Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11776032.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Draco_Malfoy/Harry_Potter
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Draco_Malfoy, Albus_Dumbledore, Ron_Weasley, Hermione
      Granger, Voldemort_(Harry_Potter), Blaise_Zabini
  Additional Tags:
      Sexual_Content, Anal_Sex, Romance, Pining, Unresolved_Sexual_Tension,
      Emotional_Hurt/Comfort, Angst_and_Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Implied/
      Referenced_Torture, Horcruxes, First_Time, Switching, Underage_Sex,
      Alternate_Universe_-_Canon_Divergence, Friendship, Friends_to_Lovers,
      Eventual_Happy_Ending, Pining_Draco_Malfoy, Love_Confessions, Protective
      Harry, Mainly_Draco's_POV, Hogwarts_Sixth_Year, Drama, Mostly_bottom
      draco, mostly_top_Harry, Minor_Character_Death, Series
  Series:
      Part 1 of Glassy_Eyes_Series
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-08-11 Completed: 2017-09-04 Chapters: 23/23 Words: 85944
****** Glassy Eyes ******
by jrml210
Summary
     Draco had just wanted to become stronger. He hadn't asked to fall in
     love. Or get his heartbroken. Or become kidnapped. But hey, as a
     muggle had once said - The course of true love never did run smooth.
Notes
     Some sections of this story in italics are direct lines from Half
     Blood Prince.
     **Inspired by the original soundtrack, “Glassy Sky" from the anime,
     Tokyo Ghoul.
     Disclaimer: This is a non-commercial work of fan fiction intended for
     adult audiences only. I do not own Harry Potter or any characters
     created by J.K Rowling. No copyright infringement intended.
     AUTHOR'S NOTE:
     This series is halfway finished, so I'll be posting as I go.
     Altogether, there will be 5 parts to this series, so if long dramatic
     works of fiction isn't your thing, this series isn't for you.
See the end of the work for more notes
***** Chapter One *****
Chapter Summary
     The course of true love never did run smooth -- William Shakespeare
May
 
There was a loud bang and the bin behind Harry exploded; Harry attempted a Leg-
Locker Curse that backfired off the wall behind Malfoy’s ear and smashed the
cistern beneath Moaning Myrtle, who screamed loudly; water poured everywhere
and Harry slipped as Malfoy, his face contorted, cried, “Cruci –”
“SECTUMSEMPRA!” bellowed Harry from the floor, waving his wand wildly.
Searing fire whipped across Draco’s face and chest, causing him to choke out a
pained gasp. He staggered backwards; his nerves were frozen with a cold slice
of fear, a great deal of burning pain, and relief. 
He saw Potter laying on the floor, his green eyes round and filled with what
may have been horror while he stared at the blood dripping from Draco’s chest
on to the floor. There might have been regret in those eyes, too, thought Draco
before his body finally crumpled to the wet floor with a splash.
He had a vague feeling of his wand slipping from his hand. His eyes rolled up
to the ceiling. Black spots crawled along the edges of his vision.
“No – I didn’t –”
He felt rather than heard Potter collapse beside him with another small splash.
Draco’s eyes were slowly closing, but he tilted over and his eyes met green.
Green like the killing spell.
Typical.
Then someone was screaming. That didn’t sound like Potter, Draco vaguely
thought. Footsteps moved forward rapidly.
Draco wanted them to go away.
Then blackness filled his vision, the pain suddenly dulled, and he felt cold.
He knew no more.
===============================================================================
 
“….There might be a certain amount of scarring….take dittany immediately…”
Numbness. It was the first thing Draco felt, and it was everywhere. He tried to
lift an arm but it felt too heavy. Putting more effort and ignoring everything
else, his left arm eventually brushed against his side and he felt bandage
wrappings. His mind felt muddled as he tried to recall his surroundings.
What happened? Where am I?
With effort, Draco slowly opened his eyes and was greeted with a vaulted white
ceiling above him. The feeling of cheap cotton finally entered his senses and
he twitched his hands against the familiar bedsheets.
The Hospital Wing. Of course.
His head slowly cleared. Then he remembered – the bathroom, Potter, spells
flying, Potter yelling something. Then pain, blood, relief. Green eyes. And
Snape’s voice.
Damnit, Draco mentally frowned. He could never catch a fucking break. Snape
must have brought him to the Hospital Wing; had Madame Pomfrey heal him up.
Otherwise, this was a horrible setting for an afterlife.
Draco went to sit up, then thought better of it as a dull pain shot through his
torso and neck. Looking down, he saw bandages covering him waist up, even on
his arms in a few places, and all the way up to his neck.
Potter.
Of all bloody things to happen, Draco thought bitterly. Who knew Potter hated
him that much to almost kill him. The rumors of him being such a Savior…. what
rot. Potter almost killed him. And what was the spell that he’d used? It had
certainly felt dark. Draco had never heard or seen it before.
But Potter using dark magic? Maybe he wasn’t as golden as the wizarding world
thought he was if Potter was willing to off the son of a death eater with a
dark spell, Draco thought ruefully,
Still.
It would have been over then — his mission, the Dark Lord, his parents. Draco
almost resented Snape for saving him in time. Everything wouldn’t have
mattered, then. He would have died without having to see his parents in danger
of being killed and with his soul intact.
Draco had known he was going to fail his mission, but he never thought he
would’ve been the one to end up getting killed. Not by Potter’s hands anyway.
Draco felt an echo of sharp pain emanating from his chest. Whatever that dark
spell had been, it had been strong for sure.
Draco had felt something else before the spell had almost cut him into ribbons,
though.
Hot, searing fire had swept through his very being and his magical core. A
bright white spark had filled inside him as Potter’s powerful magic had clashed
with his. It had felt so raw. Draco had almost been curious as to what it was.
Then the pain had hit and all Draco could see was terror-filled eyes.
Realization had set in then, and Draco had collapsed.
Draco scoffed as he remembered. Trust Potter to fling every ounce of power into
offing someone. He should save that for the real Death Eaters, the blond
thought bitterly.
And Draco was no Death Eater. He knew he was just a weak pawn. He was too weak
to go against the Dark Lord’s wishes. He was too afraid, too cowardly to save
his parents any other way. He knew no other way. And he was too much of a
coward to tell Dumbledore, who would have certainly had him thrown into
Azkaban. Who would save his parents then?
Life really wasn’t fair when someone as weak as Draco went up against someone
as powerful as Potter — the boy-who-lived fighting against an almost death
eater. He hadn’t stood a chance. It’s a miracle Draco didn’t die, he mused.
Shame, really.
 “Hello?” a sudden broken whisper sounded.
Draco would later be ashamed of the way he’d almost jumped in fright. Though,
he was startled to find that his eyes had closed without him knowing. He lay
still, listening as footsteps sounded from the doorway of the Hospital Wing.
The door creaked closed behind whoever had entered and Draco heard movement
move farther into the room.
Draco didn’t think there were any other patients in the room, and he was bloody
annoyed at whoever decided to need Pomfrey in the middle of the night. He was
prepared to see the older nurse poke her head around the corner to admit her
newest patient, when he suddenly heard the loud movement move right next to his
bed.
Keeping still and not chancing a peek, Draco strained to hear where exactly the
newcomer was.
“Malfoy?”
Bloody buggering hell.
Draco would recognize that git’s voice in a crowd a mile away. Why the hell was
he here? Probably came back to finish the job.
Potter’s loud breathing filled the room as he grew closer. Then the sound of a
silky robe falling to the ground startled Draco.
Dear Merlin, was Potter getting naked?
Shamed to know that his cheeks were close to flushing, Draco almost missed
Potter’s next words.
“Malfoy? Are you awake?”
Draco kept frozen, but he ached to know where his wand was. Bloody Potter,
interrupting his sleep while he was trying to mend. Where did he get off trying
to kill Draco and then returning in the middle of the night to finish what he
started? Bloody sneaky of Potter trying to do him in with no living witnesses
around, again.
“Merlin, Malfoy,” Potter’s voice whispered, a bit farther away now. He must be
sitting on the bed next to Draco’s. “I…I can’t… Merlin…”
Draco mentally scowled at Potter’s ineloquence. Bloody Potter. Go away.
The rustling of parchment sounded then, before a soft sniff echoed through the
room. “Merlin, Malfoy… Merlin, I am so sorry,” Potter’s voice whispered
brokenly. “I didn’t… I didn’t know. What that spell did… If I had known…”
Potter’s voice trailed off. A heavy, broken sigh escaped him. More movement.
“Malfoy, I… There’s no excuse for what I did. I almost… almost k-killed you –”
his voice broke off as he let out an angry sigh. “If Snape hadn’t come when he
did, I’d have killed you, Malfoy. If Snape… that book... Merlin.”
Draco felt himself growing annoyed, and a bit tired, at Potter’s broken speech.
He was close to opening his mouth and saying something offensive to Potter,
just to spare himself the further agony of an inarticulate Gryffindor, but
stopped at the boy’s next words.
“No, that’s no excuse. Prince didn’t force me to say that stupid spell. I still
think Hermione is wrong about him, but… It’s just me. My stupid magic getting
the best of me. Yeah, Malfoy, you’re a prat” –Draco frowned — “but even you
didn’t deserve that. I just… sometimes I can’t control it. I wasn’t trying to
kill you, but my magic just… It’s too strong sometimes, and I… I don’t want
anyone else to get hurt. Too many…” Potter’s voice lowered, and Draco could
hear him muttering to himself. Draco took a risk and opened his eyes a slit,
only to see Potter hunched over with his face covered by his hands. He wasn’t
sobbing, but he seemed to be almost… containing something. His magic?
Draco had noticed Potter’s wild magic before; small things, inconsequential
habits that Draco knew Potter had. And that burning fire in the bathroom… That
was raw magic that Draco had felt; wild and powerful. But for it to be so
strong that it was near uncontrollable? Draco couldn’t fathom the concept.
While Draco was near the top of his class and had an extensive knowledge of
potions and dark spells, he’d never had to struggle to control his magic
before. In Draco’s experience, power meant being able to maintain and
manipulate magic. Therefore, Draco became adept at Legilimency and Occlumency,
although he was more keen on the latter. But, Potter was different. Draco
wasn’t sure if Potter had experience with mind magic; it seemed doubtful since
he didn’t seem skilled at anything other than apparently throwing pure magic at
his enemies. And casting dark spells he knew nothing about.
Draco shook his head.
All that raw power, while Draco had nothing. Draco was the one trying to save
his family from the Dark Lord’s ruthlessness. Only to get carved up for it. If
Draco had the strength to defeat Potter, deliver him to the Dark Lord instead—
Draco frowned.
No, that wouldn’t work. Aside from the fact that Potter’s wild magic would only
try to kill him once more, Draco wasn’t strong enough to do that. He may hate
Potter with a passion but if the rumors were true, he was the Light side’s only
hope to winning the soon-to-be war. Draco couldn’t do that. Not Potter. After
Katie Bell, Weasley, and Dumbledore, Draco knew he just didn’t have it in him
to kill.
In the bathroom — while Potter hadn’t known — Draco had been fully aware of how
weak his Crucio would have been. Back at home, he hadn’t been able to
effectively torture any of the animals he had practiced on. His aunt, his
father — they had all had a good laugh at his weakness.
To think that Draco had thought killing Dumbledore would’ve made him stronger.
More powerful.
Draco froze.
More powerful…
Of course, killing Bell, Weasley, or even Dumbledore wouldn’t have made him
stronger. Draco was already inherently weak. He had plenty of dark knowledge,
and knew how to apply it. However, he didn’t have the experience.
But Potter did. He had the power. He had fought the Dark Lord several times,
and bloody won. If Draco’s parents weren’t in such drastic danger, he would’ve
considered switching sides long before his mission. But it was too late now.
While Draco admired Potter’s power and experience, the bloody git had nearly
sliced him to pieces. He wouldn’t help Draco now, unless…
“So, I just… I wanted to just say sorry, Malfoy,” Potter’s voice sounded again.
Draco’s eyes were open now, looking at Potter. But Potter didn’t seem to
notice, his eyes on the ground, as he stood to leave. He grabbed something off
the floor – a cloak? – but he paused. He turned his head slightly to look at
the bandages peeking out from beneath the blankets that covered Draco.
“Goodnight, Malfoy.”
“Potter.”
Potter jumped, and Draco had to stifle a grin as he watched Potter whirl around
to face him with wide green eyes.
“Malfoy? You’re awake? Er, have you been…?”
“Just for that last part,” Draco lied, not wanting to admit watching Potter
near to tears over almost killing Draco. “I heard your apology, though.”
Potter still looked startled but he sat back onto the bed, looking only a bit
hesitant as he glanced over at Draco. “Oh, well, yeah, I just —”
“Did you mean it?” Draco quickly interrupted Potter’s babbling. Green eyes bore
into him, sincere and open. Stupid Gryffindor.
“Er, well, yeah,” Potter said.
“Good, then I accept your apology,” Draco replied. “On one condition.”
The sincere green eyes narrowed, and darkened. “Condition? Wait. The only
reason I cast that spell was because you tried to Crucio me,” Potter said, his
voice defensive. “If you —”
“Trivialities, Potter,” Draco waved him off, ignoring Potter’s spluttering. “I
was emotionally distressed at the time. I had no choice.”
“No choice…?!”
“Yes, Potter, no choice but to defend my reputation as Slytherin Ice Prince
after being found with a rather lacking appearance. Granted, I couldn’t have
cast a capable Crucio, but you had no way of knowing that.” Potter’s expression
had started to grow darker with every word, until that last part. Then he
looked simply bemused.     
“What?”
“However, I will forgive you almost killing me due to a lack of foresight and
knowledge of a terribly dark spell on the one condition.”
“Because I regularly anticipate running into my enemies who try to Crucio me…”
came the soft mutter.
“You should, actually. That aside,” Draco continued. “I will forgive you if you
agree to teach me how to become stronger.” 
“Teach you?” Potter’s bemused expression didn’t change. “What do you mean,
‘become stronger’?”
“I mean,” Draco said, keeping his face passive, “I want you to teach me ways to
become more powerful. Spells, trainings, the like.” Draco was still laying
down, so he had to tilt his head a bit to look at Potter. Potter, who had his
arms crossed and was biting down on his lower lip, tilted his head back toward
Draco. He seemed to be considering.
“Why?” A valid question, one that Draco was prepared for.
“Because the Dark Lord gave me a mission, and if I fail he will kill my
parents.”
A moment passed. When Draco looked at Potter, green eyes gazed hard at him. His
stance didn’t move much but he did sit up straighter. “What kind of mission?”
“That I can’t tell you,” Draco replied. Seeing Potter’s face darken, he
continued. “If I tell you, and the Dark Lord finds out that I betrayed him,
he’ll… he will kill them.”
“What about Dumbledore?”
Draco had to work hard not to wince.
“I can’t –”
“Why not? If anyone can help your parents, it’s Dumbledore. Or what about
Snape? Does he know?”
“Yes,” Draco admitted, still bristling at Severus’ earlier act of heroism.
“Then is he helping you?” Potter asked.
Draco shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about him.”
“Why not?” Potter sighed angrily. “He just saved your life right now. Yeah, I
don’t like him all that much, but if he’s willing to help you –”
“I can’t trust anyone, Potter,” Draco finally spat. “Especially not Snape. Not
him. Not right now.” Draco ached to run his hands through his hair, anything to
calm his rattled nerves from Potter’s ability to rile him up so quickly. He
settled for picking at the lint of his blanket.
Draco looked up to see Potter studying him. “Alright, so you want help. But you
won’t go to Snape or Dumbledore. You just want to get stronger. So why me?”
Draco laughed shakily. “You said it yourself, Potter, your magic is so strong
that it’s nearly uncontrollable. I need that kind of power if I want to
survive, too.”
“So, you did hear everything,” Potter muttered. Draco rolled his eyes. “If you
just want power then, why don’t you just ask your father, or your aunt?” That
last part was spat out. Draco ignored it.
“Not that kind of power, Potter.”
“Then what –?”
“I already know that I can’t cast unforgivables, Potter. I’ve tried, and I
failed each time. The intent…” Draco’s eyes met Potters. “I would like to be
able to, only if it means the safety of myself and my parents in the end. But
if I haven’t learned by now, I never will. So instead, I need to get more
powerful at defensive magic like you are.”
“Like with Expelliarmus?”
Draco shook his head. “No, more complicated than that.” He took a deep breath,
hands trembling with nervousness. “I-I need to know how to cast a Patronus. And
resist Imperio.”
Potter stared at him in disbelief. “Why…? You’re joking, right?”
Draco glared. “I am completely serious, Potter. I need to learn to resist it.”
Potter looked like he wanted to ask, but then he shook his head. Potter sighed.
“Alright, the Patronus spell, sure. That’s easy.” Draco scoffed. “Well, er,
alright, not entirely. But the Imperius curse?”
“And the Cruciatus spell.”
“You want me to cast two Unforgivable curses on you? No way, I can’t do that.”
Potter was shaking his head, his feet moving restlessly like he wanted to
escape.
“Potter, I need to do this,” Draco said, almost close to pleading. He couldn’t
help it. He was running out of options.
“Why not just go to Dumbledore?” Potter insisted again. "If you would just tell
him about your mission, I’m sure the Order can help you switch sides.”
“I am not switching sides, Potter,” Draco nearly spat. “You’re asking me to
betray everyone I love. That’s not going to happen. Besides, have you seen your
precious headmaster lately? He doesn’t look… normal. And his hand…”
Potter’s eyes narrowed. “He’s fine, just tired.”
Draco let out a harsh laugh. “You’re a terrible liar, Potter.”
“Well he’s healthy enough to help you if you'd just go to him."
“Not happening, Potter,” Draco said, stubbornly refusing. He couldn’t. Going to
Dumbledore would make it more real; it’d be one step closer to betraying the
Dark Lord and getting his parents killed.
“Then no deal,” came the swift reply.
Draco started. He looked up as Potter’s green eyes looked hard at him. They
looked almost pleading.
“I want to help, Malfoy. But how do I know that you’re telling the truth? How
do I know that this isn’t a trap? That you won’t turn around and finish
whatever mission you’re talking about?”
“You don’t,” Draco answered, shoulders slumping uncharacteristically. He
scowled. Why did he even bother? “Never mind, Potter. Forget I even asked.” He
closed his eyes and turned away, prepared to hear Potter walk out.
Draco should have known better than to ask the stupid Gryffindor for help.
Granted, it was a large request in exchange for a mere pardon. He
underestimated the boy’s heroic nature to save anything and everyone. Like he’d
help a follower of the Dark Lord moments after almost killing him. What a
bloody joke. Draco shut his eyes tighter, willing Potter, the Dark Lord, and
everyone else to just disappear.
“Alright.”
Draco jumped, making him wince at his tender aching muscles. “What?”
“Alright,” Potter repeated with a sigh. He was staring hard at Draco, hand
brushing through his hair in agitation. “I’ll help you. You won’t tell me about
this mission, and you refuse to talk to Snape or Dumbledore. Frankly, I think
you’re stupid to ask me of this when you refuse everything else. But,” he
continued, seeing Draco’s glower. “I know you wouldn’t ask me of this on a
whim. Plus, I do owe you for nearly cutting you up back there.”
“You did cut me up,” he pointed out.
“Trivialities, Malfoy,” Potter shot back with an impish grin. Draco frowned.
“Like I said before, though, teaching you the Patronus won’t be a problem.
Teaching you how to resist the Unforgivables though, you do realize I would
have to put you under the curses.”
“Yes, Potter,” Draco almost sneered at him.
Potter shook his head. “And you’re willing to trust me with that? I almost
killed you already.”
“Which is exactly why I am trusting you with this, Potter,” Draco reasoned.
“You’ve had your chance and you came back begging for forgiveness, instead.”
“I didn’t beg…”
“I’m trusting that you won’t lead me to my death or make me do something
horribly embarrassing to the Malfoy name.”
“I could get in a lot of trouble if Dumbledore or Snape find out,” Potter said,
warning in his voice.
“Please,” Draco sneered. “When has that ever stopped you from breaking the
rules?”
Relenting on that, Potter stood up. “Alright, fine. But I draw the line at the
Cruciatus curse.”
“But –”
“No. I don’t even know how to resist that curse. I don’t think anyone can. I’m
not about to curse you a hundred times and risk you going madder than you
already are. I’ll teach you other defensive spells instead, but not that one.
I’m already rethinking about casting the Imperius spell on you.”
“I’ve already told you, Potter, I trust you in that regard,” Draco mumbled,
exhaustion finally seeping its way into his bones. He sighed tiredly. “So, do
we have a deal?”
There was silence for a moment. “Yes, we have a deal.”
“Then I wholeheartedly forgive you for almost killing me with a dark spell that
you knew nothing about,” Draco muttered, fatigue showing in his voice.
He yawned.
Potter chuckled next to him. “Thanks, Malfoy. I wish you’d talk to Dumbledore,
still.”
Draco grunted, growing impatient as slumber beckoned to him. “Go away already,
Potter. I’m trying to sleep.”
Potter let out one final chuckle, his footsteps already sounding farther away.
“Goodnight, Malfoy.” A door opened, then closed.
Finally, silence.
But as Draco neared sleep, he smiled.     
 
***** Chapter Two *****
 
May 10
 
Draco wasn’t released from the Hospital Wing until Saturday morning, a few days
after the bathroom incident. He left the wing and quickly headed to his dorms,
already have eaten breakfast in the hospital. All was quiet and hardly anyone
was around. He was briefly confused as to why, until he remembered.
It was the last Quidditch match of the season; one that would determine whether
Gryffindor would win the cup against Ravenclaw.
Potter was probably out there playing, Draco briefly thought as he entered his
room. He walked towards his bed, when he noticed a stack of notes laid out on
top of his covers. Looking through them, he realized they were Pansy’s notes
from the classes he missed the day before. Grateful, Draco laid out his books
and decided to use the notes to help him catch up with his studies.
It was just after noon when Draco decided to take a break from his work. He was
hungry for lunch. Since he was almost finished revising, Draco decided to take
along the notes that he had left to finish. He was walking out of the Slytherin
dorms, looking through his notes absently. The dungeons were so empty on a
Saturday, not a soul around. Draco guessed that the match was still going on.
Potter was probably flying at full speed, determined to win the snitch for the
last time this year.
The thought almost made Draco miss playing.
“Hey.”
Draco jumped, but managed to catch his notes before they fell to the ground. He
turned to glare at the intruder. He gave a mental groan instead when he saw who
it was.
“Potter,” he replied, giving him a simple nod and about to walk away. Then he
did a double take. “Wait, why aren’t you at the Pitch? The game is starting,
isn’t it? And why are you in the dungeons?”
Potter shrugged, glaring a bit back over his shoulder. “Got detention with
Snape for what happened,” he said, his voice a bit repentant. “Every Saturday
until the end of term.”
“Ouch,” Draco replied, but he was honestly glad that it seemed Potter didn’t
get away with everything after all. Still, missing the last game of the season
must have pained Potter. “Were you just going to see him, then?”
“No, I just finished. Reckon the game is over, too,” Potter sighed morosely.
“Either everyone is celebrating in the common room, or hating my guts. I was
going to hurry over, but now I’m rethinking of going at all. You off to lunch?”
Draco nodded once in reply, holding tight to his notes as the pair walked out
of the dungeons. He wondered at the easiness to which Potter just sidled up
next to him. Yes, they agreed to help Draco with his issue, but walking next to
Potter, acting like Draco was a friend in the hallway — it perturbed him. It
made him want to lash out.
“So, Scarhead, how do you think your little she-weasel girlfriend is doing? Do
you think she was able to rally the troops? Or maybe King Weasley was actually
able to block a few rings this time?” Draco started to whistle the tune of
“Weasley is our King.” Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw Potter’s jaw
clench hard. Ah, much better. “I’m sure your team didn’t lose too badly,” he
snickered.
“She’s not my girlfriend, Malfoy,” the other boy spat. “Don’t call her names
either. Just shut it.” Then Potter stopped in the stairway and whirled on him.
“What are you doing?”
Draco, taken aback at first, quickly sneered. “It’s hardly unusual to be
walking along to the Hall for lunch, Potter.”
“No, I mean with the insults. Didn’t last night…? Didn’t that mean anything?”
Draco tried to control the flush that roared into his cheeks at Potter’s
wording. Stupid Gryffindor.
“What on earth are you talking about, Potter? We agreed you’d help me, nothing
more.”
“Well, I assumed that it went without saying. If I’m going to help you out, I
thought we’d at least be civilized to one another. I guess that’s asking too
much of you Slytherins, though,” Potter snarled, his glare burning into Draco.
“You assumed, and we agreed to nothing of the sort,” Draco spat out, and turned
to stomp away.
Stupid Potter, Draco fumed. Merlin knew how that stupid git could get under his
skin so easily.
“Wait, damnit!” Potter’s voice called from behind him. “Malfoy!”
Draco kept walking, his head down. Steps sounded until Potter hurried back to
his side. His eyes glared at him as they both stomped through the halls.
“Listen, I’m not going to help you out if you keep insulting my friends. That’s
a deal breaker right there.”
“So, your friends are off limits,” Draco spat. “What about you?”
Potter surprised him with a self-depreciating grin. “I can handle whatever
insults you throw at me, Malfoy. Take your best shot. Just leave my friends out
of it, or it’s over. I’m not helping you with anything. In fact,” Potter added,
smirking in a most un-Gryffindorish way, “I may just go have a nice chat with
Dumbledore. Get his opinion on a few things.”
If Draco wasn’t too busy seething, he’d almost be impressed.
“Fuck you, Potter,” Draco spat instead.
Before he could walk a few more steps, a hand shot out and shoved him into the
wall. Draco felt Potter’s hands clench hard around Draco’s shoulders, holding
him fast, while rage bubbled in Draco’s veins. He pushed against Potter’s
grasp, and scowled darkly at the stupid Gryffindor when he wouldn’t budge.
“Get your fucking hands off me, Potter,” Draco hissed.
“No. Not until you agree,” Potter said, a dark warning in his voice.
“Resorting to threats, Potter? Thought that was above your golden status.”
 “No,” Potter sneered, seemingly choosing to ignore that last part. “A
promise.”
Draco glared into those green eyes, sincere as they were. They made Draco feel
both annoyed and churlish. Frankly, he was more annoyed at himself.
He was tired of fighting, honestly. He had enough problems that were more
important than Potter. He needed to save his parents. He needed to get
stronger. The fact that the git was willing to help him out with both set him
on edge. Potter could betray him to Dumbledore at any time. What hadn’t he?
Potter had more to lose by not saying anything to the crazy old man and his
precious Order. Draco knew Potter was no Slytherin, but he couldn’t help
waiting for the other shoe to fall, as the muggle saying supposedly went.
Gritting his teeth, Draco finally stopped fighting Potter’s grip. He slumped
against the wall as he felt Potter hesitate, then release him.
“Fine, Potter,” he forced out. “No insulting your friends. Any other requests,
your Lordship?”
“Why don’t you see Dumble –”
“Forget it!” Draco yelled, whirling around to leave. He’d had enough of
Potter’s obstinacy.
“Alright, alright,” Potter yielded, coming up next to him again. “Had to try
one last time.” Then Potter took Draco by utter surprise as he held out his
hand to Draco. And gave him a small grin. “Truce?”
The nerve!
Part of Draco seethed inside and he wanted to yell at Potter, six years too
late! But another part of him, a small speck of a part, was rejoicing with a
childlike giddiness. Draco almost wanted to brush him off with an immature kind
of revenge. But he sighed, and he looked at Potter. Potter with his stupid
hair, his foolish unguarded eyes, and his too trusting toothy grin. It all made
Draco want to punch him. Hard.
He looked at Potter’s unmanicured hand still held out between them. And
relented.
“You have terrible mood swings, Potter. Fine. Truce,” he agreed with a long,
insufferable sigh as he took Potter’s palm in his hand.
A warmth tingled through his skin, shocking Draco into clenching Potter’s hand
in reflex. In front of him, Potter’s eyes glinted and he clenched harder in
response. Like it was some game. 
“Ouch, Potter, you brute,” he hissed, forcing his hand from Potter’s. Potter
chuckled.
“So, when and where, Malfoy?” he asked before they went their separate ways.
Draco sent a small glower at Potter’s easy expression. Merlin, how was he going
to be able to endure multiple trainings with Golden boy smiling at him in that
foolhardily way?
“Meet me tomorrow evening. Eight o’clock. Sharp.”
“Where?” Potter asked.
Draco shrugged. “I don’t know of a lot of places where we can throw spells at
one another.”
Potter seemed to ponder for a moment, before he hesitantly suggested, “The Room
of Requirement? It’s on the seventh floor across from the dancing trolls
tapestry.”
It took most of his energy to not react as Potter rattled off about the Room.
He tried to think of any place else. Anywhere. But nothing came to mind, so
Draco gave a stiff nod. “I know where it is, Potter. That’s fine.”
“Oh, good. See you then, Malfoy.” Then the fool wandered off in the direction
of Gryffindor tower.
Draco stood there for a moment, staring after him in silence. Then he turned in
the direction of the Hall, not feeling quite as hungry as he was before.
===============================================================================
May 11
 
 It was a quarter ‘till eight on Sunday evening. Draco was already on the
seventh floor, standing across from the Room of Hidden Things. He closed his
eyes, imagining the type of room that Potter and he would need to practice
throwing spells in. He paced the required three times in front of the wall
before the door appeared.
He slipped in, half dreading the room would appear as it normally did for him.
But there was no need to worry, Draco realized as the door closed behind him.
Instead of mountains of piles of junk with the dreaded unfinished cabinet near
the middle, the room was mostly a wide-open space apart from a few loveseat
sofas and a small table off to the corner. Tapestries hung over head, while a
couple of bookshelves lined the far walls. Rugs and large silk cushions were
splayed out on the floor.
It was an acceptable training space overall, Draco thought.
He crossed back towards the door, just in time to see it open as Potter walked
inside. Draco watched as Potter perused the room the same way he had, eyes
roaming until they finally landed on Draco.
“Good space. Almost looks similar to the D.A. practice room,” Potter replied.
“The what?”
“Er, never mind,” Potter said as he quickly went over to sit on one of the
couches. He took off his robe and threw it to one side of the couch. Draco
grimaced at the unrefined act and hung his own robes off a hook near the
doorway. “Alright,” Potter started, looking a bit anxious as he ruffled a hand
through his hair. “So, I think we should try a few defensive spells first, just
so I have a grasp on what you already know.”
Draco wanted to argue no and jump straight into the hard stuff, damn the
consequences. But he took a moment for rational thought to take over. He’d
waited this long. If it meant having to put a pause on his mission, he would
more than willing practice his defensive spells instead.
He nodded to Potter.
Draco readied his wand as they came to the middle of the room together, facing
each other in the proper dueling stance. He felt a moment of nostalgia, and he
wondered if Potter felt it too.
“Scared, Malfoy?”
Draco raised an eyebrow, amused. “You wish, Potter.”
Then they turned, and Potter counted off as they walked away from one another.
They moved into their stances and waited, eyeing the other.
“Expelliarmus!”shouted Potter.
Draco quickly moved aside, having anticipated Potter’s spell. He blocked
another attempt.
“Relashio!” Draco countered. Potter easily side-stepped it.
“Langlock!”
“ Protego! ”
They threw mostly defensive spells at one another for several long minutes.
Draco was impressed at the way Potter moved and whirled away from the spells
Draco cast at him. At one point, Draco’s Incarcerous spell grazed Potter,
creating a loose noose around his ankle. Still, the boy was able to stumble
along freeing his leg while throwing more spells at Draco, who countered them
with ease.
Half an hour went by until the boys started to become tired and sweat dripped
in small rivulets down their faces.
“ Oppugno! ”
“ Furnunculus! ”
“ Locomotor Mortis! Rictusempra! ”
Draco was able to dodge Potter’s first spell, but not the second one. He went
down, clutching his sides together and laughing for a few seconds until Potter
removed the tickling spell. Then Potter dropped near him in an unrefined heap,
breathing hard.
“Christ, Malfoy,” Potter gasped. “Not bad.”
“Speak for yourself, Potter,” Draco said, wishing for some food right about
now.
With a small pop, a full tea service along with a few sandwiches appeared on
the table next to them. Grateful for the room’s impeccable timing, the boys
smirked at one another and dug in.
“You leave your left side too open, Malfoy,” Potter said after a moment of
chewing. Draco frowned. “Your spells were also a bit weak. If I didn’t know any
better, I’d say you were pulling back.” Draco rolled his eyes as Potter looked
at him.
“Of course I was pulling back, Potter. I don’t want to be thrown into Azkaban
for permanently disabling the wizarding world’s precious golden boy.”
“Don’t call me that,” Potter sighed angrily. “And don’t. Throw at me everything
you got. I can handle it. Besides, I need to know what level you’re at if I’m
supposed to help you.”
Draco sighed but acquiesced with a short nod. “Fine, next time.”
“So, Quidditch,” Potter mumbled, while chewing on his food. Draco grimaced at
his lack of manners. Was Potter raised on a farm?  
“What about it?” he said when Potter declined to say anything further.
“Well, er, you didn’t play this year?”
Draco wanted to roll his eyes. “No, Potter. Unfortunately, running errands for
the Dark Lord constitutes a certain kind of loyalty. I don’t have time for
dodging bludgers. Congratulations on your win yesterday, by the way. Looks like
your Weasleys managed without you.”
Potter looked like he wanted to glower at Draco, but shook his head instead.
“Was that a compliment to my team?” he asked, sounding bewildered. Draco just
scoffed. “Well yeah, Ginny managed to catch the snitch on time. I knew she and
Ron could do it.”
“Heard you two were an item now,” Draco said.
“Who? Me and Ginny?” Draco nodded. “Oh, no. I-I mean, I hugged her when I found
out we won. Congratulated her and all that. But Ginny’s like a sister to me.”
“Oh really?” Draco said, doubting it. “I’ve heard differently.”
“Doesn’t matter what you’ve heard, does it?” Potter said angrily. “Yeah, I
might’ve liked her a bit before. But now…” Potter trailed off, biting his lip
as he looked off to the side.
“What?” Draco asked, trying for an offhand tone. It didn’t work.
“Why so interested in my love life, Malfoy?” Potter questioned, raising an
eyebrow. Draco cursed.
“I’m not,” he said. “I’m just concerned for the fate of the wizarding world. If
there happens to be an exponential growth in ginger hair soon, we’re all in a
dire situation.”
Potter snorted at him, taking a bite of his sandwich. “Whatever, Malfoy. And I
told you to quit it with the Weasley jokes.”
“Fine,” Draco sighed.
“What about you?”
Draco looked at him. “What about me?”
“Are you… er, are you with anyone? Like Parkinson?” Potter asked.
“So, I can’t talk about your love life, but you can ask me about mine?” Draco
scowled.
“I never said you couldn’t, I just wondered why you were interested. You
brought it up.”
“As a topic of mundane discussion, Potter,” Draco sighed wearily. “Boyfriends
typically like to talk about their girlfriends. Like parents do with their
babies.”
“Er, Ginny isn’t my girlfriend, Malfoy.”
“Yeah, I got that, thanks,” Draco said angrily. He quickly finished his last
bite. “What now? The Patronus charm?” He stood up to brush the lint and crumbs
off his trousers.
Potter looked like he wanted to say more, but he must have seen Draco’s
expression. He stopped and shook his head no instead. “Not today. We’ll need to
prepare for that. This first time, I just wanted to see what you could do.”
“What on earth needs preparing?”
Potter gave a smirk. “We’re going to need chocolate. Lots of it. If I remember
correctly, you prefer Swiss?”
An angry flush crept up Draco’s cheeks. He gave a curt nod. “Yes.”
“Good. Be sure to bring some of the ones your mother sends you next time.
You’ll need them.”
Draco wanted to ask more about Potter’s sudden knowledge concerning his palate,
but refrained. Barely. “Potter, you’re not making any sense. What do sweets
have to do with learning defensive spells?”
“Just trust me, Malfoy.” Potter said, standing up and getting into position
near the middle of the room. “Let’s practice a bit more, and work on that left
side of yours.”
Draco scowled, but followed him.
They dueled for another half hour before relenting for the night. Draco made
sure that Potter left with a few painful bruises.    
***** Chapter Three *****
May 13
 
A few days later found Draco sitting at lunch, waiting for the post to arrive.
He had owled his mother a few days before, asking about the ridiculous
chocolates Potter had wanted. Because of the situation at the Manor, Draco
honestly wasn’t sure if his Mother could get them or not.
Draco’s head bowed as he twirled his fork around his full plate of food. The
chattering and yelling of those around him fell to the background as Draco
began to tune the world out. A sort of numbness that had followed Draco all
year resonated within him, like a curse. It only got worse anytime he saw
Dumbledore.
Stupid oaf and his twinkling eyes.
The feeling also grew when he saw Katie Bell – like the other day – and with
Weasley, as much as he hated the redheaded weasel. Yes, he loathed him but he
wasn’t a murderer. He wasn’t. He was too cowardly to be one.
A burning sensation crawled up his left arm, and Draco fought the urge to
scratch at it.
Draco wasn’t marked. Not yet. No, that honor was only offered as a reward once
he completed his mission.
Draco wanted to snort. Reward. Like a good dog who finally got a collar from
its master. As weak as he was though, Draco knew the truth. He had no choice
but to only play the part of a good lapdog. The question was, who did he want
as master?
The Dark Lord had nearly limitless power and tons of followers at his beck and
call. Some of those followers surrounded Draco even now, he mused, glancing
around with the corner of his eye. To defy the Dark Lord meant death. Or worse.
Draco had heard the bloodcurdling screams that one night the Death Eaters had
visited their home. He thought they may have come from the Manor’s dungeons,
but Draco refused to believe that while he slept in his room upstairs, someone
was being tortured in his home just a few stories below him. For a long while,
he had tried to ignore it.
Then over Christmas break, Draco was wandering the halls, glad to have the
Manor to himself and his mother for the day without his crazy aunt’s presence.
He had just finished lunch when he heard the screaming. It was like nothing
Draco had ever heard before.
Torturous, drawn out screams riddled with pain. Sometimes the screaming would
last a few seconds to a few minutes. But this screaming lasted for hours. Draco
didn’t know who it was. He wasn’t sure if they were a mudblood, or a muggle. He
wasn’t sure who brought him in. He knew nothing except it was a male voice
crying out unintelligible words. The man didn’t just scream either. Sometimes
it turned into loud, gut wrenching sobs that made the entire Manor tremble. The
guttural sounds lasted for days, haunting Draco even during the times when he
would escape the Manor. He wished they’d just stop so he could sleep through
the night peacefully.
And they eventually did.
Draco had cried frightfully afterward. 
If those screams had belonged to his father, or worse, his mother —
Draco clenched his eyes shut, struggling to rid the sorrowful expression of his
mother’s face from his mind. Her aristocratic mouth turned down with worry,
platinum hair lank from distress, and eyes crinkled with fear. That was the
last expression he’d seen of his mother at the platform. Draco refused to
believe that would be the last time he’d see her. It couldn’t be.
Which was why he had to get stronger.
On cue, the fluttering of wings could be heard above. Draco glanced up as he
saw a recognizable haughty eagle land gracefully in front of him. Handing the
family eagle a biscuit in thanks, Draco took the envelope and package it
carried. He opened the letter as it flew off, and stared in wonder at his
mother’s familiar handwriting. It was a short missive.
 
