Current mood:	awake
Entry tags:	drarry, fear and loathing

Fear and Loathing:H/D:Chapter One
Title: Fear and Loathing
Author: maraudersaffair
Rating: R
Pairing(s): Draco/Harry, Remus/?
Summary: The summer after Dumbledore's death, Harry and Draco are ordered back to Hogwarts. Both boys feel immense regret and must face their final year with doubt about the future.
Notes: A great thanks to my beta, marauderswolf

Part 2
Part 3
Part 4



In the consciousness of the truth he has perceived, man now sees everywhere only the awfulness or the absurdity of existence and loathing seizes him. -- Friedrich Nietzsche

"You are not ready, Harry."

McGonagall stood over him as she spoke, her mournful eyes creating a cavity deep within her skin. Harsh shadows were engraved in her features, deepening the lines around her thin lips. Her stance was frigid and alarmed. Harry knew she had made up her mind.

"But if I go back to Hogwarts, it could be too late!" A hint of hysteria echoed in Harry's voice, his tone pleading and high.

"No, Harry. You need to finish school. There are things you still need to learn."

Desperation made Harry's arms shake and his head throb, a sickly feeling enveloping his stomach. The room started to spin around him, his vision becoming hazy. He couldn't believe it - McGonagall had actually forbidden him to continue his search for the Horcruxes. It made him angry that she thought he was unready to face Voldemort.

Harry breathed deeply, the swift air stinging his lungs, his chest expanding. "You are forgetting, Professor." He spoke carefully, enunciating every word in the same, deliberate tone. "I have already faced Voldemort four times. I lived, didn't I?" He needed to stay in control of his anger, but the only thought he had on his mind was how dare she.

She had no right to tell him what to do. He was an adult now - free to make his own choices. Dumbledore would have wanted Harry to find the Horcruxes as quickly as possible. He would have wanted the war to be over.

"Do you not think Voldemort knows about the Horcruxes now? He will be waiting for you, Harry! You need to be safe at Hogwarts until you know exactly what you will have to do." Her voice was stern and terse.

"BUT I KNOW!" Harry roared, his face becoming red, his breathing shallow. "I've seen it, Professor! Please, I'm ready to fight! How many more people have to die before I can destroy him?"

McGonagall's face harden, her jaw tensing. A single vein throbbed above her brow. "No, you need to understand. You are the only one who can save us. If we lose you --" She stopped mid-sentence, too afraid to think about what would happen if Harry died. "This is final. I will be back on September first to Apparate with you to Hogwarts." She paused to search for something in her pocket. Pulling out a letter, she handed it to him. "Here. This is your supplies and books list. Ask Remus to buy them, it's too dangerous for you to be seen in Diagon Alley."

She turned to walk out of the kitchen but stopped at the door, her hand on the silver knob. She looked over her shoulder at Harry, her eyes softening behind her spectacles. "I know this is hard for you, but don't wait until the last week to get your supplies. Remember, you have homework to do."

Harry gaped at her. She had to be fucking joking. They all had to be out of their minds. They expected him to worry about homework when there was a war to be fought, when there were innocent people dying because Harry was not ready. He fingered his wand in his pocket, feeling a powerful anger surged through him. He was ready to kill Voldemort, to avenge his parents' death - Sirius' death - Dumbledore's death.

He gritted his teeth and pressed a palm into his eyes. He didn't know if he had it in him to return to Hogwarts, to see Dumbledore's white tomb again, the same tomb that loomed in his nightmares. He pressed harder into his eyes until light flashed behind his lids, his fingers curling against his forehead. No one understood the pain - the guilt that he would feel until Voldemort was dead. And if Harry was ever honest with himself, he would recognise the fear he felt knowing that Voldemort was out there.

They had stuck him here, this place that had the memory of Sirius imprinted in its walls. He was a prisoner - unable to walk out the front door. It frustrated him to no end, watching as men came and went, some battered and all worn. He wasn't even allowed to attend the meetings - It will only upset you, Harry Lupin had said with that sad frown of his. There is nothing you can do . . .

