Chapter 26 The Eve Before Dawn
A dim kerosene lamp flickered on the wooden table piled with old books. Draco's fingertips hovered in the air above the scar on Harry's shoulder, and were held by Harry's other finger.
Harry leaned his back against the mottled brick wall, the yellowed parchment on the bookshelf rustled, and the mixed smell of rotten wood and ink, wrapped in the unique dampness of Dumbledore's old house, trapped the two of them in the narrow light and shadow.
"You haven't answered my question yet." Harry looked up, his hair matted with sweat, but his emerald eyes shone brightly. "What role did you play that night in the Astronomy Tower, Draco?"
Memories exploded like a spell, and Dumbledore's falling figure at that time and the flames dancing in Harry's eyes at this moment overlapped into a mystery.
Draco's Adam's apple rolled violently.
The cool wooden wand suddenly felt hot in his trouser pocket. He remembered the old headmaster's white hair soaked by the wind and dew on that rainy night.
Voldemort's threats, his aunt's trembling hands, and the almost ferocious look Harry had given him in the corridor.
"What do you want to say, Potter?"
He forced a sneer, but his fingertips on the desk were slightly curled up.
"Draco, look at me." He grabbed Draco's wrist with his backhand, his knuckles turning white. "Tell me, was it really you who killed Dumbledore?"
Memory bites the heart like a poisonous snake.
His trembling hands on top of the Astronomy Tower, Dumbledore's calm sigh, and the green light that shot towards the old headmaster.
The old man fell from the tower with a loud bang, like a demolished statue.
He threw Harry away violently, his back hitting the bookshelf. The old wooden boards groaned under the weight, and several books collapsed and fell to the ground.
It was like Draco's heart had burst out of his chest, the Dark Lord's threat and the warmth of Harry's palm clashed fiercely within his body.
He violently shook off Harry's hand, but his wand rolled in panic, making a crisp sound among the debris on the ground.
"I can't say, Harry—"
Draco bent down to pick up his wand, but Harry grabbed the back of his hand first.
The warm breath brushed past the tip of my ear, bringing with it an unmistakable sense of oppression.
"Answer me, Draco, what are you hiding?"
"Don't be mad, Harry!" His voice cracked and trembled, the Dark Mark throbbing beneath his skin. "Once Voldemort has dug the truth out of you, my mother..."
"Moonflower."
Harry suddenly grabbed his wrist, and the cuff slipped down to reveal a black spell tattoo.
"The second-to-last potion Dumbledore took before his death."
Draco's pupils constricted.
Harry pressed down hard on his shoulders, his fingertips burning like a brand. "You know what's the most ridiculous thing? I knew all the clues pointed to you, but I spent three months trying to prove it wasn't true."
A rusty taste rose in his throat, and the images he had deliberately forgotten suddenly became clear.
Dumbledore's open hand as he fell, Draco's trembling Defeat Charm, and the dark green beam.
Draco was forced to take a half step back by Harry, and his lower back hit the stacked magic books, and the parchment scroll fell on the shoulders of both of them.
Harry's breath brushed against Draco's red nose, his wand against his chest. "If Dumbledore really died at your hands, I will personally send you to Azkaban at the post-battle trial, Draco."
"Because I fell in love with a Death Eater, I will also be responsible for my own stupidity. - But before that, you must tell me why Dumbledore volunteered to die.
"You carried me on your back that day. Did you have a deal?"
Draco swung his wand away and tried to turn and escape, but Harry grabbed his wrist and pushed him into the pile of books.
Old pages rustled and fell, and parchment fell from the sky like velvet.
"You're afraid Voldemort will dig the truth out of my memory." Harry's breath brushed against his flushed cheeks. "But if I could—"
"Shut up!" Draco struggled to cover his mouth, but Harry bit his palm.
"It seems I was right." The moment the smell of blood spread, Harry suddenly loosened his clenched teeth.