My dragon,
I was so glad to receive your letter, dear. It relieves me to hear how well you
are doing on your studies. I would expect nothing less from you. I am so proud
of all that you have accomplished. As you mentioned in your last letter about
your conference with Professor Snape — while it may be unclear as to your
future professional endeavors, I will fully support you in whatever you decide.
Remember that I cherish you, my dragon. You are my proudest creation and my
most treasured gift. Please remember that before you make any hasty decisions.
Enclosed is the parcel you asked for. I hope you enjoy them, dear. They bring
back some very enjoyable memories during our holiday in Marseille.
Our guests eagerly await your arrival. As do I, my dragon.
With all my love,
Mother 
 
 It took a moment for Draco to find his composure. Once he was sure his hands
weren’t shaking, he carefully folded the letter closed and set it aside for the
moment. He opened the package next, glimpsing his favorite imported chocolates
within.
Draco finally glanced up, searching. It only took a moment, but the eyes he
sought finally turned to him. A full eyebrow raised, questioning.
Draco gave a curt nod. Picking up both his mother’s letter and the chocolates,
he left his nearly full plate behind and exited the Great Hall towards his next
class. He’d be early, but he could work on revisions until class began.
As he waited for class to start, Draco absently thought back to the agreed plan
he had with Potter. They had decided to meet that evening at the same time,
provided his mother had sent the chocolates. Beyond that, they hadn’t had much
contact or communication between them since their practice Sunday evening.
In the halls, the boys gave each other short nods but went their separate ways
like they had done most of the year. Draco wasn’t sure if Potter had revealed
to the rest of the Golden Trio what had transpired between them, or about the
late-night practice sessions he had planned with Draco.
He wasn’t sure he wanted them to know what was going on, to be honest.
Revealing what happened that night would have Granger and the Weasel attempting
to protect Potter from him. As if Draco could hurt him, he mused. It was more
like the other way around.
Students filling the classroom broke Draco from his reverie. He sat up, careful
to avoid any prying eyes; like those that he knew came from the Slytherin
students.
Draco knew there were harsh eyes watching his every move, waiting for him to
make a mistake. They’d either strike, or worse, contact someone who would call
the Dark Lord.
No one was safe. Draco had enemies on both sides who were just waiting for him
to make that single step out of line. 
Except Potter.
Begrudging as he may be, Draco was grateful that at least one person was
willing to not kill him the first chance he got. Not again, anyway.
How long would it last though?
===============================================================================
 
“Now, conjuring a Patronus in the middle of a brightly lit room when there’s no
threat is very different to producing it when confronted by a dementor,” Potter
was saying later that night.
Both boys had just finished a tray of sandwiches, deciding that eating first
would give them more strength for tonight’s session. He’d never admit it, but
Draco was anxious about learning how to cast the spell. He didn’t doubt his own
abilities; at the same time, he did. It was common knowledge that Death Eaters
couldn’t cast Patronuses. While he wasn’t an official one, Draco feared that it
was the same for him.
So, Draco was a bit irritable to Potter.
“Enough with the obvious,” Draco scowled, wand tapping restlessly against his
thigh.
“What we really need is a boggart,” Potter continued patiently. “That’s how
Professor Lupin taught me. Granted, the D.A. didn’t need to use one so I reckon
you’ll be alright.”
“What would you need a boggart for?”
“To practice with. The boggart pretended to be a dementor –”
“Well, fat chance of that, Potter,” Draco spat. “My boggart isn’t a dementor.”
Potter ruffled his hair, and came up beside Draco. “Yeah, you don’t really need
one. Just thought it would help, I guess. So, the incantation is –”
“I know the incantation, Potter,” Draco said. “I’m aware of the theory behind
it — you’ve got to think of something happy. My problem, Potter, is that it
doesn’t work.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, the happy memory doesn’t work. Nothing happens.” Draco watched as
Potter hummed, pacing beside him thoughtfully.
“Maybe the memory you’re using isn’t good enough?” the other boy guessed. “When
I first tried, I thought of the first time I rode a broom. Lupin told me that
wasn’t nearly enough, though, and he was right. The spell didn’t take.” Potter
stared hard at him. “You’ve got to think of something deeper. Riding a broom,
opening a present, picking on first years – none of those are good enough if
you want the spell to work right.”
“What was your memory, then?” Draco asked without thinking.
The other boy looked at him, looking hesitant to answer.
“Leaving Privet drive,” he eventually said, but the words confused Draco.
“’Privet drive’?”
“It’s the place I lived at before Hogwarts,” Potter said curtly, looking as if
he wanted to end the conversation there. “But that’s not always the memory I
use. Sometimes it’s about Hogwarts, or Ron, his family, Hermione. My parents.”
Unease settled in Draco. He recalled all the times he had teased Potter about
his dead parents, and he squirmed where he stood, uncomfortable now. Potter
didn’t seem to notice his distress, however, or he chose to overlook it. Either
way, he quickly continued.
“Alright, Malfoy. Let’s see you try it,” Potter said. “Maybe if I watch, I can
tell you what you’re doing wrong.” He walked a few yards away from Draco,
giving him the space he needed.
For that, Draco felt grateful. He raised his wand, and carefully concentrated
as he searched for a happy memory. The last few times he’d tried to cast, he’d
thought of Christmas dinners with his parents or that time his father had
bought him his first eagle. Funnily enough, Draco had also thought of the first
few times he’d rode a broom. It was uncanny how similar he and Potter were at
times, Draco thought.
None of those memories had worked though, he remembered. So, he cast around for
something else. Anything. He thought, and thought, searching.
There were flashes of his childhood: a mixture of innocent naivetés, light
laughter, candid curiosity soon followed by pain and fear, then strict decorum.
Memories of Hogwarts; a rejected handshake, flashes of smiling with the
Slytherins, pranking younger students and taunting Potter, his first—and
last—kiss with Pansy, then his first experimental kiss with Blaise in fourth
year.
Then the summer after his fifth year; seeing only his mother at the platform,
the cold absence of his father, the screams at the manor, his aunt’s deranged
laughter, merciless red eyes —
“No!” Draco shouted, throwing his wand to the ground and burying his face in
his hands. “I can’t do it.”
He heard Potter take a step towards him, before he felt a hand lightly brush
his shoulder.
“Malfoy.”
“It won’t work for me,” Draco interrupted. “The memories just aren’t there.”
“Are you having trouble focusing —?”
“My focus is fine, Potter,” Draco scowled. He looked at Potter. “Isn’t there
another way?”
The Gryffindor shook his head. “This is the only way I know, Malfoy.” He walked
over and grabbed the carton of fine chocolates from the table. He handed Draco
a piece. “Here, eat one. It’ll help. The first time hardly ever works right,
anyway.”
Draco grumbled his thanks and absently chewed away at the piece of fine
chocolate.
“What were you thinking of?”
Draco took a moment to answer, unwilling to divulge his deepest secrets. “My
parents.”
“Oh,” Potter said simply.
“Yes, oh.”
“And Lucius —?”
“He’s still my father,” Draco said. “He may be your enemy, Potter, but he is
still the man who raised me. He cared for me and my mother. He still does,”
Draco added, wishing he could believe his own words. Potter also looked
unconvinced.
“Right.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “Maybe it needs a stronger memory?” he
suggested.
“Oh, sure, Potter. What a fine teacher you are, pointing out the obvious. Why
didn’t I think of that?” Draco said sarcastically. “I’ll just pull out a happy
memory, shall I? Let me think to this last summer when the Dark Lord invited
himself as our guest over to the Manor, or when Fenrir came with him asking if
my mother and I were a part of the menu. Or what about the time the screaming
had finally stopped and I was finally able to sleep through the night. Pray
tell, Potter, what strong memory do you think I should use?”  
By the time he was finished, Draco was waving his arms everywhere and his eyes
gleamed with unshed tears. Horrified and ashamed at himself, Draco struggled to
lower his arms around himself as he began to let loose a self-depreciating
laugh that sounded more like his crazed aunt’s near the end.
Merlin, he was finally losing it.
Draco was still laughing, but he shifted slightly so that Potter wouldn’t
witness the slight mad glint in his eyes that he was sure was there.
Potter was nothing if but tenacious, though, the git.
Hands brushed across his shoulder, making Draco tense. “Malfoy?” Potter’s voice
sounded beside him.
Draco gasped out a last laugh, horrified that it almost sounded like he was
close to tears. Maybe he was.
“What, Potter? Can’t you see that I’m having a crisis?”
He saw Potter bite his lip nervously and rake a hand through his wild black
mane. “Yeah, Malfoy, I see that. Didn’t expect you to have one on my watch.
Should have known, though, with how you’re refusing to talk to anyone else.”
Draco snorted at Potter’s poor sense of humor.
“Shove off,” he said. Potter only rolled his eyes and walked over to one of the
couches.
“Sit, Malfoy,” Potter ordered, his green eyes boring into Draco’s.
Draco bristled. He found his legs moving before he could stop, though.
“I’m not your pet, Potter,” Draco finally managed as he sat on the far side of
the same couch that Potter was sitting on. He pulled his knees forward and
wrapped his arms around them protectively. He hated being in such a vulnerable
looking position, but fuck it. Potter wouldn’t exactly tell anyone about
Draco’s show of emotion. Draco was sure it went against some Gryffindor oath of
loyalty or some such rubbish. “Just give me a moment, and we’ll continue —”
“Cut the shit, Malfoy,” Potter’s voice said.
Draco’s head snapped up.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me, Malfoy. We’re not about to practice when you’re looking like
that.”
“Looking like what, exactly, Potter?”
“Like you’re about to keel over, Malfoy. Your skin is pastier than normal,
which is a feat in and of itself, to be honest.”
Draco scowled. “Fuck off, Potter.”
Potter flashed a toothy grin. “Not right now, thanks. I think we need to get
you sorted out first.”
“What’s there to sort out?” Draco asked, willing the trembling in his hands to
stop.
“You can’t find a powerful happy memory, Malfoy, because you don’t have one.
You can’t produce the Patronus, though, without it.”
“Yes, Potter, thanks for stating the obvious once again,” Draco lashed out.
Potter merely shifted on the couch, settling in to get more comfortable. He
also grabbed another of his mother’s chocolates. Prat.
“You need a happy memory, Malfoy,” he said while chewing. “We can’t continue
until you find one, which puts us at a standstill.”
“Then teach me Imperio instead,” Draco offered. Potter shook his head.
“If I’m going to teach you to resist that spell, I think there’s going to have
to be a level of trust between us first, Malfoy.”
“I already told you. I trust you in that sense, Potter.”
“But how can I trust you?” he said, which brought Draco up short. “We already
agreed that you would forgive me for, uh —”
“Nearly killing me in a bathroom?”
“Er, yeah,” Potter stammered, quickly continuing. “And you stated that you’re
not willing to ask Dumbledore or Snape for help about your, uh, mission.”
“Precisely.”
“But Snape knows about it?”
“Yes,” Draco answered, clenching his jaw. “I told you, I don’t want to —”
“Alright,” Potter said quickly. “I just… you can’t expect me to just let this
go. I can’t possibly ignore the fact that you’re working on a mission for
Voldemort, but that you’re also wanting to get magically stronger so you can
protect your parents. I understand your father, but what does your mother have
to do with Voldemort? What’s so dangerous about this mission? Does it affect
Hogwarts? You don’t have the Dark Mark, I saw that in the Hospital Wing. So,
you aren’t a true follower of his. But then, why are you helping him?”
Besides the slight wince at Potter’s casual use of the Dark Lord’s name, Draco
kept his face impassive. Inside he was panicking, though, at Potter’s list of
questions. This was getting too close to dangerous territory, he thought. As
much as he needed Potter’s help, he couldn’t risk putting his parents’ lives in
more danger.
Not completing the mission, though, would kill them anyway, another part of him
pointed out. He needed to get stronger, which meant he needed Potter’s help.
Meaning he’d have to answer the prat’s questions if they were going to go any
further, apparently.
Draco struggled to think of all his options, but time was already running out.
What could he think of now that he already hadn’t considered all year? He had
no other choices. Other than finding a Time Turner and going back in time to
escape with his mother while he still could.
Damn Potter’s Gryffindor propensities, Draco cursed as he looked up, seeing
Potter stare back at him. It unnerved him.
“You’re obsessed, Potter,” he said.
The other boy laughed shrewdly, but Draco noticed that he had grimaced
slightly. “Can’t help it, Malfoy. You fascinate me, and not in the good way.”
Draco held in a snort.
Potter was going to lead him to his death, Draco thought, if the prat didn’t
annoy him to death first.
***** Chapter Four *****
“So, have you decided to tell me yet, Malfoy?” Potter asked, his gaze serious.
Draco rolled his eyes haughtily. “Fine, Potter, you win. As usual.”
“You’re going to tell me what your mission is, then? Or not?”
Draco shook his head. “No.”
“No, you aren’t —?”
“No, as in I can’t. I’m under oath, Potter. I can’t tell anyone,” he admitted.
“Otherwise, I will literally choke to death before I can even finish betraying
the Dark Lord.”
Potter’s expression fell and he ran a hand down his face. “Blast, well that
certainly doesn’t help things.”
“No, but I can tell you… other things.”
“Yeah?” Potter prompted, his voice serious.
Draco sighed in exasperation, taking another piece of chocolate while there
were still some left.
Merlin, he hoped he wouldn’t regret this.
“I can’t tell you about my mission, Potter,” he said. “But I can tell you some
of what the Dark Lord is planning. He’s looking for something, or someone even.
It’s some kind of ancient object that’s supposedly very powerful, and the Dark
Lord is willing to do anything to get it. Apparently, it came from Death
itself. Or so I’ve heard from the others.”
Potter hummed thoughtfully. “Do you know what it looks like?”
Draco shook his head. “No. No one really does. It’s something that’s just
whispers right now, but we know the Dark Lord is intent on finding it, whatever
it is. Not just that, though. He’s also looking for a candidate.”
“A candidate?”
“Yes, but I’m not exactly sure for what. All I know is,” and here Draco had to
take a deep breath. “All I know is that the others have been bringing a dozen
people by. All of them are young males, maybe a few years older than us.
They’re taken into the dungeons where they’re tortured for weeks. I don’t want
to think of how, but I can tell by their screaming that it’s not something I
want to imagine.”
“How do you know they’re not just innocent captives?” Potter asked, his eyes
hard and jaw clenched with anger.
“I thought that too,” Draco replied. “The tortures would last for weeks. But
when… whenever one of them d-died, the Dark Lord actually looked really upset
about it. He’d rage for a while until he found another one. It’s like,” Draco
said thoughtfully. “I’m not sure, but it’s like he was testing them for
something. Maybe they didn’t pass his test, I don’t know.”
“What possible test…?” Potter murmured.
“I don’t know. But the Dark Lord is keeping it all very hushed except for his
inner circle. I’m not a part of that, though, and no longer is my father since
he’s in Azkaban. Other than that, all I know is what I’ve figured out for
myself. The Dark Lord is wanting to start a war. He’s gathering the giants,
werewolves, dementors, and all sorts of other dark creatures to his aid.”
“Aid to what? Rid the world of muggles?” Potter asked.
“That, and more. He wants to finish what Grindelwald couldn’t during the first
war. He plans to overthrow the Ministry, and kill anyone who tries to stop
him.”
“Dumbledore can,” Potter said, not noticing Draco’s wince. “If anyone can stop
Voldemort, it’s him. He’s the most powerful wizard alive, and Voldemort’s
afraid of him.”
“What about you, Chosen One?” Draco asked, trying to steer away from the topic
of the old Headmaster. “Rumors have it that you’re supposed to be the Savior of
the Wizarding World.”
Potter grimaced at him. “Er, right, yeah. Don’t call me that, though.”
“So, it’s true then?” Draco said, holding in a gasp. “I heard about some
prophecy that the Dark Lord was supposedly after last year, too. It was about
you.”
“Oh, yeah,” Potter sighed. “It said that the one Voldemort chose as his equal
would be the one who could defeat him. Voldemort chose me. ‘Neither can live
while the other survives;’ that's what it said.”
Draco shivered. He'd been afraid of that. “So, you truly are the Wizarding
World’s Savior,” he said softly.
Potter rolled his eyes, but nodded. “Something like that, yeah.”
Draco looked at the wild haired boy sprawled in front of him.
What he saw nearly transfixed him while it also confused the bloody hell out of
him. Blazing green eyes, that Draco was sure burned bright even during the
darkest moments of battle, seemed to stare into his soul. Even sitting down on
this couch, supposedly relaxed while eating Draco’s chocolates, Potter was
battle ready. Draco could tell by his stiff shoulders, narrowed gaze, and
magical heat emanating from Potter’s direction.
Constant Vigilance.
Potter was ready for a war. And he always would be, until Voldemort was
finished at least, Draco realized. While Potter had no living family members
any longer, it was no secret at how Potter was protective over his close loved
ones.  He knew that Potter would fight for them until his dying breath.
And gazing into that fueled stare, Draco suddenly realized how much he yearned
to have that kind of confidence. If not for himself, he wanted to be near it,
to bathe in that warmth and power.
That kind of yearning though; it alarmed Draco beyond belief, and for a moment
he was frozen as he tried to contemplate what he was feeling.
What is this emotion?
Draco tried to shake the feeling off since he knew he was supposed to reply to
Potter in some way. The other boy’s burning gaze cut right through to him,
watching him. He hurriedly looked down.
"I wish I never had to see his face again," Draco finally said quietly.
Potter frowned. “A true follower wouldn’t say something like that,” he pointed
out.
True, Draco conceded, thinking. “I guess that means I’m not one, then,” he
said. He watched Potter for some kind of reaction, but the other boy only
continued his study of him.
“Then, if you weren’t a true follower,” Potter said, almost hesitantly like he
wasn’t sure what he was even saying. “I’d say you’re in need of making a choice
then. One for yourself.”
“Oh, and what are my options, Potter?” Draco said almost angrily. “Is it
limited to only His side or your precious Light side? Can’t I just be neutral
and run away?”
“It’s not my side. It’s Dumbledore and the Order. And there is no middle ground
in this kind of war, Malfoy,” Potter answered, shaking his head. “When it comes
right down to it, you’ve got to decide for yourself. Are you willing to kill
muggles and those who are muggleborn, or not?”
“It’s not that simple —”
“Yes, it is!” Potter cried, sitting up straight and startling Draco. “That’s
the thing, Malfoy, it is that black and white. In the end, Malfoy —”
“In the end, Potter, my family is the only thing that matters,” Draco broke in.
“Whatever side wins, I honestly could give two fucks about. People are going to
die either way, Potter. I don’t want my parents and I to be on that list of
death’s. I just want to live,” he said, his voice broken.
Potter took a deep breath, his gaze almost twinkling familiarly.
“Everyone has the right to live, Malfoy. Whether you’re muggleborn or not,
don’t you think? We’re all human. In this war, my side —as you loved to put it
— is fighting to keep that right. Voldemort thinks little of the lives who
follow him or don’t. He doesn’t care about you. He just wants to further his
agenda.
“Do you really want to be a part of that?” Potter asked earnestly. “When the
time should come, Malfoy, you’ll have to make a choice between what is right,
and what is easy. And you’ll have to decide that for yourself. Not your
parents. Not based on your ancestors’ beliefs. But on your own terms and
merits.”
“And what if I make the wrong choice?” Draco asked, his heart beating wildly.
“What if I choose His side, Potter? Are you willing to kill me, the enemy?”
Draco didn’t know what possessed him to ask that question, but part of him
burned to know the answer. Part of him wanted Potter to just tell him which
path he should choose. Irrational as it was, Draco was tired of making these
kinds of decisions for himself. He couldn’t tell what was right, or wrong. He
didn’t know how to distinguish his own beliefs from his parents’.
He just wanted to live, and choose whichever side would guarantee the safety of
his life and his mother’s.
But that was entirely impossible to know right now; it could go either way.
He waited for Potter’s answer with bated breath, hating himself for being
desperate to know the answer.
When Potter finally answered, his words were slow and careful. “Whichever side
you chose, I’d hope that you’d have made the choice for your own reasons, and
not anybody else’s. And if your decision was to choose to follow Voldemort, I…”
Potter’s voice trailed off brokenly. “I… would hate it, actually.”
Draco’s eyes widened. “What?”
Potter seemed surprised at his own words too, though he seemed sincere.
“Malfoy, you are without a doubt the most snobbish, most spoiled and arrogant
blond prat that I’ve ever met —stop scowling, you know it’s the truth — and
sometimes I wonder these days if you’re just running me around the bend here
for no real reason other than to get back at me for earlier. You’ve been rude
and you bullied me and my friends for years, you’ve called Hermione such foul
names that I’m glad she punched you third year and I hoped it hurt twice as
hard as any of the hits I’ve taken at you. I’m still annoyed at the way you
punched me on the train earlier this year and left me there for Tonks to find,
and I still think you bloody cheat too much at Quidditch.”
“Merlin, Potter, tell me what you really think about me.”
“But,” the git said, and suddenly he was all too close to Draco’s comfort,
staring at him with that earnest gaze in his eyes. “I’m positive that if we
were battling each other and surrounded by Death Eaters, I don’t think I could
kill you. Not on purpose, anyway,” he added quickly. “I know I wouldn’t be able
to. I couldn’t kill anyone, Malfoy. I don’t even know if I can truly defeat
Voldemort without really killing him, because I really don’t fancy splitting my
soul like that any time soon. So, I would hope to avoid the situation
altogether, really. And concerning you…”
Potter trailed off, probably realizing how much he was rambling. He quickly
cleared his throat, and his next words were spoken with conviction. “I
couldn’t. You’re my school rival, Malfoy. Or were, anyway. But you were never
my enemy. That’s for Voldemort alone. So no, I wouldn’t be able to kill you.”
And with that bombshell, Potter stood up to leave. He grabbed his cloak,
snagged one last chocolate piece from the nearly empty box, and crossed the
room towards the door. Potter reached for the doorknob, but then turned and
made a small smile at Draco.
“Goodnight, Malfoy. See you tomorrow in class.”
Then he walked out; leaving Draco to sit, frozen, on the sofa, with the now
empty box of chocolates sitting near his lap.
Prat.
===============================================================================
May 14
 
The next day, Draco didn’t attend any of his classes. When Blaise had stopped
by his bed, questioning if whatever Draco had caught was contagious, Draco had
waved him off and turned over.
If developing a conscious and a new set of priorities was contagious, the world
would be a much better place, Draco thought darkly.  
In reality, Draco was in mourning.
He had slept badly, although that wasn’t a new occurrence. He hadn't really
slept well since he had been visited by the Dark Lord the previous summer.
Instead, Draco had spent the long hours contemplating both a moral and
existential crisis overnight. He thought that he’d have come to a decision by
now. Draco had been optimistic about confronting Potter at their next training
with his decision ready to throw in Potter’s smug face.
But it wasn’t that simple.
A few minutes after his first class would have started, Draco finally sat up
and got out of bed. He crossed over to his desk, pulled a sheet of parchment
out, and sat down.
Then he began to write.
===============================================================================
The room looked much the same as the night before, Draco saw as he entered the
space he had officially dubbed as his and Potter’s. He was fully aware that the
Room of Hidden Things truly didn’t belong to just one person, but Draco didn’t
think he could ever look at an open space filled with large floor cushions the
same way again.
Just as well, Draco thought. He noticed Potter already sitting on one of the
sofa’s and eating a sandwich. After hanging his cloak by the door, Draco
crossed over and sat in the sofa opposite him and picked up his own sandwich to
eat.
“I figured you’d be hungry, since I didn’t see you at dinner,” Potter said,
eyeing him thoughtfully. “I also thought we’d just talk today, instead of
practicing any spells.”
Draco nodded, figuring as much. They had a lot to talk about.
Potter seemed to be waiting on him to speak next, which Draco thought he was
fully prepared to do. But he still felt rattled from the earlier events of the
day. He searched for the words that he wanted to speak, and Potter must have
seen his trouble in his expression.
“Have you made your choice, then?” he prompted.
They both knew that whatever Draco spoke next would decide the rest of their
fate, concerning each other. But Draco was ready. He’d come to terms with his
decision earlier in the day; he’d written letters so that he could get a few
affairs in order, written more letter to those who meant anything to him and
stored them away for later, and destroyed evidence that the wrong side may
find. None of it guaranteed a truly feasible solution, but it gave Draco piece
of mind to do this at least.
All Draco had to do, now, was give Potter an official answer; a decision, Draco
would later realize, that would fully bind him to Potter for the rest of their
lives.
“Yes, Potter. I’ve made my decision. But first, I think you’re wrong,” Draco
said softly. “I think it is between you and Voldemort, according to the
prophecy, anyway. I don’t think you fully know your influence, Potter, but you
have nearly thousands of people rallying behind you. Some of them have never
even met you, or they don’t even know you really exist because they’re not able
to put a face to the name. But it’s the same either way, Potter.
“You give people hope. Whether or not you agree with the workings of the
Ministry or about pureblood policies, you only want to fight to defeat the Dark
Lord. He’s the epitome of all that is evil in the wizarding world, and for you
to want to defeat him not only because it is prophesized but because it’s the
right thing to do…” Draco shook his head, laughing good naturedly.
“Whatever comes afterwards, people want to live in a world where it’s safe and
they are free to choose for themselves. They want to wake up next to the person
they love and be able to complain about how tepid their morning tea is, or how
the Cannons lost another match again.”
Both boys chuckled softly, and Draco was glad that he’d put a smile on the
other boy’s face.
“And I want to be able to do that, too. I want to live in a world where people
are able to have their own ideals, hopes, and dreams. Before this war ruins any
more part of me, I need to go on believing that during a crisis, people are
truly good at heart. As horribly Hufflepuff as that makes me sound, I’m truly
tired of having to use Slytherin cunning as a means to survive. It hasn’t
really been working for me, anyway.”
Draco sighed, his shoulders drooping from the heavy weight that was placed
there the moment his father had been sentenced to Azkaban.
“So, I’ve decided,” Draco said. “And I decided that I want V-V-Voldemort to be
defeated. I want my mother safe. I don’t want to kill anyone. And I want to
join with you, Potter. Not your Phoenix Order or any other rebel group. Just
with you. Because I know you can defeat him, stubborn Gryffindor predisposition
and all.”
And it was worth it — the late night going back and forth, the rest of the day
drafting out pros and cons for either decision, the running to the Owlery and
sending multiple letters in a frantic haste — all to see that broad, shining
smile being given to him by Boy Wonder himself.  
Potter stood, and reached across the space between him, still wearing that
beaming toothy grin that made the skin near his eyes crinkle. (He’d have a deep
set of crow’s feet before he hit middle age, Draco absently thought.) Draco
stood to meet him.
Then the Boy-Who-Lived shook out his hand toward the almost death eater, palm
open upwards. “Harry,” he stated simply.
Draco’s eyes locked on to the open palm before rising to meet the ferocious
green gaze that stared at him. He remembered their earlier truce from a few
days ago; it seemed like almost a lifetime ago. He suddenly wondered whether
there was too much animosity — too many curses and fistfights — between them to
set aside.
But what was life without risk?
Grinning, he finally nodded in understanding.
“Draco.”
Then he took Harry’s hand in his.     
 
***** Chapter Five *****
 
You’d think that after finally agreeing to a second truce and to using first
names after years of hostility and holding grudges, the boys would have called
it a night. But both Draco and Harry found it hard to leave after charged
electricity had filled the room following Draco’s passionate, not-so-Slytherin
declaration to switch sides. 
Instead, they chose to talk.
It started out as little stories traded back and forth, initially with
inconsequential facts like their favorite color or preferred clothing material.
“Forest green? How positively Slytherin, Potter. I approve.”
“Seriously, Malfoy? Who has a favorite type of material for clothes? You sound
like a ponce.”
“It matters in fashionable society, you uncouth peasant.”
The little facts eventually ended up turning into bigger, deeper stories,
although they were careful to stray away from any topics that concerned a
certain Dark Lord.
Rather, Draco found himself telling Pott—Harry how Lucius had beat him with his
cane once, when Draco was around five years of age, for getting dirty in the
gardens before an important foreign guest had arrived; or when Draco had used
to chase the peacocks across the fields of the Manor, that is until he’d
learned quite quickly that peacocks were vicious when provoked, and fast.
In return, Draco learned that while Harry wasn’t overwhelmingly afraid of dark
and enclosed spaces, he wasn’t terribly fond of them either. He also learned
that the reason why quickly became apparent when Harry told him of the three
muggle relatives whom Harry had stayed with during his entire childhood. Draco
was careful to bite his tongue against the many expletives that fought to come
out, knowing that Harry wouldn’t take to them kindly. Instead, he thought up
ways he’d take revenge on those wretched Dursleys if he ever encountered them.
Draco briefly wondered at the sudden protectiveness he felt over Harry for a
moment, but assured himself that he had every reason to become enraged at the
thought of any muggle neglecting a wizard child. Muggles really were barbaric.
After many revealing stories traded back and forth, they eventually finished
and went their separate ways late into the night. The next day, instead of cold
shoulders and glares, the two boys shared civilized nods before going about
their routine. Few students that were near them during these encounters were a
bit confused, mostly surprised at the lack of usual aggression between the two.
Even Ron Weasley had a few short quips to say about Draco’s new untroubled
behavior. But as Draco had walked away, he heard Harry straighten Ron out,
telling him not to bother Draco as much anymore, he hadn’t done anything
against them.
It was an unspoken agreement between them that they had to keep their newfound
truce a secret between just them, for now. Draco didn’t want word getting out
to the wrong side about his newfound allegiance to the opposite side. Harry
also didn’t want any trouble for Draco, but he also wanted to keep the blond’s
secret to himself and away from the world. He didn’t bother troubling himself
as to wonder why he felt that way, though.
During classes and in the hallways, civilized nods were traded between them.
What quickly grew to be every night, the boys would meet in the Room of
Requirement at a previously agreed time and pick up right where they’d left off
the night before. Days passed in this way, in which the boys usually found
themselves either practicing their defensive spells or just trading more
stories back and forth. The boys grew to really look forward to the latter.   
Having a limited sort of conversation that kept them away from harmful,
dangerous topics, however, eventually caused the stories traded between the
pair to quickly become more personal in nature.    
===============================================================================
May 17
 
For the millionth time since shaking Harry’s hand several days ago, Draco was
immensely grateful for going into that bathroom when he had. Other than the few
scars he’d sustained, Draco was glad for the opportunity to laugh, smile, and
just feel alive with another person. He hadn’t felt this animated since
receiving his mission almost a year before.
Draco didn’t want to think about the reason why, though — why his heart sped up
anytime Harry smiled at him, or why he constantly had urges to ask him about
his day and whether he had a fitful sleep after they saw each other.
Draco had also started to bring his books and notes with him to their
trainings, to work on before Harry arrived. He’d get to the room early, ask the
room for some snacks and refreshments, and then wait for Harry to eventually
stumble in late. After a while, Harry started to bring his homework too. So, a
few nights when the boys didn’t feel up to throwing spells at each other, they
usually found themselves talking into the night while revising their notes and
finishing homework.
It was an easy camaraderie that both boys mutually grew to enjoy. Even during
moments like this, Draco thought, as his eyes became fixated on a drop of
moisture hovering on the other boy’s lip. It must have been from when Harry had
taken a sip of pumpkin juice earlier, Draco absently thought. His eyes continue
to peruse the boy as Harry completed his homework.
After a few moments had passed, Harry abruptly huffed, casting aside his books
and parchment before throwing his head onto the back of the sofa.
Draco watched, amused at Harry’s antics. “Tired?” he asked.
“Frustrated, more like,” Harry muttered, raking a hand down the thighs of his
muggle jeans in irritation.
Draco bit his lip, his heart thumping loudly in the silence as he closed the
book he had stopped reading ages ago. “Tiring day being the Chosen One?” Draco
half-joked. 
Harry seemed to ponder over the question. “You could say that.”
It was such a vague answer, and even though Draco knew that he and Potter had
grown closer since Draco had decided to switch sides, he was fully aware that
there would always be some sort of distance between them. Draco didn’t want to
think too much on why, but he still wondered about it at times — wished
otherwise.  
Draco wanted to try changing that.
“Does it have something to do with your Phoenix Order?” he probed carefully.
Harry rolled his eyes, shifting to grab one of the few sandwiches that was left
as he shrugged. “Not really.”
“Dumbledore?”
Harry started, quickly glancing away as he chewed. “Yeah…”
“His hand is looking worse,” Draco said, trying for a nonchalant tone but not
really confident that it worked. “You’ve been late to our meetings for the last
few days, too. Does it have something to do with Dumbledore?”
Potter shook his head no at first, then nodded, then shook his head again. “No?
Yes? I-I can’t really tell you.”
Draco felt really upset. “Can’t, or won’t? Is it something that Granger and the
Weasel can know?”
“Well, yes, but —”
“So, if I’m on your side then, why can’t you tell me?” Draco demanded, his eyes
narrowed. “Unless you don’t really trust me like you said you did.”
Harry looked up sharply. “No, no! Of course, I trust you.”
“Then why can’t you tell me?”
“It’s not — I can’t… look, not even the Order knows about this. No one does,
apart from me, Dumbledore, Ron, and Hermione.” Harry sighed heavily, looking
begrudging even to Draco. “I mean, I would like to tell you, but it’s really
secret and I can’t risk telling too many people about it. I can’t risk it
getting out.”
“To the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters, you mean,” Draco deadpanned.
“To anyone. It’s dark magic that is better left forgotten,” Harry said, his
eyes pleading for Draco to understand.
Draco huffed, more annoyed than anything. “Fine,” he said. “If it’s really that
secret, I suppose it is a good thing you’re not jeopardizing telling others
about it. Still. I wish I could help you.” That last part was said so softly,
Draco wanted to rein it back in.
Harry only looked at him, bemused.
“Well, you have already helped. I told Dumbledore everything you told me, and
he said he was going to tell the Order so that everyone could be prepared.”
“You told him about me?!” Draco cried, horrified.
“No! No,” Harry quickly said. “I… just told him that I found out from one of my
visions.”
“Visions?” Draco questioned, calming down but still alarmed at the topic they’d
decided to have.
Harry grinned a bit sheepishly. “Er, yeah, I’ve um, had this connection with
Voldemort for a while now and so sometimes I… see things.”
“’See things’?” Draco asked slowly, wary.
Harry nodded, then proceeded to explain to Draco about the dreams and visions
he’d had since fourth year, about the attack on Mr. Weasley, and the range of
emotions he would feel from Voldemort all last year. He even told Draco about
his failed Occlumency lessons with Snape.
“So,” Draco said once Harry had finished. “Then Remedial Potions?”
Harry laughed shortly. “A cover for the Occlumency lessons.”
Draco nodded, and then leaned over to pour some tea into a china cup on the
table, his hands too busy to concentrate on anything else. Draco silently ached
as he felt himself brimming with the knowledge that Harry had just willingly
divulged to him. He felt both pleased and horrified that Harry told him of his
connection with the Dark Lord. He didn’t know what to do with this information
yet, but he was fully aware of how completely charmed he felt at Harry’s
ability to surprise him time and time again.
He wanted to ask the other boy more questions about his connection with the
Dark Lord, too, but he could see the haggard look on Harry’s face. Between
whatever he was working on with Dumbledore, nightly trainings with Draco, and
his daily classwork, it was no wonder that Harry looked so fatigued.
“Hey,” Draco said softly, sitting back with his tea in his hand. “When is the
last time you played Quidditch with your House?”
Harry looked almost grateful at the subject change. “Not for a while, honestly.
I’ve still got detentions with Snape every morning, which is usually when Ron
and them like to have a scrimmage of sorts. I used to go in the evenings by
myself, but well.” Draco knew what Harry wasn’t saying: he was spending his
evenings with Draco instead.
Draco sighed softly. “You know, Harry, you don’t have to spend every free
evening that you have with me,” he told him. “You are allowed a break once in a
while.”
Harry shook his head. “It’s not — I mean, I do like spending time with you.
It’s just…I guess, I feel like I’ve got more important things going on right
now. I’m helping Dumbledore, and I’ve been helping you since you switched
sides. And quidditch, yeah it’s all fun and relaxing, but —”
“Fly with me tomorrow,” Draco interrupted.
Harry’s eyes grew round behind his glasses. “What? Like one-on-one?”
Draco nodded. “Sure. A Seeker’s game between us tomorrow on the pitch. That
should help you relax some.”
Harry gave him a bright grin. “Really, Malfoy, you actually feel ready to take
me on by yourself?” he said, raising an eyebrow half-mockingly.
Draco’s lip quirked to the side. “Please, Potter, I just wanted an excuse so I
could beat you tomorrow,” he drawled. “Also, you’re quite boring when you’re
tired.”
Harry snorted, but he gave Draco a crooked half smile. “Boring, am I? My, I
wonder what that would feel like.” He let out a laugh. Draco gave small grin
too.  “But you know, there are other ways to relax other than Quidditch,” Harry
added with a waggle of his eyebrows.
Draco’s eyes widened, and a flush crept to his cheeks. “Oh, really?”
Harry grinned. “Yeah. You never answered my question the other day, about
whether you’re with Parkinson or not.”
“Why the sudden interest again, Potter?” he asked in a drawl, clearly
uncomfortable.
“Oh, back to Potter now, is it?”
“It is when you’re asking ridiculous questions all of a sudden,” Draco said,
shrugging.
Harry frowned. “Is it really that ridiculous? I mean, that’s all my mates love
to talk about. In the dorm, someone is always talking about who their recent
shag is. Well, except for Hermione and Ron. Unless you count that whole
Lavender thing…”
“So, you’re wanting to know who I’m currently shagging then?” Draco asked,
strangely amused.
Harry flushed slightly. “Well, yeah, I mean — I’m just curious if you’ve been
able to, you know… what with everything.”
Draco smiled softly, shaking his head. “Eloquent as always, Potter,” he
chuckled. “But to answer your statement, if that was one, no I am not currently
shagging anyone. Sorry to disappoint.”
Harry laughed darkly. “No, I guess you wouldn’t, what with…” He waved his hand
around vaguely as if to mean something.
Draco stilled, taking a sip of from his teacup as he fought to appear
nonchalant. “Quite,” he stated simply.
“I’m not either,” Harry admitted abruptly. “I mean, not since last year.”
“With Chang?” Draco asked, keeping his face passive. “I heard she broke up with
you at Madame Puddifoot’s.”
Harry snorted. “Hardly. We did have an argument there, though. We obviously
broke up, but it was later.”
“No late-night excursions with girl Weasley, then?” Draco inquired, half-
joking.
“What’s with your obsession with Ginny and me?” Harry asked, sounding genuinely
curious. “I told you that I only think of her like a sister.”
“Well, she obviously did not get that memo,” Draco drawled, shifting slightly
with uneasiness. “She’s been after you for years, in case you hadn’t noticed.
In fact, you have your own bloody fan club that’s been throwing themselves at
you all year, too.”
“I’ve been a bit busy,” Harry scowled, rolling his eyes. “Besides, half those
girls are too young for me anyway.”
“A year or two younger is not a serious issue,” Draco replied absently.
“Astoria Greengrass is two years below us and she’s been trying to get my
attention all year.”
“Really?” Harry asked, eyes narrowed. “Why haven’t you taken her up on it
then?”
Draco wanted to roll his eyes, but really he wanted to kick himself before for
not changing the subject earlier. “I’ve got my own set of priorities, too,
Harry. Although age isn’t all that high up on the list.”
“Oh yeah?” Harry asked, leaning forward in interest. “What do you like in a
girl?”
Now Draco did roll his eyes, but decided to play along. “Well, whoever it is,
I’d like it if they were fit, for one.”
Harry’s eyebrows furrowed. “Fit? Like they play Quidditch?”
“Sure,” Draco agreed, amused. “They’d have to know how to handle the broom the
right way,” he said with a low chuckle.
Harry blushed, quickly understanding Draco’s double entendre. “O-Oh, yeah, I
guess you’re right.”
Draco smirked, finding himself enjoying the conversation despite himself. “I
like passion, too,” he decided to add, more seriously. “A partner who is
passionate about their goals, to want to get ahead in life. I think that’s a
great quality in a person, either way. But I think I’d quite like to have that
kind of passion directed towards me too, in a relationship.”
Harry was nodding as he spoke, seeming contemplative. “Yeah, I can understand
that.”
“And you, Potter?” Draco asked, wanting to kick himself again but unable to
stop himself from asking. “What do you find attractive?”
“Well, I guess the usual,” Harry said, almost noncommittedly. “I mean, I hope
they’d be smart, cute… a good flyer, too, I suppose.”
“So, you like quidditch players?” Draco asked.
Harry nodded. “Yeah, I guess so. But I wouldn’t want someone that cried a lot,
too. I don’t know if you remember Cho Chang, but she had been with Cedric
before. So, erm, she cried a lot.”
Draco winced. “Yeah, I could imagine that.”
“I don’t think I’m too good at emotions, either,” Harry admitted. “I wish girls
would just say the truth of what they mean, so I wouldn’t have to guess at what
they’re thinking. Like with Hermione. She doesn’t do that.”
Draco raised an eyebrow. “So, you and Granger…?”
“No!” Harry gasped, wide eyed. “No, I mean… she’s brilliant, yeah, but no way.
It’s like with Ginny, she’s just a sister. Any guy would be lucky to have her,
though,” he added, probably thinking of Weasley.
Draco almost snorted at the thought of the Weasel and Granger, wondering if
they’d ever admit to the unresolved tension between them. Even down in the
dungeons, everyone could feel the sexual frustration between those two.
“So, what’s stopping you, then?” Draco asked. “So many girls throwing
themselves at you, and you haven’t even taken one up on an offer?”
Harry squirmed in his seat. “Well, no, I guess I haven’t. I’m not really one to
just jump into a relationship like that, I don’t think.” He seemed to pause for
a moment, considering.
“Not one for one-offs?” Draco further probed when the silence stretched on.
“No. I mean, it would have to depend on the girl, right?” Harry asked. “I mean,
if the circumstances were right, then yeah, I might. But right now —” Harry
seemed to huff, throwing his head back once more, thinking hard. “I guess… I’m
too busy to be in some relationship anyway. I mean, I’d love to have that kind
of connection with someone right now. It’d take the load of stress off, too, I
think,” he added, grinning ruefully. “But I think it’d be too dangerous right
now. If what you said is true, I don’t think I could get that close to someone
right now. Not if it means risking them to Voldemort. He’s already used people
I love against me. I wouldn’t want to put some girl’s life at risk like that.”
The conversation had taken a quick dark turn, which is exactly what Draco had
wanted to prevent. He didn’t like thinking of Harry being upset when he was
with him. He’d hoped that Harry would be able to relax around him during these
times in their space.
Draco quickly cast around for something to lighten the mood again.
“Well,” he eventually said. “My last one-off with a girl was frightful,
actually, so I don’t think you’re missing out on much.”
Harry laughed, and Draco was happy to see the smile on the other boy’s face.  
“Well, I guess not then, according to you. Have you ever…?” Harry trailed off,
looking slightly uncomfortable now.
Draco smirked. “Have I ever had sex, I’m guessing is your question.” Harry
blushed but nodded his assent. “Well, I’ve done stuff with one girl — Pansy,
actually, during fourth year. It wasn’t much, be we both agreed that it was
substandard. We’re still friends.” Draco bit his lip, considering then. “But I
have done more with someone else.”
“Oh?” Harry said, his expression genuinely curious, and something else.
“Someone else then?”
Draco nodded, and took a deep breath. “With a boy, actually.” 
Harry’s eyes widened hugely. “Oh,” he said. “I didn’t know…”
“…What?” Draco said, half amused.
Harry quickly cleared his throat, looking down hurriedly. “Oh, well, I didn’t
know that you liked blokes.”
“Is that a problem?” Draco asked, trying hard not to show how nervous he was at
Harry’s answer.
“Erm, I guess — I mean, no, I don’t have a problem with that. You like who you,
uh, well, like.” His voice came out stammering, and if Draco’s heart hadn’t
been racing with nerves, he thought he’d feel ridiculously enamored with the
git.
“Good,” Draco said. “I mean, I don’t feel like I need your approval. But I’m
glad that you don’t seem to be bothered by it.”
Harry nodded, still slightly flushed. “Yeah. And uh, no, it doesn’t bother me.
But, then who…?” He asked softly, hesitantly.
“Which guy?” Draco said, feeling pleased. Harry nodded. “It was last year, with
Blaise Zabini.”
“Oh?” Harry said, and his eyes glinted strangely. He cleared his throat. “And,
how far did you go with him?”
“Well, he’d help me out with the occasional hand job, and I’d show my thanks my
blowing him a few times. But then term ended before we could do anything else.”
Draco was amused at Harry’s odd interest.
“And, you’re still…?”
“No,” Draco answered. “Not really. It only happened a few times last year. Then
during the summer, after I was brought to the Dark Lord, I had to cut things
off. It was only ever casual between us, anyway.”
“I’d heard he was with one of the Greengrass girls?” Harry offered.
“Daphne Greengrass, our year,” Draco nodded. “Yes, Blaise never did like to set
limits on himself like that. He also had a certain type.” He brushed his blond
hair away from his face, smirking.
If it was possible, Harry’s face blushed brighter. “Then, um, you only fancy
blokes?”
“I like specific attributes,” Draco attempted to explain, locking his gaze with
Harry’s. “But I’ve only found those certain traits to reside in one person, who
just so happens to be a boy. But, I’m fairly sure I’m open to both genders.”
“So, you like someone?”
Draco smiled softly. “Only recently. Nothing can come of it, though, what with
everything going on. I don’t think he’d have time for me.” The last part was
said so quietly, Harry had to strain to hear.
“Anyway,” Draco said more loudly into the room. “When would I have time to do
anything when you have me practicing every evening with you, anyway?”
Harry flushed, but sat up straighter. “Hey, you’re the one asking me to.” But
to Draco, he seemed pleased about it for some reason or other. “I’ve just been
waiting for you to finish your work before I start throwing spells at you.”   
Draco smirked and stood up to walk across the room into position. “I’ll trounce
you, Potter.”
Harry grinned, following him. “You can try, Malfoy.”
As the duel began and Draco began to gracefully dodge Harry’s offensive spells,
he found himself smiling hugely the entire time.
 
