The voice under all silences. Chapter 6

[pekeleke]

THE VOICE UNDER ALL SILENCES. Chapter 6

By the time Draco returned he'd discovered that the world had changed, indeed, while he'd been asleep. He'd lost count of the number of people who had waltzed into his room, under the guise of ever-more-ridiculous excuses, just to... gush... At him!. It had all been rather... off putting.

He was bewildered by the inexplicable attention. By the almost universal friendliness and outright hero-worship. He could not understand how it was possible for him to have gone from the role of Machiavellian villain to some kind of... self-sacrificing uber-spy in the space of a four-year, coma-induced absence.

So... Potter had not been joking when he'd implied that he'd been busily wagging his lying tongue, in order to create the most awful kind of chaos in his life...

He was exhausted within the first five minutes of brainless, repellently infatuated... gushing.

Mildly irritated before the first half-hour had struck and absolutely livid by the time the forth moronic nurse attempted to hand-feed him grapes...

The scene was so ghastly reminiscent of the horrifying entertainment that his abhorrent father used to watch, with those horrid pals of his, on the all-important “television” that it incensed him to the point were he had no other option but to deliver an appalled reprimand. One cutting enough to drive the offensive “perpetrator” away in flood upon flood of tears.

His eyes closed and he swayed on the bed with sheer exhaustion. He felt wretched. His aching limbs plopped tiredly against the mattress and he sighed as his heavy eyelids started to shut down. His formidable control finally slipped and he felt himself succumbing to magically-induced drowsiness.

The combined power of the rather large quantity of Draught of the Living Dead that seemed to have been administered to him, teamed up with the more recent addition of the Pain-Away potion, and he found himself gritting his teeth furiously in enraged frustration. He couldn't allow himself to... surrender... to the power of the potions. Not here, where he felt this... vulnerable. Not inside a room that was clearly open to absolutely everybody who cared to walk in on him. A room where he was unprotected in every sense of the word.

He'd been dumped in this strange reality that he could not understand and now found himself completely unable to predict the actions of the people who surrounded him. He had no trust in the fake kindness that was offered to him in such horrendously over-the-top way. He could not count on his magic to defend himself, was altogether too sick to have much faith in the strength of his own body and found himself, most regrettably, unarmed. All in all he had no confidence in either the situation nor his own chances of escaping it unharmed, if things turned out for the worse, and therefore had absolutely no intention of allowing himself to be subjugated with his own weapon of choice: the brewed kind.

He had just startled awake once again, body shaking with the need to just close his eyes for one more second and allow himself to indulge, when a man he finally recognized materialized by the door...

His pale face flushed with pleasure and his tired dark eyes warmed in exhausted welcome as the familiar blond hair caught the strong sunlight that was filtering into the room, through the half-opened curtains.

"Draco!..."

A brilliant smile lit up the boy's features and he started to cross the room, shaking his head from left to right and muttering half-jokingly:

"There's an absolute uproar out there, Godfather. You haven't been back among the conscious more than half a day and you are already making the staff break out in tears!"

Draco sat on the chair next to his bed and sighed wearily, gray colored eyes raked his face with such intent focus that it made Severus deeply uncomfortable.

"It is good to have you back, old man" The silver-tongued heir to the Malfoy fortune told him very softly and he felt his throat just... close... with the intensity of the feelings that he was experiencing. Awkward things that he knew not how to express. Things like gratitude and joy. Things like simple, plain contentment. He blinked very slowly, allowing his whirling thoughts to overwhelm his awareness of his own clumsy emotions in order to bring himself under some form of control once again.

There was something that he wanted to do. No. There was something he needed to do so badly that his instinctive need to just... go ahead and do it, was warring with the deep terror caused by the knowledge that... were the results of his little experiment to show him just another lie... he was not honestly certain if he could go on. Not with his mind truly intact. Not after having seen this happy and strong version of Draco...

A careful and gentle hand came to rest over the blanket-covered lump that was his raised left knee and he startled. Charcoal-bruised black eyes turned to stare inquiringly straight into a smoke-colored sea of earnest understanding.

"Why don't you just... do it, Godfather?" Draco's voice asked him softly, a wry smile curved those pale lips upwards when he motioned towards the door with a slightly frustrated sigh:

"Potter is being an absolute nuisance. I don't know how long it'll be before he barges right in and, frankly, I'm fed up of walking over eggshells around you. I'm certain that you are dying to know for sure and I can't say I blame you. I want to reassure you, so that you may trust me again completely, Severus. I want to see more than just hope in your eyes and the only way for that to happen is for you to stop thinking about it so hard and just... do it, all right?. I promise it'll be OK."

