Summary:When Draco Malfoy's mental health mysteriously declines, he is placed under the care of the only person he responds to: Harry Potter.
Warnings: Violence, rape, character death, mental illnesses (Dissociative Identity Disorder, Post-Traumatic Stress, Paranoid Schizophrenia), slash, Pre-HBP
The Christmas holidays were fast approaching, and it was with a certain sense of dread that Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy began preparing for their trip to the Burrow. Draco was utterly convinced that the plan concocted by the Ministry was guaranteed to be a cock-up, and he spent more than one evening in silence in the Gryffindor common room, staring out the window to the grounds below. Hermione and Ron showed concern for him, which made Harry feel much better, and when Ron even engaged Draco in a game of Exploding Snap, Harry was over the moon. He and Hermione sat back, watching as Draco pummeled his competition for the third time.
“What d’you reckon, Hermione?” Harry asked quietly, giving her a serious look. “Do you think this can, well…happen smoothly? I mean, honestly, there are so many ways this could go wrong, and all of them involve me being very, very furious in the end.” Harry had not wanted to show that he was as frightened as Draco was, and so Hermione was his trusted confidante.
Hermione gazed quietly at Harry for a few moments then shrugged her shoulders noncommittally. “It could go wrong, Harry, but that doesn’t mean it won’t. I mean, the two of you have overcome more difficult obstacles than this, right? Look at you, after all…Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, polar opposites in every sense of the term, have found some small happiness in this world together. I’d say that’s more of a miracle than pulling off this plan would be.” She smiled at Harry as Ron groaned again, and the scent of singed hair wafted through the common room. “Try not to think too much about the plan, all right? Just think about how great Christmas will be with all of us there at the Burrow. Molly’s going to have kittens if you ask for just one bed between you and Draco. Be sure to ask that one over dinner,” she giggled, and she looked up as Ron stomped over, looking thoroughly blackened.
“Your boyfriend,” Ron growled, and he thrust an accusing finger at Draco, who was looking conveniently baffled, “cheats. He’s cheating, Potter! I never, ever lose at this game, and he hasn’t lost once!” The flecks of skin between blackened marks on Ron’s face were pink, and his hair was smoking lightly. Hermione licked her fingertips and put the ember out before grinning at him.
Harry gave Draco a reprimanding look, and Draco smirked confidently. “Get over here,” Harry snorted, and he beckoned to the blond, who immediately rose elegantly from his seat and strode over, crossing his arms and staring at Ron. Harry reached up and forced Draco to meet his eyes. “Did you cheat?” He cocked an eyebrow playfully.
“I am completely outraged at such a claim,” Draco huffed, his eyes raking over Ron’s burnt hair. “A Malfoy never cheats. I have honour, Weasley…”
“Yes, he has honour, Ron,” Harry proclaimed, and he threw an amicable arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders. “These grey eyes? Completely innocent. You know what they say about Slytherins after all…” He moved to press his nose in the hollow behind Draco’s ear, causing the blond to splutter. “They’re a bit green behind the ears…” The groan he received from his best friends was warranted, he thought, and he grinned before pressing a kiss to the slope of Draco’s neck. “You don’t mind if I steal him from your game, do you? He’s been giving me the eye ever since you started and I’m afraid I can’t quite—”
Ron held up a hand to interrupt and waved them away. “Don’t want to hear it, Harry. Just go.” He was not comfortable with hearing about their intimate life at all, even though they had been close for several months now. Harry did not blame him in the slightest; before he caught himself falling for Draco, he would have never even thought that he could like other boys. He was unsure whether or not he even liked boys, or if he was, as he called it, completely Draco-sexual. It did not matter in the slightest to him, and as he led the blond into their portrait, he assisted him through with a push to him arse. Draco flushed.
Once inside, Harry snagged Draco in his arms and held him tightly for a few moments, smiling and pressing kisses to his hair. “You little scoundrel,” he breathed, and he heard Draco giggling somewhere under his chin. “You really shouldn’t cheat, you little shit. Ron would kill you if he found out…” He knew that Draco had invested in a trick deck of Exploding Snap cards last time they were in Hogsmeade, and he was, frankly, shocked that no one had caught him yet. Draco had been playing with the deck for weeks; Harry kept expecting to find him in the Hospital Wing.