 
***** Chapter Six *****
May 18
 
Draco leaned against the broom shed, wearing his quidditch leathers and his old
Seeker’s uniform that he hadn’t worn all year. He looked out towards the field,
thinking back to the last time he had played a Quidditch game. If he thought
hard enough, Draco could remember his first time being out here in the field,
his first game against Harry in second year. And the last one in fifth year.
“Hey, been waiting long?”
Draco turned to see Harry jogging up beside him, wearing his own quidditch
uniform and bracers, and holding a snitch in his right hand with his broom in
the other. He was smiling at Draco, excitement dancing in his eyes.
Draco smiled back at him. “So, what do I get when I win?” he asked.
Harry’s smile turned sly. “That confident that you’ll beat me?”
“That certain,” he answered with a raised eyebrow.
“And what would you want?”
Draco pretended to think. “What about that cloak of yours?”
Harry glanced up, startled. “My cloak?”
“Yeah, you always bring it to our meetings before you just drop it onto the
chair. I want to know what it does. What makes it so special that you seem to
take it everywhere?”
Harry rubbed his chin thoughtfully, before he slowly nodded. “Yeah, alright.
That’s if you win though.”
Draco smirked. “Do you know what you’d want?”
“Hmm... let me think about it," Harry said, biting his lip. They started off
into the direction of the field, both of their brooms in their hands.
“Well, don’t bother much with it, because I’m going to win,” Draco said,
mounting his broom once they’d reached the middle of the pitch.
Harry chuckled, straddling his own. “Yeah, right, Malfoy, we’ll see.” Then he
let go of the snitch, counted five seconds, and they both pushed up hard off
the ground.
As soon as he was high in the sky, Draco felt himself relax into the feel of
the wind in his hair. It felt like it’d been ages since he had last ridden his
broom, and he felt near to regret at not being able to fly all year.
Both Harry and Draco decided to run a few laps around the stands first,
adjusting themselves to flying in the air after it being a while for both of
them. He saw Harry do a few flips and dives after a while, and he yearned to
take a pause and just look at Harry. For all of their rivalry between them,
Draco could admit that he admired Harry’s flying. It’s why he loved playing
against him during Quidditch so much.
After about a half hour had passed, Draco eventually saw a glimpse of gold and
immediately shot after it. Not a moment later, he felt Harry’s presence closing
in next to him and he looked over. Both seeing and hearing Harry’s gleeful
shout at flying next to him at breakneck speed caused a bright grin to split
over his own face. It was both exhilarating and terrifying.
The snitch dodged them for a few minutes, twisting and turning mid-air. At one
point, Harry had just been about to catch it, but the snitch spun away at the
last second and Harry’s hand closed over empty space.
“Bloody hell!” he shouted.
Draco laughed and urged his broom faster.
On and on, they flew. Until finally, Draco glimpsed the snitch within diving
distance as he hovered near one of the hoops. He looked over at Harry, who was
still circling the pitch a good distance away.
Draco smirked, and quickly dove down to claim his prize. Harry was too far away
to reach the snitch in time, and he had just pulled up beside Draco as the
Slytherin’s hand curled around the fluttering ball.
“You got it!” Harry cried with a grin, brushing aside his own loss against
Draco. The blond gave him a big grin, holding the golden snitch aloft in his
left hand.
They both lowered their brooms to the ground, dismounted, and began heading
towards the showers after Draco sent the snitch back into its box.
The boys laughed about the Seeker’s game as they both undressed and walked into
their separate stalls, commentating on the highlights of a brilliant Seeker’s
game. In the showers, after scrubbing every inch of dirt and grass that managed
to land in his hair, Draco dried off and got dressed using some spare clothes
from his locker. He heard Harry finishing his shower, too, and decided to wait
for him outside near the lockers.
He was sitting on the bench, waiting, when Harry walked in toweling his hair
dry.
“So,” Draco said conversationally, averting his eyes politely as Harry got
dressed. If he peeked to admire the other seeker’s form, however, Harry was
none the wiser. “The cloak?” he prompted him.
The other boy rolled his eyes, tugging on his muggle jeans and zipping them
closed before facing Draco. “Yeah, alright. What did you want to know?”
“What is it? I know it’s not a normal cloak, otherwise you wouldn’t take great
care of making sure I left first before you put it on. I’m guessing it has some
sort of magical properties.”
Harry nodded. “Yeah, it’s actually a gift from my dad,” he said, brushing his
fingers through his wild wet mane to try and tame it down. To no avail.
“Oh,” Draco said distractedly. “Then how…?”
“My dad gave it to Dumbledore, who gave it to me my first year.” An impish grin
found its way on Harry’s face. “Actually, I’ll show you what the cloak does
tonight. Meet me in the room at 7.”
Draco rolled his eyes, but nodded.
The boys decided to walk together across the field back towards the castle. It
wasn’t until they realized they were on the front steps when they paused,
glancing around to see if anyone had spotted them.
“You go first,” Draco said. “I’ll wait a while, then I’ll go in.”
Harry threw him a smile, before turning in to the castle. Draco watched him
walk away silently before waiting precisely five minutes, then walked inside
towards the direction of his dorms.
===============================================================================
 
It was a quarter passed seven, and Draco was working on his Transfigurations
homework that was due the next day. He was nearly finished and he decided to
ask the room for a tray of biscuits that he could munch on while he continued.
He heard a soft creak, and glanced up quickly to see the door to the Room open
and then close. But no one walked in.
Draco stood up, suspicious as he eyed the doorway. He pulled out his wand and
cast a quick Tempus. Smoky numbers formed into the space above him, reading out
7:21 in the evening. Draco cursed.
Where in the bloody hell was —
“Malfoy!”  
Draco jerked, whirling around to point his wand threateningly into the space
behind him. He heard cackling laughter sound in the small space before the air
moved and a wild mane of messy black hair appeared. Eyes glittering with
mischief peered up at him as Harry removed his cloak and settled it onto the
couch.
“Potter?” he gasped, his heart still racing.
Harry laughed, barely seeming to contain himself. “Hey, Draco,” he greeted,
grinning.
Draco wanted to huff, but he did lower his wand and looked at the cloak on the
couch. “Potter, is that an invisibility cloak?” he questioned, and Harry
nodded. “I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never had one for myself. I had asked for
one from my father once. They’re supposed to be rare.”
“So, I’ve heard,” Harry said, laughter dying down.
“Can I…?” he asked, burning to contain his curiosity. Harry wasn’t fooled
though.
“Sure, go ahead and try it.”
 They passed the next few minutes hiding different body parts of Draco until
both boys were crying with laughter, so much so that they collapsed onto the
sofas in a fit of giggles.
“To think that all this time,” Draco chuckled, half glaring at the boy next to
him. “And isn’t this the same cloak you had on the train at the beginning of
term?” Harry nodded, still laughing. “This is how you got away with all of that
sneaking around the castle, isn’t it? Do you know how many times I tried to
follow you in this bloody castle whenever I knew you were sneaking around? If I
had had this, I’ve wouldn’t have gotten caught so many times and thrown into
detention.”
Harry was very amused. “Not just that, though,” he said. “Remind me to show you
my map sometime.”
“Your map?” Draco asked, his expression incredulous at the boy next to him.
Harry chuckled, then proceeded to explain about the Marauder’s map to Draco.
“Hell, Harry,” Draco said when the other boy had finished. “If I had these two
things, I would’ve been invincible in Slytherin House. Merlin, in all of
Hogwarts, even.”
Harry chuckled at him, and settled into the sofa, throwing his arm up to rest
on the back. “Yeah, the cloak and the map have been very handy over the years.
Saved my life a few times.”
Draco looked over at him, half-scowling. “If I didn’t know any better, Harry, I
would’ve said you’re one hell of a lucky guy. But I suppose it’s a good thing
you have so much help. Between the cloak, the map, your friends, the D.A. group
you told me about, and Dumbledore, I think you really do stand a chance against
the Dark Lord.” His words were wistful but sincere.
Harry just laughed softly. “Yeah, Ron and Hermione really are a great help.
Plus, I’ve got you, too,” he said, Harry’s eyes steady on his face and his
mouth curled up into a small smile that did strange things to Draco’s stomach.
“I’m really glad we decided to do this,” he added in a soft voice, his hand
outstretched on the couch towards Draco.
His fingers were fiddling with the sleeve of Draco’s sweater, which was also
splayed out between them on the back of the sofa. Once inch more and they’d be
holding hands…
Harry shifted, his body suddenly turning entirely towards Draco. He’d moved a
few inches closer to Draco, at the same time, and the Slytherin could
practically feel the magical heat emanating between them. Draco felt a light
touch and he glanced over to see Harry’s palm resting gently against his hand,
not quite holding it, but the skins brushed softly together like a caress. The
touch felt like a small link to reality, as if the rest of Hogwarts seemed to
slowly disappear around him as the seconds passed. Their eyes locked.
Draco’s heart thumped, and the beating sound seemed loud to the blond’s ears.
He felt his mouth go dry, and he wet his lips with a quick swipe of his tongue.
He watched as Harry’s eyes narrowed at the small movement, his green eyes
growing darker the longer he stared at Draco’s mouth.
He didn’t know how much time had passed as they continued to stare at each
other, but Draco slowly soon became aware of how loud his panting was becoming.
He closed his parted lips, swallowing to clear the small lump in his throat. He
saw green eyes shift lower, staring heatedly, and then Harry licked his own
lips. He moved closer.
Draco’s heart raced as a burst of warmth slid over his skin. It was addicting,
Draco thought, as he felt Harry’s smooth breath wash over him.
Harry was leaning over him now, their chests nearly touching, their eyes
unmoving from each other’s. Draco felt a soft caress near his cheek suddenly,
and a lock of hair he hadn’t noticed had fallen was smoothly brushed aside.
Draco expected Harry to let go then and sit back, but the boy didn’t move away
from him. Instead, after the lock was settled back in its place, the velvet
touch of Harry’s hand stayed rested on his cheek. The warmth from Harry’s skin
on his was captivating. Draco nearly moaned as his senses were assaulted with
everything that was Harry: Harry’s smell, his touch, his eyes, his magic — it
all burned into Draco in the most delicious way. He nearly wanted to arch up
closer into that heat, craving more of that rousing warmth, but the hand on
Draco’s cheek stilled him.
Without thinking, Draco turned his head slightly and pressed his cheek softly
back against Harry’s hand. There was a gasp; Draco’s eyes opened — when had
they closed? — and molten gray eyes clashed with burning emeralds.        
“Harry,” Draco said softly, almost wantonly. Draco would be ashamed of himself
later, but right now he was yearning for that glowing warmth to claim him
everywhere, inside and over his skin. Draco was quickly growing addicted to
Harry Potter’s magic, and he was positively glad for it; there was no better
way to suffer than to burn from all of that green-fired passion.
As Draco was thinking on how to pull the other boy closer, Harry’s eyes slowly
began to clear.
He sat back suddenly, ripping his hand away from the other boy’s cheek. Face
pink and the heat in the green eyes quickly cooling until they grew panicked,
Harry threw an alarmed, almost distraught look at Draco as he quickly stood
from the couch. He grabbed his cloak quickly, accidently knocking over the tray
of biscuits in his hurry. Both boys paid it no mind.
Harry quickly walked away towards the door, then stopped suddenly and turned.
His gaze seemed to be avoiding Draco but his mouth opened to speak. Nothing
came out.
Draco wanted to say so many things in the silence. Stop. Harry, come back.
Don’t go.
But his limbs felt frozen, and he watched helplessly as Harry paused near the
doorway. A moment of hope passed, and then he watched as Harry shook his head
once, as if throwing away whatever thought had tried to enter, and he opened
the door. Then Harry fled, shutting the door with a hard click.
Draco stared at the doorway; bewildered, aroused and not a little scared. He
sat for moment, trying to gather his bearings.
What just happened?
The question ran around Draco’s mind a few times, but nothing seemed to make
any sense.
Eventually, he straightened up and stood. He grabbed his things and stuffed
them into his bookbag. He ignored the state of his cock, which had gone fully
hard and was pressing firmly against his slacks in a painful way, and he
finally left the room to head towards his dorm.
He didn’t know what to think. He didn’t want to think.
He decided to go to bed.
That night was the first night Draco Malfoy dreamed of Harry Potter. 
***** Chapter Seven *****
The first night Draco dreamt of Harry changed everything.
At first, he didn’t even realize he was dreaming because he was still laying
down in his dorm. Draco sat up, vaguely wondering why the walls of his room
looked different.
Then the surroundings changed and Draco was walking along a dark path into the
middle of the Forbidden Forest. He was looking for something, he knew he was.
He started to get frustrated when he couldn’t find it, and upset that he didn’t
know what it was he was searching for.
He heard crying then — soft, anguished sobs that tore at Draco’s heartstrings.
He followed the sound down the pathway until he had to stop at a fork in the
path. He looked both ways, trying to discern which one he should take. Both
paths that split looked completely identical, so there was no way for him to
know which path was better or not.
Should he just pick one?
“Draco.”
Draco turned, looking into the darkness. He saw movement right before a figure
came closer, the man’s form slowly illuminated by a hidden light source.
Draco’s eyes went round.
“Harry?”
Then it was just Draco and Harry, both wearing their school robes with house
scarves knotted around their necks. The air grew cold, and Draco could see his
breath form a cloud as snow began to fall in tiny flakes.
“You came back.”
Draco’s eyebrows furrowed. “I never left. You did.”
Dream-Harry shook his head. “You left me. How could you? Draco, you left me
behind.”
Draco felt tears streaming down his face, then, and a gaping hole filled the
place his heart should have been. He gasped at the pain tearing through him,
and clutched a hand towards his chest.
“Harry?” he cried brokenly, staring at the boy in front of him with messy black
hair, wearing robes that were loose and didn’t quite fit right on his lean
body. “What…?”
“We were so happy, Draco. So happy.”
Draco was confused by Dream-Harry’s words. What was he talking about? What was
going on? Draco’s eyes searched Dream-Harry’s for answers. Grey eyes met green.
Then suddenly, he knew. He knew why he was dreaming of Harry. He knew who he
was, what he was. The realization hit him in waves. I am gay. I’m gay for him.
It hit him with such blinding clarity that it both terrified and amazed him.
Then Draco was falling to the ground, tears still streaming down his face. He
looked up, and saw Dream-Harry above him. Dream-Harry was holding him close,
brushing his cheek with the back of his hand.
“You left me, Draco. For such a long time.”
Draco cried out, helpless in the night.
“It’s alright, Draco. Please, don’t cry. I’m alright.”  Dream-Harry smiled a
tearful smile at him. Then he lowered his face until he was kissing Draco, his
lips so gentle, it hurt Draco’s heart. Those beautiful lips caressed Draco’s so
softly; it contradicted the force that nearly blinded Draco’s body with its
ferocious heat.
And Draco was burning. Burning. It was so hot. Everywhere. Everything was on
fire. Flames. Red flashes.
Heat searing. Into him. Around him. Everywhere.
Hot. Hot. Heat!
Fire! Green fire!
“Harry!” Draco screamed, thrashing around in his sheets.
He sat up in his bed, fully awake. Draco looked around, his breath escaping him
in painful, burning pants. He blinked, then realized that he was still crying.
His face was wet with his cold tears and he quickly swiped the back of his hand
against his eyes.
It was a dream, Draco realized. A horrible, nightmarish dream.  
Draco wiped his face again, and then settled back into the sheets. He pulled
the covers up to his chin and turned to his side. He curled up in a tight ball.
Drifting off again, he vowed to forget about Harry and stupid kisses and tears.
 
===============================================================================
 
Draco wouldn’t see Harry for several days after their last meeting on Sunday.
They both still attended their classes, so Draco did see him when they sat for
Transfigurations, Potions and in other classes they shared. But Harry had
entirely ignored him during these times, and in the hallways too. Anywhere
Draco went, Harry would either ignore him or turn away quickly out of whatever
hallway he was about to enter when he saw Draco.
It hurt Draco, he was surprised to admit. Never had Harry ignored him this much
in all their years at Hogwarts. Draco would have welcomed it earlier in the
term, but not now.
It was sort of strange, seeing Harry every night for only just a week, then
spending a few days without any attention from him, not even a look.
One week. Seven nights.
That was how long it took for Draco to fully realize how utterly broken he was
without Harry Potter.
At first, Draco hadn’t noticed it. The day after they had gone flying, Draco
had walked into breakfast and had tried to catch Potter’s eyes. He tried again
in their first class together, then in the next, and then in the hallways.
After several tries throughout the day, Draco finally realized that he was
being rebuffed.
By Harry Potter.
And it infuriated him.
He waited in the Room of Hidden Things until it was half passed nine. He waited
for Potter to show, for the door to open and that stupid messy black hair to
pop its way through the doorway. But nothing happened. He waited, and waited,
and all the while he raged.
He stood up and threw their small table against the wall, tore apart the
cushions of the sofa, pushed the bookshelves over until all of the books had
spilled out. He raged and raged, for the entire night. He screamed. He yelled.
He cursed. He cried.
He cried big, fat tears as he eventually collapsed onto the floor of the room,
surrounded by white plush feathers from the torn cushions. He felt a gaping
hole fill his chest, not unlike the one he had dreamt about the night before.
Draco clutched his hand over it, gripping his robes painfully. He wouldn’t have
been surprised if he were to take his shirt off and see blood coursing through
a gaping wound where his heart should have been.
It hurt so much. Draco wanted it to stop. He wanted to close his eyes, and just
hide away from the world. Just hide in the darkness.
Whenever his eyes were closed though, all he saw was Harry hovering over him,
touching his face, gazing at him with that green fire that threatened to
consume him.
And he wept. He didn’t know why. He couldn’t stop. The tears just kept flowing,
and he didn’t know what to do to make them stop.
He lay there, curled up, hand clutched to his chest as he sobbed into the
night.
Hours passed until Draco finally blinked his crusty eyelids open. His throat
was raw, and his face felt disgusting. He sat up when the pain finally subsided
a bit. The hole was still there, tender and open. But he could walk. And he
walked right out of the messed, broken room.
The next night, when Draco had returned, their room was back to normal. The
pillows were intact, the table unbroken, and the bookshelves filled with books.
Draco had walked over numbly, sat on the sofa, and had waited. Hoping to see
Harry walk in after such a dreadful two whole days of ignoring him.
He’d sent him a note at lunch, asking if he wanted to meet Draco tonight at
their usual time. He saw Harry receive it. Saw him open the note. Draco had
waited to see if Harry would look up at him.
Damnit Harry, look at me. Look at me!
Harry hadn’t looked up though. He’d crumpled the note and thrown it into his
pocket. Then he’d faced the Weasley girl next to him, who was giggling as she
talked to him. He smiled at her, and laughed loudly at something she said.
Then, they’d stood together and left the Great Hall.
When Draco would look at him later, Harry continued to ignore Draco for the
rest of the day.
Draco still hoped. He was such a bloody fool, but he hoped it was just a front
and that Harry would walk in. He couldn’t bear the thought of Harry going
through all of this effort to ignore him after he had told Draco that he hadn’t
minded his sexual orientation. Harry had listened to him, they had talked to
each other. Harry had inspired him and Draco had pledged his loyalty to Harry.
 
Any minute now. Harry would walk in; with his green eyes focused on Draco as he
joined him on the couch, ruffling up his nest of hair, and turning his beaming
smile on the blond.
Any minute. Like right now. Right now.
Now.
But Harry didn’t walk in.
And he wouldn’t show, not for a total of five days.
===============================================================================
May 24  
 
Draco should’ve known that nothing ever went right where it concerned Potter.
He hadn’t even planned it, really. Draco had just walked out of potions class,
and usually Harry would’ve been long gone by the time Draco had left the room.
But as Draco was walking into the hallway, he glimpsed messy black hair.
Harry was walking with his sidekicks in the hall, just a few feet away from
Draco.
Just looking at them, laughing and talking like it was just another normal day;
the sight of them happy together… Harry happy without him, like their truce had
been nothing. Like their friendship and Draco swearing his loyalty to Harry —
like it was all nothing.
Draco didn’t even know what was happening until he was too close to stop. All
he knew was that he was absolutely fed up with Harry ignoring him. He needed to
get the prat’s attention somehow.
His shoulder shoved hard into Harry’s as he stormed by, causing Harry’s bag and
books to spill onto the floor.
Weasley was the first one to react. “Oi, Malfoy! Watch where you’re going,
Ferret!”
Draco ignored him, eyes solely on Harry as the boy gathered his supplies.
“Hey, Malfoy! Malfoy! What, you deaf now?”
Draco bristled.
Why wasn’t Harry looking at him?
“Potter.”
“Malfoy, get your pointy Ferret face out of here already. Can’t you tell when
you’re not wanted?” Weasley sneered.
“Ron, Harry, let’s go. We’ll be late to lunch.”
“Potter,” Draco said again.
Harry stood up, but his eyes avoided Draco’s. His eyes stuck to the ground as
he slid his bag back onto his shoulder.
“Ron, let’s just go,” Harry said, voice entirely devoid of emotion.
“You’re just going to let the git walk away like that, after he pushed you?”
“Ron, just leave it.”
“Potter.”
“Fine, mate, whatever you say. Still wish I could take a crack at him, though.”
“Harry, hurry, we’ll be late.”
“Potter.”
“What!?” Harry yelled, whirling around. He still wouldn’t meet Draco’s eyes and
he stared right passed him over his left shoulder.
Flushing, Draco glared at him. “Are you too high and mighty now to even spare a
second for us lower folk?” he spat, willing his voice to remain steady.
“He wouldn’t spare anything for you!” the Weasel sneered, taking one step
forward. Draco continued to ignore him  
“What do you want, Malfoy?” Harry said.
“I want you to look at me!” Draco shouted, and his voice echoed through the
hallway.
He dismissed Weasley’s spluttering and Granger’s narrowed stare, his eyes only
focused on Harry’s — if they would look at him.
“Harry, mate, what is he talking about?”
“Ron, listen, we should probably be going now,” Granger was saying, shifting
her eyes from Draco to Harry.
“What? And leave Harry with him?” Weasley demanded.
“No, Ron, I’m coming,” Harry sighed angrily, turning his back on Draco. The
Golden Trio started walking away towards the Great Hall.
No!
Draco grabbed Harry’s arm, pulling until he stopped. “Potter, you fucking prat,
don’t you dare walk away —”
“Stop it!” Harry yelled suddenly, tearing his arm away from Draco and shoving
him backwards. “Leave me the fuck alone, Malfoy!”
“No, Potter,” Draco said, eyes pleading to understand. “You think you can get
away with ignoring me all week —”
“Don’t you get it? Just fuck off, Malfoy!” Harry hissed, his eyes finally
meeting Draco’s. The blond fought back a recoil at the irritation in his green
gaze. “I can’t… just…! Leave me alone,” he sighed angrily. “Please.”
With one last glare, Harry marched away. The other two soon followed.
And Draco could only stare after them, wondering when everything had gone
bloody wrong.
===============================================================================
May 24   Just after midnight
 
Draco blinked and he sat up.
Trees surrounded him, darkness covered overhead like a blanket, and there was a
faint rustling in the distance. Draco looked around, and realized that he was
laying down on the ground. Specifically, he was laying in the same position he
found himself in every night — curled up right at the fork in the pathway,
where two identical paths split.
Draco sighed, standing up, and waited. Sure enough, he felt a presence close
by. He turned, and saw Dream-Harry smile sadly at him.
“You came back.”
Draco sighed again, suddenly tired. Could he be tired in a dream? He certainly
felt it.
A ghostly presence pressed against his cheek, and Draco pressed right back into
it.
“Draco.”
“Harry.”
“How could you?”
Draco wanted to cry. It was always the same.
Every night.
He dreamt of Dream-Harry saying the same things every time. He had tried
asking, questioning Dream-Harry about what he was talking about. He had tried
yelling, screaming, raging against him like how he wanted to in reality.
Nothing worked. Nothing changed.
With almost a whole week now of dreaming this same nightmare, Draco was just
tired. His emotions and nerves felt worn, and his heart felt weak with the
gaping hole filling most of it. Draco wanted to cry. But he had cried nearly
all weak, and it had solved nothing. His Malfoy pride was in tatters, but Draco
didn’t care.
In the days that Harry had ignored him, Draco felt like he was in limbo. He had
stopped working on the cabinet, staying true to the fact that he had truly
changed sides. He no longer wanted to be the Dark Lord’s pawn. And while he
wanted to save his mother and father, he was too much of a coward to change his
mind once again. He felt like he had no fight in him anymore. He didn’t care.
About the war. His mission. Any of it.
He just wanted Harry back.
That thought had angered, horrified, and embarrassed him earlier in the week.
But after his nightly dreams and the pained winces he’d had to hide after
seeing Potter in classes, Draco had finally admitted how much the green-eyed
git meant to him.
He didn’t know if it was love that he felt towards Harry Potter. He barely knew
what that kind of emotion felt like.
But hell if he knew what else it could be, this painful thing that tore him up
inside. He wanted to be rid of it, yet at the same time he yearned to keep it.
He didn’t want to let Harry go. He couldn’t. In the week that they had been
together as friends, it had been an otherworldly experience. It was the
happiest he had felt in a long time, and Draco wouldn’t have changed anything
even if he wanted to.   
“I’m so sorry, Harry,” Draco whispered into the night as Dream-Harry held him.
Oh, how he wished that Harry would hold him like this in reality. “I’m sorry,
Harry. For everything. For hurting you. For scaring you away. It’s all my
fault. I’d take it all away if I could.” His whispers turned into sobs, and he
clutched Dream-Harry tighter to him.
“Draco. Why?”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“Draco.”
“Please come back, Harry,” he sobbed, though his eyes were dry, even in his
dreams because of so many tears that had already been shed. He didn’t have the
energy.
“Draco.”
“Harry, please,” he murmured, closing his eyes. He suddenly felt so tired.
“Draco…?”
“Harry...”
“Draco, wake up.” A voice broke through the dream-forest that Draco stood in.
Or laid in? Wasn’t he laying down?
Draco shut his eyes tighter, trying to get a bearing of his surroundings. He
still felt so, so tired. But he was laying down now, on something soft and
cushiony.
Cushion. The sofa. That’s right. After his encounter with Harry, Draco had run
straight to the Room. He thought to work on and revise some of his homework
before the weekend officially started, to distract himself. He remembered now
how he had just given up after a half hour of working, too depressed and angry
to keep studying. He’d thrown all of his supplies off of the sofa and had laid
down.
He’d promised himself just a short nap before he went back all the way down to
the dungeons. Draco didn’t know why he kept coming back to the Room. It should
have hurt him, coming in and knowing that Harry would never walk in with him
again. Instead, the room they had created was like a safe space. Outside of it,
all the horrors of the war, the Dark Lord, the wizarding world, all of the
negativity came rushing at him. But in here, it was like a private little
sanctuary only known to him and Harry. Or just him, now, anyway.
“Draco, wake up, please,” the voice came again, and Draco realized suddenly
that the voice wasn’t coming from his dreams.
Draco’s eyes snapped open, and he glanced up. At first, he wasn’t sure what to
feel when his gaze landed on a familiar pair of emerald eyes. He could only
describe it as tunnel vision: everything around him, his emotions, their
surroundings, the noise, all of it suddenly disappeared as gray eyes focused on
green. He didn’t know how long he sat there, gaping, but he could read Harry’s
eyes so easily now. He saw the forced indifference in them slowly shift into
concern, and then quickly into nervous uncertainty.
“Draco —?”
“Harry,” Draco breathed, his voice raspy and harsh from disuse.
He suddenly realized that he hadn’t talked to anyone over the last five days.
He’d even taken to ignoring Pansy, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle when he’d been in
the common room a few times. Crabbe and Goyle had seemed suspicious, but Draco
hadn’t been able to find the energy to care much. The Slytherins had all been
used to Draco’s mood all year, though, so they hadn’t given him much fuss.
Other than his earlier encounter with Harry, he hadn’t talked to anyone for
almost five days.
“Draco, are you alright?” Harry’s voice broke through his reverie.
Draco looked up, startled that he had drifted off again. He glanced at Harry,
running the question in his mind a few times.
Was he alright?
Was he?
Was he alright?
The anger crept in, slowly, and Draco felt alive with it. He felt livid.
Furious.
“Am I alright?” Draco sneered, sitting up completely straight. He didn’t know
how his clothes or his hair looked, but going by Harry’s face he was pretty
sure everything about him looked mad right about now. Draco didn’t care. He was
pissed. “Why in the fuck would I not be alright, Potter?” he spat angrily. “Why
would you even care to ask, you giant prick! You absolute arse!”
He stood up, grabbing tightly at his wand and raising it towards Potter
threateningly. Harry only stood silently, not reaching for his wand or fighting
back in any way. He just stood there, staring at Draco with a glassy eyed
expression.
Draco felt even more pissed.
“What now, Potter? Not going to fight back?” he scoffed, disbelieving as he
glared at the other boy. “Or is it because you know you’ll lose? You fucking
git! I won our last duel and then I beat you at Quidditch. So, I guess you
really did make me stronger like you’d promised, then. Right, Potter?” He
sniffed. “Right?! Damnit, say something! You great, utter prick!”
He collapsed, his knees folding underneath him as he fought to keep the tears
at bay. His wand was held loosely at his side but Draco didn’t bother raising
it at Harry anymore. What point was there when the git refused to fight back?
Draco shut his eyes, bowing his head down low so Harry wouldn’t witness the
tears threatening to escape. He didn’t want Harry looking at him. Now that he
was finally paying attention to him, finally standing in their room in front of
Draco, he just wanted Harry gone. He had just been getting used to the gaping
hole, and now Harry was here. Finally here. For some inane reason that Draco
didn’t know. But he didn’t care. He hated him. He hated Potter. Just looking at
him brought all the pain back.
He heard slight movement in front of him, and then a hand pressed against his
cheek.
Draco gasped painfully.
“Fuck off, Potter,” he breathed, crying. The tears burned trails down his
cheeks, and he vaguely felt Harry’s thumb softly swipe them away. He wanted to
die. “Just go away,” he whispered, practically forcing the words to come out.
“Just leave me alone —”
“No, Draco.”
“Please, please,” Draco begged, his eyes tightly clenched. “Just go. I can’t be
around you… not right now. It hurts so much… You hurt me so much —”
“Draco, please.”
“No, Harry —”
Then Draco felt Harry’s lips pressing on his.
And everything shattered.  
 
***** Chapter Eight *****
At first, Draco thought he was dreaming again. It kind of felt like a dream —
the feeling of emotional vagueness that creeped up on him slowly, the haziness
in his surrounding environment, Dream-Harry’s hands on his face when they
kissed, Draco’s eyes closed as he tried to imagine his dream being a reality.
But no, this wasn’t a dream. It was real.
Draco opened his eyes, only slightly surprised to see Harry as his lips moved
softly against Draco’s. His touch felt so real. Which meant, Harry really was
here.
Holding him. Kissing him.
The prick.
Draco ripped his mouth away, and swung.
 
===============================================================================
 
“I still can’t fucking believe that you punched me in the nose, again,” Harry
was saying later, touching his newly healed nose softly. His watery eyes only
slightly glared at Draco, which Draco ignored as he put his wand away and sat
next to Harry on the sofa.
Draco could only scoff, not even a little bit regretful for his earlier
actions.
After Draco had punched Harry, which had nearly broken his nose, Draco had
quickly stood up and wiped away his tears hurriedly. He turned to the door,
ready to flee and abandon his notes and books behind. He didn’t care. He just
needed to get away from Potter right now or he was really going to do something
regretful, like kill the git.  
But Harry’s hand had grabbed Draco’s arm and swung him around to try to stop
him. That hadn’t worked well, as Draco had not been willing to be coerced any
longer by some green-eyed prat. He’d shoved hard at Harry and swung again, who
quickly ducked the blow like lightening.
In any other situation, Draco would have been impressed at Harry’s nearly
always dependable reflexes. But today was not that day.
Draco was furious at Harry’s barging into their room and kissing Draco like the
past five days were nothing, like Draco hadn’t suffered day and night and cried
himself to sleep worrying and waiting and, Merlin forbid, pining. Draco was not
some damsel in distress who pouted and wept until the stupid Gryffindor knight
swooped in to rescue him at the last moment. 
So, Draco had to fight back, because that’s what Malfoy and Potter did — they
fought. Draco swung and swung again, until finally one of his blows landed on
Harry’s sternum. Harry’s breath was knocked out of him, and Draco quickly
turned to take advantage of Harry’s loose grip around his waist and make his
escape. Harry had the recovery time and stamina of a hippogriff, though, and
Harry managed to shove and wrestle Draco against the wall.
He shoved Draco’s restless hands above his head and forced Draco to turn to
face the wall. Draco tried to struggle against Potter’s grip on his hands, but
the Gryffindor’s hold on him was too strong. He tried kicking backwards at
anything that was Potter, but the other boy was smart enough to kick his legs
apart until Draco had no choice but to keep still or he’d fall due to
instability.
Draco growled, eyes glaring ahead of him at the wall. He didn’t relax in
Potter’s grip, but he did stop fighting him. For the moment.
“Just stop it, Draco,” Harry gasped behind him, sounding wearied and in pain.
Draco smirked. Good, he deserved it. “Why should I, Potter?” he drawled, his
tone vicious. “You think that you can just come in here after blatantly
ignoring me all week, not that I cared, and just walk into our room and assault
me? If my father heard about this —!”
“Draco, your father is in Azkaban,” Harry said, his tone weary.
“Because of you!” Draco screamed, not caring if he was acing irrational.
“For being a Death Eater.”
Draco scowled. “Oh, really? Thank you for the reminder! I’ll make sure he
throws the dark spells at you then first before I —”
Draco felt soft lips graze against the nape of his neck.
His body stilled as Harry’s mouth began to leave a light trail of kisses onto
his skin. Disbelief coursed through him, before heat suddenly licked at Draco’s
nerves, concentrating mostly around the area of his neck. His heart thrummed
wildly, and he heard himself let out a stilted gasp. Cheeks flushing, he
quickly grew embarrassed.
“Potter, let go,” he sighed, voice coming out much raspier than he intended.
Harry ignored him, and moved one hand, the one not currently trapping his
wrists against the wall, slowly down his arm and around his waist to wrap
itself in front of Draco’s chest. He pulled Draco tighter against him, causing
Draco to momentarily forget himself and moan at the feeling of Harry’s warm,
broad chest against the curve of his back.
Draco’s head tilted backwards onto Harry’s shoulder, and a loud groan wrenched
itself out of his throat. He couldn’t help it. Harry’s lips, his hands, his
magic — it all felt so good. Draco soon stopped struggling entirely, feeling
his limbs grow weak and barely able to hold him up at all. Then Harry’s other
hand let Draco go so that both arms could wrap themselves around Draco’s waist,
running along his torso from the bottom and all the way to where Draco’s
nipples lay under his clothing.
Oh, how he wanted Harry’s hands to keep touching him. Everywhere would be nice,
but under the clothing would be better, Draco vaguely thought. He was seriously
enjoying all this heat that was licking at him everywhere, but most especially
at the points where Harry’s body touched his.
Draco moaned again as Harry’s lips parted on his neck, and he felt a silky
tongue wetly swipe a lick into his skin. The skin nerves there burned, sending
a hot jolt of longing racing down his spine. He nearly cried out in pleasure,
and had to bite his lip in order to contain the pleasured screams that wanted
to erupt from his throat. Instead, Draco reached up with his left hand to wrap
itself into Harry’s hair. He didn’t push him away or pull him closer, but just
held Harry’s head close to him, not wanting to stop for anything.
His moans and gasps echoed across the room, but Draco paid them no heed as he
tilted his head back further in pleasure. He vaguely felt a rumble go across
his back, and it took a short while to realize that Potter was chuckling. Quite
loudly, actually.
“…have to remember, way to shut up a Malfoy number one: kiss him,” Draco heard
Harry saying.
He froze, eyes wide.
Harry must have felt his body seize up, because he quickly pushed Draco flat
against the wall so that he couldn’t escape.
Draco didn’t want to escape though, funnily enough. All of a sudden, Draco
wanted Potter closer, a lot closer, so that he could kill him.
“Potter,” he growled warningly. “Let me go now and I’ll make fucking sure that
your death will be quick and painless.”
“Nice try,” Harry said, his voice sounding a bit nasally. Draco absently
guessed that he had broken his nose after all. Draco grinned maliciously,
unashamed. “I’ll let you go, Draco, but you have to promise me that you won’t
leave.”
Draco rolled his eyes, but had to admit that he had already made the decision
not to leave a while ago; before the necking had even started.
“Fine,” he assented, choosing to stand still in Potter’s grip. Harry seemed to
hesitate and for good reason, before he finally stepped back and away from
Draco.
The blond finally was able to lower his arms to his sides, rubbing away the
soreness in them as he slowly turned to face Potter. The other boy’s nose was
broken and bleeding, and Draco mentally winced at having potentially ruined
that beautiful face again, even for a short while.
He reached for his wand, but Harry jumped backwards, perhaps to avoid a jinx.
Draco just rolled his eyes again.
“I’m not going to hex you, you git. Although I should. I’m going to fix up your
nose,” he said, then cast before Harry had a chance to reply.
Draco’s Episkey hit Harry straight on, and the boy let out a sharp cry as he
doubled over. For a moment, Draco almost doubted his healing abilities until
Harry finally straightened. He wiggled his nose to test it out before sighing
in relief.
“Thanks,” Harry murmured to him.
Draco just ignored him as he passed by to stand near the sofas and table.
Which soon led to Harry’s statement of disbelief and Draco putting his wand
away as they both sat on the couch.
Harry narrowed his eyes at Draco’s sudden nonchalance, but he seemed to take a
moment to think before saying anything else.
Draco was glad for Harry’s silence. His nerves were still rattled from earlier,
and his emotions were seriously in need of recovery after the crazy up and down
feelings from the last fifteen minutes. He wanted to hex Potter so bad for
stopping him from leaving, for assaulting him against a wall, for kissing him
and touching him and making Draco feel things. Merlin, if he wasn’t half in
love with the git… Draco silently fumed to himself. Potter was lucky he only
sustained a nose injury.
“So, Potter,” Draco started after the silence had stretched on for too long for
his liking. “Care to explain yourself then? Otherwise, I’m leaving this room
and you are not going to stop me.”
Harry seemed to shift uneasily in his seat next to Draco, and he gave a soft
sigh of remorse. “Yeah, erm… I guess I just wanted to say that I’m sorry.”
“’Sorry’?” Sorry for nearly breaking my heart? For the kiss? For breaking your
promise to me? Draco’s thoughts raced through his mind. “Sorry for what,
exactly, Potter?”
“Erm, all of it, I guess,” Harry said, as if he could hear Draco’s thoughts.
“I’m sorry I ran out of here on Sunday and then for ignoring you all week. And
I’m sorry for what happened earlier today in the hall. I had some stuff that I
had to sort through, before I could see you again. And I wasn’t ready before.
And then… I mean, I’m sorry for coming in like that and surprising you. I
didn’t see you anywhere on the map, and I just got worried. I didn’t mean to
scare you. I’m glad you were here, though, and when I tried to wake you… I
didn’t mean…” Harry broke his rambling, quickly looking down at his hands that
were folded in his lap. “I hated seeing you cry, and the kiss —”
“So it was just a kiss out of pity, then?” Draco sneered, ice slicing through
his chest. “You thought you could use your golden boy status and have your way
with the son of a death eater, and that nobody would believe me if I said
otherwise?”
“No! No, I didn’t think that!” Harry cried, eyes wide. “Merlin, Draco, is that
what you think of me?”
“I have no idea what to think of you, Potter,” Draco said angrily. “You ignore
me for an entire week just for — what? Some lame ass excuse that you can’t even
tell me? And then you just decide you can kiss me after all of that? You really
are an absolute prat!”
“I know!” Harry said, running his hands restlessly in his hair. “I know all of
that, and I’m sorry!”
“For what exactly?!” Draco yelled, towering over Harry. “You left me, Potter!
You made a promise with me and you broke it!”
“I didn’t mean to! I-I was just…”
“What? Just what? You just finally came to your senses and realized what it
meant to have a death eater’s son for a friend —”
“No, Draco, Merlin, let me just talk!”
“Well, get to the point then! I’m done wasting my time with you.”
“Just hear me out, please, Draco,” Harry pleaded. “Listen, I didn’t mean to
ignore you like that. Honestly, I-I was just… I mean, I didn’t know what to
feel after what happened Sunday, alright? I felt something with you that day,
and Draco… it scared the bloody hell out of me. I didn’t know what to think.
One minute I’m having the time of my life with my friend, and then all of a
sudden I feel like kissing him. A bloke! I was so confused! Plus it was you,
Draco Malfoy. So I was feeling all out of sorts. I thought that if I had a
couple days away from you, I’d feel back to normal. But Merlin, Draco, seeing
you day after day… you were so quiet, and you wouldn’t talk to anyone. You
stopped speaking in class and the other Slytherins started looking worried
even… Then what happened earlier today, and me yelling at you. You looked so
broken afterwards. I couldn’t take it after that, being away from you. I didn’t
know what I was feeling, but I knew that I was upset at myself for missing our
meetings. I-I kept track of you on the map. Just to make sure you were safe. I
watched every time you came in here, wishing I could just get over myself and
meet you. Then I’d see your dot go back to your dorms a few hours later. You
did this every night, and I watched it. But then, last night I didn’t see your
dot.”
“What?”
“Yesterday night, you came in here, Draco. I waited and waited, but your dot
didn’t appear again. Curfew passed and your dot still wouldn’t show. I got
scared. I thought…. I mean, I didn’t know what to think but I thought maybe,
you’d hurt yourself…? I wasn’t exactly sure, but I really wasn’t thinking
straight. Haven’t been for the last week, actually. But I didn’t see your dot,
and I knew I had to come here and make sure you were alright…”
“You came here out of concern, then?” Draco asked, almost inclined not to
believe Potter’s ridiculous story. “You actually didn’t come here to explain
yourself.”
“No, I did! I mean, yeah, I had planned to do that, too,” Harry stammered, his
words tripping over as they came out. “But then I saw you sleeping here, and
Draco… You were so beautiful, so quiet, when you were sleeping. I’d planned to
leave as soon as I realized that you were asleep. But you looked so peaceful
sleeping there... And then I heard you said my name.”
“What?” Draco said, disbelieving.
“You did. Just my first name. And I turned back, but you were still asleep, you
hadn’t seen me. So, I tried to wake you, and…”
“And then I started crying, and you felt sorry for me.”
“No, not really. I mean, I did feel really bad for making you cry. It nearly
killed me just seeing how much I’d hurt you, Draco. But I didn’t kiss you
because of that,” Harry said, his tone pleading. “I kissed you because I wanted
to. Because I had been dreaming and thinking about it all week, and I couldn’t
wait to do that to you when I saw you again. I just have horrible timing, is
all,” Harry sighed. His gaze burned into Draco, pleading. “Please believe me,
Draco. I wanted to kiss you. Not out of pity or an apology. I just… I like
you.” 
“You’re gay then?” Draco asked, trying to halt the thumping of his heart and
the rise of hope in his veins.
Harry looked confused. “Yes? No…?  I don’t know, honestly.”
“So you’re wanting to experiment with me? Because I’m the only gay bloke that
you know?”
“Damnit, Draco, stop putting words in my mouth,” Harry sighed angrily. “No, I
don’t want to experiment with you. I mean, that’s not all I want with you. I
know I like girls, alright, but you’re the only bloke I’ve been attracted to.
And Draco, that’s one thing that I do know, is that I like you. As in, I fancy
you.”
Draco rolled his eyes, pleased at Harry’s rambling. Still, this was all almost
too good to be true. “Even if I’m a boy?”
“Yes,” Harry said firmly, gaze burning. “I don’t know if I like other blokes,
but I do know that right now it’s just you. I don’t even fancy any other birds
right now. The only person I’m attracted to at all is you, Draco.”
               