Harry wondered what would happen if he ran away. Would they track him down? Drag him back to Hogwarts . . . He wasn't stupid. They followed him, even in this house. He was never alone.

He snorted, shaking his head. There was no way he could escape it. He would have to return to Hogwarts. Fate would have to wait.

~*~

Draco was going to vomit, he just knew it. He felt his stomach curl, the tea from an hour earlier threatening to come up. His mouth watered but his tongue was still dry and sticky. He licked at the corner of his mouth, the salty moisture stinging his cracked lips. He trembled as he stood in an unknown place, waiting to be ushered into another room. He smelled mildew and dirt, with the faint odor of snake confounding his senses.

He was being forced to see him. Just the thought of having to look into those eyes, to feel the pull of his legimency made Draco want to collapse. His father was still in Azkaban - Dumbledore was dead and nothing had changed. He scowled, incensed at how things had turned out.

He had done what his Lord asked of him - he almost worked himself to death trying to succeed. But none of it mattered - Draco had not saved his father. He could only imagine how is father was, if Azkaban had changed him. He shuddered at the thought of his father suffering in that awful place, alone.

Draco had to shove his cold hands into his pockets, rubbing them together through the fabric, willing his shuddering to stop. He felt the pull of the mark on his forearm, the pale skin around it stinging. Hissing through his teeth, he pulled up his sleeve to see if there was anything conspicuous. There must have been a meeting because the mark burned black, and oh god, the flare of pain was agony.

A door somewhere opened, and Draco squinted into the darkness to see who it was. He was about to call out when a strong hand clasped his shoulder. He jerked around to see who it was, his heart thundering in his chest.

"Draco," Bellatrix whispered roughly. "He will see you now." She pulled him to the door by his shoulder, her jagged nails digging into the arch of his neck. "Remember - don't try to block out his probing. It will only make him suspicious."

Draco nodded silently. He bit down on the inside of his cheek, halting the scream that was threatening to escape his throat. His chest heaved - the air in his lungs forming a tight, painful bubble near his heart.

Bellatrix led him through the door, pulling up her hood as she walked. Draco mimicked her action as he took in the sight of the disguised group of men in the dank room. He felt cold moisture against his face, adding to the sweat that had formed around the mask he was wearing. The men separated to allow Draco and Bellatrix pass, their quiet eyes staring and judging.

Draco couldn't breathe - the air in his throat wouldn't pass through his nose, his mind twisting. He felt his left arm twitch, the pull of the mark toward his master. He then saw him, standing on a podium of sorts, towering over the group, watching him.

It was a magnificent sight, being in the presence of the Dark Lord. Even Draco could appreciate the glory he felt being near him -- the most powerful wizard to grace the earth. It was almost too much for Draco - his heart pounding in his chest, his eyes losing the ability to focus on anything but the ground.

Bellatrix forced Draco to his knees. She knelt beside him, her head hanging low and her black hair obscuring her features. Seconds seemed like hours, and Draco held his breath, waiting for the Dark Lord to speak.

"Draco." It was a hiss of a voice.

"Yes, Master."

"I have another assignment for you . . ."

~*~

A clock on the wall tolled twelve o'clock, the sonorous bells grating on Harry's nerves with fierce resolution. He sat at the kitchen table, sinking into the worn patting on the chair, waiting for McGonagall to arrive. Harry gritted his teeth and tapped his fingers against the wooden table, trying to deter his anxious nerves. He had received a letter from McGonagall explaining she would be there at ten to Apparate with him to Hogwarts. But she was late -- was McGonagall usually late for things like this? He had no idea -- Dumbledore was the one who always did these kinds of things.

His mind wanted him to think about that past night in June, but Harry tried to push away the memory -- the guilt was just too strong. It was his fault Dumbledore was dead, maybe if Harry had been smart enough to see Draco's plan before it happened, maybe if he had done something to make Dumbledore believe that Snape really was allied to Voldemort, it would have never of happened.

The door creaked open, and Harry turned to see who it was. He was surprised to see Lupin walk into the kitchen instead of McGonagall, and he realized how worn the man looked. Lupin was thinner than ever, with dark circles cemented around his eyes. His eyes were the color of rotten wood and his clothes were ripped and tattered. Harry felt the tell-all sign of guilt deep in his chest, a twisting pain that made it hard for air to pass through his lungs.