“He makes it too easy, you know,” Draco sighed, and he pushed back away from Harry, giving a theatrical yawn. “I’m exhausted. I think I’ll go to—”
“You won’t. You’re going to pack tonight so we aren’t running around tomorrow night like headless chickens. Besides, I want to spend my last night alone with my boyfriend in an, ah, productive manner.” Harry’s eyes sparkled, and he saw Draco’s cheeks light on fire in the soft caste of candlelight. “Get to it, then, and I’ll whatever you’d like me tomorrow…”
It was enough to light a fire under Draco’s arse, and so the two boys spent the better part of the evening packing for the hols. Harry was astounded that Draco felt the need to pack nearly every fur he owned, and he cleared his throat more than once. “You know we’re only going to be there for two weeks, don’t you?” he asked after Draco attempted to sit on his trunk to close it to no avail. Draco gave him a sheepish look, and Harry shoved him off of the trunk before opening it and removing half of the winter cloaks. “I think two will suffice, don’t you?”
Draco was reluctant to agree with this sentiment. He watched Harry pack with an air of distinct annoyance, and he would clear his throat obnoxiously in mockery of Harry every time Harry added anything to the trunk. Harry rolled his eyes at Draco and poked out his tongue, tired of him complaining, and when Draco came over to attempt to rip Harry’s tongue out, Harry seized him and rolled onto the floor with him, his eyes starry. “When you’re better,” Harry breathed, his mouth inches from Draco’s, and he started to continue, but Draco held up a finger.
“When I’m better, we’re going to have sex every two hours for a month.” Draco gave Harry a devious little smile, enjoying the effect of the blush playing across Harry’s cheeks.
Their final class of the term was Potions, which seemed to go much faster than normal when Draco was on top of his game. Draco really was very good at them, and Harry watched him stir his cauldron with practised precision, and he nudged is knee under the table with a smile. “You’re a lot better at this when you’re not being a shit about it,” he observed, and he took Draco’s snotty sneer with a grin.
On their way out of the class, Snape held them back and crossed his arms, staring at the boys with a cold eye. “I did some research for you,” he said quietly, and he took a seat in his desk chair. “If you’ll recall, I mentioned that Draco’s diagnosis might be incorrect. Upon learning the nature of the assimilation of Draco’s separate personalities and their names, my interest was piqued, and I found mention of old magic that could be of great interest to you.”
Harry and Draco exchanged curious looks before sitting down in chairs before the Potion master’s desk. Snape pulled a thick book out of his top drawer and set it on the desktop, sliding it across to the boys. “Page seven ninety-two, please. There, it mentions that, in eras past, an old magic called the Ancestral Rite was invoked upon every heir to the name of one of the “Great Families.” This was supposed to take place on the heir’s seventeenth birthday, but in extreme cases, the ancestors could be called upon by their portraits or portraits of close ones to come to the aid of the heir,” Severus explained, and he saw the boys exchange confused looks. “Do I need to simplify it for you?”
Harry shook his head and stared at Draco. “Well, what does that have to do with this?” he asked, and he could almost hear Snape’s imagination going wild with the thought of hitting him. “I mean, really. What on earth does that have to do with Draco being sick?” Draco gave a half-hearted shrug, looking thoroughly miserable. Harry knew that he had been doing his best to forget about his problem for the time being, considering he had more pressing things to be concerned with.
“It has everything to do with Draco being—or not being, as the case might be—ill. It is my belief that Draco’s ancestors and their close relatives have taken up residence in his body for the time being so he can heal himself. At their time of possession, the Headmaster and I believe that, based on what you have told us, Potter, they took over to prevent Draco’s mind from collapsing completely due to the abuse he received.” Severus’s voice softened as he gave his last statement, and he saw Harry reach over and take Draco’s hand. “It is also my belief that there is a quicker way of getting through these personalities. Now, I could be completely incorrect, but there should be some way to reverse the Ancestral Rite.”