Merlin save him from sentimental Gryffindors, Draco thought, as he scooted
closer to Harry. The other boy wasn’t expecting that and his eyes grew wide as
Draco neared him.
“So, you fancy me then, Harry?” Draco whispered, breath ghosting over Harry’s
skin.
The Gryffindor swallowed, but nodded.
“And you’re ready to go back to training me?” he asked. Another quick nod.
“Then, I guess I have to forgive you, don’t I? I mean, who am I to turn down
the Boy-Who-Lived when he makes such an eloquent proposition as that?”
Harry was grinning so wide he looked like he’d already defeated the Dark Lord,
and it nearly blinded Draco with its intensity. “Yeah,” he sighed, moving his
hand to cup around Draco’s waist, steadying him as the blond practically
crawled onto the Gryffindor. “Yeah…”
“But,” Draco said, his voice low and his eyes unwavering. “Let’s get this
straight now, Potter. I forgive you for acting like a fool this week because
you have an emotional range of a tea cup.”
“Bigger than Ron’s, then?” Harry laughed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Draco raised an eyebrow. “You’re so odd, Harry Potter. I don’t even know why I
like you.”
“You fancy me, too, then?”
He rolled his eyes. “I suppose I do, Potter, but Merlin knows why. You ignore
me for an entire week, and still you somehow manage to get me into your lap.
Literally.”
“Well, fancy that,” Harry smirked, raising his eyebrows.
“Arrogance is most unbecoming on you, Harry,” Draco sighed, shaking his head.
He moved his hands to slide them against Harry’s arms to his shoulders, where
he gripped the cloth material of his shirt tightly. He bit his lip,
unexpectedly anxious as he grew more serious. “But never again, Harry,” he
whispered, refusing to look up. “Please, don’t ever ignore me like that again.
I mean, I can ignore you all I want. I’m the one being generous in letting you
take up with me. I’m quite the catch, after all. You’re lucky that you have
such great taste. But if you ever decide to think like that without my
permission… I mean, honestly, leave the thinking to me. You obviously don’t
have the ability to think correctly when it concerns me, which is completely an
understandable excuse. I don’t blame —”
“Hey,” Harry said, pausing his rambling — thank Merlin, because Draco didn’t
know what more he would’ve revealed to Harry with his scrambled state of mind —
and tilted Draco’s chin so that Draco could meet his eyes. “I can’t promise
that I won’t ever fuck up like that again, Draco,” he said solemnly. “But I can
promise you this: I will continue our trainings, I will protect you from
Voldemort, and I will never, ever ignore you ever again.”
Then he pulled Draco closer so that their lips could meet, with not an inch of
air between their bodies as their arms wrapped tight around each other.
And Draco was perfectly alright with that.        
 
***** Chapter Nine *****
They lay like that for a while, kissing and touching all over and under their
clothes. Unbeknownst to them, students had already begun to fill the noisy
halls as they readied for Quidditch scrimmages, last term visits to Hogsmeade,
and whatever else a student would want to do on a Saturday morning.
Inside their room, though, the boys were in their own little world that
encompassed only them; away from the dangers and expectations of the world. The
boys only focused on discovering each other as they mapped out each other’s
bodies.
Somehow, Draco wasn’t sure exactly, Harry had managed to crawl and stretch out
his body over Draco, pinning him against the soft cushions of the couch. His
face was tucked into Draco’s neck, licking and sucking softly at the other
boy’s skin. Draco moaned and instinctively wrapped his legs around Harry’s
waist, trying to get leverage as he pulled himself closer to Harry.
“Draco,” Harry gasped, shifting slightly as he grasped the back of the sofa and
pressed closer to the boy underneath him. His green eyes fluttered closed and
he moaned, disbelieving at how good the other boy felt against him. He felt so
warm, so perfect. Harry broke off the moan that threatened to escape, pressing
his tongue more firmly against Draco’s nape, sucking and teething at the
smooth, pale skin.
Draco gasped, his mouth opening slightly. He felt so entirely lost, with
nothing but Harry’s scent, Harry’s hands, his lips and tongue, all of him
surrounding Draco. He'd never kissed anyone like this before, not even Blaise
or Pansy. Nothing could ever compare. Draco felt like he was drowning in the
utter brilliance that was Harry. He was drowning, gasping for air, but it all
felt so good at the same time. He needed this, Draco realized, and he didn’t
care if he died from it. All he knew was that Harry felt utterly brilliant
against him, utterly brilliant.
Harry moved up so that his lips could press against Draco’s once more,
marveling over how soft, sweet, and firm Draco’s lips felt. It was nothing like
his previous kisses with Cho. Harry had never felt anything like this — such
intense yearning that threatened to overwhelm him. He didn’t know what had come
over him, but he just knew that Draco’s lips held the answer. He never wanted
to stop touching and kissing the other boy. He was so beautiful, so pale and
delicate, and yet so strong whenever he called Harry out on his idiotic
foolishness. Oh, how Harry regretted even missing a week from Draco, when they
could have been doing this the entire time.
For Draco, he was nearly cursing Harry in his own head for the same thing.
Merlin, if he had known that Harry had such a wicked tongue — Draco was sure
that he would’ve marched right into the Great Hall on Monday and kissed the boy
silly for thinking he could have ignored this feeling between them. Damned
Draco if he thought he was ever going to let Harry go after this. Screw the
wizarding world, Harry Potter was his to love and protect.
Such heady and intense feelings rose within the boys as they continued in their
exploration of each other; they never gave thought to how much time had passed
and who would be looking for them. Draco’s friends had assumed he was still
moping in his room or somewhere else on the castle grounds, but Harry’s weren’t
quite as dismissive.
A silver otter suddenly sailed into the room with a loud whoosh, and Hermione
Granger’s slightly panicked voice broke through the air, springing the two boys
on the couch apart from each other. Her voice was shrill and reverberated
through the room.
Harry, where are you? Ron and I searched for you everywhere on the map, but we
can’t find you on it. Either you’re in the Room or in Hogsmeade. Please, let us
know. We’ve been worried sick!
The silver otter disappeared in a cloud of smoke. Silence fell in the room.
Then Draco laughed shakily. “Well, I hope my Patronus isn’t an otter. How
annoying would that be?”  
Harry snorted, but silently agreed. He turned to Draco, shifting a bit to cover
himself more reservedly, and stared bemusedly at him. What were they supposed
to do now? That was his first kiss with a bloke, and his first, well,
everything else with another person. It didn’t feel as strange as he’d thought,
kissing another bloke. Rather, it had actually been pretty brilliant. But Harry
wasn’t sure what happened next between them. Did they talk now? Did the other
boy regret kissing him?
Draco looked at Harry, amused, as he read the millions of thoughts running
through Harry’s expression. Merlin, the Gryffindor was such an open book. Draco
sighed softly to get the other boy’s attention. “So.”
“So… what?”
Draco grinned, then leaned across the space and pecked the corner of Harry’s
lips, eyes open and watching the other boy for a reaction.
Harry breathed in sharply. “Oh, that,” he laughed shakily.
Draco gave a smirk at Harry’s reaction. He leaned in again, kissing Harry
gently, and let his hand slide along Harry’s thigh and over the bulge in his
muggle jeans.
Harry kissed back languidly, letting out a contented sigh through his nose at
the feeling of Draco’s touch against his hardness. “Feels good. You're such a
good kisser,” he whispered against Draco’s lips.
Draco gave a small laugh. “You’re not too bad, yourself,” he whispered back.
Harry laughed with him. Then groaned. "What time is it?" he asked, not really
wanting to know the answer. He didn’t want to leave Draco, but he also didn’t
like worrying Ron and Hermione. 
Draco sighed, and let go of Harry. “Time to leave, apparently.” He cast a quick
Tempus, the time reading that it was Saturday morning, just before noon. “We
better go before your friends send a search party.” Harry laughed nervously,
not doubting it.
They both pulled apart and stood up.
Harry tried to flatten his hair to make it somewhat orderly, failing at it
expectedly, while Draco turned to gather his things into his bookbag. He moved
slowly, dreading walking out of the door and facing reality again. Outside the
Room, he and Harry were still supposed to be enemies. Harry had an obligation
to the wizarding world, and Draco was a traitor to the Dark Lord, even if no
one was aware of his switching sides yet.
Draco hated it, but there was nothing he could do. He and Harry couldn’t
possibly go public, with whatever it was they were doing. Were they boyfriends
now? Friends with benefits? Harry had said that he’d fancied Draco, but what
did that mean?
“Hey,” Harry’s voice came from behind him. Arms wrapped around Draco, holding
him tight against Harry’s chest. Draco’s eyes stung, and he ashamedly realized
that he was close to tears. Being around Harry too much had apparently turned
him a bit sentimental. “Draco, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Draco hurried to say. Thank Merlin his voice was working fine. “We’d
better hurry and leave, before another Patronus comes in. People will start
getting suspicious.”
Draco pulled away, keeping his eyes to the floor as he swung his bookbag onto
his shoulder and headed towards the door of the room. He heard Harry grabbing
his cloak and follow him.
“Erm, so who goes first?” Harry asked, looking gingerly at Draco and with
uncertainty in his voice.
Draco shrugged. “You can go first, since your friends might throw a snit if
you’re not back quickly. I’ll wait a few minutes, then I’ll go down to my
dorms. I need to finish Slughorn’s essay.”
Harry paused, still not wanting to leave but knowing he had no choice. “When
did you want to meet up again?” he asked, trying to prolong their parting.  
Draco shrugged again. “Doesn’t matter. You should concentrate on sorting out
your friends first.”
Harry suddenly didn’t like how indifferent Draco was acting. What happened?
Draco was just fine a moment ago. He was confused, but he didn’t have the time
to ask Draco about it. He’d just owl Draco later after dealing with Ron and
Hermione.
Determined now to hurry back to when he could be with Draco again, he stepped
forward to place a gentle kiss on Draco’s lips. It was meant to be short, but
Harry suddenly had an urge to taste Draco. He parted his mouth, slipping his
tongue between Draco’s lips and twining them softly together. He felt Draco
groan into the kiss and then enthusiastically twist his tongue to join in
Harry's mouth, reaching deeper to explore the ridges and wetness. Hands knotted
into his hair, and Harry quickly wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist to hold
him closer to him.
They kissed for several more moments before Harry could finally tear himself
away, else he’d ravage Draco right there against the doorway. “Alright,” Harry
panted, grinning widely. “See you later then.”
Draco gave him a soft smile, and it nearly broke Harry’s heart knowing he had
to walk away from it. “Bye, Harry,” Draco said.
Harry flashed him one last grin and left, pulling the cloak over him as he did.
When the door closed behind him, Draco leaned against the wall to wait five
minutes. He took a deep breath. Then another.
Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived and Chosen One to defeat Voldemort, had kissed him.
And he was a fantastic kisser. 
Draco was fucked.
===============================================================================
 
It was during lunch when Draco next saw Harry. Harry walked into the Great Hall
with Granger and the Weasel on either side of him as they headed towards the
Gryffindor table. Draco watched him for a moment, trying not to look obvious as
he did. He had to turn away though when the Weasley girl sat near to Harry and
whispered something to him. Harry laughed, head thrown back and eyes
glittering. Draco almost drooled at the sight, and so he quickly turned away to
concentrate on his food in front of him. But it held no appeal compared to
Harry’s wide smile and bright green eyes.
Feeling suddenly nauseous, Draco pushed his plate away and put his head down,
trying to ignore the unseen eyes that he knew were watching his every move.
He’d rather leave the Great Hall altogether, but he knew that would look
suspicious. It hadn’t even passed ten minutes since lunch started, but Draco
had no appetite. Not with the thoughts running through his head and knowing
that Ginny Weasley was sidled next to Harry, flirting with him.
It wasn’t going to last long anyway, Draco knew. There were too many variables.
Harry being the Chosen One was an entirely different path that left no room for
Draco. He was a traitor to his family and to the Dark Lord. Even if they could
cross paths and be together, the wizarding world wouldn’t allow it — they were
obsessed with Harry. And if he lived to win this war, Harry deserved to have
the dream life a hero like him should have.
Draco could see it now: Harry Potter, vanquisher of the Dark Lord, completes
Hogwarts and enters the Auror Academy, meets and marries a beautiful witch
worthy of a hero — perhaps the Weasley girl after all, so that Harry could make
the Weasleys a real family of his — and a beautiful house to fill his entire
new family. He’d go on to live a happy life, capturing the remaining bad guys,
with him and his happy family smiling on the front page of the Prophet on a
regular basis.
No scandals, no danger or grudges towards Harry. No regrets.
Draco pushed abruptly from the bench, grabbed his bag, and stomped towards the
entrance to the Great Hall.
He never noticed but multiple gazes followed him, one green set concerned while
the other followed him with cold, bitter eyes.    
 
===============================================================================
 
Draco decided to skip dinner that night and head straight towards the Room of
Hidden Things. As soon as he walked through the door, he felt a huge weight
lift from his shoulders and he could instantly breathe easier.
A magical room it may be, it also felt like Draco’s sanctuary from the outside
world. It was the place he’d truly found himself, and it was a room he and
Harry could be with each other without the pressures of the world crushing
them. It was a place where Draco could really believe he and Harry could be
with each other.
And Draco refused to give that up. Whatever may happen outside those doors,
this was his and Harry’s room. He’d wait forever for Harry inside of here.
An hour after Draco had arrived, Harry walked through doorway already pulling
off his Cloak.
Draco sighed when he saw him, realizing he had almost been holding his breath
in thinking Harry might not have returned. 
“Hey,” he said in greeting, watching with hungry eyes as Harry crossed the
room. He had already changed out of his robes and was laying languidly on the
sofa.
Harry grinned and dropped the cloak into its usual place on the sofa. “Hey,” he
greeted back, rolling up his sleeves. Draco eyed the thick tendons and strong
muscles in his forearms, feeling his mouth water. “I didn’t see you at dinner.
You hungry?” he asked, sitting next to Draco.
The blond shrugged. “Not really. Not for food, anyway,” he added, grinning
wickedly at the Gryffindor. He reached forward and wrapped his hand around
Harry’s neck, pulling him in. Harry was already meeting him halfway, and their
mouths connected as their tongues danced together.
Merlin, how had he gone all these years without this? Draco wondered as he
grabbed the collar of Harry’s shirt tightly. He pulled Harry closer, pulling
him down and down until he was fully covering Draco and pressing him into the
couch. The sensation of being pressed from either side made Draco moan loud.
Merlin, it felt so good. He felt so safe and protected. Draco felt obsessed
with the feeling of Harry’s chest pressing on his.
Harry groaned back into Draco’s mouth, the sound thrumming between their
connected lips, and placed his knees on either side of Draco as his hands
explored Draco’s neck, cheeks, and hair. His heart was beating madly during his
assault inside Draco’s mouth.
Just a moment earlier, he had been itching to hurry and meet Draco. He never
thought he’d ever be meeting Malfoy for a make-out session, or even be looking
forward to it the whole day, but here Harry was and he was loving every second
of it. Harry ran his fingers further into Draco’s beautiful, silk-like strands.
 
Harry's hand in his hair felt like Harry was pulling his very nerves from his
body. Smooth warmth ran in thick rivulets all the way down his spine. It made
his heart race and he clutched harder onto Harry’s shoulders, arching high into
the other boy in response to Harry’s wicked hands on him. He moaned into
Harry’s mouth, feeling absolutely incredible.    
“Harry!” he gasped, bending his neck back and riding Harry’s thigh as his legs
curled tighter around Harry’s waist. Harry moaned as the change in position
brought his hips harder into Draco’s. He instantly turned and latched onto the
pale expanse of skin of his neck. He sucked and licked and moaned as he tasted
Draco’s lovely skin, as he felt Draco’s hands buried in his hair. Harry bit
down hard onto Draco’s neck as the other boy pulled hard onto his strands,
loving the sensation of Draco’s touch in his hair.
He couldn't believe this was really happening. Part of Harry was afraid that
this was an elaborate wet dream. He’d had a few of them starring the blond for
the last week, but in his heart, he knew this was real the moment he’d pressed
himself against Draco. Nothing on earth had felt so good. If this was a dream,
Harry never wanted to wake up.
Draco was thinking nearly the same thing, as his hardness finally lined up and
pressed against Harry’s. Both boys threw their heads back, moaning loud as they
arched into each other.
Draco was so hard, he was surprised he hadn’t come yet. But Harry’s thrusting
into him was bringing him closer to the edge. The feel of his hips moving
against him, and Harry’s lips and hands exploring every ounce of skin that they
could find was almost too much for Draco to take. He keened loudly, hands
scrabbling for purchase as he threw his hands backwards behind him. He clutched
the back of the sofa firmly as he arched harder and harder into Harry above,
who answered back with each quick push of his own hard length.   
“Merlin, oh Harry!" Draco shouted, his head thrown back and his hands nearly
tearing the cushions. He felt the scorching heat rising, and rising. Draco
screamed again, tensing tightly as he finally let go and came.
Harry growled into Draco’s skin as the blond screamed his release, and looked
up in time to catch Draco’s face split into ecstasy. Intense pleasure filled
him as he stared. He was so beautiful, so ethereal. And Draco looked that way
because of him. Harry bit his lip, that last thought soaring through him and he
came hard with a strangled howl.
Harry went limp against Draco, and both boys breathed harder than they’d ever
done before. Harry felt like he might never be able to move again. Draco was
basking in the hot energy still coursing through his veins. Neither boys wanted
to move as their bodies continued to shudder in the aftermath of their orgasms.
After a moment, Harry turned so that he wasn’t nearly atop of Draco and
crushing him. He moved so that he could spoon Draco against the couch, turning
them both to face the rest of the room. He rubbed Draco’s arms, waiting for his
racing heart to slow to its regular beat.
Finally, Draco turned his neck to look at him, wrapping his own arms around
Harry’s so that they clasped each other in a tight hold. He sighed, leaning his
head back against Harry’s, and tucked his face into the side of his throat as
he breathed in the scent of sex, sweat, and Harry. It was an intoxicating
combination that Draco knew he could quickly grow addicted to.
“Wow,” Harry breathed. “Is it always like that?”
Draco laughed softly. “Hmm, sometimes. Although, I think that was a category in
and of itself, to be honest.”
Harry grinned widely, pleased. “That good, eh?”
He groaned. “Shut up, stupid Gryffindor.”
 
***** Chapter Ten *****
After a few moments of resting, the boys soon realized that they were in
desperate need of some Cleaning Charms. Draco slowly stood, stretching as he
did, and reached for his wand to spell them both clean. Harry nodded his thanks
and turned to grab his cloak where it had fallen to the floor. A hand on his
wrist stopped him.
“Don’t,” Draco said, his grasp on Harry soft but steady. “Don’t go yet.”
Slightly surprised, Harry dropped his cloak and reached for Draco instead,
cradling the back of Draco’s head in his palm. “What is it?” he asked. “Ron and
Hermione don’t expect me for another few hours, at least. Do you want me to
stay here?”
Unable to use his words, Draco nodded. He suddenly felt extremely anxious and
needy for Harry to stay with him. Maybe it was the thought that he knew their
time had a foreseeable limit. The small amount of time that they had left to
spend together training and being intimate, Draco wanted it to be memorable.
Pulling Harry with him, Draco led them over to where the cushions lay scattered
on the floor. He thought for a moment, and then beamed when a king sized four
poster bed materialized before them.
Harry smiled at Draco’s quick thinking, and hurried to shed his clothing before
slipping under the covers. Draco followed suit until all that he wore was a
pair of black boxer briefs, then he crawled onto the bed and into Harry’s open
arms.
“Hey,” Harry said, grinning widely at him as he looked his fill of Draco. The
blond’s pale body was slender, similar to a swimmer’s body, and he had a light
dusting of hair around his legs, arms, and chest area. His pale pink nipples
were hard from the chilly air, and when Harry dipped his eyes lower he could
easily see the hardness of Draco’s length straining against the fabric. Harry
was only half-hard himself, but he could quickly imagine getting harder the
longer he stared at Draco.
The blond was doing his own perusal of Harry’s body, specifically at the broad,
firm chest right in front of him. Harry was covered with a thin layer of dark
curls that Draco itched to sink his hands into. His eyes traveled all over
Harry, from his slowly hardening and twitching length all the way up until they
met Harry’s green eyes. That’s when Draco’s breath left him entirely. Intense,
burning green eyes were darkened with hunger and lust. Draco nearly couldn’t
believe that stare was meant for him, and if it hadn’t been for Harry’s hands
wrapped around him, Draco would have collapsed onto the mattress from sheer
muscle weakness.
Harry couldn’t take it a second more, either; he had to have Draco’s lips on
his. His tilted his face down and brushed his tongue across Draco’s mouth,
silently begging for entrance. A soft sigh parted Draco’s lips in greeting, and
then Harry and Draco were ravaging each other’s open mouths with tongue and
teeth. Harry’s hands on him spread out and slid across Draco’s slender back,
feeling along his muscles and holding Draco’s form closer against his own.
Their heads tilted and turned as they fed one another’s growing need, moaning
and sighing into each other’s mouths. Their kisses were fueled with heat,
alternating between being wild and biting to sensual and tender. Draco didn’t
even know how he was still conscious as his lungs burned with air and he
refused to break lips with Harry.
One of Harry’s hands slip down to caress the firm curve of Draco’s arse through
the thin material of his pants. The blond pressed forward, hips aligning with
Harry’s as his legs wrapped around and locked behind the other’s waist. He
hummed deep in his throat at the resulting surge of pleasure as their hard
lengths pressed together.
Draco finally had to tear his lips apart from Harry’s to take a lungful of much
needed air, although the other boy barely noticed as Harry continued to rain
kisses and suck at Draco’s skin along his cheeks and jawbone. Draco keened as
Harry made a particular thrust that felt perfect against him, sending hot fire
through their groins.
“Harry,” he whispered, head tilting back as his pants echoed through the room.
“Harry, I want you.”
Harry groaned, thrusting harder against the blond below him. “Yes, I want you
too,” he replied hoarsely, and pulled back a bit to look at Draco. The blond’s
hair was entirely mussed, his gray eyes were entirely wild with hunger, and a
red flush had spread across his cheeks down to his neck and collarbone area.
Harry’s eyes grew darker as his gaze lowered to the pert pink nipples calling
his name. Before he had a chance to think, he lowered his head and pulled one
of the small nubs into his mouth.
“Fuck, Harry!” Draco cried, startled at first but settling down as he felt
Harry’s tongue and teeth teasing the nub almost painfully. Pre-come dripped
from his length, and Draco itched to touch himself and relieve some of the
ache. He reached his hand down to do exactly that when Harry’s hand stopped
him. Draco glanced down to see a wicked smile spread across Harry’s face.
“Not yet,” the Gryffindor said, winking lasciviously.
Draco groaned, watching as Harry slid himself down the length of Draco’s body.
Harry’s fingers slipped into the waistband of his pants and slowly pulled the
material off, relieving Draco’s erection as he did, before tossing them aside.
Then Harry stared, riveted at the sight of Draco’s hard, pink length that
practically begged for attention. His mouth watered at the slender length and
he slowly reached a hand out to grasp it firmly.
“Oh!” Draco cried, rocking forward into Harry’s touch. The Gryffindor was glad
for the reaction.
He had no idea what he was doing, honestly. Other than himself, he had never
touched another person underneath their clothing before, let alone their prick.
Harry thought he should’ve been disgusted at seeing another bloke’s bits so
close to his face. On the contrary, Draco’s bits were a lovely sight to behold.
Harry wasn’t sure if it was the same with all blokes, but Draco’s prick made
him want to touch, suck, and lick until come was spurting wildly from him. He
wanted to taste Draco and swallow him down his throat, and Merlin if that image
alone nearly sent Harry across the edge.
Draco must have taken Harry’s pause for hesitation, because he quickly pressed
a hand against Harry’s cheek and tilted his chin up to look at Draco. “Come
here,” he said, already pulling Harry up.
Harry went willingly, bemused at the sudden change of position, until he found
himself with his own back against the headboard and Draco’s head between his
legs.
“Wha —?” he barely managed to exclaim, and then Draco was taking Harry into the
tight, wet heat of his mouth.
Harry let loose a loud cry, and quickly reached down to bury his fingers into
Draco’s blond locks. His hips arched, and Draco had to press an arm down to
still him.
“Oh fuck!” Harry gasped, throwing his head back into the headboard behind him.
The dull pain in his skull didn’t even register as he felt Draco’s tongue
gently teasing and sucking at his swollen head.
Harry yearned to look down and watch Draco but after only a second of looking
at the beautiful vision of Draco Malfoy’s head bobbing between his legs, it had
nearly sent him right over. He had to clench his eyes tight and think of Snape
in a polka dot dressing gown or else he was going to spurt seconds into his
very first blowjob. 
Draco was very pleased at Harry’s reaction, and he moaned hard as he continued
his ruthless sucking of Harry’s length.
Harry was so thick, thicker than himself, and more than long enough to
challenge Draco’s gag reflex. He had loved to suck Blaise Zabini during fifth
year, and Draco had always thought of himself as a natural born cock sucker.
But this experience with Harry was entirely in a different league of its own.
Draco had nearly salivated when he had first seen Harry’s length, desperately
hoping for a chance to get his mouth on him sometime tonight. Now that he was
actually here, lips wrapped around Harry’s throbbing and thrusting length, it
was like a dream come true.
He eventually had to release Harry’s swollen head from his mouth so that he
could lick a slow, lingering swipe along its length. He buried his nose in
Harry’s pubic hair, breathing in the musky scent of him as he nuzzled the thick
base of his cock. He vaguely heard Harry’s loud moan above him, and gave a
smirk as he slid his lips in a tight suction around his head while at the same
time palming his way between Harry’s legs until he held one soft pink ball sack
in his hands. He tugged softly at Harry’s balls and moaned hard against Harry’s
cock.
“Fucking Merlin!” Harry cried, digging his fingers deeper into the nape of his
hair. “Fuck, Draco!”
Draco sucked at the pulsing length one last time, one hand reaching to pull at
what didn’t fit inside Draco’s mouth while the other tugged softly at his
balls. The stimulation was too much for Harry, and he jerked once, twice,
before shouting out hoarsely as his body arched into Draco’s mouth. Draco was
pleased, and he had to concentrate on drinking every last drop of Harry’s come.
He didn’t want to waste a single drop.   
Harry collapsed into a shuddering, moaning heap, curling onto his side so that
he could see Draco. The blond grinned like a cat who had finally got the cream,
and crawled up until he was next to Harry. He tucked his head between Harry’s
neck and sighed contentedly.
“How was that?” he asked Harry, genuinely curious. Even though he’d had
experience with Blaise, he still yearned to impress Harry with his skills.
Impress he did, and more. Harry could barely think straight. But he had noticed
that Draco hadn’t come yet.
“That was brilliant. But I want to see you come,” he said, turning and reaching
over to palm Draco’s hard length.
Draco groaned in appreciation, spreading his legs wider for better access for
Harry. He was so close. So, so close.
“Fuck, Harry!” he cried, thrusting his hips into Harry’s fist. It only took
about a minute of Harry pumping his length before Draco was arching and crying
out, his fingers clenching hard on Harry’s arm. His breath came in pants as he
slowly came down from his own orgasm high.
While he waited, Harry cast a quick cleaning charm over them and pulled the
sheets over Draco so as to prevent a chill. Draco gave him a soft smile, and
snuggled against him as Harry laid back down again.
“So, the Ice Prince of Slytherin is a cuddler at heart, who knew?” Harry
teased, grinning down at him sleepily. Draco tilted his head and gave him a
small bite on the collar bone in retaliation, but it only made Harry groan in
pleasure.
Draco chuckled. “You’re insatiable,” he said, but he was pleased.
Harry winked at him, but the yawn that followed quickly ruined the effect.
“Give me about ten minutes, then I’ll be ready for the next round.”
Draco gave a sleepy chuckle as he watched Harry slip into dreaming land, before
quickly following himself. Both boys wore smiles as they slept, intertwined
together in the bed. And for a couple of hours in their room, in that king
sized four poster bed, they were at peace.
===============================================================================
May 25
 
Draco awoke the next morning feeling warm and comfortable and safe, he didn’t
want to move for fear of disturbing such contentment. He smiled, keeping his
eyes closed, and inhaling the scent of sex and Harry. He could feel the boy
curled around behind him, and sighed happily. He went to stretch his legs, and
let out a groan as he felt the soreness in his overexerted muscles.
After the previous night’s activities, in which Draco had given Harry his first
blowjob and Harry had returned the favor by giving his first hand job, the boys
had taken a break for a few hours before resuming their explorations of each
other’s bodies.
Harry had woken up Draco with a blowjob, which while it was awkward and Harry
hadn’t been able to swallow most of Draco’s come, Draco had screamed his
ecstasy due mostly to Harry’s sheer enthusiasm and resolve. At this rate, Draco
knew Harry would be a master at cock sucking with plenty of practice, which
he’d make sure Harry would get.
Then they’d wrestled in a bed for a while, teasing and tickling each other
until the laughs soon became moans, and pants, and then more cries for release.
Draco had lost count of the number of times he had come that night with Harry,
and all he could think of was how thankful he was to be sixteen.    
Although, now that it was Sunday morning, Draco was feeling all of those
overwhelmed nerves screaming at him now. He moaned softly at his sore muscles
as he turned around to see Harry grinning sleepily at him.
“Hey,” Harry said, which was quickly becoming a familiar greeting. “Sleep
well?”
Draco nearly snorted, and he gave Harry a mock glare. “I might have if someone
hadn’t kept me up all night.”
“I didn’t hear you complaining,” Harry teased in his ear, licking and sucking
at Draco’s lobe. “You were also the one who crawled on top of me during that
last one. Not that I minded.”
Draco wanted to roll his eyes as he felt Harry nuzzling his throat. Insatiable
Gryffindors.
If he was honest with himself, though, Draco was insanely happy. He hadn’t
stopped smiling all night, and his grin only grew bigger the more Harry acted
as if he couldn’t get enough of Draco. He’d never felt such bliss and happiness
with another person like this, and in such a short amount of time too.
To think, Harry had only come back to him the night before. Were they going too
fast? Were they rushing this? Would Harry even want to see him tomorrow once
classes started again, and not ignore him like last week?
Did Draco really even care?
He didn’t have much time with Harry. So, what did it bloody matter if they
fucked liked rabbits after only admitting them fancying each other a day ago?
Draco would never see the gorgeous prick again after Harry had his fill. He had
to use all the time that he had while he could.
Keeping a passive face, Draco turned to face Harry. He wanted to grin when he
saw a slight hunger in those green eyes, even after all of last night’s
activities. Merlin, Harry was incredible.
“What did you have planned today?” he asked Harry as he curled closer to him.
Apparently, that had been the wrong thing to say.
Harry’s eyes went wide, and he bolted straight up in the bed. “Merlin, I
forgot! I was supposed to go back to the dorms and see Ron and Hermione.” He
scrambled out from the covers, hurriedly pulling on his trousers as he tried to
shove his feet into his trainers at the same time.
Draco snorted at the wild display, and cast a quick Tempus.
“Harry, Merlin Harry, slow down! You’ve got time.”
“Wha —?” Harry said, his tie clenched between his teeth as he hurried to button
up his shirt.
Draco shook his head fondly at the Gryffindor.
“It’s only four in the morning. You still have plenty of time to sneak back
into the dorms before Granger and the Weasel notice.”
“But they’ll know I was out all night because I didn’t come back.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Gryffindors,” he sighed. “Just tell them you went for a
walk and accidently crashed out in some empty classroom or something.”
“They wouldn’t believe that,” Harry said, shaking his head. He had slowed down
his dressing, though, which Draco was grateful for. It didn’t sit well with him
seeing Harry jump out of their bed so quickly, the same bed they had licked and
sucked and tasted each other in all night.  
“Then just tell them something believable. You still have time to think about
it.”
Harry was biting his lip, and all of a sudden he looked a bit shifty as he
avoided Draco’s stare. Draco raised his eyebrows, waiting for the eventual
eloquence that knew awaited him. “Er, well, I had an idea about that actually.”
“’An idea.’” Draco deadpanned, his words a statement, not a question.
“Yeah. I mean, well, I was actually thinking that I should tell Ron and
Hermione about us,” he said, voice dropping to a whisper near the end.
Draco gaped at him. “What? You want to tell them…?”
“No! I mean, no, not about that,” Harry hurried to explain. “I meant, as in you
switching sides and me training you. I know that it’s not smart telling the
entire school and everyone else. Too many eyes and ears, and everything you
said. But Ron and Mione are my best mates. We tell each other everything.”
“I’m well aware,” Draco almost sneered. “Do they have to know about this,
though? Apparently, you’ve already tried convincing them that I’m a Death Eater
—”
“Right, sorry about that.”
“But if they know that you’re training me now, don’t you think that makes me
look suspicious? One moment you’re hating my guts and declaring me the enemy,
and the next you have my dick down your throat!”
“Hey,” Harry broke in quickly, coming around to wrap his arms to cradle Draco
against him. “Listen, I told you already, you were never my enemy. And we
apologized already for all that crap we put each other through.”
“Yes, Harry, but you’re also close to screwing a Death Eater’s son. We slept
together last night. That makes this entire situation biased. Granger and the
Weasel are going to think I put you under Imperius or a love potion.”
Harry sighed, turning Draco around to face him clearly. “Okay, for one, we
slept together in the literal sense. I haven’t fucked you. Yet,” he added with
a charming leer.
Draco rolled his eyes. “Focus, Potter!”
“Two,” he continued. “I can resist the Imperius. Where would you have gotten a
powerful love potion for me, anyway? Plus, I meant that I only wanted to tell
Ron and Mione the basic, small stuff. They don’t need to know the details or
anything else about our deal. They know I cursed you in that bathroom. We can
say that in order not to report me, you and I made a deal that I was to teach
you other curses. It’s about the same as what we’re doing now, just without…
all of the other extra stuff.”
Extra stuff, he calls it, Draco mentally scowled.
But he had to agree with Harry on the first part of his speech. The other two-
thirds of the golden trio would believe it more if they thought Draco had
coerced him, but in a more non-romantic and legal way that wouldn’t send him to
Azkaban.
Draco sighed. “I feel like I’m going to regret this, and I’m not entirely sure
if my support isn’t orgasm-induced, but fine. Tomorrow we can tell them.” Harry
gave him a beaming grin. “But you can’t tell them I switched sides, or anything
about my mission or my parents. Just strictly say that we’ve been meeting so I
can pummel you with spells.”
“I wish you’d pummel me with something else —”
“Potter!” Draco cried, flushing deeply in both mortification and fondness. “You
are truly insatiable!”
“Hmm,” Harry sighed, licking the side of Draco’s neck, and feeling pleased when
he felt a tremor through Draco’s body. “Don’t you forget it, Draco.”
And then Harry proceeded to make sure that Draco wouldn’t forget it, for
precisely one whole hour.          
 
***** Chapter Eleven *****
May 26
 
It wasn’t that Draco was worried about Harry telling his sidekicks about their
truce or the fact that Harry helped Draco train, because he knew it would only
lead to suspicion if they didn’t. It wasn’t even the fact that Granger and the
Weasel may try to convince Harry that Draco was really a Death Eater who was
just trying to rope Harry in for secret intel before giftwrapping him to the
Dark Lord.
No, what truly terrified Draco was if Granger and the Weasel somehow found out
about their relations and cried to the Headmaster, who would in turn call in
the Minister or some other rubbish person who would eventually let the secret
out. If that happened, the Dark Lord would surely learn the truth about Draco’s
true intentions and Harry would be in more danger than he was before.
Right now, Draco and Harry were able to be their true selves to each other
within their room. But outside the room, the world still only knew them as
Potter and Malfoy. And they had to keep it that way for Harry’s sake.
Otherwise, who knew what the Dark Lord would do if he learned the two were
romantically involved. He’d somehow use one against the other, either Harry in
exchange for Draco’s service or Draco for Harry’s surrender. Either way, it was
just better the less amount of people knew.
So, right now, Draco was pacing in their room.
Earlier in the day, Harry had owled him. He had told Draco that other than in
classes, he had to stay out of sight until Harry managed to tell the other two
everything that they had agreed to tell them. Seeing as Draco had no idea when
that conversation was going to take place, he decided to go to their room right
after his last class let out.  
It was actually quite nice and calming being alone in the room. Draco had
ordered dinner using the room’s magic, which he had enjoyed immensely, and then
he decided he’d distract himself by using one of the bookshelves in the corner
of the room.
Only, it didn’t work. Two pages in, and Draco was mentally panicking about what
Harry could possibly be telling his friends. Had Harry already told them? Had
the Weasel thrown a fit? Had Dumbledore somehow overheard and had ordered the
Aurors to capture Draco? Were they on their way right now, stomping through the
halls and looking for Draco Malfoy, son of the notorious Death Eater Lucius
Malfoy who currently resided in Azkaban? Would Harry save them if they took him
away, or watch helplessly as —
Draco heard a slight knock on the door. He turned, bemused as to why Harry
would suddenly decide to knock on their door when he had just casually invited
himself in all the other times. Unless…
The door opened, and Draco nearly collapsed in relief as Harry’s wild hair
poked through the door.
“Hey,” Draco said, standing up and walking over. “Did you…?”
“Erm, yeah, I did. And well, they’re outside in the hallway actually,” Harry
said sheepishly. “I tried to stall them. They had so many questions, and Ron is
a bit upset with me right now. But Hermione is really curious about the
training room that we’re using, so er, if you could…?” He motioned to the
disarrayed bed and to the cloaks that looked exactly like they’d been flung
onto the floor without a single care.
Draco flushed. He wanted to refuse, because how dare Granger just intrude upon
Draco’s sanctuary. This was his and Harry’s space, and Merlin knew how many
jinxes he’d give Granger if her presence did anything to mess that up.
He gritted his teeth, but gave in to the plea in Harry’s expression. It was no
use arguing when he wore a look like that.
It took a moment, and then the bed disappeared back to become floor cushions,
the space on the sofas was decluttered and clean from parchment and food, and
the bathroom that Harry had thought to install in the corner yesterday when the
boys had wanted to shower together suddenly blinked out of existence. He
thought for another moment, and a full tea service laid itself out on the
table.
The room looked exactly as it had that first day when Draco had created the
room. There was no sign of any intimacy ever having occurred, just a blank,
nearly empty training room. Draco wanted to burn with rage at Granger’s nosing
into their business, but the earnest expression that Harry wore quelled the
anger.
That’s right, it’s not just about a room, Draco tried to remind himself.
Hermione might walk into the space they’d come to know as theirs, but she
couldn’t come between something she didn’t know about. As long as he and Harry
were careful, they could just wish everything back and go about their nightly
routine as normal. They just had to convince the duo of the honor in Draco’s
intentions.
A minute after the room was back to its original state, Harry was walking back
into the room with Granger and Weasley in tow, with the latter not appearing as
if he wanted to be there at all.
Ditto, Draco thought to himself, wishing they’d just take a quick look and then
leave already.
“Malfoy,” Granger greeted, her expression almost disbelieving at the sight of
him, as if she really hadn’t thought that he would be there. Draco’s grey eyes
regarded her with a neutral expression.
“Granger,” he said simply. Weasley was right behind her, his beady little eyes
glaring in his direction. He didn’t bother greeting Draco, but he was alright
with that. It gave him a chance to show Harry how much of a bigger person Draco
was willing to be around his friends. “Weasley. Glad you could come.”
“Not that I had much of a choice, Malfoy,” came the terse reply from the
redhead.
Harry and Hermione bit at their lips, looking slightly uncomfortable at the
growing tension in the room. Trust Granger to act peacemaker in these types of
situations.
“Wow, what an amazing space. Harry, did you make it? Looks awfully similar to
the old D.A. room.”
Harry shook his head. “Draco made it. I thought the same thing, too,” he said,
and he gave a look of pride towards Draco.
Draco tried not to blush, but he felt pleased at satisfying Harry this way. He
wanted to prove himself to Harry any chance he could get, so he could show him
that being a Slytherin and almost Death Eater wasn’t all the Draco was capable
of.
Draco would curse himself for it later, but he didn’t notice Granger’s eyes
that riveted between the two boys, wary, like she was contemplating
something.    
“Yeah, funny that,” came Ron’s voice. “Maybe he managed to see a bit of the
room when he was capturing everyone last year for Umbridge’s Inquisitorial
Squad.” He sneered at Malfoy, taking a step forward in his direction
threateningly.
Draco took a sharp breath. He had an urge to turn and flee the room, but he
managed to hold steady. He kept his features neutral and waited for the Weasel
to make a move. Draco would defend himself, but blast it if he was going to
throw the first punch just so the Weasel could use another reason against him.
“I actually can’t bloody believe that we’re all standing here, pretending to
take Malfoy at his word,” the redheaded Gryffindor said. “Yeah, Harry, I know
that you said you’re only training the Ferret because you nearly sliced him up,
but you don’t think he bloody planned it that way? You’ve been calling him a
Death Eater all this year, and now suddenly you’re teaching him how to fight
and you’re best mates?”
“It’s not like that, Ron,” Harry broke in. “He couldn’t have planned that
attack. I told you, even I didn’t know what that spell did. And Malfoy was in
the Hospital Wing all that day. You think he got himself hurt on purpose?”
“What I think,” the Weasel said with a sneer. “Is that the bloody Ferret saw an
opportunity like any true Slytherin snake would, and used it to his advantage.
I think he’s using your bloody guilt to help himself become stronger than you,
and then when all of your defenses are down, he’ll hit you with a Stupefy and
carry you to You-Know-Who to make up for all of his daddy’s wrongdoings. He
only wants to sell you out so that he can get the bloody prize himself.”
Harry actually began shaking, his face going red with anger. “You know nothing,
Ron. Draco isn’t like that at all.”
“You’re mental!” Weasley yelled. “Of course, he’s like that! He’s been nothing
but a manipulative, lying, cheating snake all these years. And you thought the
same thing too until he got inside your head a few weeks ago. Now you’re
disappearing all over the place, not showing up to the dorms until after curfew
or in the middle of the bloody night. This whole time I thought you were with
some girl, or something, and I was wanting to give you space. If I had known it
was the bloody Ferret that you’d been seeing all along —”
“Ronald!” Granger shrilled from behind him. “You had promised to hear them out.
We already agreed that Malfoy didn’t have Harry under Imperius, and we had gone
to Madame Pomfrey about the love potion idea. She cleared him free from any
potions or spells that could’ve been altering his behavior.”
Draco glanced at Harry, who suddenly seemed very interested in a nearby hanging
tapestry. He frowned. Stupid Gryffindors.
“Yeah, well who knows what other dark spells that git learned from his daddy
Death Eater? It could be something that we just haven’t seen yet, or
something.”
Yeah, like my prick, Draco thought smugly to himself.
“Ron, Draco doesn’t have me under any spells. And he’s not my best mate, you
are, you bloody git. We just agreed to a truce for now while I help him. I
haven’t told him any of our secrets or about Dumbledore, so even if he was
aiming for information like you think he is, there isn’t anything he can use.”
Fortunately for them, Draco mused with a frown. Yeah, he might be getting laid
by him, but he was still no where near to Harry as Weasley thought they were.
Or to what Draco wished they could be.
“You’re precious Order secrets are safe, Weasley,” Draco decided to break in.
“He’s told me several times already that he’s unable to tell me things, and I’m
alright with that.” Mostly. “We agreed to keep our trainings to just that,
without conversations about the Dark Lord or the impending war coming between
us.”
“How do you know there’s going to be a war?” Ron demanded.
Draco rolled his eyes.
“He’s the one that gave me the information about it, Ron,” Harry said.
“You mean,” Granger said. “Malfoy is the informant? Not your vision?”
“Erm, yeah,” Harry said, looking sheepish. “I told you guys and Dumbledore that
because I didn’t want you asking questions at the time. But yeah, Draco is the
one who warned me about what Voldemort is looking for and what he’s planning.”
“What if the Ferret is lying?”
“I’m not,” Draco said, suddenly having enough of all this back and forth. “I
may not totally agree with your views about Muggles, Weasley, but contrary to
what you may think, I don’t actually want to fight in this war.”
“No, you just want to run and hide —”
“Preferably yes,” Draco admitted, taking the time to relish the shocked look
that Weasley and Granger gave at his blunt admittance. “If it was possible, I’d
take my mother and flee to France away from all of this rubbish. I don’t want
to be some fighter and lay down my life for some stupid cause, unlike you
Gryffindors. But, as Harry had already schooled me on how that’s not a viable
path that I can take, I’m doing this instead. I already gave him the small
amount of information that I knew he would need for this war, and now I’m
training with Harry so that if I do get in the middle of crossfire, I can fight
my way out and then eventually flee to safety.”
He looked at the other two, willing for them to understand his actions and
reasoning for associating himself with Harry. “Whether you believe me or not, I
honestly don’t bloody care. But you care about Harry, and he cares about you.
And he’s going to need your support in this war. So, if you could just stop
giving him a bloody hard time about what he chooses to do in his free time, and
understand that I’m not tricking him into doing anything for me concerning the
war, that’d be bloody fantastic.”  
He didn’t think that his speech would actually make them all best mates, but
Draco was honestly sick and tired of Gryffindors butting into his time with
Harry. If he had his way, he’d ignore Granger’s shocked face and relish in the
Weasel’s anger as he threw their bloody Chosen One onto the table and shagged
him right in front of them. It’d be a great way to go, coming into Harry’s
tight arse right before he was Avada Kedavra’d by Weasley. Better than being
taken out on the battlefield, in any case.
Caught up in his own wild musings, Draco almost missed the look of pride Harry
threw at him, or the wary acceptance Granger was also giving him. He did hear
the grumblings of Weasley, though, and he rolled his eyes at the Weasel’s sheer
obviousness.
“Well, while Harry is training you, he could instead be helping Dumbledore look
for more hor —”  
“Ronald Weasley!” Hermione yelled, catching the redhead by his arm. “Malfoy is
trying here. The least you can do is try and act like you understand his
reasoning. He went to great lengths to tell Harry what he did, and he probably
risked his life doing so, too.” She quickly turned to Draco then, eyes intense
and bright with intelligence.
“And you! While I understand your actions a bit more now, and I’m glad that you
don’t seem to want Harry for nothing else other than to help you with spells” —
Draco inwardly smirked — “You also can’t just expect us to believe that you’re
all changed now. You bullied us for more than five years, Malfoy. You called us
names, tried to get us into trouble, and you were an all-around jerk to us all
the time. I get that you were mostly doing it to get Harry’s attention,” she
said, and Draco nearly spluttered, his eyes wide with incredulity. “But your
actions made us all really hate you, Malfoy. You may have had a little more
time with Harry, but this is the first time I’ve interacted with you and you’re
not throwing Mudblood insults at me.
“Unless you actually apologize to Ronald and I — and we’ll agree to leave
Harry’s choice to help you alone, for now — you’ll always be our enemy. Your
friendship with Harry won’t have our blessing, but we do understand a bit more
where you’re coming from.”
While Granger spoke, Draco kept silent and watched Harry, who stood right
behind her. He could tell that Harry wanted to jump in and defend Draco, but
the stupid Gryffindor git was having trouble deciding whose friendship mattered
to him more.
Draco knew the obvious answer, knew that he would always come second to the
other Gryffindor duo. Nevertheless, he hated seeing Harry torn like that. He
would never make the boy choose between them, mostly in fear of the decision
he’d inevitably make, but also because he knew that the Gryffindors were really
important to Harry. He was telling the truth earlier when he said that Harry
would need those two at his side during this upcoming war. And who was he to
break up the Golden Trio?
“I apologize.”
The Weasel and Granger had turned to leave the room after the Muggleborn’s
little speech, but they stopped at Draco’s words. Harry, too, was gazing back
at Draco in astonishment.
“What did you say?” Weasley asked. “I didn’t hear you, perhaps if you were
louder?” He ignored all three glares being thrown at him as he smirked at the
blond.
Clenching his jaw, but willing to show everyone again how much of a better
person he was than Weasley, Draco repeated his words. “I apologize. For
everything.”
“Could you be more specific?”
“Ronald!”
“I’m sorry I called you a Mudblood, Granger,” Draco continued through gritted
teeth. “And for assuming that your… home, Weasley, was unfit for inhabitance.
And Harry,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry for ever insulting your
parents. My actions are inexcusable and maybe even unforgiveable, but I was a
different person back then. I was a child… well, still am a child but a bit
more grown up, I’d hope. My father was a great man and I put too much faith in
all of his teachings back then, but now I see him for what he really is. He’s
just another one of… V-V-Voldemort’s followers.”
And Draco inwardly beamed at Harry’s shining eyes on him, ignoring the other
duo’s twin gasps.
“I had this idea of a world ruled by purebloods, and everyone else of lesser
stature not being worthy of magic. It took Harry cursing and then befriending
me to open my eyes and to finally see the truth. I still made the choice on my
own, but with Harry’s help I made the choice to refuse to follow my father in
his footsteps.”
Draco decided to end his speech there, feeling weary and worn out all of a
sudden, and unwilling to actually voice out the words of his switching to
Harry’s side to them. They didn’t need to know all of that right now. He just
needed them to understand that Draco wasn’t going to be a threat to Harry, so
that they could just leave the two of them alone.
He turned away to sit on one of the sofas, ignoring how Granger turned to
whisper quietly to the other two. Whatever she was saying, Draco only hoped it
was good things and that it ended with the duo finally leaving Harry alone.
He decided to drink some tea to calm his nerves, since it had already been
prepared earlier. It was still hot, thank Merlin for small joys, and the tea
did help a bit as Draco sipped at it.    
It was a few minutes later when Granger, Weasley, and Harry came over to join
him on the sofas. Harry chose to sat next to him while the other two sat
across.
“Tea?” Draco offered, putting his cup down and wishing the room for a few more.
Granger nodded. “Please.”
Draco poured tea for all three of them before sitting back with his own.
Everyone sat for a moment in the silence, sipping their teas and musing over
their thoughts.
Draco was grateful for the silence, hardly believing a room filled with mostly
Gryffindors could stay quiet for more than a few minutes.
Granger eventually broke it as she cleared her throat.
“Thank you for the tea, Malfoy, and for what you said. We’re grateful you were
able to tell us more about your intentions with Harry. And while I don’t agree
with you entirely, I think I understand your decision to have Harry help you a
bit better now.” She gave him a look of sympathy. “As for your apology, I don’t
know if I can forgive you just yet for all the ugly names you’ve called me and
all the hatred that has spewed out of your mouth over the years. But, I am
willing to try. This war of V-Voldemort’s is only going to get worse. We can’t
spend any more energy on fighting with each other. If you’re willing to make a
truce with Harry, we’ll honor that.”
Draco nodded, his gaze praising as he looked at Granger. “Thank you,” he said.
Granger gave him a half smile. “I just hope all this time spent helping Malfoy
is worth it,” she said, throwing a glance at Harry.
The Gryffindor’s face was serious as he looked at them all. “It is, Mione.
Totally worth it.”
Weasley looked a bit nauseous at that, but Granger gave Harry a contemplative
look. She glanced at Draco again, her eyes searching. Whatever she’d been
looking for, she must’ve found; because to his surprise, she gave him an even
softer smile.
“Alright, Harry. We’ll leave you two alone.”
With nothing more to be said, Granger and Weasley stood to leave. Harry saw
them to the door, whispering them all the while his thanks.
Draco watched them go, silently musing as he waited for Harry to return to him.
A few minutes passed until Harry walked back into the room, smiling widely. He
joined Draco onto the sofa and pulled the blond close to him as they finally
relaxed together in the room.
“Thank you,” Harry whispered, pressing a kiss to Draco’s forehead. “There’s so
much that has happened in our past. So much hate and bickering. I’m glad we’re
finally able to get over all of that, and that Hermione and Ron are willing to,
also.”
“Weasley didn’t say much at all at the end,” he snorted.
“He’ll come around,” Harry said. “He cares about me, so he’s just scared. We’ll
just have to show them that you’ve changed.”
Draco was silent, thinking of the cursed necklace and the poisoned mead.
“Now that we’re alone now,” Harry said, his voice turning sultry. “I think
you’d better put back our bed. After that little speech you gave, I’ve been
hard for you ever since.”
That snapped Draco out of his sullen musing.
He gave Harry a sly grin as he rose with Harry. He wrapped his arms around him,
reaching with both hands to dig his fingers deeply into his messy black hair
and ruffling it.
Harry smiled, amused. “Like my hair?”
“Messy as it is, the just-shagged look suits you,” he purred. “I don’t even
think Granger noticed that you hadn’t brushed your hair before leaving this
morning.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “The ‘just-shagged look’? That’s what you describe my
hair now? I happen to recall it being called a bird’s nest in the past.”
“That was before you had your mouth on my cock,” Draco smirked, quickly
imagining their room back to the way they had it. His grin grew at the
reappearance of the bed. “Speaking of…” he said, arching an elegant eyebrow and
walking over to stand by the covers.
He began to unbutton his shirt.
Harry didn’t need to be told twice. He hurried over to follow Draco, ripping
his shirt over his head and tugging down his trousers, struggling to kick them
off as he crawled inelegantly onto the bed.
Draco laughed loudly at him, naked now and hard cock jutting from his curls.
Harry reached over and grabbed Draco to pull him on top of him.
Draco was still laughing at him until Harry aligned their hard lengths and
pressed them together. He began to tug at them at a rapid pace, and soon
Draco’s laughter turned into soft moans that echoed through the room.     
Yes, Draco thought. Totally worth it.
 
