to the way we’re sitting.

I leap up, sprinting off of Harry as I grab for her. Gripping her shoulders tightly, I stare at her,wordless. Until I’m not. “How is she?!” Is the first thing to leave my mouth. “Where is she?!” That’s a much more sensible question than the first, but both are equally important.

“She’s doing good considering where she is,” Hermione says. I don’t like the sound of that. Reading the look in my eyes, she sighs. “Lucius has her in th-”

“My father has her! She’ll die!” I yell.

Hermione winces at the loud noise at such close proximity. “If you’d let me finish…” I nod.

“She is in the Ministry of Magic, being held and awaiting trial for crimes against the Ministry.”

How Hermione manages to stay as calm as she is is beyond me. My body starts shaking in rage, and Harry leaps up to stand behind me. His hand rubs comfortingly along what he can reach of my back, but upon deciding that’s too hard, he instead walks to my side and places his head on my shoulder. My eyes start burning, and I feel my dissolve start to crumble.

“Crimes against the Ministry?” Harry asks for me. “Like treason?”

Hermione nods solemnly. “Lucius is still considered a reliable source to the Wizengamot,” she explains. “His word as Head of Malfoy House overrides her’s, especially as a woman in a court full of old-fashion men.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Harry exclaims. I go rigid under his touch, and he presses a kiss to my shoulder.

“It’s preposterous, but it’s the way of the world,” I say, defeated.

“You can’t think like that Dray!” Harry says, reaching a hand up to caress the back of my neck. “Everything will be okay.”

“You can’t promise me that, Harry.” I turn my head to look at him. “This is war, bad things happen. Mother being trialed is just another strike Lucius is using against me.” Lucius, not my father. I’m done relating the two, I can’t consider him my flesh and blood any longer. Not with how everything is turning out.

“I have more,” Hermione announces. I’d forgotten she was in the room. Harry and I focus our attention back on her, and she clears her throat. “We have people arriving there as we speak. Their goal is to persuade the Wizengamot to vote her innocent.”

“And by persuade you really mean…?” Harry asks. As I said, this is war. We need to go to any length possible to ensure we win. Voldemort can’t be allowed to rule over the world.

“Manipulate,” Hermione says with a shrug. “If that doesn’t work, then maybe a couple of Unforgivables.” It sounds so matter-of-fact, coming from a girl who never would have imagined using those spells two years ago.

Harry nods and wraps her into a hug. “Thank you,” he whispers. I smile to myself, watching their casual affection and how well they know each other after years of friendship.

“Draco?” Hermione addresses me.

“Hermione,” comes my response.

“Do you want to come with us? To retrieve Narcissa?”

I don’t even have to think about my answer. “Yes!”

***

Despite originally being ecstatic about helping rescue Mother, I have since realised just how much work goes into these missions. Harry has placed our usual Glamours back on, but that’s just skin level and is very easy to remove. Hermione takes over once my skin is freckled, altering traces of my magic. I can feel it pulse within me, crashing around wildly. She assures me it will calm down after a little while, but with the way it’s acting I worry it might explode out of me. Hermione then works to change my scent, my weight and height, and some more intricate details that Harry skimmed over. When presented with a mirror, it’s like I’m inside someone else’s body. Harry might have done a good job when I was just him, but Hermione’s spell work truly takes the disguise to another level. A pang of loss rings in my chest though, my wings hidden away for the first time in a week. Oh well, it needs to be done. For Mother.

Harry gets transformed too, and then we are rushed out of the drawing room and into the kitchen. There is basically an army sitting around on the tiles, the table having been taken hours ago by the first people to have arrived.

Who are these ones, Granger?” A man wearing maroon robes asks Hermione as she steps in behind us.

“Daniel Gresham and Thomas Anstey.” Those are the names she picked out for us, further away from our real names than the ones we usually go by.

The man walks over to us and shakes Harry and I’s hands firmly. “Pleased to have you, Gresham and Anstey.”

I don’t respond, too busy taking everything in.