The speech caught him off guard, crushed half his doubts in and of itself because... whom, other than Draco himself, could have possibly sensed his... reticence... and offered to address it quite so generously?.

His wary inhalation couldn't manage to dispel the unpleasant weight of the lump that was steadily constricting his raw throat. It was almost a full minute before he found strength enough, within his pitiful reserves of courage, to ask one simple question:

“Why was it that the first potion I ever taught you to brew was the Gnome Repellent Mist?"

Crafty laughter broke forth from his godchild's lips and the sound was so fiercely joyful that it managed to bring a brief touch of mirth to Severus' own eyes.

Draco seemed to have trouble calming down for a few seconds. Silver flashes of relieved amusement danced merrily around his pupils as he giggled to himself.

"I'd have paid the house-elves their weight in gold to have a memory of you trying to explain that particular choice to my dear mother, Severus Snape!. As it is... I'll sadly have to content myself with imagining the scene, because we both know that the very first potion that you ever taught me to brew was the Blue-Serum Burn Salve, a very rare variant indeed of a fairly common potion. You insisted that I learn that first because I am allergic to the standard solution and you wanted to have a fresh batch readily available in the lab if, as you put it: I was going to be carelessly stampeding around the dangerous evils of an open flame and boiling cauldrons"

Severus could have whooped with relief. He'd stilled completely as the answer spilled forth from Draco's lips and a wave of dizzying joy surged through his veins. So it was true... It was true!. Dear Merlin... It was true that this was Draco. His Draco... not some ghastly polyjuiced version of his boy brought forth to trick him...

"I... I hope you are not offended, Draco, but... I had to be sure"

Pale bangs fell across solemn gray eyes when the boy's face turned slightly. A thoughtful expression flitted across those unfamiliarly matured features as the young man's voice acquired the soothing quality of a father, patiently addressing the irrational fears of a very small child:

"I have now lived in peace for four long years, Godfather. You, on the other hand... have just woken at the very edge of war. No time has passed at all inside your mind. You remember nothing but destruction. You can only see the world as you saw it then, in terms of either enemies or allies. Light and dark. Shame and treachery. Betrayal...

You can't really see any of us as we are now, at least not yet... I'm just glad to know that you believe me when I tell you that I'm exactly whom I claim to be. I'm happy enough with the reassurance that you'll trust me when I say that I am here to help you with everything that you might need"

All thought halted in his head for a brief second and he allowed himself to enjoy the fierce stab of profound pleasure that swelled within his heart upon hearing his godchild speaking thus.

To have irrefutable proof of the kind of beautiful, caring man that his precious boy had turned out to be was a blessing that he hadn't expected to live long enough to see. He was grateful to have been given the opportunity to do so. He was happy. He was proud enough to explode...

"I am so glad to be here, Draco..." He managed to utter, in a choked and fierce tone, through the huge rock that had settled inside his throat.

Soft gray eyes that were alive with hopeful joy settled over his own chalky features and he basked in the devotion that was being so very generously showered over him.

"Gladness is too mild of an emotion, Godfather. Gladness is for distant friends and pets. Gladness is for summertime and cheerful, merry parties. It can't find the right words to convey the wild relief we are all feeling now that you are finally awake. There is a world out here that has waited far too long for you to join it and, now that you are among us, things will start to settle at last. You are going to live in peace, Godfather. Safe and secure among the people who love you, just like you deserve...”

-What he deserved...- His heart froze and he shuddered with distress when those words hammered him with the true horror of his current situation. Draco didn't know what he had done... what Potter had demanded from him. His boy had no idea of what he'd so willingly sacrificed to keep him away from certain harm. He'd be... forever embroiled in a war he could not win with the son of his dead enemy. A silent, painful war that no one else would see...

He would die, someday, a slave. A man possessed by another's zeal for revenge. A terribly empty shadow of the boy whom, so long ago, had only craved recognition and acceptance. How... futile... those dreams had turned out to be!. How... dangerous... They had led him down a path of self-destruction that had brought him, in the end, to this sickbed. He'd become a broken, worn-out replica of the teen he used to be, aged and more bitter than ever, yes. But still equally pathetic on the inside...

"Godfather?"

Draco called him so softly and yet... so intently. Silver eyes alive with both worry and suspicion.