***** Chapter Twelve *****
Chapter Notes
     See Sexual Warnings Above
See the end of the chapter for more notes
June 4
 
For the next week and a half, the boys passed their mornings going to classes
as usual, ignoring each other the same way they had all year, and concentrating
on maintaining the facades that everyone other than themselves knew. 
In the evenings in their Room, all of that changed.
Whenever the boys weren’t training, and growing in strength from practicing
their spells and trying new tactics to navigate their way through a duel, the
boys spent most of their time exploring additional ways to make the other boy
moan and cry out with ecstasy.  
“Harry! Oh Merlin, YES!”
Tonight was no different.
After performing the necessary cleaning charms, Harry was making sure he made
Draco cry out a bit louder this night. He looked up from where his tongue was
currently stroking the inside of Draco’s red, puckered hole, pleased to see
Draco’s flushed face and clenched eyes above him near the headboard.
“Harry! Please, please, I’m ready!” Draco gasped, pulling behind his own knees
with both hands, moving them higher in the air. “Just fucking do it already,
Potter!”
Harry gave a dark chuckle, licking a long and hard stripe against Draco’s
gasping hole, reveling in the loud cry that followed. “Had enough, Draco?”
“Yes, yes!”
Harry stopped tonguing the blond’s arse. “So, you admit that I won that duel
fair and square?”
Draco groaned, throwing his head back in frustration. “You are the absolute
worst... uh…!” His words died on a guttural groan as Harry’s tongue went back
to work. “Yes, yes, Merlin yes!”
Harry grinned, delighted as always at Draco’s lovely reactions. The boy was
very vocal in bed, which had been a wonderful surprise to Harry. He loved
seeing the blond so quiet and reserved during the day in classes, then seeing
him flushed and energetic during their trainings, before finally breaking him
apart and making him scream in bed. It was an addiction Harry was quickly
coming to love.
He finally stopped torturing the boy’s gorgeous, swollen hole and sat up,
ignoring the blond’s beautiful cry of frustration. He grabbed the jar of lube
that was placed next to him, and reached in to scoop a handful to rub onto his
length. He tugged at himself a few times, before scooping out some more and
pressing one finger into the heat of Draco’s body. He moved his finger gently
in and out, before adding a second. He began to scissor them inside carefully
as he looked up the pale length of the blond. He met Draco’s grey eyes, and
felt mesmerized at the mix of shining tenderness and wonder that flared inside
them.
All this week, the boys had done nothing more than suck and taste one another.
The closest they had gotten to actual penetration was when Draco had leaned
against Harry’s front and rocked his length between the other boy’s arse
cheeks. They hadn’t meant to wait this long, but between trainings and
homework, they had been either too stressed or tired to attempt it.
But today, Harry had entered the room before Draco. It wasn’t often that the
blond was late, but it did happen. Harry figured that since it was the blond’s
birthday, he was enjoying some time with his friends in the Slytherin Dungeon.
Harry had thought to stop by Hogsmeade to buy a gift for Draco, but the other
boy had refused to hear of it. He only wanted one thing for his birthday, and
that was Harry himself.
While Harry was pleased that his mere presence made Draco happy, he still
wanted to do something for the blond. He tried to think of what to do for
someone who had nearly everything at his disposal. Physical gifts would’ve been
hard to find anyway, because no matter what it was, Draco was sure to have
already bought it or could buy it himself.
Then Harry realized the perfect gift, and had run to the library straight after
dinner.
So, now Harry was sitting on the sofa in their room and opening up his bookbag.
While he searched amongst his textbooks and notes, thoughts of earlier events
that had happened the night before on the very same sofa raced through Harry’s
mind. They urged him to search faster until finally Harry found the book he’d
checked out. It was titled, 50 Ways to Do It Right with Your Wizard. How this
book had managed to find itself into the school library, he’d never know. But
Harry opened it up, and began researching.
By the time Draco had entered an hour later, Harry was in quite a state. Harry
hadn’t even bothered waiting for Draco to greet him before he had swept the
blonde onto the bed, ripped his cloak and clothing off, then proceeded to tell
him, “Let’s do it.”
Draco was never one to look a gift hippogriff in the mouth, so he went with it.
And Merlin, was he glad he did.
Harry pushed in a third finger, curling them with his palm up, pressing
carefully, searching for the beautiful bundle of nerves that the book had
mentioned. Going by Draco’s shrill cry a few seconds later, he’d found it.
He slowly slipped his fingers out from Draco’s clinging heat, Harry grabbed his
straining, weeping length and moved closer between Draco’s legs.
“You ready, love?” he asked, his eyes level with Draco’s gray ones.
Draco nodded, eyes burning and mouth dry as he stared at Harry’s luminescent
green eyes above him. “Yes, Harry, want you inside me.” 
Biting his lip hard at Draco’s words, he took his length and guided the swollen
head against the boy’s opening. He slowly, steadily pressed inside, clenching
his eyes at the tightness he could feel all around the head of his cock.
Draco’s mouth dropped with a soft cry as he felt Harry’s thickness breaching
him slowly, filling him all the way until his pelvis pressed against Draco’s
balls. The stretching had burned, and he was suddenly glad that Harry taken
almost half an hour of licking and fingering him in preparation.
Harry had to stop for a moment for a breather, otherwise he was certain he
would come. Draco’s arse was still so tight, and wet. The warmth was nearly
unbearable, and felt so perfect wrapped around him. Harry was immensely glad
they had finally decided to do this, and only slightly upset that they hadn’t
decided to do it earlier.
After a short while, the burning began to fade, and then Draco just felt the
wonderful sensation of being filled. He let his legs relax some so that one
wrapped around Harry’s shoulder while the other went around his waist. Draco
was free to slide his hands along Harry’s chest, which was coated with a light
sheen of perspiration. He moaned at the overwhelming sensations that coursed
through him.  
“Alright, Draco?” Harry asked softly.
Draco looked at him and nodded. “Yes, please.” The words were barely out before
Harry was already pulled back, and then pressing forward again. Draco’s eyes
rolled up as he let out a low moan. “Oh yes,” he sighed, mouth hanging open.
“Oh, yes, just like that. Oh, that feels perfect.”
Harry pushed in and out again, angling his cock as he thrust into Draco so that
it could graze that spot. When it finally did, Draco keened and threw his hands
back to fist into the sheets. “Merlin, yes!” 
Harry tried to brush the bundle of nerves again, but only managed to hit it
every other third stroke or so. Draco didn’t mind. The intense burn of magic
cackled in the air around them, and the flood of sensations all around was
nearly overwhelming the poor blond. Harry could feel it, too, like sparkling
flashes of light that filled the air around them.
He began to move with more force, nearly pushing Draco’s head closer and closer
to the headboard. Groans, gasps, and broken cries filled the room as Harry
thrust more and more and more. Draco drew sobbing breaths, pleading and crying
out to Merlin as Harry’s length filled him repeatedly. He finally remembered to
lower his hand and wrap around himself, stroking in time with Harry’s thrusts.
Draco felt the pressure building in his stomach, and clutched tighter onto the
sheets with one hand while his other began to move faster. Harry could feel
Draco start to tighten, and felt his own balls drawing up hard into his body.
“Draco… close,” he gasped out.
Draco panted. “Yes, Harry, inside me.” Then he let go himself, and came with a
loud, ragged cry of Harry’s name as he arched his head backwards. Thick streams
of white spilled from him, splashing his stomach and some of Harry’s chest with
his seed.
Harry hadn’t thought Draco could get any tighter, and he only managed a couple
more thrusts into that tight, warm chasm before his own orgasm erupted
explosively from him and into Draco. He managed a soft, broken cry of Draco’s
name before rational thought simply escaped him. He fell to his elbows above
Draco, just barely managing to avoid crushing him.  
“Merlin,” Draco sighed, his heart racing as he gasped for air. “I don’t think I
have any energy to move. Ever.”
Harry wanted to laugh, but he was barely able to form any coherent thoughts. He
did manage to turn a bit, collapsing beside Draco and slipping out of him at
the same time. Draco groaned at the overextended nerves.
“Wow,” Harry breathed, when he was finally able to form words. That had been
one of the most intense orgasms Harry had ever experienced in his life. “Happy
birthday, Draco,” he said with a blissful sigh.
Tired and happily sated, Draco smiled back at him. “What a wonderful birthday
it was,” he agreed, and looked dreamily at Harry. Merlin, there was nothing
more beautiful than Harry. He would do anything for him, Draco realized.
Because he loved him.
Merlin, he loved Harry.
A feeling of absolute giddiness washed over him in waves, mixing pleasantly
with the already tingling aftershocks of his previous orgasm. Draco felt like
smiling for days, he could barely contain it.
He turned to his side to face Harry, and realized the boy had already fallen
asleep, with a soft smile on his face, too.
Draco gave a little delightful sigh and moved his head to lay on Harry’s
shoulder. Their limbs would eventually intertwine overnight, but for now Draco
was utterly relaxed. With his arms wrapped around Harry’s torso, holding him
close, Draco joined Harry in sleep.
What a happy birthday it was, indeed.
 
Chapter End Notes
     BTW, I actually found a book very similar to what Harry had found in
     my own public school library in high school. I think someone left it
     in there by mistake though.... O.o So one could assume that might be
     the same case here.
***** Chapter Thirteen *****
June 8
 
Over the next couple of weeks, Harry had worked with Draco on improving his
form while simultaneously teaching him how to move around silently during a
wand fight. They’d soon moved onto nonverbal spells, which Draco had quickly
mastered after only a few days, and then on to wandless magic.
Both Harry and Draco had to improve in this skill, so they took to the library
for research — amongst other fun activities they managed to achieve in the
Restricted Section. After almost a week of nonstop practice, Harry and Draco
were nearly masters at wandlessly casting a variety of spells. It also helped
when Draco had the idea to kill two owls with one stone; they practiced
wandless magic during sex.
For their training one day, the boys learned how to wandlessly and nonverbally
vanish mouth gags.   
“Try again, Harry,” Draco had sighed, as he relished the warm sensation of
Harry encompassing his length. He was buried to the hilt of Harry’s arse while
the other boy was bent over on one side of the sofa, and Draco struggled not to
come at the sight of Harry’s hole clenching hard on his cock.  
Harry groaned through the gag and a sheen of sweat dotted his forehead. His
hands were bound behind him so that he couldn’t summon his wand, and the gag in
his mouth prevented him from speaking a single word. As much as the kinky
objects were being used for educational purposes that night, Draco was sorely
tempted to keep them and use them for future use. 
“I’m sorry, Harry, I couldn’t quite hear that,” Draco said, closing his eyes
while he enjoyed the beautiful sight before him. “Could you possibly speak
louder?” A loud moan sounded. “Why, yes, I do believe that you’re rather lucky
to have me. Not many blokes catch my eye, Potter, but you were simply too
irresistible to pass up.”
Harry growled, and tried to turn around to glare at him.
“Oh, that reminds me! In all that research that we did in the Restricted
Section a few days ago,” Draco said, with a slight push into Harry’s heat. He
ignored the moan that followed. “I found the recipe to brew Liquid Luck. I
remember the ingredients very clearly.”
A deeper, louder growl.
“Oh, shush, you can wait. Now, the ingredients were very clear, if rather
expensive and difficult to acquire. First, the list included Ashwinder Eggs,
which as you know is quite essential to the potion, Felix Felicis. Next was the
juice of a squill bulb, which I learned that they’re best harvested just as
they flower. Fascinating ingredients, mind you. I’ve never seen a more
complicated but worthwhile recipe. To think, all you really have to do is drink
that lucky potion right before you meet the Dark Lord, and then you’ll surely
get lucky enough to get a shot in and —”
“Draco,” came Harry’s raspy voice.
Draco’s eyes grew wide as Harry’s hands were suddenly unbound and gripping
tight onto the sofa cushion below him. Harry turned his head to look at Draco,
and his eyebrows were raised with a smirk on those beautiful lips.
“Fuck me.”
Draco had Merlin to thank for not releasing into Harry right then and there.
Then, the morning after Draco’s birthday, Harry had woken up to see Draco
sitting up straight beside him, wand in hand, and wearing a wide, radiant
smile.
“What is it?” Harry had asked, not being able to help himself in smiling at how
absolutely happy Draco had looked.   
The blond only said one word. “Look.” And then he’d waved his wand, whispering
so softly the incantation, “Expecto Patronum.”
A bright, white light had illuminated the room, and Harry had to squint until
he was finally able to see the ethereal form of a roaring lion pacing back and
forth on the floor beside the bed.   
Harry’s mouth dropped, staring for a moment at the pacing creature and then he
turned wide eyes at Draco.
“Yes, I know,” Draco sighed, and waved his wand to end the spell. “A lion. How
utterly ironic.”
“Draco,” Harry whispered, both awed and unexpectedly flattered. “You cast the
spell.”
“Yes, yes, an amazing feat,” Draco said, but he was smiling widely. “Only took
hours of amazing sex for me to finally get access to a happy memory —”
“Of me,” Harry quickly pointed out, smug.
Draco groaned. “Arrogance is most unbecoming, Harry.”
But Harry ignored his ramblings, and pulled him closer so that the blond could
settle on top of him. Then he proceeded to show Draco exactly how proud he was
of him.
===============================================================================
 
Today was the day Harry would finally teach Draco how to resist the Imperius
curse.
Truthfully, Draco was a little bit nervous. He had every right to be. He knew
Harry wouldn’t let any harm come to him while he cast the spell. He fully
trusted Harry now, which was one of the only reasons why he’d let Harry cast
this spell on him. Still.
Draco walked over to where Harry stood in the middle of the room, waiting with
his wand at the ready.
“Are you ready, Draco?” Harry asked, wary. Draco took a deep breath and nodded.
“Alright, so listen very closely. Whenever this spell is cast on me, I’m not
sure exactly how I fight it off. It might be different for everyone. I always
feel this calmness wash over me, like a soothing wave. And I know it’s not
natural, so I don’t like it. Then I hear the command that tells me what to do.
I hear it, but there’s this other part of me that doesn’t want to do the
command; it even questions it. It takes a little while but I eventually just
know not to follow the command, so I ignore it. Eventually, I’m able to break
the spell.”
“So, you just ignore it?” Draco asked, raising an elegant eyebrow. He felt
skeptical.  
“Er, yeah. Like I said, it might be different for everyone. So, I don’t even
know if this will work.”
“So, voices and a soothing wave. Got it.”
“You still want to try it?” Harry asked.
“Yes,” Draco said, serious. “Now I know a bit more on how to visualize blocking
the command.” Draco breathed deeply, closed his eyes, and waited for Harry to
cast the spell.
Harry was still hesitant, but he knew that there wasn’t much he could do. Once
Draco had made up his mind about something, he stubbornly followed through; in
this case, the prat had tagged Harry along for the ride.  
Raising his wand, Harry stepped closer to the blond. He sighed, closing his own
eyes as he inhaled. Softly but clearly, he whispered, “Imperio.”
The wispy spell hit Draco, and Harry saw him give a little jerk before a
peaceful expression smoothed out the boy’s features. It could have been Harry’s
imagination, but he swore he could almost feel the calming sensation connect
them through his wand. He thought he could feel a pulse beating, and after a
second, he realized it wasn’t his own.
Harry waited a moment, gathering his bearings and trying to shake off the
sudden awareness of hearing Draco’s heartbeat in his mind, before he said the
first command. “Jump.” He held his breath as a moment passed, and then he
watched as Draco scrunched his face in concentration. It only lasted a mere
second though, before his expression smoothed out again and he jumped into the
air once.
Disappointed, Harry thought of another command. “Touch your nose.” The struggle
lasted a little longer this time, but then he saw Draco’s left hand tremble,
jerk slightly, then fly up to touch his nose.
He waited a bit longer, trying to give Draco time to prepare himself, before
ordering him again. “Clap your hands.”
Harry expected Draco to hesitate again, but then the oddest thing happened.
Draco’s hands rose as if to clap, and then he stopped. Everything stopped.
Draco actually looked frozen for how still he stood. He didn’t look pained, but
he didn’t look all at peace either. His hands began to shake, and then they
slowly lowered. Draco was breathing quite heavily now but he didn’t stop
lowering his hands until they were resting at his side, clenched tightly in
concentration.  
A bit hopeful now, Harry stepped a bit closer to Draco with his wand still
aloft and pointing at him. “Hit me,” he ordered Draco, bracing himself
slightly.
He was a bit surprised to see Draco instantly pull back a fist so quickly. But
then his whole body froze. It went faster this time, as Draco struggled against
the curse. His face became flushed, with beads of sweat dripping down his
forehead. His lips parted with a silent gasp, almost like he was in pain. He
even let out a soft, wining gasp.
Harry’s heart raced, unsure if he should cancel the spell or not. Harry almost
didn’t care if Draco mastered the spell, not if it physically put him in pain
like this. But he waited, watching Draco as he struggled to fight it off.
There was a small, subtle movement and then Draco slightly leaned a bit to the
right, lifting his arm slowly as he did. He barely managed to wave it around,
missing Harry by a mile, but his weight shifted and he stumbled. He would’ve
crashed to the ground but Harry was there to quickly grab him.
“Finite,” Harry said, grinning down at him. Draco’s vacant eyes cleared, and
his body sagged into Harry’s with a groan.
“Fuck,” he cursed, leaning his weight onto Harry. His voice was raspy. Harry
chuckled, and half-carried Draco over to the sofa so he could sit down. “Bloody
hell, that was difficult.”
“What did it feel like?” Harry asked him. “Did you feel anything?”
Draco thought for a moment, seeming to try and clear his muddled mind. “It
didn’t feel like what you’d said. There weren’t any bloody ocean waves or
anything like that. Actually, it had felt warm when I heard your voice. I felt
relaxed, too, like I was floating on a cloud with no worries or obligations. I
heard your voice, felt the warmth, and I wanted to obey. It such an odd
sensation.”
“How’d you fight it?” Harry questioned. “I could tell you were struggling.”
Draco’s eyebrows furrowed. “I was, but I actually wasn’t fighting your voice
all that much. After your first two orders, I could tell that wasn’t working.
So, instead I used Occlumency.”
“Really?” Harry questioned, wonder in his voice. “But that’s extremely
difficult magic.”
“Severus used to teach me,” Draco explained. “A few years ago, he helped me
practice shielding my mind. I had no idea of why, back then, but it certainly
came in handy over the summer break. Aunt Bella visited a lot and had me
practice resisting her,” he added, his voice lowered.
Draco noticed Harry’s eyes darken at the mention of her, too.
“When I shield my mind during Occlumency,” Draco continued to explain. “I
always visualize my old childhood bedroom, except there are no windows and just
one door to enter. I compartmentalize every important thought that I have into
this trunk that I keep within my wardrobe. Then I imagine myself locking it
inside before walking out and locking my bedroom. So, that’s what I did,” Draco
said, grinning. “Whenever you told me an order, I used Occlumency to hide in my
room. Your words kept pounding and pounding at the door, trying to get in. Your
voice kept getting louder, too. But the warmth wasn’t as hot, and it was a bit
easier shielding my mind that way.”
“Yeah, you stopped completely listening to my orders the last two times,” Harry
said.
“I couldn’t stop my body from moving entirely,” Draco said, musing out loud.
“The spell still must have settled into my mind, somehow. But you’re right, I
didn’t completely follow your orders either.”
“Well, you didn’t hit me,” Harry praised with a grin.
Draco snorted. “Not this time, under your orders anyway. Any other day, I might
have.” But he kissed Harry on the cheek to take out the sting in his words.
“Hmm,” Harry sighed, his skin tingling wherever Draco touched. He was almost
fascinated at the way Draco affected him so much. “I think a proper reward is
in order, don’t you think?”
“But I didn’t exactly resist the curse —”
“Draco Malfoy, do you want to fuck or not?” Harry crudely demanded.
Draco raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Yes, you Neanderthal. Get in the bed.”
Harry threw him a wink and a quick grin, before running over and jumping onto
the mattress to wait for Draco.
The blond stared after him, fondly shaking his head as he did, and walked over
to join him.
Another step closer in becoming stronger and away from the Dark Lord’s
influence — yes, he was definitely in need of a proper award.      
 
***** Chapter 14 *****
Chapter Notes
     See Sexual Warnings above.
June 21
 
It was a bright Saturday morning, barely before noon, and Harry had just
returned to the Gryffindor Common Room after his usual Saturday detention with
Snape. He strolled over to the common room area, where he could see Ron and
Hermione already returned from an early lunch and talking in front of the fire.
He sat down heavily in one of the chairs, gazing at the fireplace, and feeling
his sore muscles protesting from his earlier hunching over to clean several
dozen potion cauldrons. By hand.
He tried to forget about Snape and his bloody detention, choosing to focus on
the feeling of warmth from the dancing flames against his face. It reminded him
a bit of how he felt when his cheek rested against the pale, heated skin of
Draco’s back.
A low tingling sensation stirred below his stomach and he smiled softly at the
memory of Draco’s luminescent gray eyes staring after him last night, just
before they had to leave each other and go back to their dorms. He remembered
the way Draco’s eyes had looked at him right before he’d swallowed Harry whole
to the root. He remembered his gray eyes turning dark with lust as Harry had
thrust into him, spreading his legs wide apart as he slammed his pelvis against
Draco; his pale expression locked into a state of pained ecstasy as his hole
squeezed Harry’s length.  
Fuck, now Harry was horny.
“Harry, mate? You alright?” Ron asked from the couch next to him, wearing a
look of concern. “You look a bit pained.”
“Hmm, stomachache,” Harry murmured, trying to subtly make sure his robe covered
his nether regions.  
Hermione tsked. “It’s probably because you skipped dinner last night, Harry.
Were you meeting Malfoy again?”
Harry ignored Ron’s grumbling at the subject of Malfoy. Ron always had to
comment whenever the blond’s name was mentioned, despite Hermione and Harry’s
reassurances about the truce between all of them.  
“Yeah,” Harry answered, throwing a glance at Ron’s snort. “I skipped dinner so
Draco and I could spend more time with his Patronus, practicing sending
messages back and forth.” Harry didn’t mention how he had taken great care to
provide Draco with a suitable pleasurable memory just for the occasion.
“Oh wow,” Hermione said. “He’s already conjured a Patronus?”
“Is it a Ferret?” Ron snickered. Harry glared at him.
“No, it’s a —” He stopped. Bloody hell, he couldn’t even tell them. Ron and
Hermione would instantly know what Draco’s lion Patronus meant, not to mention
the blond would be pissed if Harry told them. Trying not to blush too hard,
Harry lamely finished with, “It’s not a Ferret.”
“Oh, what is it then?” Ron pushed, cackling. “If not a Ferret, maybe a peacock?
That Manor of his has those birds all strutting around in the front.”
“How do you know that?” Hermione asked, half paying attention as she was
reading a book while they all talked.
“My dad. When they had to inform Narcissa Malfoy of her husband’s arrest, the
Aurors told the entire floor at my dad’s work. Everyone thought it was bloody
hilarious, because Auror Jamison nearly got his eye pecked out for trying to
get near them.”  He laughed uproariously. “Makes sense if his Patronus is a
bloody peacock: he’s all about being self-absorbed and vain, and also bloody
temperamental.
Hermione rolled her eyes with a huff, but Harry could feel himself turning red
with anger.
“Shut up, Ron. You don’t know anything,” he said with a hard voice.
Ron’s laughing stopped, and the redhead turned a glare at his best friend.
“What? But we always make fun of that git. That’s supposed to stop now that
you’re all best mates with him?”
Harry nearly growled, and had to rein in his magic so that it didn’t lash out
at his stupid friend. “Yes, Ron, that’s exactly what I’m saying. I’ve gotten to
know more about Draco in these last few weeks, so I don’t expect you to
understand. But he’s like an entirely different person now.”
“He’s a Slytherin, Harry.”
He snorted. “That means nothing, Ron.”
“It means everything!” Ron cried. “You may be fooled by his act, but just him
being in Slytherin proves that he’s cunning enough to put on some act for you.”
“How many times do I have to say it, Ron? It’s not an act. Just because he’s in
Slytherin does not mean he’s evil. Hell, would that make me evil, Ron? Because
I was almost sorted into that house.”
“Well, no, mate, that’s different —”
“It is not! All Draco’s ever known is Dark Magic and how to be the perfect
Pureblood, and that was all from his dad. His parents raised him like that,
much like a lot of others that are with him in Slytherin. Does that make them
bad? No, it just means they weren’t taught any other way.”
Ron stared at him with a frown. “Mate, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying that I’m not just teaching Draco about spells and how to defend
himself. I didn’t make him join our side or convince him that his views are
wrong. I’ve been teaching him how there is always another way. Draco Malfoy
isn’t a bad bloke. He’s just… been misled.”
“Oh, so he’s not snarky and bloody full of himself?”
Harry hesitated. “Well, yes, he is, actually. He hasn’t changed that much, just
his views on Muggleborns and hating Voldemort. He’s actually still a proud git
most of the time.”
Ron rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m glad you still see that in him, mate. Makes me
feel better to know you’re not totally obsessed with a suddenly good, precious
angel that’s named Draco Malfoy.”
“I’m not obsessed, mate,” Harry scoffed, ignoring the twin looks of
exasperation thrown his way. 
“Well, infatuated then,” Hermione said, smirking.
Harry blushed, but Ron roared with laughter.
“Pretty much, yeah!” Ron said. “Glad we got you tested, otherwise I’d think you
were half in love with the git.” He gave a grin to Harry. “Speaking of, all
this time spent with Malfoy and Dumbledore, when are you gonna settle down and
find a bird?”
A flush rose against Harry’s cheeks. “Erm —”
“Oh, shut it, Ron. Harry doesn’t even have time for that type of thing,”
Hermione sighed. “He’s got to search for the rest of Horcruxes and focus on
defeating V-Voldemort first. Then he can be with someone afterwards.”
Ron guffawed. “Afterwards? What about now? According to Malfoy, this war can
start any day now. I reckon he should find a bird now before that all starts
up.” He grinned slyly at Harry. “Then again, don’t all birds like the thrill of
finding love in the middle of battle? I think it’d be nice to find some damsel
witch in distress.”
Harry winced at how fast Hermione’s book closed and flew towards Ron, who
barely had time to dodge it before she stood up.
“You are insufferable, Ron,” she said, glaring at him. “Did you ever think that
Harry has priorities that are much more important than getting with some girl?
You should rethink your priorities too, if you ever have hope of getting
yourself a girlfriend.” Then she stooped to pick up her fallen book, before
storming upstairs to her dorm. The door slammed behind her.
Ron turned wide eyes at Harry, frowning. “Bloody hell, what just happened?”
Harry rolled his eyes, suddenly annoyed. “I don’t know, Ron, but I think you
better apologize to her.”
Ron nodded, thinking absently. “Yeah, I reckon I should. I just don’t know what
for, mate.”
Harry decided to leave him to figure it out. He ran upstairs quick, taking a
quick glance towards the door to the Gryffindor girls’ dorm, before grabbing
his schoolbag. Then he hurried downstairs and out through the portrait.
He decided to kill some time away from the Gryffindor Tower by finishing his
homework in the Library. It would do him some good to catch up on work that
he’d gotten behind in. Nearly every night was spent with Draco still, either
practicing with him or having amazing, hot sex. Harry didn’t think he’d ever
been this horny or come so much in his life than during these last few weeks
combined. It was incredible spending so much time with the blond, but it also
left him scrambling to finish his homework during the little time they weren’t
with each other.  
Harry walked through the large open doors to the Library, heading to his usual
table in the back away from prying eyes. Despite a mostly quiet year, Harry
still hated the stares that followed him everywhere. It was unnerving, and he’d
be glad once they eventually went away when he’d go home after Hogwarts let
out. Although he’d have to be with the Dursleys for one more summer, Harry had
planned to try and visit Grimmauld Place if he could. It’d be a nice safe haven
to escape to anytime he got annoyed with the Dursleys. He was sure Dumbledore
would understand and arrange for him to have periodic visits to the house.
An hour passed after his arrival to the library, and Harry had just finished
two assignments for Transfigurations and Muggle Studies when a flash of white
caught his attention. He turned his head to the left, and instantly felt blood
rushing down to his length.
Draco was doing his own homework a few tables down, his quill feather moving
rapidly against the parchment. His right leg was repeatedly tapping against the
ground, meaning he was anxious about something, and a few strands of his hair
kept getting loose and grazing the skin right above his ear. Draco left the
touch alone for a bit before it got irritating, then he quickly brushed his
hair back into place. But not a few seconds later, those same strands became
loose and fell again.
Harry licked his lips as he stared, glad that Draco had changed his hairstyle
when he was with Harry. He much preferred the non-slicked, loose style Draco
wore during their meetings, especially when his hair was really mussed after a
mind-blowing round of sex. Sometimes, Harry would purposely mess with the
blond’s hair whenever the blond was too distracted or too far gone in his
throes of pleasure. He absolutely loved fisting the blond strands whenever
Draco went down on him, or when Harry took him from behind, or during the rare
occasions he had to reach behind himself as Draco rimmed his hole.
Harry remembered when they had spent an entire Sunday just fucking each other
to their heart’s content. He’d felt so fortunate to be young and have so many
hard-ons in one day. The only thing that had stopped them from continuing
further was that both of them had soon collapsed due to sheer exhaustion. And
Merlin, were they covered in so many fluids that day; and Draco’s hole, which
had been so red and puffy from disuse, was so wet from Harry’s last few times
inside him. And fuck, Harry was getting hard in the middle of the Hogwarts
Library, with dozens of students surrounding them.
The Gryffindor contained a groan as he forced his eyes away from the slight of
the sexy blond, reaching to press his hardened length down and hidden away from
any prying eyes. Fuck, the last time Draco and he had gone at it in the
library, Draco had nearly seethed afterwards for almost getting caught by a
first-year student. Harry knew Draco didn’t want to risk people finding out
that Harry was seeing the son of a Death Eater, but it still rankled knowing
they couldn’t express their feelings to each other out in the open.
He couldn’t wait for Voldemort to be vanquished already, so that the war would
end and then he’d have Draco all to himself to fuck and enjoy for as long as he
wanted.
“Thinking pretty hard there, Potter?” came a voice from above him.
Harry jumped, and glanced up to see Draco wearing a smirk as he stood in front
of his table. Without waiting for an invitation, Draco pulled out his chair and
settled down, rearranging all of his textbooks and notes as he started to
continue writing his assignment.
“I could practically feel you undressing me while I sat over there, Potter,”
Draco purred, not looking up and continuing to write. “To spare the eyes of
innocent first-years, I thought I’d sit here to make it look less obvious.”
“But won’t other students find it odd that we’re sitting together?” Harry
asked, his voice coming out a bit hoarse.
Draco arched an eyebrow. “No more odd than you giving me I-want-to-throw-you-
down-on-this-table-and-ravish-you eyes.”
Harry groaned, and thumped his head onto the table.
“Besides, I couldn’t concentrate with your staring, Potter, and I came over
here to tell you to stop it for the next fifteen minutes while I finish up.
Then you can fuck me all you want once we get to our room.”
Harry groaned louder.
“Shut it, Potter,” Draco hissed, as they heard Madam Pince make a loud shushing
noise in their direction. “You’ll draw more attention if you make any more
noise. Now be a good little Gryffindor and stay quiet for a few minutes until I
finish this.”
The scratching of his quill continued, and Harry listened to it as he waited
for his erection to wane.
“Stop it, you’ll get your turn soon enough,” he whispered to himself.
The scratching paused.
“Are… are you talking to your prick?” Harry blushed, but didn’t say anything
further. He waited, and soon heard the quill’s scratching resume. “You’re an
odd duck, Potter.”
“But you love me anyway,” Harry said, finally sitting up and throwing Draco a
boyish grin.
The blond stilled, the quill frozen in his hand. He looked at him, wearing a
bright gleam in his eye as he stared across the table at Harry.
“Yes, I guess I do,” Draco said, with a soft smirk. He looked down and
continued writing.
Harry’s mouth dropped, eyes wide as his entire body had stilled.
He’d wondered… but he never thought…. Did Draco really…? In the middle of the
Library?!
“Draco,” Harry nearly gasped, his eyes soft.
“Not right now, Harry, I’m working.”
“Draco.”
The blond paused and looked at him.
Harry was smiling. Beaming, actually. But when he spoke, his voice was thick
and hoarse with primal need.
“Hurry. Need you, right now.”  
Draco shivered at the pure lust in the other boy’s voice, and the scratching
quickly started again at a rapid pace.
Harry smirked, and settled his head down to wait.
Forget Ron and his stupid comments. Draco Malfoy, proud and frustrating git
that he was, was the best thing to happen to Harry in a long time. Those who
thought any differently could jump off the bloody Astronomy Tower, for all
Harry cared.
He couldn’t wait for Draco to finish his homework.
When Draco finally did, ten minutes later, Harry had nearly run out of
patience. He grabbed Draco’s hand, ignoring the other boy’s spluttering, and
walked right out of the Library and towards their room.
Too bad that in his impatience, Harry never saw a pair of icy, brown eyes
already plotting as they glared after them.
===============================================================================
 
“Oh bloody FUCK, Draco!” Harry shouted, pounding harder into Draco’s arse from
behind, hands gripping into the blond’s waist as he tugged him closer and
closer onto Harry’s length.
Draco wailed as Harry brushed against the bundle of nerves inside him, and his
hands fisted into the sheets. His hair was soaked with sweat, his blond strands
matted against the sides of his face and over his eyes. He could barely see,
barely breathe correctly as Harry fucked hard into him, his unforgiving grip on
Draco probably going to add to the string of bruises already lining the skin of
his hips.
But bloody hell, was it glorious. Draco loved how tender and romantic their
lovemaking could be sometimes; when Harry would practically worship Draco’s
body with his hands and lips, kissing every part of him as he slowly caused the
blond to tumble down into bliss and oblivion. Sometimes he would even take
hours making love to Draco, staying hard inside him until Draco had come at
least three times before finally filling Draco with his own seed.
It was truly magnificent how much stamina the Chosen One had, and how
insatiable he was every time Draco was near. If it hadn’t been for so many
locking and silencing spells used during the day, Harry and Draco would’ve been
found in quite a few compromising positions inside many unused classrooms.
And even though Draco cherished the way Harry showed his love for Draco through
magical lovemaking sessions, Draco absolutely loved the way Harry would abandon
all of his senses and simply bend Draco over any flat surface and just take
him.
Harry was a like some primitive animal in heat anytime he got into this certain
mood. He just had to have Draco right then and there, either inside his hole or
inside his mouth, and Draco always gave in every time.
There had even been one time when Harry had been so desperate to have Draco,
that he’d fucked the blond in Slughorn’s potion storeroom during class.
Everyone had been working on their current potion, but halfway through
preparing their supplies, Draco realized he had forgotten a key ingredient. He
had left his partner, Blaise, and had gone inside the storeroom to fetch it. No
sooner had he took the ingredient into his hand, did he suddenly feel a
presence right behind him before the door suddenly clicked itself locked. Then
Draco felt himself being forced over a nearby stool. It took him a moment of
panic as his pants were suddenly shoved down his legs and his shirt raked up to
expose his nipples to the cold air, when he finally turned around to see
Harry’s green eyes staring heatedly at him. Draco had opened his mouth to
demand what the hell Potter thought he was doing, when Harry’s lube slicked
fingers forced themselves through Draco’s already previously loosened hole from
just that morning. Both flabbergasted and horny as hell from Harry’s sheer
Gryffindor nerve, he couldn’t stop him and suddenly Harry was fucking Draco
within an inch of his life. Draco had to stifle his cries, biting hard on
Harry’s hand that covered his mouth, as Harry pounded into his arse. Harry
hadn’t even fucked him longer than five minutes before they had both come,
explosively at that. And while Draco panted and recovered from the sudden bout
of sex, Harry had cast several cleaning spells, lifted Draco’s pants and
buttoned them, gave him a breathtaking kiss, lifted the spell on the door, and
walked out. Not ever saying a single word to Draco the entire time.
Thank Merlin all Blaise had said when Draco had returned, walking on shaky legs
and wearing flushed cheeks, was if he had remembered to get the chopped
butterfly wings, not the minced ones.
And now, Draco was being fucked near to death, once again.
The sound of Harry’s balls slapping against the slick skin of Draco’s echoed
throughout the room, along with Draco’s cries and sobs of ecstasy.
“Fuck, Draco, this tight hole of yours is bloody amazing!” Harry growled, hair
flying wildly as he pounded and thrust and fucked his way into Draco’s arse.
“Yes, Harry! Yes yes yes! You feel so good!” Draco cried, eyes shut in pleasure
and head tilted backwards. “Merlin, you feel — oh!” The blond moaned, eyes
shutting tight as Harry bit and sucked hard onto the back of his neck. “…feel
so fucking amazing inside me! Fuck me, Harry, fill me!Merlin, you’re so…! Uhh!”
“Fuck yeah, your filthy mouth is so good,” Harry groaned, slapping Draco’s arse
cheeks.
Draco moaned, loving the mixture of pain and pleasure.
Then Harry pulled out his length all the way, turned Draco onto his side,
spooned up behind him, and thrust his cock into the cheeks of Draco’s wet arse.
In less than a second, he was back inside Draco, thrusting inside him as he
spread Draco’s leg high into the air.
Draco screamed, reaching behind to fist Harry’s hair as he clung on for the
ride of his life. Soon, phrases and words became reduced into garbled moans and
growls. Harry bit Draco again, fitting his lips over the blond’s neck and
sucking a deep love bruise into his skin.
Draco nearly screamed as he felt Harry reach down with his other hand
underneath him and begin to pull hard and fast at his length. Overwhelmed with
heat and pain and pleasure, the blond only lasted three good tugs until his
back suddenly arched and a thin stream of white hit the skin of his stomach.
Draco’s head fell forward as he almost collapsed face first into the bed. He
could feel Harry still thrusting into him, but he was so out of breath and
woozy from the quick turn of events after the library, he couldn’t keep up
anymore.
Harry growled as he finally released into Draco, a few minutes after he had
felt Draco come. His length pulsing inside the boy’s warmth, Harry barely
noticed that Draco’s body had gone still and was breathing steadily. Basking in
the pleasure that only came from a very good and hard climax, Harry eventually
pulled out. He winced as a string of white connected him to Draco. He fumbled
for his wand beside him, but gave up after he saw it on the floor by the sofa.
He decided to cast the cleansing charm wandlessly and silently, and simply
waved his palm in a leisurely motion.
He chuckled, suddenly grateful for improving his own magic alongside with
Draco.
After making sure that he and the blond were clean of any sweat and come, he
flopped behind Draco, exhausted. He glanced at Draco’s face, which was turned
facing away from him. His face was so relaxed in sleep, Harry hated to wake him
from his unconscious state.
But he reckoned a few hours of sleep wouldn’t hurt. He wrapped an arm tightly
around Draco’s smooth waist, hand pressed flat against the blonde’s bruised,
hickey-covered and slightly scarred chest. Harry grinned sleepy in
satisfaction, pleased that Draco never wanted to spell the bruises away that
Harry always made. He seemed to love the possessive nature that the Gryffindor
had. And Harry made sure to always kiss his bruises and scars softly the next
day.
Harry stared at Draco’s face, transfixed at the sight of his beautiful, angelic
features. Luckily, that image would carry itself into his dreams, it being the
last thing he’d see as he closed his own eyes and slowly joined Draco into
slumber. 
 