Both boys leaned forward now, intense looks upon their faces. Snape wondered if he had ever been given such rapt attention before, in or out of class, and he allowed himself a snarky little smile. “Potter, you have an assignment over the Christmas holiday. You will go to the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix and search the extensive library that was once kept by Walburga Black. In the books, I presume you will find a Black family history, in which there should be some mention of the Ancestral Rites of the family. There should also, we hope, be a reversal spell for extreme cases.” He took the book, which had been untouched by the boys, and placed it back in his desk drawer.
They were stunned by the news. Harry did not know anything about Dissociative Identity Disorder in any case save for Draco’s, and he certainly did not know if Draco’s symptoms were normal or not. He had always assumed they were, as no one ever told him any different, but now that he was thinking back on it, he felt rather stupid. It did not make any sense that the personalities should just relinquish their positions upon giving their names; they seemed too intent on holding onto their places when they had control over Draco. “Well,” he said slowly, and he examined Draco’s eyes as though looking for an answer. “Abraxas Malfoy…tell me about him. Draco’s grandfather?”
Severus cocked an eyebrow and then shrugged. “Abraxas Malfoy was very famous. He traveled the world fighting whomever he could get to fight him; I believe he sought to be the very best duelist in the wizarding world…However, always fighting or running made him develop a rather severe case of schizophrenia in his old age. He was a very terrified man, though he had good reason to be. He died of dragon pox when one of his old—”
“Draco’s personality named Abraxas was Paranoid Schizophrenic,” Harry said quietly, deducing the truth from all the information he had received. “Of course, it makes perfect sense. You say the book’s in the Black library?” Snape nodded, and Harry was on his feet, pulling Draco up with him. “Good. Good…I’ll…I’m going to fix this!” And without another word to Snape, Harry fled the room with Draco on his arm.
Severus sighed and shook his head. He never got any respect.
“Did you hear that, Draco?” Harry asked, though he was perfectly sure that Draco had heard everything he had. “We could have this fixed by the time we get back from Christmas! Draco…it…it means…” They were walking up towards the Great Hall for lunch, but Draco suddenly seized Harry and pulled him behind a statue. “Draco?”
The blond grinned and fell back against the wall, dragging Harry against him and leaning up for a scandalously vulgar kiss as his hands slipped inside Harry’s robes and down between his legs. “It means everything,” Draco whispered, and he squeezed his fingers around Harry, making the brunette’s breath hitch in his throat. He grabbed one of Harry’s hands with his left and pulled it down to the bulge in his own pants before catching Harry’s lips in a kiss again, and Harry lost it then and there.
He did not care that they were in the corridor between the dungeons and the Great Hall. He did not care that anyone could peek behind the rather large statue and see them there, or that they could get detention for a year for doing it. He broke the kiss and gave Draco a mischievous grin before he dropped to his knees and opened Draco’s robes, meeting his horny gaze for a moment before he began to ease Draco’s cock out of it prison. He was just about to pop it into his mouth with Draco quivering above him a moment before he heard a startled gasp. Instinctively, he pressed closer to Draco to hide his nudity, and he heard the blond whimper before he looked up to see Hermione there, looking incredibly torn between being furious and pleasantly surprised.
“What are you doing?!” she hissed, and she brandished the Marauder’s Map at them. “You were with Snape, then you both ran here and stopped…I thought something had happened…Damn it, Harry Potter!” She stamped her foot and pointed at him. “Do this kind of thing in your room, and…and just not here!” She turned her back to them, obviously waiting for Draco to get decent.
Harry was mortified. It was obvious that Draco was, too, as he was not at all aroused any more, and Harry helped him get fully dressed again before he sheepishly moved up beside Hermione. “Sorry…” He could not help but smiling at her, though, because she looked very flustered and not at all angry.
Need to catch up?
Prologue, Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten, Chapter Eleven, Chapter Twelve, Chapter Thirteen, Chapter Fourteen, Chapter Fifteen, Chapter Sixteen