He'd have given half his soul to smile reassuringly up into that paling face, just this once, but found himself unable to do so. He simply... lacked the strength...

"What's wrong, Godfather?. You must talk to me!"

Churning fire began to whirl in his empty stomach as the awful rage that was threatening to break his self-control started to boil within only to be brutally forced into a slow simmer, forever repressed into a powerless force. Unseen and voiceless. Useless...

"I am tired" He finally whispered. Avoiding eye contact, like the true coward that he was. His gritted jaw forced that excuse aloud even as his heart sank, so very heavily, into the darkest pit of Hell.

"I've found no respite from my carers. I had no chance to sleep and I am exhausted..."

Draco rose from his chair, dragging himself nearer. A slender right hip perched elegantly on the mattress as it's owner sighed with frustration and attempted, futilely, to force their gazes to clash.

"What are you not telling me, Severus? What did Harry say to you? What did he do? We know he tried something! Father has been trying to get him to confess, through hook or crook, but he's just... keeping mum about it all..."

His every muscle turned to stone at the mention of Potter and he wondered why on Earth Draco felt the need to call the irksome creature by the name bestowed upon him by his detestable father.

"Potter has done nothing out of the ordinary to me. You know how aurors are, Draco... Always so... keen on self-righteousness. I find them all to be as distasteful as they are tiresome. We do not see eye to eye..."

For a long time there was silence. Thoughtful, worried silence. Then a hand rose very slowly to curl around his chin, forcing his head upwards. His ebony eyes had no other option but to lose themselves in the earnest silver depths of Draco's gaze.

"Harry Potter would rather die than cause you harm. You know that, don't you, Godfather?"

He shivered unconsciously. Suspended, for the longest time, between the need to just... shut his eyes closed, refusing to utter a single word further, and the almost visceral instinct to appease his godson's very obvious distress.

"I know that he has become some kind of... advocate... of mine, in recent years" He finally settled upon uttering a fact, instead of answering. Praying to every god he could remember the name of for Draco not to pick the evasion up. A small smile, rueful and surprisingly fond, curved the delicate lips of the Malfoy heir.

"He's been an absolute terror, let me tell you. From the moment I first contacted Madam Pomfrey about you he drove us all insane. He started coming around all the time and demanding to see you... I thought Father was going to poison him at one point, just to have a moment's peace...”

A reminiscent chuckle broke that startling revelation and he prayed for the boy to just... shut up!. He did not want to think, or talk, or ponder about Harry-Bloody-Potter in any way at all. The fates decided to thwart him, as usual, by blatantly ignoring his desires and he found himself listening to his godson's solemn words with heart-pounding distress:

"We threw him out, you know?. Warded the manor specifically against him and things seemed to settle, for a while. Then he went to the press and started to tell your story to whomever cared to listen and it was... well, it was a revelation really. The turning point in those ghastly post-war months for all of us..."

He must have looked as shell-shocked as he was feeling. Hearing his own godchild describe the horror of Potter's cruel revenge, as it formed and took root, had hammered into his mind just how... utterly twisted Lily's child had become.

Draco's curious gray eyes bored into his:

"Were you really that close, Severus? I still can't understand how I managed to miss it!. I remember how coldly you treated him at Hogwarts. I always thought you both detested each other with the kind of passion that doesn't tend to relent, to be perfectly honest..."

He blinked dazedly. Bewildered and uncertain of his footing. He did not know how he could answer such question. Had no idea at all, be it true or blatantly fabricated, of how to explain the unexplainable without sounding... unhinged.

"I thought so too, Draco, but... you know Potter. He does tend to behave in unexpected ways"

For some unfathomable reason those young shoulders drooped with abject disappointment at his answer.

"So you did not... care... for him?. Really?. I can hardly believe that!"

Severus frowned in disconcerted bewilderment.

"I went to my death detesting the child!. I thought him too willful. He was disrespectful and ignorant. He'd run all over the place, like some kind of tragically victimized little urchin, without ever taking the time to understand that he was never really alone in his endeavors, that he was putting all of us at risk by never bothering to listen!. He never even tried to think about the consequences of his reckless actions... Never mind being mature enough to make the effort of attempting to understand the delicate nuances of a situation that was well above his head!"

Draco seemed to have turned into stone.

"You... You hated him?. Really?... But that doesn't make any sense, Godfather! He was so relieved to find out you were alive... He visited All. The. Bloody. Time!. He went as far as suing Rita Skeeter over that ghastly article she wrote about you. How could he have done so much, worried so much, worked that tirelessly to clean up your reputation if he had no hope at all of ever...?"