***** Chapter Fifteen *****
Chapter Notes
     Author's Warning: For those who are a bit squeamish at Mpreg, there
     is a bit of that mentioned at the end of this chapter. But no
     worries, there's a reason I didn't put it in the tags. There is no
     Mpreg in Part 1 of this series.
“What do think you’d want to do? After Hogwarts, I mean.”
Harry twirled lightly with the top of Draco’s hair.
“Do you mean, if I survive the war, what would I like to do after finishing my
seven years of attending Hogwarts?”
“Yes, you prat. Don’t be melancholic.”
“Oh, I’m surprised you know a word such as that, Potter. I suppose you’ve
improved your vocabulary largely thanks to Granger’s influence.”
“Hey, you prat!”
Draco laughed as he dodged a swipe aimed at his arse cheeks and pulled the
covers up higher to defend himself. Harry mock glared at him, but soon settled
back into his position against the pillow. Draco leaned against him again,
tilting his head onto Harry’s sternum and continuing his exploration of Harry’s
thin layer of chest hair. 
“So, if I survive the war and the wrath of both of my father and my aunt, not
to mention the Dark Lord’s —”
“Draco.”
“— I think if it was up to me, I’d want to travel.”
“Travel?” Harry didn’t expect that. “Like around the world?”
“Well, not all over the globe. That would be a grand waste of time. Honestly,
Potter. No, I would stop in France first, to visit the family Villa and land
that we own in Provence.”
“Do you speak French?”
“Well, of course.Je voudrais vous apprendre à parler français quand je vous
emmènerai en France.”
Heat stirred underneath Harry’s stomach, and his eyes quickly grew warm as he
looked at Draco.“Wow, that was… erm, amazing. What did you say?”
Draco grinned, and tilted up to press a kiss against Harry’s jaw. “You’ll just
have to find out once you kill Voldemort, won’t you?”
“Cheeky,” Harry sighed, swatting at the blond’s bum.
Draco let out a light laugh. “After that, I’d travel more. Maybe to Italy,
Russia, India. Hell, who knows. Then I’d return home to the Manor where I’d
live the rest of my days in splendor.”
“What, no job?” Harry teased.
“A Malfoy such as myself is in no need of a career,” Draco half-sneered,
jokingly. “Actually, I’d love to work in the field of Potions. I should
probably ask Snape to apprentice me, if we ever get that chance. I’d work hard
to become a Potions Master like him. All the while, I’d manage the Malfoy
accounts and watch over the businesses and investments that my father is
currently neglecting while in Azkaban. Although, I’m sure my mother is taking
care of everything until I’m of age.” Draco paused. “In all actuality, if your
side were to win this war, my father would probably stay in Azkaban, which
would mean it would be up to me to bring honor back to the Malfoy name. My
mother would agree. I’d have to marry some pure-blooded witch, mostly likely
one that was birthed into the sacred families, and carry on the Malfoy name and
fortune.” Draco’s grin grew rueful.
Harry frowned. “But would you be happy?”
“Happiness doesn’t matter, Potter,” Draco dismissed.
“But if it did,” he insisted. “Wouldn’t you rather have the first option?
Traveling to Paris, Italy, Russia, and everywhere else. Then living a life in
splendor. With all the riches of your ancestors in your vault as you retire
from a life as Potions Master. If it was a choice, wouldn’t you rather pick
that one?”
Harry’s gaze was so earnest, so naïve. Draco almost felt bad for thinking to
tell him the realities of being a Malfoy. But none of it mattered in the end,
what Draco wanted.
Harry didn’t need to know that though, not yet.
Draco heaved a heavy sigh, cursing himself once more for becoming soft. “Yes, I
would rather do all that. Especially the part about maintaining my fortune.”  
“The rich life does suit you,” Harry agreed, breathing a sigh of relief.
“Well, of course,” Draco sniffed arrogantly, poking his nose in the air. Harry
swatted him again, and Draco laughed, his proud pretense falling. “And what
about you, Chosen One?” He said quickly, wanting to turn the conversation away
from himself.
“What, after Hogwarts?”
“After you rescue the world from the evils of Voldemort, what will you do?”
Draco asked.
Harry thought for a moment. “Hmm. Not sure. I've only ever thought about
defeating Voldemort, not much about afterwards.”
Draco hummed, thinking out loud. “I think you would help restore the wizarding
world after the war; help all the orphan children and the like. But once that’s
all done, you’d go on to find and eventually marry your soulmate, have her
babies, live in a cottage somewhere in the country, and continue your fight
against evil unto your dying days. You’ll grow to be so old, I’ll still see
your face in the papers a hundred years later. How annoying would that be,”
Draco half-joked, but his eyes had dimmed a bit.
Harry frowned, also noticing the listlessness that had crept into the blond’s
voice. “Well, I’m not sure about that having babies with a girl part, but I do
like the sound of a cottage. And helping the war orphans.”
Draco looked up. “What are you talking about, Potter?”
Harry didn’t try to be coy. “What are you talking about, Malfoy?” he
questioned.  
“You’re supposed to go off and marry a witch, have 2.5 children, and live in
some ramshackle love nest with her.”
“Oh really?” Harry said, bemused. “On whose orders?”
“Your own! Harry,” Draco said, quickly sitting up to face him. “Harry, that’s
what you’ve been wanting for years, isn’t it? A family of your own?”
“I told you in that confidence —”
“And I still haven’t told a soul. It’s what you still want, isn’t it?” Draco
demanded.
Harry paused, thinking. “Yes.”
“Then —”
“But not with a girl,” Harry interrupted, gaze hard as he looked at Draco. “I
don’t want a family with some random girl.”
“Well, that’s why there’s courting —”
“I would want that with you.”
Draco stilled. He felt his mouth gaping open uncharacteristically. “What?”
“I said, I want that with —”
“I know what you said, git! I meant… you said… family… with me…?”
Harry gave him a soft smile, reaching up to brush his hand against Draco’s
cheek. “Yes, Draco. I do. I want to continue being with you after Hogwarts. I
don’t want us to be over. You’re too… you’re so amazing, Draco. I’ve never met
a person like you before, and I’m pretty positive that I never will. You’re so
special, Draco. So brilliant. And you deserve to have a life filled with
happiness. I want both of us to live our lives the way we want once the war is
over. Together.
“All the traveling that you want to do? It sounds amazing, especially if I
could join you. We’d take a break together away from everything once the war is
finished. And then everything else could fall in place right after. Family, the
orphan children, a cottage… the works.”
Draco stared at Harry, not quite believing what he was hearing. Harry was
thinking of an “after”, which included him.
“What are you saying, Harry?” he whispered, heart pounding and the hole in his
chest filling with hope.
Harry kissed Draco, trying to pour out everything he felt into his kiss. Their
lips slid together, a slow heat filling the both of them as they lay there
kissing. Harry broke the kiss, and his green eyes glowed.
“I love you, Draco. I want to be with you. Even after Hogwarts. Forever, if
you’ll have me.” Harry finished with a soft sigh, glancing at Draco as he
waited for the blond to recover.
And Draco needed those few precious moments for his heartbeat to steady from
its rapid pace. His heart thudded so loud, he could nearly hear it in his ears.
That hole in his chest from earlier, bleeding and open that it’d been a few
weeks earlier, felt so full now; filled to the brim with wonder and awe and
Harry. It nearly hurt from how much love he could feel contained inside it now.
He felt so full, body and soul, as he looked into Harry’s wondrous gaze.
Merlin, he loved this boy. This Gryffindor, lanky, pale, green-eyed boy with
knobby knees, wild black hair, poor spectacles, and beautiful cock. Harry
Potter wasn’t a man yet, but Merlin did Draco want to be there as he grew into
one. He wanted to be with Harry every step of the way. He wanted to help him
defeat Voldemort, win the war, and then stand at his side as he faced a
peaceful Wizarding World. He wanted that cottage in the country, where they
could live with their pets, and maybe even adopt those 2.5 children.
Draco hadn’t even noticed his eyes had filled with tears until he felt Harry
wiping away the wetness on his cheeks. Even Harry’s eyes were rimmed with red
as he gave Draco a tear-filled smile.
“I love you, Draco Malfoy.”
Draco bit back a sob, and his hand flew up to clutch at his aching chest.
Merlin, it hurt so damn much. It hurt so good, though. He’d never known that
pain mixed with pleasure, outside of sex, could feel so incredible like this.
Like anything could happen. Like Harry and Draco could actually be together and
do this.
He gave Harry his own tear-filled smile, although he was pretty sure it looked
horrendous with his crying eyes.
Harry would disagree. He thought Draco had never looked more stunning and
amazing.
“I love you, Harry,” Draco nearly gasped out, feeling his love for the
Gryffindor spilling out from his very core. He couldn’t wait anymore and kissed
the boy in front of him with tear-wet lips, wrapping his arms around his neck
as he crawled into his lap. Harry didn’t mind. It was the best kiss Draco had
ever given him. The most wonderful, amazing, perfect kiss ever to exist in the
history of wizard kind.
And he said it back. Harry beamed as threw his all into the kiss, pulling the
blond closer to him. Draco actually said those three perfect words to him word
for word. Draco loved him back. They loved each other.
Life was so bloody perfect.    
===============================================================================
June 23
 
Harry grinned as he left his last class, immensely relieved for the school day
to finally be ending. He couldn’t wait to eat dinner, and then meet Draco again
in their room. He’d been looking forward to seeing him all day, especially
since the blond had mysteriously been absent from his last couple of classes.
Harry wondered if he had gotten sick or if he had gotten stuck helping Snape
rearrange his classroom again, or whatever he helped Snape with from time to
time.  
Ron and Hermione walked beside him as they turned towards the Great Hall. Ron’s
stomach was already growling before they’d even managed to sit down on the
bench. Harry laughed, and Hermione threw Ron an exasperated look.
“Oh, Ronald,” she sighed.
Ron just waved her off, and dug into his food.
Harry stared at them fondly: Hermione munching softly on her food as she read
from a book on her lap, and Ron digging into his food ravenously as if he
hadn’t just eaten lunch a few hours earlier.
He sighed happily, and turned his gaze towards the Slytherin Table to look for
that beautiful blond head of Draco’s.
He was confused when he didn’t see it. His eyes shifted back and forth all
along the table, seeing no trace of Draco’s trademark blond hair. His eyes
stopped to settle on Blaise Zabini, who sat alone from the other Slytherins and
was merely gazing at his food. Zabini wore a smirk; one that was all too
familiar to Harry, one that he knew was worn by people when they were up to
something really dangerous or life threatening.
Ice formed in Harry’s veins as he continued to watch Zabini, and the Slytherin
must have known someone was staring at him. The Slytherin looked up. His eyes
instantly met Harry’s, and the Gryffindor nearly froze when he saw the pure
maliciousness in the other’s brown stare.
Something was wrong, really wrong. Where was Draco?
“Harry?” came a voice.
Harry looked down at Ginny, not even realizing he had stood up from the bench.
“Harry, are you alright?”
“Y-Yeah,” Harry stammered, glancing up to look at Zabini again. The Slytherin
was gone.
“Harry, are you sure —?”
“Erm, I have to go… Left something in the classroom,” Harry said, quickly
grabbing his stuff and turning away from the table. He ignored the cries from
the table and rushed out from the Great Hall.
He raced towards Gryffindor Tower, spat out the password to the portrait,
“propitius eris,” and hurried up the stairs to his dorm. Harry threw open his
trunk and dug in until he found the map. “I solemnly swear that I am up to no
good!” he nearly cried, searching for Draco’s dot as the map appeared.
His eyes ran across the page, searching, searching. And froze.
Draco’s dot was firmly fixed in the Hospital Wing.
===============================================================================
 
Harry flung open the infirmary doors, rushing inside and immediately searching
for Draco. When he recognized blond hair out of the corner of his eye, he
turned, and gasped.
Draco was lying in one of the beds in the main part of the infirmary, looking
peaceful in his sleep. But his body was anything but.
His arms were covered with wraps, his right arm in a sling, and both of his
legs were also wrapped and slightly elevated onto pillows. His face was bruised
and cut up, with his bruised bottom lip looking like it just been recently
healed.
It was obvious now that Draco wasn’t in a natural sleep, but had been spelled
into a healing coma. His body was so still and so pale. It was eerie for Harry
to look at him. Only the slight rise and fall of his chest reassured Harry that
Draco was still alive.
“Draco,” he breathed, throat constricting as Harry stared at the blond lying
unconscious on the bed. “Oh Merlin, Draco, what happened to you?” He hurried
over to his bed, yearning to pull the blond close and comfort him, but knowing
that that wasn’t an option.
With a quick wave of his palm, he conjured a chair and sat down, reaching over
to lightly hold Draco’s unbandaged left hand. Tears sprang into his eyes as he
caressed the skin of the blond’s palm, uncaring of the world around him. He
didn’t care if anyone walked into the room at that moment and saw Harry
voluntarily holding Draco’s hand. If anybody said something, they could stuff
it. Harry wasn’t going anywhere.
“Mr. Potter?”
Harry hurriedly wiped his eyes before turning to see Madame Pomfrey. The Matron
was frowning at him in a bemused manner.
“Mr. Potter, may I ask why you feel the need to burst into my Hospital and
disrupt my patients?” she asked him.
Harry had the grace to blush., but he refused to feel bad about hurrying to
Draco’s side.
“I…erm, found out Malfoy was in the Hospital Wing and er, wanted to come by and
see him…?” Even to Harry’s ears it didn’t sound believable. Madame Pomfrey
didn’t look convinced either.
“Your rivalry with Mr. Malfoy is infamous, Mr. Potter. If you’re here to start
trouble —”
“No!” Harry cried, startling the Matron. “I mean, no, I’m not. I just wanted…
I’m here for Malfoy.” He glanced back at the blond, hating himself for wanting
to cry at the sight of the broken boy. “What happened?” he asked her.
Madame Pomfrey frowned at him, considering. “It’s not my place to break
confidentiality with a patient —”
“Fine, fine,” Harry said quickly. “But… I mean, just tell me if he’s going to
be ok.”
Madame Pomfrey looked surprised at the pleading note in his voice, and that was
probably the only reason why she said anything further.
“Yes, Mr. Potter. Mr. Malfoy will be fine. I healed the broken bones and the
majority of his bruises. Other than that, most of his wounds were merely
superficial. Now all he needs is rest and some quiet.” She said the last part
sternly, eyeing Harry carefully.
Harry was too busy sighing with relief to notice. He glanced back at Draco.
He was going to be alright. Broken bones and bruises, but nothing ruptured
thankfully.
Not caring if Pomfrey saw, he held tighter onto Draco’s hand as he bent over
and kissed it.
Madame Pomfrey did indeed see it, and her eyebrows flew upwards at the sight.
Well, that was quite a development. She wondered if Albus knew.
Unnoticed by Harry, she walked back into her office to make a quick fire-call
to the Headmaster.  
===============================================================================
 
Harry was in heaven. He had to be. Everything was so silent, and so white. But
he was surrounded with warmth and comfort. Someone was playing with his hair,
and Harry just smiled in contentment, because he knew he was loved. And he
returned that love. He loved the hand stroking him. He loved everything about
him. He loved Draco.
Draco.
Harry’s eyes shot open, and he looked up.
Draco was awake, and his hand lowered from where it had been stroking Harry’s
scalp. His grey eyes shined a bit dully as he looked at Harry, but his eyes
were open. Draco was alright.
Harry grinned, tears springing into his eyes. “Hey,” he whispered.
“Hey,” Draco rasped back. “You’re here.”
Harry looked at him fondly. “Of course, I’m here, love. Where you go, I go.” He
grinned, grateful when the blond returned it with one of his own, and Harry’s
hand clenched tighter to Draco’s. He was pleased when he felt a soft response
back. “Draco.”
“Harry.”
“What happened?” he asked, uncertain he wanted to hear the answer.
Sure enough, Draco’s eyes darkened. “Apparently, I was pushed down the stairs.”
“Pushed?” Harry yelled. “By who?!”
Draco shook his head once. “Shush, Harry, or you’ll get kicked out.”
“I’m not leaving you,” Harry said sternly, grabbing tight to Draco’s hand, but
he did lower his voice. “Now tell me, who was it?”
“I’m not sure,” the blond said. “I honestly didn’t see who did it. I was just
walking up the stairs to one of my classes… I… I don’t actually remember which
one,” he said, squinting his eyes a bit. “I just remember stairs. I don’t even
remember the fall itself, just that I woke up at the bottom in pain. I’m not
sure how long I’d been laying there, but everything had hurt. A few minutes
passed, I’m not sure exactly how long, but some third year had finally wandered
by and saw me. Next thing I know, I’m in the Hospital Wing being healed by
Madame Pomfrey.”
“Were you able to talk to her?” Harry asked.
Draco nodded. “Yeah. She gave me some pain-relieving potions and I managed to
tell her what happened. She sent a note off to my mum, and then gave me a
sleeping potion. Next thing I know, you’re here.” Draco gave him a tired smile.
Harry returned it.
“Merlin, Draco, I’m so sorry,” he sighed shaking his head.
“Sorry? For what?”
“I should have noticed that you hadn’t attended classes,” Harry said, pissed at
himself. “I should have been able to recognize when my own boyfriend is in
danger, and gone to check the map earlier before dinner —”
“’Boyfriend’?” Draco asked, his voice a bit breathless. Harry looked at him,
pausing his rant.
“What?”
“Boyfriends. Is that what we are now, Potter?” he asked, a coy smile growing on
his lips.
Harry sighed, almost rolling his eyes. “I’m trying to apologize, and that’s the
only thing you hear?”
“Answer the question, Chosen One.”
Harry arched an eyebrow, and Draco was eerily turned on at the fact that Harry
was already picking up on that mannerism from him.
“The one about us being boyfriends?” Harry smirked. “Well, after you fucked me
back after that first time, I just naturally assumed that we were in a
committed relationship.”
Draco grinned widely, but it was quickly wiped off as he heard a loud crash in
the room. Harry stood quickly, and hurried over to where the sound came from.
He was dismayed to find Pomfrey hurriedly cleaning broken glass that may have
been an empty potion flask. The Matron frowned at him.
“Mr. Potter, what you do with Mr. Malfoy in your free time is no concern of
mine,” the Matron said, flushing only slightly. “As long as you’re using the
standard precaution spells, of course.”
“P-Precaution spells?” Harry squeaked.
Her eyes grew round. “Of course, Mr. Potter. Have you not…?”
“We didn’t know,” Harry said, dread filling him. Then he remembered himself.
“Wait, but we’re men. What do we need protection spells for?”
The Matron huffed, and stepped over to where Draco laid on the bed.
The blond was wide eyed, but relieved to see Harry still in the room. But both
boys stilled as Madame Pomfrey waved her wand at them a few times, observing
the multicolored glow of spells that surrounded him. Seeming satisfied, he
Matron tucked her wand away.
“Well, you’ve been lucky so far,” she said. “No diseases of the sort and no
abnormal entities in either of your magical cores.”
“Diseases…?”
“Entities?”
Madame Pomfret let out a huff. “Although we are unable to contract most Muggle
diseases, there are still a few muggle ailments that wizards born with muggle
blood may develop. They are liable to spread these amongst other wizards and
witches. Furthermore, male pregnancy may also develop.”
“Wh-what? But we’re males!” Harry cried in disbelief. “Not even magic can
change that!”
“On the contrary, Mr. Potter, that’s exactly why it may. But, luckily for you
there hasn’t been a case of male fertility in centuries, Mr. Potter.”
“But then why…?”
“It can still happen, of course. Although there’s been no official cases of a
male giving birth, there have been many times when a wizard has become
pregnant. It’s just rare that they carry the fetus to full term. You’re exactly
right, Mr. Potter. The male anatomy is still not capable to reproduce a fetus
successfully, unless with the aid in magic. Wizards have tried over the years,
and so far, there have been no official cases. It does not mean it is
impossible, however.”
“So then, how does a wizard become pregnant?” Draco asked, his voice a bit
shaken. “I’ve never heard of any such thing.”
“Once again, Mr. Malfoy, it’s very rare but not unheard of. It’s only possible
with a very large and powerful magical source,” the Matron answered, frowning
down at the boys. “In certain cases where a fetus has successfully been
created, the wizard had either taken a potion, entered into a very powerful and
ancient bond with the other father, or altered their body using a combination
of glamour spells, polyjuice, or other sort of magical body modification; as
with those who are Metamorphmagi. Again, none of these have produced viable
results, but it is still possible.”
“And how long did they manage to carry…?” Draco asked, unsure of how to word
the question. But the Matron understood.
“The longest case of a wizard carrying into term was thirty-weeks, or eight
months approximately.”
Harry eyes felt like they were about to pop from his head, for how round they
grew the more Madame Pomfrey spoke about male pregnancy.
He glanced at Draco, pleased to see he wasn’t the only one affected. The blond
was paler than when Harry had first entered the Hospital. And no wonder.
Merlin, if either of them had become pregnant, it would’ve most likely been
Draco. Yes, Harry had bottomed for him a few times, but they both generally
preferred Draco as being the receiving one.
Harry was really glad both of them were safe though. He’d never thought that
magic in the wizarding world could amount to that much. But he shouldn’t have
been surprised, Harry thought sardonically with an inward eye-roll. Magic could
do about nearly anything, apparently.
“Boys,” the Matron’s voice interrupted, both boys startling as they realized
they’d forgotten her presence for a moment. “Headmaster Dumbledore will soon be
here, to speak with both of you about this recent turn of events.” She eyed
them warily. “I trust you’ll be using precaution spells in the future?” Both
boys dumbly nodded. “Good. I’ll be back shortly.”
Then she walked off, leaving a pair of stunned boys in her wake.
 
 
  *I would like to teach you how to speak French when I take you to France.
 
***** Chapter Sixteen *****
Five minutes later, Harry was still trying to wrap his head around the whole
male pregnancy concept.
Draco had been watching him ever since Pomfrey had left. The blond seemed to
have adjusted to the idea of it pretty quickly, and a few things concerning the
historical Malfoy ancestral diaries suddenly made sense. Draco wasn’t nearly as
surprised as Harry, and so he found it quite amusing as he stared at the other
boy as he worked through his mental breakdown.
Not much longer, light footsteps could be heard and the boys looked up to see
Professor Dumbledore walk into the space. The old man grinned at them, eyes
twinkling.
“I’m glad to see you awake, Mr. Malfoy,” Dumbledore said cheerfully upon seeing
them.
“Evening, Professor,” Harry greeted quietly, still a bit irked from the earlier
events.
Dumbledore smiled. “Quite an interesting one, to say the least.” With a quick
wave of his hand, he conjured his own chair farther down at the foot of Draco’s
bed. He sat down gingerly. “We have much to discuss,” he began, eyes intense on
the boys. “I’d rather we have our conversation here while Mr. Malfoy recovers,
than in those uncomfortable chairs in my office.”
“But sir, the other patients?” Harry asked.
Dumbledore smiled. “Mr. Malfoy is Madame Pomfrey’s only patient at the moment.
But if it helps you feel more comfortable, then of course, I shall set a
silencing spell.” With another quick wave, the three wizards were encompassed
into their own privacy bubble. “Now, Poppy insisted I visit due to a rather
serious recent development.”
Harry averted his eyes, but nodded once.
Dumbledore smiled. He glanced at Draco.
The blond had turned his head entirely away from both wizards, shoulders stiff
and his fists clenched as he fought to keep a neutral expression. He couldn’t
flee the room, not until his body had fully recovered. Still, both wizards must
have been able to hear the rapid pace of his heartbeat.
“I assume you know why I am here, Mr. Malfoy.” The blond stayed silent. “You
were attacked at approximately lunch time, or right after. Is that correct?”
Draco gave a stiff nod.
“According to Madame Pomfrey’s report, you do not recall the identity of your
attacker, nor any spells whom he or she may have used upon your person.”
Draco nodded again.
“That’s most unfortunate,” Dumbledore said, scratching the bottom of his beard.
“Most unfortunate, especially since a spell had been cast on you.”
Harry looked up, and even Draco turned back to look at the Professor.
“What?”
“Exactly as I said. In her scans, Mr. Malfoy, when you had first arrived in the
infirmary, Poppy found a recent spell that had been cast on your person. A
truth spell, to be exact.”
Draco’s skin grew pale, his eyes wide. “What kind of truth…?”
“It’s much similar to the potion, Veritaserum,” Dumbledore answered. “But it is
only short term and has the side effect of leaving the affected person a bit
groggy. It also may lead to memory loss. It is not considered to be dark magic,
but it is highly frowned upon and has been labeled as illegal by the Ministry
of Magic. If a student were the one to cast this spell on your person, they
would immediately be expelled.”
Harry glanced at Draco, trying to read his expression for any clues to what he
may be thinking. But the blond was frowning in consternation.
“Do you have any idea as to who may have done this, Mr. Malfoy?” Dumbledore
asked, looking at Draco. The blond bit his lip, but shook his head in answer.
“I might, Professor,” Harry spoke up.
Dumbledore turned to him. “Oh?”
“During Dinner,” he explained. “It was when I noticed that Draco had been
missing. I’d looked at the Slytherin table, and I saw Blaise Zabini grinning.”
“Grinning?”
“I know it sounds weird,” Harry hurried to say. “But I could tell that it
wasn’t normal. He looked like he knew something, and he looked straight at me
as I was looking at the table for Draco. It was as if he already knew who I was
looking for and what had happened to him. That’s what made me get a bad feeling
and so I… er, hurried to the Hospital Wing.”
“Hm,” Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling as he stroked his beard. “Marvelous
intuition, Harry. But extremely dangerous in accusing Mr. Zabini of an illegal
spell cast upon Mr. Malfoy. Nevertheless,” Dumbledore added, holding his hand
to stop Harry as he had opened his mouth. “I will call Mr. Zabini in for
questioning.”
Harry sighed, knowing that was all that could be done for now. Still, if Zabini
had attacked Draco, Harry wanted just one good punch in before the git was
expelled and thrown in Azkaban. He glanced at Draco, to see how he’d taken the
news.
But the other boy was still pale, his features almost looking feverish as he
laid there on the bed.
Dumbledore must have noticed how overwhelmed the blond was, as well. The
Professor quickly stood, giving a small smile at Harry as he did.
“Mr. Malfoy needs his rest, so I’ll take my leave now. However, we do still
have some unfinished business to attend to. Rather important business, I’m
afraid.” He turned to Draco. “Poppy tells me you should be able to recover
overnight into tomorrow after plenty of rest. I wish our business could wait a
bit longer until you were completely recovered, but time is of the essence.
Therefore, I would like to speak with you more tomorrow, shortly before lunch.
I’ll excuse you boys from attending your classes tomorrow. Draco needs to stay
in the Hospital and recover until Poppy deems him fully restored. And Harry,
I’d like for you to stay with him in the morning since this meeting also
concerns you.”
He gave the boys one last grin, and then turned to vanish his chair behind him.
“Before you miss curfew, Harry,” he added, turning slightly before he left. “I
suggest you reassure your friends of your sudden disappearance. Visiting hours
is almost over, as well.” With that, eyes twinkling, the Professor left through
the infirmary doors.
Harry sighed, slouching into his chair as he gave a breath of relief at being
alone with Draco again. He considered Dumbledore’s words, musing over them in
his head.
He figured Dumbledore was right. Any minute now, Madame Pomfrey was going to
kick him out. He couldn’t leave Draco though, not overnight. There were plenty
of times when the boys had slept apart over the last few weeks, but they
dreaded it every time. And now, Draco had almost been killed. Harry didn’t want
to take any chances.
“Hey Draco,” he whispered, thinking the boy had fallen asleep due his sudden
quietness. But the boy’s eyes were open. Harry slipped his hand over his.
“Draco?”
The blond barely stirred.
“Draco, what’s wrong? Do you need Madame Pomfrey?”
That seemed to bring some life into Draco’s eyes. He shook his head once, then
glanced up at Harry through his eyelashes. “Stay?”
Harry smiled softly. “Of course. I’ll stay with you all night. But I need to
return to the Tower really quick and tell Ron and Hermione of what happened so
they don’t send out a search party. I need to grab my Cloak too, so I can stay
here without Madame Pomfrey kicking me out.”
Draco sighed, but nodded in understanding. He pleaded for a kiss, though,
begging Harry with his eyes.
The Gryffindor read him like a book and bent quickly to place a soft, lingering
kiss on his lips.
“I’ll be right back,” he promised, straightening. “Quicker than you can say
Quidditch.”
Then he flashed a bright grin before he left the Hospital Wing.
Draco stared at the doors of the infirmary morosely, wishing Harry would hurry.
He felt an ache in his chest at the sight of Harry leaving him, even if it was
just for a short time. He didn’t know why he suddenly felt so attached to the
reckless Gryffindor. He almost hated the pained feeling that nearly overwhelmed
him at times, whenever he had to separate from Harry. He knew the time for
their separation was only growing closer. He could feel it. It was like a
panicky sort of sensation that made his heart race and his breath grow short.
He knew he would never leave Harry; he’d stay by Harry’s side always, if it was
up to him. But Draco had a feeling that it wouldn’t be, in the end. He’d either
be forced away by Harry’s friends, or his precious Order, or he’d be taken by
the Dark Lord and his followers. Draco couldn’t let that happen, but he didn’t
know what to do to prevent it from happening.
All Draco knew was that he had to enjoy what precious time he did have with
Harry, before it was all too late.
He was near to sleep, but Draco yearned for Harry to return to his side
quickly. He didn’t want to be alone.
Draco sighed softly, sleepily.
“Quidditch.”
===============================================================================
 
“Where on earth have you been?” was the first thing out of Hermione’s mouth as
Harry walked through the portrait hole. Harry saw her stand from where she’d
been sitting on the couch in front of the fire. Over her shoulder, Ron was
sitting on the chair beside her, not bothering to stand. He looked over at
Harry with grudging curiosity.
“Hey Mione, I haven’t got much time,” Harry said quickly. He looked around to
see the common room mostly empty, but there were a few Gryffindors around
including Lavender and Parvati, who both giggled as they stared at him.
Ignoring them, Harry waved Hermione and Ron upstairs to the sixth-year boy’s
dorm room, and the two followed him out of the common room area. Once inside
the bedroom, he hurried over to his bed to grab his map and cloak.
“What’s going on, Harry?” Hermione asked.
“Draco is waiting for me. He got hurt and is in the Hospital Wing.”
“Hurt?” Hermione asked, looking confused. “How?”
“We’re not sure exactly, but someone pushed him down the stairs right after
lunch. We don’t know who it was, but I reckon I might know —”
“Could’ve been anybody, really,” Ron broke in. “He’s turned into a bit of
recluse most of the year. You sure he didn’t just fall and is whining over a
couple of scrapes?”
Harry frowned, trying to rein in his temper. “No Ron. It wasn’t an accident. He
has to stay overnight in the infirmary.”
“But what do you care?” Ron demanded lightly, sounding genuinely curious.
“Sure, he got a bit banged up. Why —?”
“Because I do care, Ron! I’d do the same for either of you.”
“But we’re your best mates, of course we’d all do the same for each other.
Malfoy is —”
“A friend of Harry’s, Ron,” Hermione interjected, laying a hand on Ron’s arm.
“We agreed to be considerate of that.”
The redhead snorted, but his shoulders slumped in resignation.
“Sure, yeah, whatever. I still say the Ferret has Harry wrapped around his
prissy little finger.”
Harry ignored the flush that rose in his cheeks a bit at that. “Just leave it,
Ron.”
“How long will you stay with him?” Hermione asked, eyes narrowed. “It’s already
rather late. Visitor’s hours are probably over by now.”
Harry looked away, keeping a tight grip on the cloak and his map. “Er, I’m
actually going to stay overnight with him. Keep him safe, you know?”
Ron rolled his eyes. “Your heroic tendencies have gotten a bit far from you,
mate. You don’t have to protect everybody who gets hurt around you.”
“Won’t you get caught?” Hermione broke in sternly. “Dumbledore will find out —”
“Erm, Dumbledore actually knows already. He visited Draco to find out what he
knew or remembered.”
“Malfoy doesn’t remember who pushed him down the stairs?”
“No actually, it’s some side effect of a truth spell that had also been cast on
him by whoever had pushed him.”
“Quite convenient, that,” Ron muttered.
The other two ignored him. “Dumbledore said it’s an illegal spell but that it’s
not considered dark.”
“A truth spell that may lead to memory loss?” Hermione mumbled to herself, and
the boys could already see the internal cogs working in her mind. Harry
predicted she’d be visiting the library first chance she could. 
“Something like that. But now I have to hurry to Draco. He’s been alone for too
long. He’s probably asleep.”
Ron rolled his eyes again, but that brought Hermione back to the conversation.
She looked at Harry, her stance shifting from thoughtful to cautious.
“Harry, about that… You don’t think you’re getting too close to Malfoy?”
Harry had to quell the urge to just flee the room and go back to the Hospital
Wing. “What are you talking about?”
“I mean, I know you think you’re his friend now —”
“We are friends, Hermione.”
“Yes, of course,” she corrected quickly, her hands wringing together. “But you
don’t think….? I mean, it’s just a possibility, but you don’t think you two are
becoming too close?”
Harry sighed heavily. “We already told you, Hermione. Draco isn’t about to
press me on telling him about the horcruxes or about any Order secrets. And I’m
not about to tell him.”
“No, no, of course not. That isn’t what I was thinking.”
“Then what is it, Hermione? I have to go. He’s waiting for me —”
“What if he likes you more than you think?” Hermione blurted, her eyes wide.
Ron stared at her, mouth gaping wide and his skin slowly turning into a green
tinge.
“Hermione… wha—?”
Harry was really blushing now and struggling to keep his face as neutral as he
could. “Mione, I don’t know what you’re talking about. We do like each other,
that’s why we’re friends...”
“You know very well what I am talking about, Harry Potter,” Hermione said, tone
brooking no argument. “I’ve seen the way Malfoy looks at you, Harry, when
you’re not looking at him. And those looks? It looks like there’s a lot more
than friendship that Malfoy has in mind.”
“Hermione, please!” Ron begged from beside her. “That’s disgusting! You really
think Ferret face actually likes Harry like that? Not that it matters, because
Harry isn’t even gay.” He looked over at Harry, grinning. “Mate, tell her. Even
if that slimy Slytherin fancied you, you’d sooner be with a Blast-Ended Skrewt
than —”
“I like blokes, Ron.”
“Than ever be with that twitchy little — wait, what?” Ron turned to Harry,
mouth gaping again and eyes wide. “Mate —?”
“I have to go,” Harry said, not looking at either of them as he opened the door
and left.
He vaguely heard Hermione shout after him, but he stubbornly ignored her and
continued his way down the stairs and out of the portrait. He slipped on his
Cloak, grabbed his map, and hurried to the Hospital Wing.
He didn’t care what Ron or Hermione thought. He didn’t. He just needed to see
Draco. Draco, who was hurt and in pain, was waiting for his return. He’d deal
with the other two when he got back.
Right now, he had Draco to focus on. He wanted to be there for when the blond
would need him, because he’d gotten attacked. Draco’s memories were taken and
he could have died falling down the stairs. Harry could have lost him. Fate was
surely laughing at him right now — Harry Potter becoming overly concerned for
Draco Malfoy.
If someone had asked Harry at the beginning of term how he’d feel about being
in a romantic relationship with the blond, he would have probably laughed his
head off at the idea before firmly turning away from the lunatic.
And now Harry was hurrying to see Draco, worried frantic that something could
be happening to him right now while he was vulnerable in the Wing.
Harry slowly opened the doors to the infirmary and quickly walked in. His heart
simultaneously calmed and quickened at the sight of the sleeping blond. He went
over and dropped into the bed right across from Draco’s.
It looked like he was asleep. His chest rose slightly, and puffs of air escaped
his lips.
Harry stared at the blond, smiling softly as he took in Draco’s features. He
was so beautiful; with elegantly shaped eyebrows, his pointy and aristocratic
pale nose, the smoothly defined cupid’s bow set right above the most gorgeous,
fullest, and tastiest pink lips Harry had ever seen. Draco’s cheekbones were
like something sculptured from clay, with such sharpness that became smoothed
in sleep. Even his ears — Merlin, how Harry loved to nibble on the soft, light
skin of Draco’s earlobes.
Draco Malfoy was gorgeous, Harry would admit it to anyone who asked. He didn’t
think he loved beautiful shiny things, but just looking at Draco, even with his
scarred body half healed and wrapped in gauze, nearly took Harry’s very breath
away. How could he have lived all these years at Hogwarts without noticing what
a gorgeous creature Draco was? Harry wondered. (It probably had to do with all
the fists and curses being thrown between them, he mused fondly.)  
Merlin, Harry loved Draco so much. To see him here, lying almost broken because
some arse had pushed him down the stairs, filled Harry with so much pained
rage. Harry wanted to hunt Blaise Zabini himself down in the Slytherin
Dungeons. He could do it, too, since he’d brought his map and cloak with him.
He could yank Zabini out of his own bed and force him to tell Harry why he had
pushed his former friend down the stairs.
But that wouldn’t be fair, and Dumbledore might have a few words to say with
him about taking matters into his own hands. Not to mention McGonagall and most
of the staff could find out. Draco would become upset at the thought of Harry
in trouble because of him, too.
Harry inwardly sighed, glancing at Draco again and continuing to watch the rise
and fall of his chest. He reached over to grasp at the blond’s hand, and was
almost startled to feel how cool it was. He held onto him tighter, willing his
warmth to seep into Draco. He nearly wanted to climb right into bed with him,
just to make sure he stayed warm, of course. The room was so quiet, empty, and
dark. If Draco wasn’t so broken and fragile right now, Harry had no doubt that
their clothes would’ve been off by now. Instead of Draco being in pain from his
fall, he would’ve been crying out with pleasure as Harry took the time to
worship his body. Instead of cuts and painful bruises littering his body, Harry
would have made sure his kisses and love bites were the only things decorating
Draco’s beautiful, pale skin.   
Oh, how Harry wished they weren’t in the Hospital Wing and were in their room
instead, slowly making love into the night as was their usual routine.
“Stare at me any longer than that, and you just might burn me up.”
Startled, and a bit ashamed at his thoughts, Harry looked up to see a sleepy
Draco smiling at him.
“Draco, you’re awake?” he whispered, careful not to talk too loud in fear of
Madame Pomfrey overhearing them and booting him out.
Draco sighed with contentment, hand tightening over Harry’s. “Wanted to wait
for you.”
Harry smiled softly. “Well, I’m here now. Go to sleep, love.”
But the blond shook his head, yawning. “Want to sleep with you.”
Harry’s smile drooped, and he looked at Draco as he laid out on the bed. “I
can’t, love. You’re too fragile for me to crawl in, or move you. Not to mention
Madame Pomfrey might walk in and —”
“Sod it all,” Draco cursed, opening one eye blearily. “Just move the other bed
over next to mine. Or enlarge this one. Either way, I don’t care. I can’t sleep
without you by me.”
Harry frowned, a bit concerned at Draco’s sudden neediness. But he couldn’t
fault the blond for that. Harry was feeling a bit needy for Draco, himself. He
sighed, but relented to Draco’s whims.
He decided to enlarge the bed, and without thinking about it too much, he waved
his hand to will the bed to double its size. He tried to cast the spell as
gently as possible so it wouldn’t disrupt Draco’s healing body. But he needn’t
have worried. With a small pop, the bed slowly stretched to their desired size,
not even unsettling the blond a little.
Draco sighed as he felt Harry finally crawl into the bed. He longed to turn
closer into Harry, but that was impossible. He decided his head would have to
do, and tilted it onto Harry’s shoulder as the boy finally settled in close to
him. 
Both boys released mutual sighs of contentment, their bodies finally relaxing
now that they were in contact and resting in each other’s presence. Harry
noticed, too, a headache had been forming between his eyebrows this whole time.
He hadn’t realized it’d been steadily growing stronger, until just this moment
that he was with Draco. His headache almost instantly disappeared the moment
the blond laid his head on him. Even Draco looked more at peace right now than
he had all day.     
“Harry, I love you,” Draco said sleepily, lips barely moving.
The other boy smiled and pecked Draco softly on the lips. “I love you too,
Draco. Get some sleep, love.”
Draco was asleep before he’d even finished speaking, though Harry didn’t mind.
He joined Draco less than a minute later.    
 