"Harry," Lupin said, his voice tired but still cheerful. "There is a different plan for today. I will be the one Apparating with you to Hogwarts."

Harry looked at him confused. "What happened to Professor McGonagall?"

Lupin's soft smile faltered. His expression was pensive. "We are not exactly sure. She hasn't been heard from in days."

Harry's mouth dropped, his heart jumping to his throat. "Is she all right?"

Sighing, Lupin said, "Again, we are not sure. She was not at Hogwarts or her home."

"Do - do you think anything could have happened to her, like you know . . .?" Harry stomach twisted with the thought of McGonagall in the hands of Voldemort.

Lupin's expression darkened. "No, no, we don't think so. I would have known already if -- Voldemort had captured her. But," Lupin continued, his face brightening. "Don't you worry about it. Everything will be fine."

Harry sneered incredulously. "I'm not a child, Professor. You don't have to lie to me."

Lupin shook his head, clapping Harry on the shoulder. "I'm not lying to you. Now, do you have everything packed? All the supplies I bought for you?"

Harry gestured to his trunk beside the table. "Yeah, everything is ready."

"Good, good," Lupin said, looking around. "I suppose we should leave now. You will get there before the rest of the school does, but that's a good thing." He stopped and looked at Hedwig's empty birdcage.

Following Lupin's gaze, Harry explained, "She's out hunting."

Lupin smiled at him. Leaning down, he said, "I'll get your trunk. We'll have to go outside to do this."

~*~

The vast emptiness shocked Harry the most when he entered the Great Hall. One long table replaced the usual four and fewer than a hundred students dotted the seats as they sat down to welcome the beginning of the school year. Harry was also surprised to see McGonagall sitting at the end of the table, talking quietly to Slughorn. He wondered what had happened to her.

It pained Harry to be back at Hogwarts. A place he once thought of as home had now become a symbol of death and regret, a prison of sorts until he was able to graduate and continue his search for the Horcruxes. Unable to look at Ron and Hermione who sat across from him, he focused his eyes on the dirt under his chipped fingernails. He could feel their worried gazes on him, but he neither looked up nor acknowledge their presence.

Tapping a spoon against her goblet, McGonagall stood up. "Welcome, everyone, to another year at Hogwarts." Her voice was unsteady and a strand of black hair had come loose from her tight bun. "Thank you all for returning to Hogwarts during such a difficult time - I hope that we can make this year as successful as any year before."

A polite applause rang out as she sat down, but Harry could tell that her speech had not lighten the distressed feeling in the air. When the food appeared, Harry served himself some pork chops and roasted potatoes. As he ate, Harry looked down the table, wondering who had been brave enough to return. He spotted Neville and Ginny, with Zabini at the far corner and . . . Malfoy sitting beside him. An incredible anger engulfed Harry, his hands twisting into fists and his eyes flaring with hatred.


"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, her voice anxious.

"Malfoy!" Harry said through his teeth. "He's here! How could they let him come back?"

"You don't know? McGonagall allowed him to return," Hermione whispered, leaning in.

"Yeah, my father said something about how she didn't want him to get too deep into You-Know-Who's group. At least here he can't do anything wrong," Ron said, his hand coming up to en-lace with Hermione's.

"Anything wrong!" Harry said angrily. "He killed Dumbledore!"

"Snape killed Dumbledore, Harry," Hermione said, her eyes full of worry. "But it is strange that he was allowed to come back."

Harry gritted his teeth. "How could McGonagall do such a thing? She is putting the whole school in danger!"

Hermione looked down the table at Malfoy, her expression pensive. "So many people saw him that night. It just doesn't make sense."

"Yeah, it doesn't," Ron agreed.

Harry's eyes darted to the end of the table. When Malfoy looked at him, Harry forced himself to not look away, holding their eye contact. The stare was a knowing one, silent but powerful in its hatred.

Bastard, Harry thought, smashing his potatoes with his fork. Malfoy was going to pay.