"Fawkes left Hogwarts after Dumbledore's death and his whereabouts are unknown. Under what circumstances would he be summoned back and remain in Dumbledore's old house?"
Harry suddenly grabbed his wrist and pulled out half a bright feather from his robes with his other hand. "In the wizarding world, the only family that can attract the phoenix is the Dumbledore family. I think you know this kind of wizarding common sense far better than I do, Draco."
Harry twisted the bright red phoenix feathers between his fingers, which shone with a pearly luster in the dim light.
The kerosene lamp, which was nearly burned out, was like a drop of water thrown into a hot pot, sending out sparks and illuminating Draco's pale face, making it flicker like a falling star.
The wind outside the cabin blew rose petals past, and the flowing cloak brushed against the back of Harry's hand, as fast as an unspoken love word.
Harry took a step closer, their breaths almost mingling.
Draco then noticed that there were beads of water on the other's eyelashes, he didn't know if it was sweat or tears. "Draco, am I a failure? That's why I need you to hide this from me."
Harry's question hit the wooden dome like a scream being pressed into water, with a bubbling and broken feeling.
Draco looked at the reddened corners of his eyes and suddenly remembered the scene he encountered in the corridor in his first year - the savior who was always surrounded by the crowd, squatting alone in the corner mending the parchment that Snape had deducted points for, the light from the tip of his wand reflecting the shadow cast by his eyelashes, like a wounded cub that refused to show weakness.
Draco suddenly remembered that Harry was actually repulsed by the scar that his classmates always liked to discuss. That hideous scar was like a wound in his heart that had not healed for years.
He reached out and touched the scar, feeling the slight tremor on his fingertips. His voice was so soft it was almost like a whisper: "No, Harry."
"In your first year, you dared to crawl through the trapdoor to stop Quirrell. In your second year, you dared to risk your rebirth to go to the Chamber of Secrets to save Ginny. In your third year, you used the Patronus Charm to repel a hundred Dementors—"
"So this is why you kept it from me? Because in your eyes, I'm just a reckless man who only knows how to charge forward and doesn't need to know the full plan?"
"Harry..." Draco raised his hand and pressed Harry's wand-holding wrist, his fingertips rubbing across the unhealed scars on his fingers - those were the marks left by Harry during the time he was out searching for Horcruxes and escaping from the capture team.
"Oh, forget it, Draco. Your listing of my adventures over the past seven years only proves how reckless I am. I can't save anyone."
Draco looked at the flames dancing in Harry's eyes and remembered the warning from the system item before: "Deep binding with members of the Order of the Phoenix can gain protection."
The promise to Dumbledore and the warmth of Harry's palm were tug at war in his body. He took the initiative and pressed down Harry's neck, kissing his chattering mouth.
Harry's voice stopped and his Adam's apple rolled violently.
Just because, Draco, who was standing in front of the arched window, suddenly laughed, and there was an uncontrollable sweetness in his laughter.
Moonlight filtered in through the skylight above his head, shattering into golden dust at the tips of his hair.
The thunder suddenly grew louder, and the green glass in Harry's eyes was washed into a flowing rainbow, mixed with the noise of insects in the distant corridor of the wooden house, cutting the moment into a vacuum of amber.
The flickering light in those pupils suddenly reminded Harry of moonstone powder that had been crushed into star-like shapes.
"But you did save me, didn't you?"
He ran his thumb over Draco's beating pulse, as if to confirm something.
A platinum necklace wrapped around Harry's wrist, the peacock crest of the Malfoy family emerging from the metal surface.
"Don't regret it." Draco's voice was so hoarse that it was unfamiliar to him. "When you know the truth, I'm afraid you will pierce my heart with the sword of Gryffindor yourself."
Harry suddenly smiled, with the scorching heat of the Leaky Cauldron, completely enveloping him in a mist of warmth and danger.
He strode forward, pushing Draco until their noses were almost touching, and saw his trembling eyelashes reflected in Draco's pupils.
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