***** Chapter Seventeen *****
June 24
 
“If I didn’t know any better, Potter, I’d say you were dragging your feet on
purpose,” Draco hissed, his upper-class drawl creeping into his voice.
Harry frowned, hating that Draco was acting so irritable this morning, but he
lengthened his stride so he could walk beside Draco again. When he looked over
carefully, Harry could tell that despite Draco’s petulance he was extremely
nervous. But as to why, Harry didn’t know.
Ever since Madame Pomfrey had woken them from their bed this morning (during
which the Matron had plenty of words to say to Harry about disrupting school
property and disturbing her patients in the middle of the night) Draco had been
in a foul mood.
Since he’d been excused from classes, Harry decided to eat breakfast with Draco
in the Hospital Wing. Except for some light chatter between the two, Draco had
hardly spoke to him. It had made Harry a bit apprehensive, and he couldn’t help
but feel like he had done something to anger the blond.
“Draco, whatever I did to make you upset, I’m sorry,” Harry had said after
they’d both finished breakfast. Draco was sitting up, his wraps having been
vanished by Madame Pomfrey. She had deemed his bones all healed and his health
satisfactory. He had sat up in bed to eat, but was changing into his robes that
the elves had delivered while they’d been asleep.
He’d stopped moving at Harry’s words, and turned to face him, frowning. “What
are you talking about?”
“You seem a bit upset this morning, and I just wanted to make sure that if it
was something I’d done last night…”
“That’s preposterous, Harry. You’ve done nothing wrong.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive. Unless you’ve been keeping secrets, other than the ones that I am
aware of, we’re fine, Harry.”
That had set Harry at ease a bit. “But then, why —?”
“I’m just not at all comfortable visiting with Dumbledore,” Draco admitted,
reaching for Harry’s hand.
“Why not? He’s the most powerful —”
“— wizard in the wizarding world, I know,” Draco sighed. “That’s exactly why.
Other than having wandless and nonverbal magical capabilities, he’s also a
skilled Legilimens.” His eyes met Harry’s. “He’s going to find out, Harry. If
I’m in that office with him long enough, he’ll find out everything.”
“What, about your switching sides? That’s not too bad…”
“Worse,” Draco frowned, clutching at his head with his free hand. “You don’t
understand, he can’t find out.”
“Find out what?” Harry questioned, confused and a bit scared at the way Draco
was talking.
But Draco had fallen silent after that, and nothing Harry said brought him out
of it.
Shortly before noon, the boys had received a missive from Professor Dumbledore
asking them to join him in his office and that he especially liked Acid Pops.
Harry had noticed that Draco’s mood had turned entirely more sour after that.
He’d snapped at Harry to hurry and get dressed, then had stormed out of the
infirmary with Harry rushing after him.
It irked Harry to see Draco acting this way. It was all too familiar to being
Malfoy. And Harry knew that Draco and Malfoy were the same person. He didn’t
have any notions that Draco was a complete angel and that he was a separate
entity from Malfoy. Harry knew that completely.
All the same, Harry’s Draco was more soft around the edges, less pointy and
more beautiful, filled with light banter and laughter, wearing dazzling smiles,
and his skin felt so soft and so smooth. Like last night. Draco loved him, gave
him kisses, and pleaded for him to stay.
Malfoy was conniving, proud, arrogant, manipulative, and a bully to first
years. He threw hurtful barbs at Harry, and became merciless when he wanted
something. And he called him Potter, with that annoying emphasis on his name
that sent a familiar, unwelcome chill down Harry’s spine. While some of those
traits made Draco look hot as hell sometimes, Harry felt a bit thrown at having
the loving Draco from last night morph into this glaring version of Malfoy that
continued to spit hateful barbs at him. It was just like old times, and Harry
didn’t like it.     
“Why are you in such a hurry even though it seems like you’re dreading this
meeting?” Harry asked him, hurrying to match Draco’s stride again.
Draco huffed, keeping his eyes straight ahead. “Obviously, the sooner we get
there, Potter, the sooner we can leave.”
They were approaching the Gargoyle Corridor, where Professor Dumbledore’s
office was located.
Glancing over at Draco’s blank expression, Harry figured this was a good time
as any. Without any warning, he used his strength to shove Draco into a nearby
wall, holding his arms still and preventing too much movement by pressing his
body from top to bottom against Draco’s.
It took a moment for Draco to even register what was even happening, but when
he finally did, he bared his teeth at Harry and growled at him.
“What the fuck are you doing, Potter?! We’re already fucking late due to your
abysmal habit of taking your fucking time to fix that nest of hair of yours —!”
Harry slammed his lips onto Draco’s, quelling the blond boy’s pointless rant
and stilling his struggles. Draco bit his lip hard in retaliation, but Harry
ignored the instant taste of copper and merely kissed the boy harder. Their
lips fought for a while, turning and twisting as the other tried to gain the
upper hand and control of the kiss. Harry had a better grip on Draco though,
and he might have eventually won out if Draco hadn’t decided to bite on his
injured lip one last time.
“Ow!” Harry pulled back to glare at the blond. “What the hell, Draco?”
“You slammed me against the wall! You’re getting upset with me?”
“Only because I needed to get your attention! You’ve been acting mental all
morning!”
“Mental, am I?” Draco hissed. “You know, I suppose I am. How does it feel to be
with a mental person, Potter?”
Harry stared at him, worried at this version of Draco he’d never seen before.
He looked like a mad, crazy person. “Stop this, Draco. Just talk to me. What’s
going on? What’s wrong with Dumbledore that makes you feel so afraid?”
“I’m not afraid, Potter,” Draco sneered.
“Then what?!” Harry cried, frustrated. “What is it? What can’t you tell me? Is
it…. Does it have to do with your mission?” The blond sucked in a breath. “It
does, doesn’t it. Why can’t you just tell me?”
“I’m under Oath.”
Harry stepped back, letting go of Draco.
“Yeah, you told me that. What does that mean exactly?”
“It’s similar to an Unbreakable Vow, except my Oath is solely connected to the
Dark Lord. I can’t tell you the details of it, either. I can’t tell anyone,
Harry,” Draco sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I can’t tell you, or Dumbledore,
or your Order. No one. I can’t be saved.”
A lump formed in Harry’s throat. “That’s not true. I’m here. I can —”
“Oh yes, your stupid Gryffindor heroics,” Draco huffed. “Going to try and save
me anyway, Potter?”
Harry fought to remain passive. “I just want to help you, Draco. If that means
acting like some full-on hero, then that’s what I’ll do. You won’t talk to me,
you avoid the subject of Dumbledore. What can I do?”
A few minutes passed as Harry waited for an answer. It took a while, but he
could tell Draco was slowly losing his ire.
“Just hold me,” Draco eventually said, his eyes taking on a strange sheen.
Harry watched as his entire countenance abruptly changed. His shoulders slumped
as if under a heavy weight and his hands shook as they wrapped around himself.
He looked like someone who’d seen too much Death, as if he was ready to just
give up the fight. “Please, Harry.”
Harry squeezed his eyes closed, reining in the anger that wanted to burst
forth. Draco’s emotions were giving him whiplash.
He understood that Draco was under Oath. He knew there were things that Draco
might be holding inside that he was refusing to tell Harry. But he himself had
secrets he couldn’t tell Draco. That would make him a hypocrite if he became
angry with the blond, right?
No matter how irrational it felt, Harry was just angry at everything: at Draco,
at himself, at Voldemort.
The mere notion that Voldemort had any kind of power over Draco was making
Harry more furious, too. He wanted Voldemort dead. By his hand. He’d known that
Voldemort had to be defeated by him anyway, but it had never felt so personal
before.
He wrapped his arms around Draco tight, pulling the boy as close as he could
around him. He felt Draco’s shaking against him even more and Harry had never
felt so powerless in his entire life.
Harry rained kisses on Draco’s head, wishing he had some ultimate power that
would break whatever Oath or magical bond that tied him and Voldemort together.
He wanted to take Draco and run far, far away; somewhere where the Death Eaters
or Voldemort’s influence would never reach him. They’d run away together, go
somewhere safe.
Draco must’ve have known what he was thinking, and Harry marveled at what that
meant about how close they’d grown, because the blond glanced up at him and
gave Harry a sad smile. “Running away is for cowards. Not for you, my foolish
Gryffindor.”
Harry choked out a broken laugh, and just held Draco harder. “I’ll kill him. I
will. Just for you.”
And Draco kissed him. It was a bittersweet, angst-filled kiss, and it felt
exactly like a last one would, and that just made Harry ache. “Good,” was all
Draco said. He pulled a bit away from him, when all Harry wanted to do was tug
Draco back into his embrace. He felt like he was slowly losing Draco. It scared
the bloody hell out of him.
“Draco…” He stopped, unsure of what he even wanted to say. Run away with me
anyway. Please. Fuck the war. Be with me always.
In the end, Harry just gave Draco a bitter smile. “I love you.”
“And I love you,” Draco sighed back. “Let’s go, Harry.” He took one, then two
steps backwards. “We need to see Professor Dumbledore now.”
Harry was almost close to sayingsod it to visiting the Headmaster. But the look
in Draco’s eyes subdued his anger, and he just gave a heavy sigh instead. He
followed Draco back towards the corridor to Dumbledore’s office.
The gargoyle statue greeted them, and after Harry had stated the password as
“Acid Pops,” the entrance stairs to the Professor’s office slid into view. The
pair quickly jumped on, and Harry used the short moment as the stairs carried
them up to hold onto Draco’s hand and give it a hurried squeeze. Draco threw
him a grateful smile right as Harry knocked on the door.
But his face quickly grew impassive as the large door began to swing open, and
he shook his hand out from Harry’s. Harry frowned at the blond’s movement, but
he had no time to give a last reassuring glance at Draco as they fully walked
into the room.
Dumbledore greeted both boys behind his desk. The old man’s eyes glittered
craftily but his smile was genuine.
“Slightly behind of schedule, boys. Late is better than never, though.”
Harry flushed, and the two walked in to take their seats in front of his desk.
The Gryffindor noticed Draco sat stiffly in his chair and he yearned to take
the boy’s hand in his again.
“Care for a lemon drop?” Dumbledore asked. Both boys shook their heads no.
“Well, no sense in them going to waste.” He plucked one candy from his little
jar on his desk, popped it into his mouth, and with his other free hand waved
the door to his office closed. “Right then, this meeting. I wanted to speak to
you both about this new recent development.”
“About Draco’s fall, sir?” Harry asked, confused.
“We already told you last night —” Draco broke off at Dumbledore’s gesturing
hand.
“Yes, yes of course. I was referring to another development, however. A more…
intimate one, perhaps?”
Harry felt a harsh blush come over him, slowly slipping down his neck line and
down to his chest. He opened him mouth to speak but Draco’s angry voice stopped
him.
“What business is that of yours?” his livid voice demanded.
Harry gaped at him, mouth dropped open in shock at Draco’s sudden rudeness.
Dumbledore’s gaze only twinkled at him.
“Yes, Mr. Malfoy, you’re completely correct. While normally school staff does
not concern themselves over the personal lives of our students, certain… ah,
unique situations may eventually lead to some other form of distress. When the
lives of our students and staff are involved, I maintain a right to at least
understand what it transpiring in my school.”
“How does mine and Harry’s personal life possibly endanger the students?” Draco
questioned harshly.
Dumbledore didn’t seem to take offense at his tone. “It has quite an effect on
everyone actually, Mr. Malfoy,” he said. “Especially for those whom have
already been affected, such as Harry and yourself. As well as Harry’s friends.
And possibly your other acquaintances.”
“Just what are you implying?” the blond demanded unkindly.
The Professor only gave him an unimpressive smile. “Your relationship is not
common knowledge yet, I believe?”
Harry shook his head.
“Good, good. Then I actually have something else to talk to you about.”
Harry bit his lip worriedly, glancing back and forth at the seething blond and
Dumbledore. He could understand why Draco was upset at the Professor’s prying
into their private life, and he’d wish the Professor would hurry up and get to
the point already, but he was also a bit thrown at Draco’s maintained hostility
towards the old man. Why did Draco hate Dumbledore so much?
“First, I must ask you to respond truthfully to this next question, the both of
you,” Dumbledore said, his expression serious except for the twinkling in his
eyes. “What is the nature of your relationship with each other?”
Harry bristled at the question, but Draco nearly steamed for how red his face
became.
“Why?” the blond hissed.
Dumbledore smiled. “The answer is important in knowing the outcome to this
meeting. Please Mr. Malfoy, I only ask for clarification. Your answers will not
leave beyond these doors until you wish to tell others, yourself.”
Harry glanced over at Draco shortly, waiting to see if the other boy would say
anything in response. Draco only huffed.
“Um, I guess you could say… that we’re together, Professor.”
“’Together’…?”
“As in… dating…” Merlin, this was embarrassing to talk about with the old
Professor. “We’re, erm, boyfriends…”
“For approximately how long?”
“Er, about a month now...?”
“How far would you say your relationship has progressed?” the old man asked,
his tone cool and professional.
Harry felt his heated cheeks become even hotter. He stammered, embarrassed and
almost ashamed to be talking about this in front of their Professor. “I-
I…we’ve… um, kissed —”  
“We’ve been together intimately,” Draco nearly spat.
Harry’s face flushed a brighter tomato red and he had to clutch at his seat to
keep himself from glaring at the blond next to him. What the bloody hell,
Draco?!
“Ah,” Dumbledore replied, his lip twitching. He sat back, stroking his beard as
he studied at the two of them.
Harry shifted unnervingly in his seat, trying to look anywhere other than at
the Professor. His heart pounded at Draco’s lack of decorum in revealing the
details of their relationship. What in the hell was Draco thinking saying
something like that?
The blond crossed his arms, maintaining his glare at the old man and stubbornly
refusing to comment any further on the matter.
“May I ask how this relationship of yours developed?”
“Erm, well, I…” Harry stammered, not knowing what to say and feeling frustrated
at the lack of help that he was receiving from Draco. “I… came across Malfoy in
the bathroom last month….”
“Yes, Severus mentioned that there was an incident between the two of you,”
Dumbledore replied. “He said you were fighting, and that he’d gone in and
assigned detention to you.”
Harry almost gaped at the shortened version Snape had apparently given to the
Headmaster. Had the Potions Master actually covered for Harry? For what reason?
Draco was thinking a similar thought. Explains why Harry was never expelled for
using Dark Magic on him, he mused silently, a bit of resentment reeling up
inside at the thought of the special treatment that Harry always received from
both students and the staff. He hadn’t thought Professor Snape would ever have
resorted to that, though. He mused on why Snape hadn’t taken the unique
opportunity to expel Harry, after years of him wanting to do so in the past.
Both boys puzzled over their thoughts revolving around Professor Snape.
Dumbledore watched them for a moment, gaze serious as he continued to stroke
his beard. He hummed softly.
The sound broke Harry from his reverie. “Right. And afterwards….”
“Harry and I decided to form a truce,” Draco finally broke in, voice
unwavering. “We decided to stop fighting now that we’ve gotten older. I asked
him for tutoring help in Defense class, because my grades were slipping. Harry
was kind enough to agree, and he’s been helping me study. We grew close enough
to become friends.” His voice was so matter-of-fact, Harry wouldn’t have
doubted his words if he hadn’t known the truth.
He gazed at Dumbledore, trying to read the old man for clues in him not
believing Draco’s story.
But the Professor only hmmm’d again.
“Interesting,” was all he said.
Harry slumped with relief, glad that it seemed that the Professor had no qualms
with their story.
“So, you’d say you are close to Mr. Potter, is that correct, Draco?” the old
man asked.
Draco nodded, a bit wary at the question. “Yes.”
“You would do anything for him, in fact?” he continued, eyes glittering and
formulating. “You’d want to keep him safe from danger, even?”
Harry frowned, not liking where the conversation was heading. He saw Draco nod
out of the corner of his eye.
“Yes.”
“Safe from Voldemort, even?”
Harry’s frown deepened, and he turned narrowed eyes on the Professor.
“Yes,” was the blond’s emphatic answer.
“Good, good,” Dumbledore said, his gaze straying away from Draco and slightly
above his head into nothingness. “Good.”
“I apologize, sir, but what exactly are you getting at?” Harry questioned, his
voice coming out harder than he meant it to. “What does our relationship have
to do with anything? Draco was bloody pushed down the stairs yesterday. Why are
you asking about whether we’re boyfriends or not?”
Harry’s voice had risen considerably through his rant, but he didn’t care. He
was growing tired of the Professor’s questions. He wanted to know how the
investigation was going. Had Dumbledore already questioned Zabini?
The Professor’s eyes landed on Harry and his smile grew slightly.
“Of course, Harry, I apologize. Forgive an old man in his slow thinking.” He
chuckled softly as he rose from his seat, his hand coming up to handle his
beard while the other, the injured one, lay limp at his side.
Harry frowned. Dumbledore’s hand looked a lot worse than it had been just a few
months ago.
“Harry,” came the Professor’s voice, getting both boys’ attention. “And Draco.
I will be blunt with you. This sudden relationship developing between the two
of you has come at a most inopportune time, wouldn’t you agree?”
Harry gave a hesitant nod, thinking of how much better it would be if he and
Draco could be together out in the open, not having to worry about taking
different sides, the war, or Voldemort. 
He saw Draco nod from beside him.
Dumbledore gave them a sad smile. “Yes, a most inopportune time indeed, boys.
But also a most beneficial one, as well, if you think to use time as your
advantage.” He chuckled to himself. “And I believe that your development could
not have come at a better time, in fact. If utilized correctly, we could use
this to the benefit of everyone.”
“Sir?” Harry was deeply confused now.
Draco was getting annoyed too. “Your point, Professor?”
Dumbledore smiled indulgently. “I’ll be frank, boys. The timing is absolutely
perfect. Draco, I’m aware that you’ve switched your loyalties to Harry, am I
correct?” He ignored the gaping expressions of both boys at his apparent
rhetorical question. “You no longer wish to follow in your father’s footsteps
in becoming a Death Eater. A wise decision, indeed, and absolutely your choice
to make.”
The old man was somehow using Legilimency, Draco thought angrily. He just knew
it.
“So, after having switched sides and declaring loyalty to helping Harry’s
destiny in defeating Voldemort, I’d like to ask you this: what do you plan to
do once summer begins?”
Draco stilled at that. “I haven’t given much thought to it.” It was a blatant
lie, and even Draco could tell that Dumbledore didn’t buy it.
“In that case, I offer this to you, Draco. You are afraid for your personal
safety, as well as your mother’s. Along with yourself, I could offer your
mother sanctuary, here in this castle, for the remainder of the war. She would
be safe within these walls, away from Voldemort’s influence as well as outside
the reach of your father or any other Death Eaters. She would be free to come
and go as she pleased, and she would not be a prisoner.” He grinned at Draco,
the mad twinkling in his eye increasing. “All of this, I offer to you. In
return, I’d ask of you two things.”
Draco gaped at him, disbelieving his ears. His mother, safe. He tried to
recover quickly, for the sake of courtesy but also because he was interested
now in hearing the old man’s terms. “Yes?”
“I’d ask you to swear an Unbreakable Vow to protect Harry, as well as any
secrets that he knows of. Harry is in the middle of a mission that I’ve
instructed for him, and I believe his alliance with you could benefit him with
your expertise and knowledge of the Dark Arts as well as from you being briefly
associated with Voldemort.”
It made sense to Draco, and he wasn’t surprised that the Headmaster would ask
him to make a Vow in order to protect Harry. At this point, Draco was a
potential ally to the Order. But if he ever got caught or fell victim to the
other side, Dumbledore would want to ensure Harry’s secrets were protected.
Draco nodded, agreeing to his terms. “And the other?”
At this, Dumbledore glanced once at Harry. The other boy was quiet,
contemplative. The Professor watched him for a moment before locking his eyes
back onto Draco’s. “As for my second condition, I would like for you, Draco, to
stay at Malfoy Manor over the summer before you return to Hogwarts in the Fall.
I’d ask that during that time, you gain intelligence on Voldemort’s movements
and plans for the Order —”
“No!”
Draco jumped at Harry’s emphatic shout.
Harry stood so fast, his chair was knocked backwards, and the boy’s emerald
eyes glowed with furious anger. His fisted hands clenched at his sides. The air
grew warm with wild magic, and Draco vaguely heard a thrumming sound in the air
around them. Small trinkets on the Professor’s desk rattled ominously, and the
walls shook with barely contained magic.
In contrast, Dumbledore gazed at Harry calmly with his hands folded in front of
him. He seemed to be studying the Gryffindor carefully.
“Harry, as I’ve told you before, dark and difficult times lie ahead —”
“That’s exactly why you can’t!” Harry cried. “Why are you even thinking of
sending Draco back there, knowing what he’d been getting himself into?”
“We have no other choice —”
“Yes, we do! He’ll stay with me during the summer!”
“Harry.”
“He’s not going to the Manor back to Voldemort. Draco told me that Tom actually
tortured people in the dungeons. What if they discover Draco and throw him in
there?”
“Harry.”
“You can’t ask him to do this. I —”
“Harry, will you bloody let me answer his question?” Draco raised his voice
over Harry’s.
The Gryffindor stopped and stared at him.
“I think I have the right to answer the Professor myself, don’t you think?”
Harry frowned. “You’ll tell him that it’s a bloody foolish idea, right? I mean,
you can’t possibly be considering —”
“Harry,” Draco said, keeping his voice soft. “It isn’t a foolish idea for me to
want to take a Vow to protect you. It would keep you safe. They wouldn’t be
able to find out anything about you from me. I’d be the perfect Spy, because
the Dark Lord has no reason to distrust me right now.”
“That’s not the point, Draco! You don’t get it!” Harry yelled, balling his
hands into fists and turning away from him.
The blond frowned, glancing shortly at Dumbledore.
The old man quickly rounded his desk and faced the other way, granting them the
illusion of privacy as he began to talk with a portrait on the wall.
Somewhat grateful for the old man’s gesture, Draco looked back at the hunched
shoulders of Harry’s back. He lifted his hand and settled it against the boy’s
broad shoulder blade, caressing the area softly. He waited a few moments before
he spoke.
“Hey.”
Harry sniffed, but remained turned away.
“Harry, please. Talk to me.”
“Don’t do this,” came his whisper. “Please.”
Draco sighed. “Why not? It’s a good offer, Harry. My mother would be safe. I’d
be safe once I come back to Hogwarts.”
“And what about during the summer? Being in Voldemort’s presence. He can use
Legilimency to find out the truth.”
The blond shook his head. “Unlike you, Chosen one, I’m actually quite decent at
Occlumency. He wouldn’t be able to find out anything.”
“And what if he does?” Harry rasped.
“Then he could bloody torture me all he wants. He’d never be able to get a word
out because of the Vow. I’d die first.”
A quiet sob escaped the boy, shaking his entire frame. It startled Draco, and
he rounded to face the boy directly. Tears were streaming from Harry’s
beautiful green eyes and staining his flushed cheeks. Draco felt a hard lump in
his throat. He took Harry’s face in his hands, uncaring of the Professor
standing just mere feet away from them.
“Harry, look at me.”
Pained, tearful green eyes rose to meet his. As they did, Harry almost gasped
to see Draco’s eyes gleaming with tears, too. 
“I love you, Harry,” the blond whispered. “I love you with everything that I
have. Don’t you think that I’d want to protect the one I love as much as
possible?”
“Then why are you agreeing to this?” Harry cried, his voice breaking. “If you
love me, why are you doing this? Why are you leaving me behind, Draco?”
Draco eerily felt a sense of déjà vu overcome him. “Harry, I’m sorry.”
“We were so happy,” Harry continued to sob, his hands raising to clench onto
Draco’s robes. The blond allowed the boy to pull him closer into his embrace.
Draco wrapped his arms around Harry, raking his hands through the boy’s messy
strands. He sighed with heartache at how the other boy’s shoulders shook as
sobs rattled his frame.    
“Harry, please, don’t cry.”
“He’ll kill you, Draco. I know it. I’ve seen what he’s done, what he’s capable
of.”
Draco let out a long breath, pulling Harry closer to him as he breathed in the
earthy scent of broomstick polish mixed with treacle tart.
“Harry, I have to do this. I want to. This way, everyone I love is protected.
I’ll be fine.” Draco tried to act convincing for Harry (and himself).
“How can you promise that?” Harry whispered.
“Because I have you to come back to, Harry,” he replied with a tearful smile.
“You’ve taught me so much, love. Not just how to resist Imperius, or how to
cast wandless and nonverbals. You’ve taught me what it means to love someone so
much that you’d do anything to protect them, even risking death if it meant
that we could ultimately be safe again together.”
Draco pulled a bit away from Harry, holding either side of Harry’s cheeks so
that the Gryffindor could look at him properly.
Liquid heat filled him as his eyes connected to Harry’s. For several long
minutes, Draco could practically feel Harry’s magic ooze all over the room,
thrumming within the small objects contained in the bookshelves and hidden
nooks of the Headmaster’s office.
But where it lashed out in the surrounding space, shaking and threatening to
destroy the crystal and delicate objects, Harry’s heated magic flooded Draco
with power and warmth. Draco’s core welcomed Harry’s essence like it was
greeting him home with open arms. Draco could tell that Harry felt it too,
because even his tears were slowing down. Harry’s rueful green gaze was quickly
being replaced and darkened with a fiery burn. The fire was like an instant cue
for Draco, and he could feel his body instantly respond to Harry’s heat. If
they hadn’t been in the Headmaster’s office with the Professor within hearing
distance, he would’ve grown hard at Harry’s nearly limitless appetite for
Draco.  
Instead, the blond pulled the boy’s face closer to his, keeping his eyes locked
and concentrated on Harry’s, which wasn’t too much of a feat. It was as if a
compelling force was already drawing them closer together.
“I will come back to you, Harry,” Draco muttered softly.
Harry licked his lips. “Promise?” Harry said, mouth grazing Draco’s.
Draco’s eyelids grew heavy. “Yes, Harry,” he uttered. His lips brushed
insistently against the other boy’s. “Always. I’ll always come back to you.”
“Always.”   
“Yes, Harry.”
“Draco,” Harry breathed, his eyes closing. They leaned closer together.
“Harry…”
“Want you, Draco,” Harry sighed, lips opening and connecting with Draco’s.    
Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat.
The two boys jumped apart from each other so fast, the invisible band that had
held them together snapped apart with a painful, nearly audible crack.
Draco’s cheeks were so flushed that they hurt, and even though he wasn’t
looking at Harry, he figured the boy was feeling a similar way.
“Well, I’m glad that we came to an agreement, boys,” the Professor’s voice came
from behind the desk. To Draco’s chagrin, the Professor sounded both amused and
contemplative.
Harry was still frowning, Draco noticed, but that was either from embarrassment
at almost having a full out make-out session right in front of the Professor,
or anger at Draco’s deal with Dumbledore.
“Yes,” Draco replied. “I’ll take a Vow to protect Harry, along with agreeing to
gain information for you over the summer.”
The Professor grinned slightly. “Good. Thank you, Mr. Malfoy.”
It still irked being in the same room with the Professor, but if Dumbledore
agreed to grant sanctuary to him and his mother during the majority of the war,
Draco would endure anything to make sure his loved ones would be taken care of.
“We’ll conduct the Vow this Saturday, on the 28th of June. I shall obtain for
us a Bonder to cast their wand, as is necessary for the activation of the —”
“I’ll do it,” came Harry’s voice. Both wizards turned to the Gryffindor. “I’ll
be the Bonder.”
Dumbledore’s gaze was serious as he looked at him, but he didn’t disagree. “If
you wish.”
The Professor rounded his desk to sit down and sink into his chair.
Draco absently noticed that the old man looked a bit less twinkly than before.
His observation was proven correct as the old man’s gaze landed wearily on
them.
“I shouldn’t keep you away from enjoying your lunch any longer,” the Professor
said. “I will see you in my office again this Saturday, boys.” His eyes riveted
over to Harry’s then. “I advise that you include Mr. Malfoy into your
discussions with Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley, Harry. He may be a valuable asset
to where we may find another one.”
The cryptic words befuddled the blond, but Harry seemed to understand very
clearly was he was saying. He nodded once in response.
The Professor sighed. “It’s been a quite a strenuous morning, boys. I will see
you both Saturday. In the meantime, I sincerely hope that you both enjoy your
week to the fullest.”
It was a clear dismissal.
Both boys quickly nodded their goodbyes and turned to walk out of the
Professor’s office. The doors closed behind them, and they stepped onto the
moving staircase as it lowered them down.
Neither boy spoke as they traveled their way out of the Headmaster’s Tower.
They walked along, hands brushing together, with no thought to their
destination except for perhaps the Great Hall for lunch.
But Draco suddenly didn’t want to eat in a room filled with people. He wanted
to be alone, with Harry. In their room.
He glanced over at the other boy, unsettled to see how quiet the Gryffindor was
as he strolled alongside Draco in the hall. Trying to catch Harry’s eye, he
winced at the despairing look in the boy’s gaze. 
“Harry?” he asked. Draco was suddenly thankful that no other students were
around in this part of the school.
“What?” Harry asked quietly.
“Come with me?” Draco said.
Harry frowned, confused as he looked over at Draco. “What are you talking
about?”
His flat tone sent an icy chill of fear down Draco's back.
“Please,” he pleaded. He reached for Harry’s hand, and quickly turned them in
another direction opposite of the Great Hall.
Harry frowned at him. “Where are you going?” he asked, having no choice but to
follow Draco.
“Just trust me,” Draco said from in front of him.
Harry stared at their joined hands, not really aware of their surroundings or
of any prying eyes that may have followed him. Luckily, they didn’t encounter
anyone in the halls. Harry realized where they were headed as Draco led them up
the stairs to the seventh floor, and he sighed as his feet followed the
blond’s.
Once they crossed to the blank stretch of wall where the door would appear,
Draco let go of Harry's hand and paced back and forth a few times. The door
appeared soon after and Draco opened it as he pulled Harry inside.  
 
***** Chapter Eighteen *****
Draco walked into the room, pulling Harry with him as they crossed towards
their bed. 
Harry took in a quiet breath as he stared around the room. Memories of him and
Draco flashed through his mind, and every single one of them sent a painful
twinge through him. He knew he was acting childish about Draco’s decision to
spy for the Order. He could see Dumbledore’s point about Draco having access to
important information that was needed for the war.  
But he didn’t care. The boy he loved was risking his life for Harry and for
their cause in defeating Voldemort. He felt like he had every right to be
upset.
He had just found Draco. Now he was about to lose him.
Harry was still standing on one side of the bed as Draco sat down heavily on
the other side, his back to the Gryffindor. Harry slowly looked up at Draco,
feeling so tired and so lost, but wanting to comfort the blond because of the
distress that was filling the boy’s face. “Are you alright, Draco?” he asked
him.
Draco shook his head, his shoulders shaking. “No.”
Harry frowned, crossing around the bed and kneeling directly in front of the
blond. He could see that Draco wasn’t crying, but he did look shaken up. Acting
on instinct, he stretched up to wrap his arms around Draco. He felt the
Slytherin’s hands enfold around his neck to hold him closer to him, clutching
Harry’s head against his sternum as he buried his nose to breathe in Harry’s
scent. It comforted him, easing his breathing a bit with every inhale.
“I’m so sorry, Harry,” he murmured into Harry’s hair.
“For what, Draco?” he asked, feeling very worn and tired for it being just
after noon. He buried his face into the robes of the blond, hugging him closer
and feeling comforted at Draco’s warmth around him.
“For hurting you. For making that deal with Dumbledore,” Draco whispered. “I
don’t know any other way to protect my mother and myself, Harry. I’ve tried
everything. But with Dumbledore’s promise to help her, she has a chance now.
And you do too, once I stay with the Dark Lord long enough to find out his
plans.”
Harry tried hard not to have another breakdown in front of Draco. Merlin, the
first one back in the office was bad enough. “I understand, Draco. I really
do,” he muttered. “I may not like it. But I know everyone has a part to play in
this war. I have one. Professor Dumbledore has his role. Even Snape. And now
you.” Despite his words, his voice trailed off towards the end until it finally
broke on the last word.
“We’ll be alright,” Draco said, eyes shut tight and his grip strong on Harry.
“We have to be, right?”
“Yes,” Harry replied emphatically. “We will. It’s only for a little while.
You’ll come back to me.”
“Then it’ll be your turn. You have to defeat him.”
“But I won’t be alone,” Harry muttered. “You’ll be with me.”
Draco pulled away to look directly into Harry’s eyes. “Yes, of course. At your
side.”
“Promise?” Harry asked, voice close to breaking.
A dry sob worked its way up Draco’s throat. “Yes. Always yes. I can’t leave you
Harry. Not anymore. You’ve ruined me, you stupid Gryffindor.”
Harry choked out a laugh, nearly afraid that it came out more like a loud bark.
“And you’ve ruined me, you sneaky Slytherin.”
“I’ll do anything for you, Harry,” Draco whispered, blushing as he stared at
Harry. “I love you.”
Harry sighed with a tiny bit of happiness. “And I love you,” he said very
softly. He ran his hand through Draco’s hair and down his neck.
Draco shivered at the heated touch. “Show me, Harry. Please,” he whispered.
Harry leaned up and forward, pulling Draco’s face down towards him so that he
could kiss the blond. He let out a sigh against his lips, slowly leaning more
and more forward until he was at the same level as Draco.
The blond shivered, opening his mouth and surrendering himself to Harry. His
tongue slid out to greet the other boy’s, and they softly caressed and moved in
a dance only known to them.
Soon enough, Draco was lying on his back against the bed with Harry pressed
flushed on top of him, pressing him into the sheets. Every movement Harry made
with his body, Draco could feel. It made him moan and move his hands over the
boy on him, stroking Harry over his clothes.   
“Harry,” Draco gasped, spreading his legs slightly, yearning to wrap them
around Harry’s waist. “Please.”
“Draco,” he moaned in reply, pressing hard against Draco.
The blond moaned, tilting his head away to gasp for air before soon returning
to rain kisses on Harry’s cheeks and jaw.
“Love me, Harry,” he muttered.
“Yes, love, forever,” Harry whispered into the neck of Draco’s skin. His lips
brushed wetly against him with every word. “I’ll win this war, Draco. I’ll
defeat him. With you beside me. And then we’ll travel away together. Living the
rest of our lives with each other. In our cottage.”
“With 2.5 children,” Draco gasped, eyes shut in pleasure at Harry’s voice and
touch surrounding him.
“Yes,” Harry hissed, pushing his length steadily against Draco. “With lots of
pets and a wide yard for a Quidditch field.”
“And we’ll grow old together,” the blond whispered brokenly. “Promise me,
Harry.”
“I promise, Draco. We’ll grow old and fat, and we’ll be together until we die,
holding hands.”
Draco huffed out a shaky laugh, willing Harry’s promise to be so, through the
tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. “I will never be fat. I’ll always
be gorgeous.”
“Yes,” Harry agreed. “Gorgeous and aged like fine wine.”
“But we’ll die together holding hands.”
Harry grinned at him. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
The blond gave him a watery smile in return.
And suddenly Draco had to have him. He couldn’t wait another moment. Another
second would feel like a century. He ached to feel Harry, to have Harry’s magic
and scent and touch all around and overwhelming him. He needed Harry like he
needed air to live. He’d die without him, he could feel it.
Harry read the expression in his face and somehow knew exactly what he was
feeling. Because he felt the same way, too. A minute not inside of the blond
was a minute filled with agonizing pain. He had to have Draco, right now.
With a quick wave of his hand, Harry silently spelled both of their clothing
off. Draco moaned at the instant sensation of skin on skin contact that Harry’s
magic created. He threw his head back in pleasure as Harry lined their lengths
together and thrust against him with steady, controlled movements. After a
couple of minutes, Draco spread his legs wider to accommodate Harry. They both
released simultaneous moans at the movement, and the blond hurried to wrap his
legs around Harry to pull him harder against him.
“L-Lube, Harry,” Draco panted, eyes clutched tight together and quick pants
escaping his swollen lips.
Briefly distracted at the sight, Harry dove down and sucked against Draco’s
neck. The blond keened loudly at the feeling, and Harry held him locked into
the position as he made sure to leave his mark on the boy. His boy. His Draco.
“Mine,” he whispered once he was finished, gazing intently at his handiwork.
Draco groaned, nails raking down along Harry’s back. “Yes Harry. Yours.”
“Not His. Not Voldemort’s. Mine,” Harry growled.
“Only yours!” he gasped, throwing his head back as Harry made a harsh thrust
against him. “Please, Harry, now!”
With one last growl, Harry pushed himself off of Draco. They both felt the
instant loss of skin contact, and Harry hurried to silently and wandlessly lube
his length. He cast the necessary cleaning and protection spells before he his
lubed fingers pressed against Draco’s puckered hole. The blond gasped in
pleasure, hardly believing it had been only a day since he’d last had sex with
Harry. It felt like nearly a lifetime ago that Harry had been inside him last.
After two fingers, then three were pressed and stretching inside Draco’s
cavity, Harry slowly pulled his fingers out. The blond nearly wailed at how
empty he felt without Harry.
“Inside, please, Harry. Please, need you now!”
Desperately holding himself from coming right away, the Gryffindor directed his
length into Draco. They both groaned in ecstasy as Harry slowly slipped inside
of him. He felt like he was coming home, and Draco nearly felt the same way. He
never felt complete until Harry was finally inside him.
“I love you so much, Draco,” Harry gasped out, eyes staring into Draco’s.
“You’re my life.”
Draco almost screamed with pleasure as Harry began to thrust inside him, and he
pushed his hands forcefully into Harry’s hair, gripping the locks as he held
onto him. 
“I’ve never felt like this before with anyone. Only you, Harry,” he said. “You
feel so perfect inside me.”
“Yeah?” Harry said. “You feel so good inside. Outside. Everywhere, Draco. Fuck,
you’re so beautiful.”
“And yours,” he gasped at a hard thrust. “I feel so whole with you.”
“Yes. Whole. Perfect. Safe.” Harry moaned, not moving his eyes from Draco as
they spoke, hands clutching each other as if their life depended on it. “Always
together. Nothing could ever change that. I won’t let it.”
“Nothing,” Draco fervently agreed, gripping Harry harder with both of his legs
wrapped around his waist.
Harry leaned down and kissed Draco hurriedly, thrusting faster and deeper
inside of him. He wanted to be in Draco as deep as he could, connecting them
more than ever before.
Draco was panting loudly as Harry’s lips and magic washed over him, making him
dizzy with want and pleasure.  
“Love you, Harry! Love you so much!”
“Yes, Draco! Merlin, fuck!” Harry cried out, pushing his arms straight and
holding one of Draco’s legs higher around his torso as he thrust harder and
deeper into him.
“Oh fuck! Harry!” Draco gasped. “Yes. So wonderful, Harry!”
Draco’s panting and moaning, along with his words, were bringing Harry close to
the edge. There was a strange thrum in the air as the two moved and danced
their bodies to the flow of invisible magic around them. Both boys closed their
eyes, missing the heated flashes that sparked around their heads as they neared
closer and closer to climax.
“Oh, Harry, come inside me,” Draco pleaded, wrapping his legs tighter around
Harry. He closed his eyes, tilting his head backwards and moaning with every
thrust inside him.
“So close,” Harry panted out. His hips moved faster, pistoning harder and
deeper inside him.
“Oh oh oh!” Draco screamed, feeling his balls draw up into his body. Love and
magic filled his very core as Harry slammed into him, and he cried out
wordlessly as he finally came and spasmed around his lover’s length.
Harry groaned loud at the tightening around his cock, and the intense pleasure
overwhelmed him as he filled Draco fully to the brim, hips thrusting for
several moments as he spurted. Eventually he finally collapsed, his face
pressed to Draco’s chest.
“Love you, Draco Malfoy,” Harry almost sobbed, his voice coming out broken and
raspy. His face felt dry but his eyes stung and his lips felt chapped. He felt
so worn, so emotionally and physically exhausted.
Draco also felt wrung out, both in the most delicious and heart wrenching of
ways. “I love you, Harry Potter,” he said against Harry’s skin.
The two refused to let go of each other for the longest of minutes. Their sweat
and come eventually dried messily on them, and Harry felt uncomfortable until a
wave of Draco’s hand cleaned them up.
A quick thought later and the two were soon under the covers, warm and still
wrapped around each other. After a few moments, Harry finally felt himself slip
out of Draco, and with a quick wave another mess was prevented. But the two
never let go of the other, clutching hard even as Harry fell asleep first.
Draco watched him for the longest of moments, exhausted and nearly delirious
from lack of strength. He sleepily realized that it was still the middle of the
day, they hadn’t eaten lunch, and Draco still didn’t feel completely back to
normal after his incident from yesterday.
But all that aside, never did Draco feel more gratified and complete than at
that moment. No matter what happened in the next hour, the next day, or even in
the middle of the war once it started, Draco knew he would always have this
moment to look back and remember.  
He’d always remember the look on Harry’s as he uttered the most precious three
little words that filled Draco’s heart with joy. He’d always remember the
burning green gaze that filled with heat for nearly every occasion and emotion.
He’d remember Harry’s arms around him, holding and caressing him, stroking
inside him, wrapping around him. He’d remember Harry’s lips and tongue, and the
way they nearly pulled the very breath from Draco as he felt like he’d die a
happy death as Harry took his last breath of air.
Harry’s wondrous laughter, his messy hair, his knobby knees, his tendency to
fill a room with his magical and charming strength. And his annoying, but
enthralling habit of rushing into danger for the ones he loved most.
He’d remember Harry Potter always. His best friend. His one true love.
He’d remember until he didn’t.
 