Severus wanted the conversation halted as soon as humanly possible. He was sickened by the implications he could hear. Horrified by the magnitude of the Gryffindor's deception and the fact that it had succeed so completely to convince someone who'd had that much access to them both during the whole of their acquaintance. Someone who knew Severus himself better than many...

"Draco, I have no wish to speak of Potter" He finally stated firmly and was dismayed when his damaged throat produced a terrible, croaked rendition of his resolute request for a change of subject.

His godson's pondering halted for a long, drawn-out second and he found himself swallowing his discomfiture under the sharp look being directed towards him.

"No!. No. This has to be clarified right now, Godfather." Draco's beautiful features had turned eager in the blink of an eye and a sudden flash of urgent, crystal-clear awareness brought new and terrifying determination to that insistent gray gaze:

"I don't think you are understanding what I am trying to tell you, Severus! I believe that something Harry's done or said to you managed to unnerve you greatly and I want to allay whatever fears you are currently having with regards to our Saviour..."

He felt his every bone snap into the utter rigidity of a pre-duelling stance. There was no way on Earth that he was having this conversation in his current frame of mind. No way that he was having this conversation with his current companion, either. Not for all the magic of the Founders.

"I am not afraid of Potter!"

He snarled those six words with a savage, affronted growl that unleashed pure agony on his shattered vocal chords. Silver colored eyes darkened with concerned dismay as they registered his instinctive wince and a pair of careful, loving hands rose to cup his ashen cheekbones, framing his chalky face for a long second before Draco's reassurances resumed in earnest:

"There is nothing to fear at all. That's what I'm trying to tell you!. Whatever he's done or implied... it's just his stupidity talking, Godfather!. Potter has no elegance at all. No finesse. He gets nervous and then... tramples... all over his own words, like a... a Gryffindor!. But I've seen how he looks at you. I have witnessed to his actions all these years and I swear to you, Severus, that the man must l..."

"Malfoy, your father is searching for you”

They both jumped, as if burned, when the subject of their conversation suddenly spoke. How had Potter sneaked behind Draco, without either of them noticing it?. How long had he been there, so rudely eavesdropping on their private conversation?. Severus shuddered with horror at the idea. He hoped the bastard had heard enough to know exactly how much he still despised him, despite their loathsome pact. Black eyes clashed with that narrowed emerald stare to find themselves snared by the obvious pain displayed there and he frowned. He could not understand the man's odd moods, all those feelings so openly exposed, so blatantly displayed within the brilliant green orbs that Lily gave him for anyone to see... they had to be false, of course. Another one of those brilliant little acts that he'd so convincingly used to con everyone into believing... what exactly?... that Harry Potter thought Severus Snape to be not so totally horrible?. Somehow he found that idea to be far worse than laughable. He could not understand how anybody in possession of good neurons could have fallen victim to so unbelievable a deception. But, after listening to Draco's words, it was obvious that they had... every single one of them believed Potter's lies. His godson and Luc, the entirety of the staff at St. Mungo's....

Suddenly remembering the crazy claims of the printed headlines that he'd thought he dreamed up, he began to consider the possibility that he had been actually released from Azkaban that day... That he'd been really trapped inside that painful copy of his own chambers. That his “unraveling” mind had never been unraveled to begin with and that he hadn't made up that strange encounter after all. He hadn't dreamed almost suffocating to death in Potter's arms. Probably hadn't dreamed all those visitors who fought constantly around him while he laid trapped in virtual semi-conscience, either...

No. It must have been all mostly real. The first step of Potter's vengeance finally being put into careful action and he... he had panicked and fought him. He had made himself sick... He had placed himself all the faster straight into the little bastard's hands...

"Ah, Harry!. I see that the healers have managed to set you back to rights with no visible trouble. I hope Father fared just as well or Mother will be unbearable to be around, come dinner time..."

Draco's greeting was so baffling that Severus' mind couldn't make either heads nor tails of it. His head turned sharply towards his godchild, missing completely the warning look exchanged by both youths, but catching the blond's rebellious reaction to it in the sudden paling of Draco's aristocratic visage.

A mulish look descended over the Malfoy features he knew so well and for a second there he believed himself to be staring at Luc as his friend had been all those years ago: proud, determined and so ultimately mistaken that it broke his heart anew. Associating with the then still charming Tom Riddle had been Luc's brilliant idea. In those early days Luc had firmly believed that a close collaboration with the emerging rebel would eventually bring them quite the fortune. They both had shared that ridiculous opinion. They'd been eighteen years of age and as brainless as old boots...