There are witches and wizards everywhere, dressed in high end robes and carrying wands that are poised; ready to be used in a moments notice. Harry and I are pushed into the crowd with instructions to stretch our muscles and then find a Portkey. Having both been on the Quidditch teams back at Hogwarts, stretching doesn’t take very long. Mine are a little bit stiff, less flexible than usual due to being in hiding for a month and a half. Harry doesn’t seem to have the same problem, racing through his own stretches and warm ups before watching me go through my own more slowly.

“You look beautiful,” he says. I blush. He makes me blush so easily, it’s actually pathetic. Cursing my pale skin, I shake my head at him in exasperation.

“That’s all you can think about right now? The way I look and not what we are about to do?”

“Well, I’m thinking about that too. But I couldn’t remember the last time I told you how good you look, so I figured I might as well now.” To Harry’s credit, he looks at least a little bit sheepish.

“Two days ago, Ha- Daniel.” Nearly messed up. No one can know our real identities, even though we are on the same side. Lucius and his lord can’t know we are involved in this, otherwise the consequences could be grave.

“Two days!” Harry exclaims. “I missed yesterday!”

I scoff. “You don’t need to say it every day,” I tell him. “It might lose its effect,” I whisper.

Standing up and shaking my legs out, I pull Harry to his feet. He presses a cheeky kiss to my nose, earning himself a whack to the side of his head. Rubbing the spot and wincing, he glares at me. I shrug, pecking his mouth as an apology.

“When you two are done being sickly, grab a portkey!” The man from earlier shouts from across the room to us. Harry and I nod hurriedly and find the closest portkey; a muggle notebook like the one Hermione uses. I gaze at Harry, taking in his serious face, before my stomach turns and the world twists around.

***

The world comes back into focus in the Ministry of Magic’s main thoroughfare. Floos whoosh around us, workers walking hurriedly through the passages and corridors to get to wherever they’re going. Our group of five takes a bit of time to check out where we need to go, and then a witch whose declared herself leader of the four wizards confidently makes her way through a corridor and into an elevator. Despite having spent the last two hours preparing for this, I’m not really sure what we’re doing. Apart from rescuing Mother, I don't have the faintest idea. When I turn to ask Harry if he knows, I become stuck in my place. The dark blue, glowing brick walls flicker in and out for a second while my eyes catch on swirling robes. I’d recognise the, anywhere. Lucius wears ones just like them. Shaking my head in my paranoia, I force myself to keep walking. There’s no way it’s Lucius.

Except when I look closer, it most definitely is. His platinum hair has been cut short, and is now worn similarly to the way I wear mine. The style of an unmarried pureblood. If anything, that knowledge makes me glad. Mother and I will no longer have to live in the Manor with Lucius and his lord, the evil we were forced to serve for years. Apart from that, the man who I used to consider my father looks exactly the same from the back. I tear my eyes away and catch Harry’s, trying to communicate with him though my eyes. His widen as I flick my gaze to Lucius, and he seemingly understands. What if the magic woven through Harry and I doesn’t hold? What would Lucius do? As we walk past him and enter an elevator I allow myself to exhale the breath I didn’t know I was holding. I need to tell the others.

“Guys-” I stop speaking before I’ve even begun. Lucius has turned around and is making his way towards the lift. The wizard with dark brown hair next to me recognises him, and whispers into the witch’s ear. Panic crosses her face for less than a second, but then she shakes her head. Lucius has to enter, otherwise it would be suspicious. Swallowing hard and placing my features into the mask I’ve spent years perfecting; the one he taught me, I force myself to calm down. I’m under numerous enchantments and I couldn’t recognise myself, there’s no way the man who pretended to be my father would be able to. Right?

While he’s walking into the lift, I allow myself to scan his face. It’s just as pointy and pale as usual, only now there’s a jagged scar cutting him from his forehead to his chin. That’s joined by a few new wrinkles he’s never allowed himself to have before. Probably the only reason he’s kept the marks is to gain other people’s sympathy. Forcing myself not to scowl and lash out, I reach for Harry’s hand. Except Harry doesn’t take it. Instead he pulls away slowly. When I look at him, he smiles softly but makes no move to do anything more than that. I understand, we’re on mission. I’ll have to get through this by myself. When the elevator finally jolts into action, my hands fly up to the ceiling to grab one of the hand holds. More than a couple of the people in the lift look at me, smirking. Huffing, I spread my legs and bend into my knees slightly to keep my balance.

The group of rescuers is meant to depart on the fifth floor, and I can only hope that Lucius gets off before that. The lift pings and a woman’s voice announces the floor.

“Level Two,” she says. “Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Improper Use of Magic Office; Auror Headquarters; and Wizengamot Administrative Services.” I wince at the loud volume of the announcement.

My wish seems to come true though as he gets off on the second floor, leaping out of the elevator and all but running down one of the corridors. Either he is late for something, or terrified of the five of us. Then my brain seems to catch up.

“Do they know where Narcissa is exactly?” I ask the witch.

She shakes her head at me, at the person she thinks is just another wizard. Not Narcissa’s only son. “Not exactly, no,” she confesses. “All we know is that she is being held on the fifth floor near the International Magical Office of Law.” She rattles off the name as if it’s committed to memory. It probably is.

“What if she has been moved? To the second floor near Wizengamot Administrative Services?” Lucius rushing down there can not be coincidental. He never does anything without a very strong motive.

“It’s possible,” she confirms, running a hand through her short hair. Only then does it seem to click in her mind. “Oh!” She exclaims. “Let me handle this, I’ll get word back to base.” I merely nod.

“Level Three,” the recorded voice calls out. “Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes; Obliviator Headquarters; and Muggle-Worthy Excuses Committee.” Two elderly women step into the elevator, cutting any possible conversations short. They look nice enough, but in this moment they are incredibly frustrating and they don't even know it. The whole group seems to heave a sigh as the annoying voice announces the fourth floor and the women get off.

“Great idea Anstey,” the leader of the group says to me. For a second I’m really confused, until remembering the name Hermione picked out for me. “Base will most likely send a different team down to investigate, and we will continue to progress as required.”

I nod, pursing my lips. As much as I’d like to be able to be part of that team, no one on this one can know my identity. If something goes drastically wrong, them knowing could be the death of me. And by extension, Harry. I can’t let that happen. I haven’t survived as much as I have just to die at the hands of someone less than my father. Not by any means less than what I endured at the Manor. Harry catches my gaze and I look at him, taking in his new body for the hundredth time. The angles are all wrong, not at all the soft yet sharp ones he’s had since Fifth Year. Shaking my head to clear it, I focus my attention straight ahead again. This time when the elevator dings and the doors open, everyone files out. Fresh air has never felt so lovely. Four floors above the level we arrived on, and the walls are still flickering. Someone must not be paying enough attention to their job.

The witch whose named herself leader stares at the two corridors for a second, before walking down the one on the left. One of the wizards, a man with dark blond hair, asks if she’s sure it’s the right one, and she nods after a moment's hesitation. Not as sure as I’d like, really. Regardless, our group makes its way down the hallway before turning into one of the rooms. It’s spacious, plainly coloured, and very practical. The sign above the door reads ‘International Magical Office of Law’ and my pulse slows slightly. I don’t know what had me so paranoid, but I’m glad when my breathing evens back out to normal. The witch enters the office first, followed by the other two wizards, leaving Harry and I to take up the back. We exchange quick glances before stepping into the room. As we cross the threshold, the lights flicker and the door slams behind us. I whirl around and try the handle, just to find it locked in place. Panic takes over me, my palms sweating slightly.

The wizard with short, dark brown hair pushes me aside and tries the handle himself, while the witch lights her wand. Harry joins her in looking around the room, leaving me with the wizard with dark blond hair. The man catches my gaze and nods to me, gesturing to his wand held low in his hand beside him. Confused, my eyes flick down to it. He slowly waves it through the air, creates a string of floating letters. By the time I take in the almost blood-like colour of the script, the lights are totally out. The words glow in the dark now, and I finally see them spelling out the terrifying sentence ‘got you now’.

***

A/N: Here is the next part, right on time! first time in months but who cares. I hope you enjoyed this part, and feel free to leave me a comment (or a few xD). Love you all Xx

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