Luc had been so very wrong then, and so was Draco now... he didn't want to see his precious boy anywhere near the demented “Saviour of the World”.

"Draco... do not fight with Potter on my behalf, child, it'll be a waste of time. I assure you that I am perfectly capable of dealing with every irritating auror that life decides to throw at me. Do not worry yourself about any of this, please!"

Somewhere behind his godson's shoulder Potter gasped. Whether in outrage or in amusement to his words Severus had no interest at all in finding out. He had eyes only for Draco, his ears were equally attuned to hear nothing past the voice of the precious child he was attempting to protect properly this time. He could not focus on anything that did not involve convincing his blond angel to walk away from Potter. To stay away from him. To desist at once, completely, from antagonizing the Head Auror, no matter what the reason. Least of all on his own behalf...

Draco looked straight into his ashen face and Severus was certain that the boy could plainly see the anxiety within. He was human after all. Had always been so, regardless of what His-Holy-Saviour thought and he found it very hard to become blank as stone before his loved ones.

Draco narrowed his silver eyes. Long, pale hands curled into fists when he half-turned around to look towards their visitor. Awful silence fell between them all as his godson seemed to struggle with his own thoughts.

Potter remained still. Emerald eyes narrowed to slits while he confronted Draco's bewildered glare with truly impressive poise.

"I don't understand what's going on here, Harry... What...?"

"Everything it's going to be OK, Ferret" The bastard hurriedly interrupted his boy and the sheer rudeness of that attitude, let alone the atrociously offensive name that he'd dared to call Draco in his presence made him grit his teeth in an agony of frustration. How he wished he could wring the jerk's thick neck, break it carelessly in two, set himself and his godchild free from this green-eyed tyrant!.

Draco turned around once more and his gray orbs settled upon Severus' temper-colored cheeks with obvious worry.

"I am not sure...”

"You have my word, Malfoy. My solemn vow."

They ignored him completely in order to exchange some sickeningly trusting little look of understanding and he felt like shaking the Slytherinness right back into Draco's suddenly Hufflepuffish mind. What was wrong with his boy that he could so casually forget not only six whole years of school-yard rivalry, but also the full damage brought on by a war fought on directly opposing sides?.

Draco nodded in agreement and it was all he could do not to scream at him, enraged. This was exactly what he wanted, wasn't it?. For his godson to believe their loathsome charade to the point of abandoning all suspicion. He didn't want these two to square off under any circumstances, if he could help it and yet...

He found that a sudden lump was closing off his throat. Oppressing his windpipe with mighty force as he simply sat there and stared dumbly at Draco. He realized that he felt betrayed. Abandoned. Utterly cheated. No matter how much he tried to rationalize the thought, he could not shake off the awful feeling of... abject disappointment... that was coursing through his veins at the idea of just how easily it had been to convince his godchild...

"Godfather?"

The call reached him softly. That tender voice that he so loved had now, to his utter dismay, turned into the newest embodiment of hurtful betrayal, as he unconsciously compared this situation with others that had harmed him before. Draco Malfoy, beloved son in everything but blood, became linked in his mind with the likes of Lily Evans and Albus Dumbledore... He'd cherished those two throughout the years. Had placed more faith in them than on any other person alive and they both had let him down so painfully... They both had abandoned him in the cruelest of manners, leaving him alone to flail against his cursed fate during his darkest hours...

"Godfather?"

Draco's voice reached him anew and he shuddered instinctively. Trying to convince himself firmly of the fact that the blond-haired child he'd loved from the very first second that he'd held him wasn't at all like either of those two. Trying to tell himself over and over and over again that he hadn't placed his battered heart in the wrong hands once more...

"Severus?"

Potter's fake concern attempted to rouse him next and that turned out to be the very last drop that he could possibly absorb without... spilling over.

"I am tired"

Was all he said and meant it. He did not look at either of them. He would not, could not allow himself the horrible indignity of showing them just how... hurt... he felt inside. He lowered himself onto the mattress properly and turned his back on them, mindful not to jostle his broken arm. He didn't see the looks the boys exchanged but could certainly imagine them without effort. He didn't think he'd manage to sleep, either. Not with the terrible state of anxiety he was in knowing that the two of them were still together in the same room, but he fell victim to the potions that were coursing through his veins almost at once...
 

TBC...

Ch5

Ch7