***** Chapter Nineteen *****
June 28
 
Glad that he didn’t have to hide it any longer, for this moment anyway, Draco
gripped hard onto Harry’s hand as they entered Professor Dumbledore’s office.
It had been several days since they’d last been in the Headmaster’s room, and a
lot had happened since that time. But now they were finally here, and Draco was
going to make an Unbreakable Vow with the Headmaster. It was finally happening.
“Hey,” came Harry’s voice beside him. Draco looked up and saw Professor
Dumbledore standing near his desk.
He wasn’t paying any attention to them as he spoke to his phoenix, Fawkes.
“You’ll be alright,” Harry spoke again, his hand warm and clutching tightly to
Draco’s. “I’m right here with you, Draco. Always.”
The blond stayed silent, but nodded in acknowledgement.
He knew it was inevitable. He had to do this. For his mother.
Draco just wished he had more time with Harry.
Thinking back to the events in the last few days, Draco couldn’t help himself
in wishing for some kind of Time Turner that would take him years back,
possibly all the way to that fateful first meeting on the Hogwarts Express in
first year. If he had known… If Draco had known everything that he knew now,
Draco could imagine himself taking the hand of the Boy-Who-Lived and have them
leave the train before they ever reached Hogwarts.
It was irrational, he knew. But Draco couldn’t stop himself from wishing, all
the same.
If he’d known.
===============================================================================
 
Previously, June 26
 
“So, you decided to invite Granger and the Weasel to our room tonight without
even thinking about disclosing this information to me?”
Harry winced at Draco’s eerily flat voice.
“Well, I thought since I have to tell you my secrets, because Dumbledore
ordered me to —”
“But to our room, Harry?” he asked, frowning. “This is our space.”
“And there’s no safer place than here,” Harry answered him. “The Gryffindor
tower is too full with students, and the library isn’t safe enough. In here,
it’ll just be the four of us with no one else around to listen in.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Why do they have to come here, anyway?” he asked
childishly. “This is mainly between us two.”
“They’re still my friends, Draco. This involves them, too.”
The blond snorted. “Some friends. They haven’t exactly talked to you since you
let it slip that you’re gay. Which, by the way, the fact that you tell them
first before me is absurd.”
“What? Hermione and I have talked plenty. It’s Ron who’s being bloody
stubborn.”
“You both are, actually. I think Granger would agree with me.”
Harry shook his head at him. “Besides that, I didn’t think I’d actually had to
tell you that I am gay. Obviously, since we’ve fucked —”
“For the longest time, I thought I was just an experiment to you, Harry,” Draco
said, his tone sounding offhand but inside he was reeling with nerves. “I
didn’t know how long we would’ve lasted, or how long you would have used me
until you’d finally got your fill. You never even said you were gay, once,
Harry. You said you only fancied me.”
“Hey!” Harry cried, upset. “How come this is the first time I’m hearing of
this? Who ever said that you were just some experiment to me?”
Draco shrugged, refusing to meet Harry’s eyes. “I’d just naturally assumed. We
didn’t really talk much once we’d started having sex.”
“Because we’d already done all the talking!” Harry said, exasperated and
entirely bemused, as well as a little fond of the Slytherin’s tendency towards
self-preservation. It was an odd mixture of emotions.  “That’s what dating is.
We just hadn’t known we’d been doing that. First we had to get to know each
other.”
“Then once we admitted our fancying towards each other, all bets — or rather,
clothes — were off, shall I say?”
Harry rolled his eyes, and fondly wrapped his arm around the blond’s slightly
tense shoulders. He brought him closer until Draco was practically leaning into
his lap. Harry shuffled the blond hair messily, ignoring the scathing look he
received in return.
“Yes, you could say that. Now stop changing the subject.”
“Who, me?”
“Yes, you little Slytherin minx. I’ve still got a lot to explain to you before
the other two arrive.”
“What more is there?” Draco asked, but inside he was shuddering at the
information he’d already received from the last few hours.
Bloody Merlin, after previously finding out that his boyfriend had a prophecy
about him that dictated his entire life — and concerned the ultimate fate of
the wizarding world — Draco hadn’t known that his association with Harry could
provide him with any more bizarre information. He’d been wrong, obviously.
After dinner, the boys had met in their room to talk about what knowledge
Dumbledore had wanted Harry to divulge to Draco.
An hour had already passed as Harry had explained what he’d been working on
with the Professor all year, retrieving memories of Voldemort and learning of
his history as Tom Riddle. Draco had been surprised to hear that the Dark Lord
was actually a half-blood, but he wisely didn’t mention that to Harry. He’d
also been surprised to hear the circumstances surrounding the Dark Lord’s
loveless birth.
Then Harry had mentioned that in order to defeat Voldemort, Harry had to use
his “power the Dark Lord knows not”,which was his ability to love.
“Love?” Draco had asked. “How do you use love against the Dark Lord? What does
that even mean?”
“Dumbledore explained it as my ability to remain pure of heart, or something
like that. But that’s not all.”
Draco had tried distracting Harry and changing the subject, unwilling to hear
more.
But Harry was determined to lay everything about himself out in front of Draco.
And so, Harry revealed to Draco how Voldemort had split his soul and concealed
them into objects, essentially making them into Dark Objects known as
Horcruxes.
 Draco wanted to laugh (He’d actually wanted to scream, cry, flee in terror…
but eventually laughter had won out).
It was a maniacal, desperate sort of laugh. More like a bark, really. Harry
completely understood, sitting there as he watched Draco nearly lose his mind
at the absurd reality of the situation.
After a couple of minutes, Draco’s laughter finally subsided into broken gasps
of air as he then began to slightly panic.
“Draco, breathe,” Harry whispered.
“You can’t kill him,” Draco gasped, chest burning from lack of air. “There’s no
way. It’s impossible.”
“It is not impossible, Draco. I’ve been training with Professor Dumbledore, you
even, and I’ve got Hermione and Ron with me. There’s also Mad-Eye Moody, Remus,
the Order.”
“But Harry,” the blond broke in. “You said seven objects. Seven. How in Merlin
are we —?”
“Less than that, actually,” Harry tried to reassure him. “He was only able to
make six, and there’s already been a few that we’ve managed to destroy. I
stabbed Tom’s diary in second year and Dumbledore told me he destroyed Marvolo
Gaunt’s ring. That’s why his hand looks like that. He had to… sacrifice it
somehow.”
“So, that leaves four more to destroy? How do we know what they are?” Draco
asked.
“Professor Dumbledore told me that Voldemort has this way of favoring specific
objects worthy of the honor. He wanted to choose objects that represented the
four Houses of Hogwarts. So, we know that one of them is Slytherin’s locket and
the other is Helga Hufflepuff’s cup, which leaves the other to be something
important of Ravenclaw’s.”
“And the last one?”
“He thinks it’s Voldemort’s snake.”
“Nagini?” Draco recoiled. “You can make a living being into a Horcrux?”
“Apparently,” Harry said gravely. He grabbed Draco’s hand firmly in his. “In
total, that’s six objects, which means he’s split his soul six times.”
Draco shuddered. “What kind of human does that? With that many times, what on
earth is left in his body right now?”
Harry agreed with him. “I don’t think there’s much humanity left in him,
honestly.”
“He certainly doesn’t look human, anymore,” Draco sniffed. “He doesn’t even
have a nose.”
Harry snorted, hiding a grin in Draco’s hair as he held him. “Funnily enough,
Tom was actually a bit attractive when he looked more human.”
Draco turned on Harry instantly, eyes wide as he stared at his boyfriend.
“Seriously? How in Merlin’s name do you even know that?”
“Well, I did meet his younger self once… Long story. Plus, I saw Voldemort’s
memories. He wasn’t too bad.”
The blond raised an eyebrow. “Really, Potter? You actually have a thing for the
Dark Lord?”
“Shut up,” Harry groaned. “You know I don’t. That’s disgusting, actually. Don’t
even say that again.”
“You said it!”
The Gryffindor rolled his eyes, and grabbed for Draco again. “You’re changing
the subject. Again.”
“Can’t help it. When my own boyfriend is complimenting his enemy’s handsome
appearance, never mind that he’s a Dark Lord...”  
“Merlin, if I knew how jealous you’d be,” Harry sighed.
“I have every right!”
He hid a laugh, instead choosing to pull Draco on top of him again to quickly
kiss the blond’s frown away. “Yes, you do. But seriously, Draco? It was a
passing comment. At best. Besides, you honestly think I’d take a pass at him
now?”
Draco hummed, trying to ignore the trail of kisses Harry was peppering into the
skin of his neck. “You’re right. How foolish of me. I mean, he doesn’t even
have hair. Or eyebrows.”
“Hmm, not sexy that,” Harry agreed, turning his attention to sucking a light
mark right underneath Draco’s chin.
“He doesn’t even have basic hygiene,” Draco continued, tilting his head further
back to give extra space for the Gryffindor. “I mean, even you wash your hair
at times.”
Harry paused, not sure how he felt about that. “Er…”
“Besides, why am I even worrying? You’re with me. I’m much better looking.”
“Hmm mmm,” Harry absently murmured. Turning back to his task, he began to suck
at Draco’s collarbone. “You do have a rather nice, tight arse.”
Draco blushed, feeling pleased. “Well.”
Harry pulled back and grinned at him. “And a very lovely cock.”
“All the better to fill you with,” Draco smirked, pumping his eyebrows
sensually at him.
Harry groaned, quickly turning Draco so that the blond was away from his
hardening length. Merlin, his friends were due to arrive any minute now. What
was Harry thinking even letting the Draco tease him?
“You little minx,” he sighed, pressing a hand on his length to stubbornly hold
it down. Draco just smirked at him. “You feel better now? Not panicking
anymore?”
Gray eyes quickly lost its spark, and narrowed. “I had every reason to panic,
Harry. I just found out we have to search for six bloody —”
“Four.”
“— Horcruxes before we can even attempt to destroy the Dark Lord. Then there’s
the matter of killing the evil fucker himself. Oh, and there’s also a war that
he wants to unleash onto the Wizarding World as soon as he readies his army.”
“Draco.”
“Oh, but what reason is there to panic?” Draco huffed sarcastically.
“Draco, look at me.”
Harry didn’t speak until Draco met his eyes, which took a few moments.
“Listen, you have me. And I have you. We have Professor Dumbledore, Hermione
and Ron, and the Order.  We also have the Aurors, the Hogwarts Staff, and
hundreds of others who would be willing to stand and fight against a Dark
Lord.” He cupped Draco’s chin, moving him until Draco was forced to stare
straight into Harry and nowhere else. “Stop doubting us. You’ll be safe. I
promise.”
Draco sighed and opened his mouth to argue, mostly for appearance sake.
There was a knock on the door.
Harry dropped his hand from Draco, standing quickly with his wand at the ready.
“They’re here,” he gasped. Harry quickly surveyed the room, glad he’d told
Draco to restore the room previously back into a basic training room earlier.
Draco rolled his eyes, but stood from the couch so he was ready to greet the
two Gryffindors.
“No reason to panic, right,” Draco huffed.
Harry ignored him and crossed the room to open the door.
Bushy brown hair and a pair of blue eyes with freckles greeted Harry, and the
Gryffindor stood awkwardly to the side to let the two in.
“Thank you for joining us, Granger and Weasley,” Draco drawled from his
position by the couch.
Hermione grinned back slightly in response, while Ron just rolled his eyes.
“Malfoy.”
They all sat down on the couch just as they’d previously done a month ago, and
Draco poured them all tea. He was thankful he’d thought ahead of time about
ordering a full tray filled with biscuits and other delightful cakes. He saw
Weasley eyeing them eagerly before he shortly took a few in his hand and
scarfed them down. Draco hurriedly looked away to avoid making a snide comment.
“So,” Granger started. “Harry told us you have something to tell us.” She put
her teacup on the table, ignoring the slight rattle. “I figured we could meet
here because it sounded pretty important. Does it have to do with your fall?”
Draco hesitated, glancing at Harry to see the boy also scrunching together his
eyebrows.
“Erm, I guess it kind of does…?”
“I tried researching that spell, by the way,” the girl continued. “The truth
one you told me that Zabini may have cast on Malfoy.”
“You told her that?” Draco turned to Harry.
The boy shrugged at them. “Dumbledore barely believed me. He’s talked to
Zabini, and apparently his story was clean. His alibi checked out.”
“Where was he instead?”
“With Crabbe and Goyle working on some project,” Harry muttered, rolling his
eyes.
Draco frowned. He began to think in consternation, knowing there was something
about Crabbe and Goyle that was niggling at him, but he was interrupted by
Granger’s voice.
“Well, whoever cursed you, Malfoy, I couldn’t narrow the spell down to just
one. From what I researched, there are so many variations of them. Essentially,
there are plenty of truth spells that are just barely this side of being dark.
They’ll either have memory loss capabilities or even mind reading similar to
Occlumency, but all of them have something in common. The one that Zabini, or
whoever it was, had put on you should have dissipated within a few minutes. So,
whatever question he would’ve asked you, he would have had known that time was
not on his side. He could have asked you any kind of question he’d wanted, and
you would have had to tell him, but I’m pretty sure he picked something
important. Something that would be of some value to him in such a short time.”
Draco’s nerves were muddled, and his heart raced. The only secret that really
mattered to him was his relationship with Harry. If Zabini, or whoever had
cursed him, had asked him anything about that, Draco and Harry were already in
danger.
“What could they possibly want to know, though?” Harry asked.
Hermione shrugged. “Who knows if it was a student or a teacher. But if they are
working for Voldemort somehow, like how you thought Malfoy was, and they also
thought that Malfoy might be connected to him as well, then…”
“Then, they would have asked him questions that might’ve led to him giving out
free information about him defecting to our side,” Harry said.
“Which means I’m already dead,” Draco said, his tone completely blank. “If that
person asked anything about my miss — association with the Dark Lord, I would
have told them everything.”
“Not necessarily,” Hermione said. “They could’ve also asked you about a dark
secret that you have, or about a crush, or the latest gossip you might’ve
known. This is a school. There are hundreds of students that love to spread
rumors, and who would do anything to obtain information.”
“Using barely legal spells?” Harry asked, doubtful.
Hermione just shrugged.
“Well, that aside,” Draco said, feeling shaken and just wanting them to move on
from this conversation, “We don’t have much else to go on so there’s no point
in pursuing this topic any further. Even if it was Zabini, he hasn’t treated me
any different or looked at me strangely. There haven’t been any crazy rumors. I
haven’t gotten any strange letters from anyone. Any letters, actually, not even
from my mother,” he added, frowning. “Nothing has changed, so my fall down the
stairs could’ve just been a horrible prank.”
Draco turned to Harry, frowning. “We have something much more important to tell
you, anyway. Something that concerns… me defecting.”
Granger’s eyebrows rose. “Yes, Harry mentioned that earlier. I thought Harry
was just helping you with learning new spells. Are you actually on our side
now?”
“Harry’s side,” Draco corrected. “But yes, essentially.
“Does Dumbledore know this?” Ron finally spoke up.
Harry nodded. “That’s what we actually wanted to talk to you about.” He took a
deep breath, and he yearned to take Draco’s hand in his for comfort. “After
Draco’s accident, Dumbledore had both of us go to his office to speak to us.”
Granger’s eyes widened, and she shifted forward on the sofa with interest.
“What about?”
Harry rubbed the back of his neck, clearly nervous. “Well, he actually wanted
to know where Draco’s true allegiances were. Which was, er… to say, he’s on our
side. The Light side. Against Voldemort.”
This time, both duo’s eyebrows flew up with surprise.
“I’m loyal to Harry,” Draco said to clarify, but he doubted that made much
difference to the Gryffindors.
“Really?” Hermione asked. “You renounced your father and him being a Death
Eater?”
Draco frowned deeply, but nodded.
“Yes. It has to do with what I’d told you earlier, me seeing the truth about
what they stood for and wanting something different for myself. Plus, some
other reasons.”
“And those are…?” Ron questioned.
“Not important,” Harry quickly said. “There’s more. After Professor Dumbledore
was sure that Draco was telling the truth, he… erm… wanted Draco to… to...” His
voice broke off, his tone suddenly becoming lower, a bit angry and harsher.
Draco rolled his eyes, and continued for him. “Dumbledore wants me to make an
Unbreakable Vow of loyalty to protect Harry.”
Hermione gasped, and even Ron looked stunned.
“Why?” the brunette asked.
“He wants Draco to spy for our side,” Harry grunted, not looking happy about it
at all.
“’Spy’?” Ron asked. “On who? The Death Eaters?”
Draco nodded. “He wants me to go back this summer to the Manor and use my
connections with the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord to gain information for
your Order.”
“But that’s suicide!” Hermione said. “Why would Professor Dumbledore risk a
student’s life like that?”
“Because according to Malfoy, there’s a war coming,” Ron spoke, his gaze stern
but concentrated on Draco. “Professor Dumbledore isn’t stupid. He knows the
risks. But he’s willing to go through with them because he knows that’s what we
need right now. It’s all about strategy.”
“But he already has a spy, doesn’t he? Professor Snape?” Hermione asked.
“Two is better than one,” Ron told her, eyes riveted on Draco’s with clear
understanding. “In a chess match, you always have multiple strategies lined up
just in case Plan A goes wrong. If Snape were to get caught, for example, we
would still have Malfoy.”
“But that’s still barbaric!” Hermione argued. “Malfoy is underage. How could he
ask a student to risk his life like that —”
“Age doesn’t matter in war,” Draco said. “Although as of a few weeks ago, I am
legal now.”
“You’re still a student.”
“Doesn’t matter. Weasley is right. If Snape is caught or killed, I’m the
perfect back up. My father was in his innermost circle and the Dark Lord has
visited my own home plenty of times. I would be in the perfect place to find
out information, and no one could suspect a thing. Everyone knows about my
rivalry with Harry, but no one knows about our friendship except for you,
Madame Pomfrey and Dumbledore. Not even Snape knows.”
“But why?” Ron interrupted. His voice was suspicious. “Why are you willing to
risk your life like that? You barely became friends with Harry a few months
ago, and now you’re willing to just throw away your life away for him? You’re
even willing to make an Unbreakable Vow?”
“I told you, I changed my way of thinking —”
“Fuck off,” Ron snarled at him, and turned his glare on Harry. “It’s obvious
there’s more than that. Harry told us something the other day that he would
never have even thought about earlier this year.” He looked at Draco. “He’s
never acted like this before: disappearing all night, spending his weekends
away from us, keeping secrets. Harry likes girls. He dated Cho Chang last year.
We’re his best friends. And yet, we know nothing of what he’s been up to this
last month.”
“Ron —”
“But you do,” Ron continued, his eyes not straying from Draco’s. “You’ve been
with him this whole time. ‘Training.’ All of a sudden, Harry wants us to trust
you. He wants us to get along and be the best of friends He gets worried sick
when you fall down some stairs. Then suddenly, Harry’s a bloody shirt lifter.”
“Ronald, stop —”
“I’m not a bloody idiot, Hermione!” cried Ron. “I can bloody well tell for
myself when someone is lying to my face. And Harry has done nothing but that
lately. Secret battle trainings with Dumbledore? Long walks around the castle
in the middle of the night? When really, he’s been with Malfoy this whole
time.”
“Weasley, would you shut your bloody mouth about things you know nothing
about,” Draco spat, heart racing with anger and dread. He tried to keep his
eyes from straining over to Harry’s.  
“I know we tested you for potions, Harry,” Ron spoke, dismissing Draco.
“Otherwise, I would’ve thought you’d gone bonkers under some love potion for
him. But now I see it for myself. This meeting proves that.”
“Ron, please,” Harry pleaded, eyes wide with dismay. “Let me explain.”
“Too late, mate,” Ron said, shaking his head. “I figured it out. I thought
Malfoy was just using you, but really he was falling bloody in love with you.”
Hermione gasped, hands flying up to cover her mouth. Harry was frowning, anger
and regret burning in his gaze. 
Draco was just glaring back at the Weasel, daring the redhead git to do
something stupid that risked his friendship with Harry.
“And you bloody went and fell for the git, too. Now Dumbledore is making Malfoy
prove his loyalty by making him swear to a Vow and sending him right into the
heart of Dark territory.” Ron shook his head in disappointment. “I thought I
was your friend, mate.”
“Ron, you are —”
“Friends don’t keep secrets like this, Harry. Friends don’t lie, or sneak
around to avoid each other.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“Yeah, I know you didn’t,” Ron said. “I know you wouldn’t have, under normal
circumstances. If it had been with a girl, you wouldn’t have kept her a secret
like that, mate.”
“Ron…”
“If it had been anyone else, I wouldn’t have had a problem. If you had just
told me you were gay at any other time, I wouldn’t have minded it either. But
it’s Malfoy, the bloke who called us names, bullied us every year, followed us
around and hexed us. Nearly got Buckbeak killed. Nearly helped Umbridge sack
Dumbledore last year. And then this year,” Ron said, chest heaving and face
growing red in his cheeks.
“This year, Malfoy changed. He apologized to us for all of his wrongdoings.
He’s bloody willing to sacrifice his life for you by letting Dumbledore send
him on a suicide mission. And the way he looks at you, mate.” Ron shook his
head in incredulous bemusement. “He looks at you like you’re a reincarnation of
bloody Merlin himself.”  
Draco and the others had been frozen in shock while Ron had spoken. But at
that, Harry and Hermione relaxed a little. Draco still felt unnerved, though.
He gave a mild glare at Weasley.
“What is your point, Weasel?” he spat at him.
Ron rolled his eyes. “I’m trying to apologize here, Ferret.”
Draco’s eyebrows rose. “You call that an apology?” The redhead glared.
“I was just going to get to that, you bloody prat.” Ron turned to face directly
to Harry then, his entire stance dripping with genuine remorse. “My point,
mate, is that I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you felt like you had to hide all of
this from us. From me. I’m madder at myself than with you, I think. Although I
still am a bit mad at your choice in partners…”
“Ronald.”
“Right,” he sighed. “I honestly don’t know what you see in the git, Harry, but
I was listening to Malfoy during his grand apologetic speech to us last time.
And I was listening to everything else you yelled at me for in the last couple
of weeks. The both of you,” Ron told Hermione and Harry. “So I guess… what I’m
trying to say is…”
“Mate, it’s alright,” Harry said.
Ron frowned at him. “You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
The boys gave each other a long look.
“Uh, fine then. That’s all I wanted to say then, really,” Ron ended lamely.
Harry gave him a small smile.
Draco didn’t bother hiding the rolling of his eyes, and he nearly missed
Granger doing the same.  
“This is all great, then,” Draco muttered. “We’re all the best of mates now.”
“I wouldn’t go that far, Malfoy.”
It was Harry’s turn to roll his eyes now, but the smile remained on his face.
“Thanks, Ron. Really.”
Ron just shrugged.
“Boys,” Hermione nearly groaned, slumping back into the opposite sofa.
Draco leaned a bit back into the cushions himself and, after a moment of
hesitation, reached over to put his hand on Harry’s thigh.
The radiant grin that spread across Harry’s face nearly blinded Draco with its
brilliance, and it was almost glowing enough to drown out the sight of Ron’s
face turning ashen.
“Mate, I’m still not ready to see that sort of thing,” came a mutter from his
direction.
Draco frowned, but Harry chuckled in reply.
“Behave,” he whispered to Draco.
The blond smirked, promising no such thing as he kept his hand on Harry’s lap.
The other boy didn’t remove it either.
“Well, now that that’s all out of the way, we can finally finish what we’d
planned to tell you from the very beginning of this meeting.”
The Gryffindors all laughed and began to talk, but Draco only sighed and moved
closer into Harry’s embrace, neither seeing nor caring for the other two’s
reactions at his movement.
The four of them stayed up well into the night talking about Dumbledore’s plans
and what Voldemort may be planning during his stay at the Manor.
Draco mostly enjoyed Harry’s attention on him as the trio talked, savoring the
boy’s light and hidden caresses against the back of his neck and in his hair,
letting the soft movements eventually lull him to sleep.
Harry noticed when Draco’s weight had increased slightly, as well as when his
breath deepened. He continued his caresses on Draco, keeping them steady on his
skin as the blond slept.
Hermione also noticed that Draco had fallen asleep.
“You’re really going to let him go through with this?” she whispered to Harry.
The other boy frowned, gazing down at Draco’s face and the way his darkened
eyelashes fell against his fine cheekbones.
“I have no choice, Hermione.”
“He’s walking into a trap,” Ron said, nose wrinkling as he avoided looking at
the blond. “You know that, mate.”
“I know.”
“Then can’t you ask Dumbledore…?”
“Draco already made his choice,” Harry said abruptly.
Hermione and Ron shared a glance.
“You’re not going to stop him?”
Harry paused. “I’m going to do my very best to make sure he never enters the
Manor. I can’t lose him. Not him.”
“Mate —”
“I love him.”
Hermione and Ron looked at Harry, and to the Chosen One’s surprise, both of
them did not look startled in the least.
Harry stared, inwardly pleased to still see the warmth in his friends’ gazes.
“We pretty much knew that, mate. That’s why I practically laid out my soul
earlier.”
Hermione laughed, Harry gave a soft snort. He didn’t want to wake Draco.
After a few minutes of silence, in which they all settled down and were lost in
their own thoughts, Harry spoke.
“I’m not letting Voldemort get to him, Hermione. I’ve already lost my parents,
and Sirius. I can’t let them take away Draco, too.”
Tears filled the brunette’s eyes, and even Ron was gazing at Harry solemnly.
“We’re with you all the way, Harry,” Hermione muttered softly.
Harry gave her a grateful look.
Then he looked down at Draco, who was still asleep and was breathing deeply.
“I’ll always be with you,” he whispered to the blond, his words soft but
intense with feeling. “I’ll never leave you, Draco. I’m with you, always.” He
dropped a light kiss on the blond hair.
In his sleep, Draco smiled. 
===============================================================================
 
Present day, June 28
 
“Are you ready?” Professor Dumbledore asked.
He stood in front of Draco, right hand held out as if to shake his. Harry stood
adjacent to them, wand at the ready, wearing a strange expression that fell
somewhere between being resigned but also determined.
Acceptance, Draco mused to himself. Harry had accepted Draco’s fate, just like
Draco had all those weeks ago when he’d first known he was in love with Harry.
Draco nodded, stepping up to grasp the Professor’s arm. His gaze was fixed upon
the old man’s twinkling blue eyes. Although at the moment, Draco noticed, the
man’s blue eyes did appear more solemn than usual.
“Harry,” the Professor said.
Harry stepped forward, placing his wand tip on where their arms were linked.
Then the Professor spoke.
“Let’s begin:
“Will you, Draco, swear to never to reveal Harry Potter’s secrets and
information that may benefit Voldemort or his followers in any way?” Professor
Dumbledore asked.
“I will,” said Draco.
From Harry’s wand, a streak of bright flame wound its way around their hands,
magically binding them.
“Will you, Draco, keep the whereabouts of Harry and other Order members secret
and safe from Voldemort, along with any of his supporting Death Eaters?
“I will.”
A second tongue of flame streaked from Harry’s wand, winding its way with the
first and making an interlinking chain.
“Will you, Draco, vow to the best of your ability to protect Harry from
Voldemort, and if in the event that you must sacrifice yourself to save him,
will do so?”
Ignoring Harry’s sharp intake of breath, Draco said a final time, “I will.”
A third bright streak of fire shot from the wand, twisting itself and binding
thickly around their clasped arms, joined the other two interweaving strands
and locking together to form a glowing chain of magic.
The glow lasted a long moment, before finally vanishing into skin of their
arms.
They separated, Dumbledore wearing a sad smile. Draco stood, impassive, as
Harry quickly reached over to grasp at Draco’s hands in a tight grip.
The brunet glared at Dumbledore, who didn’t pay any attention as he walked
wearily over to a corner of the room.
“Thank you, boys. It is done.”
It wasn’t a very clear dismissal, but Harry didn’t care. He didn’t bother
saying goodbye to the man. He clutched tighter on Draco’s hand, and pulled them
from the room.
The heavy door slammed behind them.
Dumbledore sighed.
It was heavy, sad sigh, filled with pain for two boys who were destined for a
sad, unfortunate fate.
He raised his wand to his temple, thought of the Unbreakable Vow with Draco
Malfoy, and pulled.
 
***** Chapter Twenty *****
They lay intertwined on the bed, their clothing littering the floor in a trail
starting from the doorway of their shared space. The room was warm with the
excess of magical heat, and quiet except for the steady breaths of the two boys
who lay naked under the sheets.
Laying on his side, Harry swept back the blond fringe, wanting nothing more
than to drown in the deep depths of Draco’s gray stare as they gazed at one
another. Harry held the blond Slytherin close to him, their torsos and half-
hard lengths pressing into each other. The heat of the room wasn’t necessarily
sexual in nature. Not anymore. Now that their hearts were calmed down and their
bodies sated, Harry just wanted to have this quiet moment with Draco. Before
the wizarding world got to them, before everything took Draco away from him.
Harry just wanted to enjoy this moment of holding Draco against his body. His
eyes perused the boy’s figure, memorizing every line and curve, basking in the
blonde’s beauty that was revealed only to him.
In return, Draco was gazing sadly back at Harry. He knew what the Gryffindor
was doing. He could tell that Harry wanted to keep Draco all to himself in this
magical room that barely anyone knew about. Draco could hide in here for an
eternity and everyone would have trouble looking for him.
The blond shook his head fondly at the other boy, and cupped Harry’s cheek in
his hand, feeling along the stubble until he reached the boy’s swollen, rosy
lips. Draco thought back to the heated kisses and bites from earlier, and he
felt his length give an unimpressive twitch. Even it was too tired after all
the lovemaking they’d already done in the past few hours.
The first thing they boys had done when they had entered the room had been to
tear each other’s clothes off. They’d collapsed on the bed, ravaging mouths
tearing and biting with fury, need, and desperation.
Draco was filled with a sad resignation at finishing Dumbledore’s request to
swear an Unbreakable Vow. Now that it was done, he felt stoic at the thought of
his impending fate.
Harry was the opposite. He was livid, furious, pissed as bloody hell at the
Professor. He felt betrayed, torn, and heartbroken at the same time. He hadn’t
even lost Draco, and yet he’d known they’d taken another step closer in Draco
being torn from him. There was nothing he could do, though. This was bigger
than either of them. It was a war. Voldemort’s and Dumbledore’s. And the boys
were just pawns in this game of chess.
But knowing it, and living it, were two separate things. Harry was feeling all
kinds of grief and rage and desperation. Desperation to have Draco. Right now.
As many times as he could. He wanted to enjoy and love Draco all that he could
while he had the time.  
So, Harry had quickly prepared Draco without much thought to foreplay and taken
the blond from behind. It was an angry claiming. It almost hurt Harry as he
pushed into Draco’s a bit too tight arse. Even Draco felt mostly pain rather
than pleasure. But it was still beautiful in its own way. They needed this.
Draco knew it, and so he let Harry fuck his anger and sorrow right into him. It
made Draco glad that he could do that for Harry, and Draco had quickly come
from Harry’s desperate need to suck, kiss, touch, and fuck every part of him.
Harry hadn’t stopped there, either. After Draco had released onto the sheets,
Harry had quickly turned him around so that he lay on his back on a drier
section of the bed. Then he’d licked and tasted Draco’s oversensitive length,
ignoring the blond’s cries of protest, and he lowered until he was licking and
tasting his wet, stretched hole.
Draco’s length eventually hardened again from the stimulation, and Harry
hurried to take advantage of it. He’s risen his chin up a bit, taking the
blond’s length into his mouth and sucking and slurping to his heart’s content.
Draco cried out, arching his back and gripping the sheets with a heated frenzy.
Harry honestly didn’t pay much attention to Draco’s yells and pleasure filled
screams. His focus was on having Draco in every and any possible way.
Shortly after Draco became hard to his full size, Harry had risen on his knees,
waved his hand casually to cast all of the necessary charms, and lowered
himself hurriedly onto Draco’s length.
The stimulation was nearly overwhelming for Draco, already haven come once and
nearly close to doing so again inside of the Gryffindor’s snug hole. But he
held out, grabbing Harry’s hips and thrusting upwards into his arse.
The Gryffindor let out a pained and blissful sob, head tilted back as he rode
Draco into oblivion. Draco had looked at him, then, feeling a stab in his heart
as he glimpsed the trail of tears staining the boy’s cheeks. His own eyes
prickled, and Draco was startled to realize he’d been crying for a while too
while they’d been fucking.   
It went on for hours like that. The boys made love far into the night, holding
the other close as they took turns claiming the other, crying wretchedly all
the while.
It was almost not enough, when they finally collapsed in the middle of the
night. They held onto each other then, tears flowing silently down their faces,
with neither boy acknowledging them as they took in the sight of the other’s
wrecked and worn body.
They didn’t sleep, they didn’t dream. They only held each other. After a short
while, Draco silently cast cleaning spells on them. They were more comfortable
and dry after that, and they’d slipped under the sheets for warmth.
They hadn’t said anything since they’d entered the room either. Their pleasure-
filled sounds had been mostly moans and gasps, with hardly any legible words
uttered between them.
Now as they lay there, staring into each other’s eyes, Harry opened his mouth
to finally speak. His voice hoarse and rough from misuse, and his words were
short and simple but direct.
“Bond with me, Draco,” he whispered.
Tired and sore, it took a moment for Harry’s words to register to Draco. When
they finally did after a minute, the blond’s eyebrows slowly raised in answer.
“How?” he asked.
Draco hadn’t even thought about an idea such as this, hadn’t even contemplated
it or wanted it.
Not until just this very moment. Not until Harry suddenly brought it up. Now,
there was nothing Draco wanted more than to do so.
Harry stared at him. “I read a few books.”
Draco smirked a bit playfully. “Oh really?”
A corner of Harry’s lip lifted upwards, but his voice was serious when he
spoke. “We can bond with each other right now. There doesn’t have to be any
witnesses, only a few conditions need to be met. We can do it right now.”
Draco was surprised at himself for not feeling much more alarm than he was, and
he felt it could only be blamed on the earlier events of sex, tears, and
feelings of desperation. He nodded at Harry, willing to agree with whatever the
boy wanted so long as it made him happy.
“What will it do?”
“The bond is a minor one, compared to a lot others. It’s mostly used in
friendships, or in any occurrence where two people just want to be connected to
each other.”
“It wouldn’t be a marriage bond?” Draco asked.
“No, nothing like that. That’s not what I’d been considering when I was doing
my research. But,” Harry paused, and moved to hold Draco’s hand in his. He
rubbed the blank area of the boy’s left ring finger, where he suddenly felt
desperate to see a ring placed there.
Harry mentally shook the idea from his mind. “I wouldn’t be opposed to marriage
with you, but I think that’d be a bit dangerous considering present
circumstances.”
Draco gave him a soft smile in understanding, but even he could tell it was a
bit sad and filled with regret.
Harry stared at the blond boy, feeling elated at the mixture of feelings he
could read in Draco’s expression. The blond was actually considering marriage?
With him?
Harry felt his heart become full. “As soon as this war is over, I would love to
marry you, Draco Malfoy. But for now, I thought we’d try a bond that would
connect us together in another way and wouldn’t put you in danger any more than
you are in now.”
Draco blushed. Harry was right, Draco was being foolish.
He bit his lip and nodded his consent to the other boy. “So, we’ll be able to
feel each other?” he asked.
“That, along with feeling when the other is in danger. It’s nothing too fancy
or complex. But we will be tied together. Even if we’re separated for days at a
time, I will still feel you, Draco. And you’ll feel me.”  
“What do we need to do?” asked Draco, suddenly anxious to feel the connection
Harry was mentioning. He wanted to feel Harry everywhere, even inside him when
the boy wasn’t physically around. He wasn’t afraid of Harry’s plan, even though
he had a million reasons why he should be. He didn’t care. Blame the heated
moment, or the impending disaster his spying on the Dark Lord could unleash, he
only wanted this now. He wanted to be connected to Harry for the rest of his
life, feeling him and being tied with him in a way no one else could.
Suddenly, it was all Draco wanted and it couldn’t happen fast enough.
Harry easily read the blond’s thoughts by the range of expressions that crossed
his pale face, and again he marveled at how he’d managed to thaw the Slytherin
Ice Prince and turned him into the passionate lover that Harry had soon come to
love and cherish.
“We need a dagger,” said Harry, sitting up now as he quickly conjured one in
his mind. A moment later, an emerald incrusted hilt and dagger materialized in
his hand. The hilt portrayed a lion roaring carved into it, with the emeralds
dusting around in an elegant display.
Draco gasped at Harry’s skill in wandless and nonverbal magic, both proud and
impressed at the growth in Harry’s power. He examined the blade in Harry’s
hand, thinking of how well it fitted the occasion. It was a nice mixture of the
both of them in one single object.
“We need to cut each other with this,” Harry explained. “Before the blood
dries, we hold the wounds to each other as we promise the oath of binding.”
“What’s the spell?” Draco asked.
“There is none. This bond is one of intent. That’s mainly why I chose it.
Whatever we’re feeling, what we want from each other, the spell will recognize
that and have it become so.”
Draco wanted to shake his head, his heart was beating so fast and blood pumped
in his ears.
It was so much all so soon. Harry wanted them to cut themselves and bond with
each other. They’d be in each other’s thoughts forever. Draco felt himself
suddenly rethinking the entire idea, nervous and anxious as he thought of the
future.
He kneeled there in front of the Gryffindor, mulling over the idea of Harry
forgetting about him, moving on to another girl, defeating the Dark Lord and
then forgetting all about Hogwarts and Draco and this bond as he went to travel
the world on his own, without Draco. It could happen, and it frightened Draco.
It was one of his worst fears.
Then Draco mulled over the idea of a future without Harry, one where they
didn’t do the bond and Draco was left forever wondering and regretting and
asking the question, What if I had?
Draco met Harry’s eyes, and stared back at him with an intensity to match
Harry’s own. He decided.
“Let’s do it.”
Harry grinned at him, eyes mad with happiness. He sat up, pulling Draco up to
sit directly across from him. They were both still naked, but it didn’t concern
them.
Without saying any further words, Harry placed the dagger point on the inside
of his left palm. Stealing one last glance at Draco to reassure himself, who
quickly nodded back in return, Harry cut himself with one short swipe.
He quickly handed the blade to Draco, who took it as he stared at Harry’s
bleeding palm. He hurried to point the dagger into his own skin, and with one
last second of hesitation, swiped down to open a cut into his right hand.
They both turned to each other, and fitted their wounded hands to each other.
Magic instantly sprung from the connected point, filling the room and their
bodies with lightening hot fire. It burned into Draco, filling him up and
making him grit his teeth at the feeling of intense pain mixed with
gratification.
“I, Harry Potter, do bind myself to thee, Draco Malfoy,” chanted Harry, keeping
their hands connected amongst the wave of magic that tore through them and
lifted their hair. The magic swirled in sparks and white flashes over their
heads, nearly stealing their breath at the sight.
“I, Draco Malfoy, do bind myself to thee, Harry Potter,” Draco quickly chanted.
He’d barely finished the last word of Harry’s name when the magic suddenly
focused itself on their connected, bleeding skin. The bonding spell stretched
itself with a snap, and then with a loud pop, the magic filling the air
dissipated.
Breathing hard, Draco looked over at Harry, who seemed short for breath too as
he marveled at what had just happened. They both pulled their hands back to
look at the damage, and was surprised to see that the wounds had already healed
themselves in their skin as a jagged bonding scar.  
Harry grinned brightly. “We did it.”
Raising a brow, Draco smirked. “We did. We’re bonded.” He felt a rise of
giddiness fill his chest then, and he instantly knew that it was Harry’s
emotion that he was feeling, not his own.
Harry seemed to be marveling at the strange sensation of foreign emotions, too,
as he looked at the other boy. “You love me,” he said with awe.
Draco’s smirk deepened, and he decidedly chose to ignore the slight alarm at
feeling vulnerable and so open to the other boy. “What gave it away, Chosen
One?”  
Harry laughed, a joyous, happy laugh that filled the room. Without thinking, he
tackled Draco into the bed, dislodging the emerald dagger so that it fell on
the floor. Harry rained kisses on Draco’s face and chin and chest, and wherever
his lips could possibly reach.
“I can feel you, Draco. I feel everything. Merlin, it feels amazing,” he
sighed, eyes nearly rolling back at the onslaught of emotions that he felt
coming from Draco.  
Feeling a bit embarrassed, but not ashamed, Draco only wrapped his arms and
legs around Harry, trapping the boy against him, as he basked in Harry’s own
emotions inside his heart.
“Hmm, indeed it does.”
“I love you so much, Draco,” Harry whispered, lips open and slick as they
kissed up Draco’s cheek until their mouths connected. They kissed for several
moments, feeling and getting used to the range of emotions reeling inside them
both.
“I love you, Harry Potter. Always. No matter what happens.”
Harry’s grin lessened to a soft smile, but it was genuine nonetheless.
“No matter what happens,” he repeated softly.
Draco nodded, and he pulled Harry under the covers properly so that they could
settle into sleep. It’d been a long day for both of them, and their bonding
magic had nearly wiped their already exhausted bodies.
They made sure to face each other, scarred hands intertwined, as they lay in
bed. Almost simultaneously, filled with tenderness and gladness for having one
another, both boys fell asleep smiling.
 
***** Chapter Twenty One *****
Chapter Notes
     Some sections of this story, which are in Italics, are direct lines
     from Half Blood Prince.
June 30
 
Harry was with Hermione and Ron in the common room when Jimmy Peakes walked up
to him with a scroll of parchment in his hand. He handed it to Harry, who took
it and immediately recognized who it was from.
“Thanks, Jimmy… Hey, it’s from Dumbledore,” said Harry, unrolling the parchment
and scanning it. “He wants me to go to his office as quick as I can!”
The three of them stared at each other.
“Blimey,” whispered Ron. “You don’t reckon… he hasn’t found….?”
“Better go and see, hadn’t I?” said Harry, jumping to his feet.
He hurried out of the common room and along the seventh floor as fast as he
could, passing nobody but Peeves, who swooped past in the opposite direction,
throwing bits of chalk at Harry in a routine sort of way and cackling loudly as
he dodged Harry’s defensive jinx.
Once Peeves had vanished, the hall went silent, most people having already
returned to their common room for curfew.
Then Harry heard a scream nearby and a crash. He froze, listening.
“How — dare — you — aaaaargh!”
Harry hurried to the noise, his wand at the ready, and hurtled around a corner
to see Professor Trelawney sprawled on the floor, her head covered in one of
her many shawls. Several sherry bottles lay beside her, one broken.
“Professor Trelawney?”
===============================================================================
 
Harry shouted the password to Professor Dumbledore’s office, and ran up the
moving spiral staircase three steps at a time. He didn’t knock upon
Dumbledore’s door, he hammered; and the calm voice answered, “Enter” after
Harry had already flung himself into the room.
Dumbledore was standing at the window looking out at the grounds, a long, black
traveling cloak in his arms.
“Well, Harry, I promised that you could come with me.”
===============================================================================
 
Ron and Hermione were sitting together in the common room when Harry came back.
“Harry? Are you okay?” Hermione asked at once.
“I’m fine,” said Harry shortly, racing past them.
He dashed upstairs into his dormitory, grabbing his Marauder’s Map from his
trunk, along with a pair of balled-up socks that held the small vial of Felix
Felicis. He hurried back down the stairs to where Ron and Hermione sat, looking
stunned.
“I’ve got to be quick,” Harry panted. “Dumbledore thinks I'm getting my
Invisibility Cloak. Listen ...” Harry quickly explained to them where he was
going and why. He ignored Hermione's gasps of horror, and Ron's hasty
questions.
“….so you see what this means?” Harry finished. “Dumbledore isn’t going to be
here at the castle tonight. Which means that whoever was in that room is up to
something.”
“You don’t think it was Draco?” asked Hermione
Harry quickly shook his head. “I know it wasn’t him. After everything that’s
happened, I never found out what Draco was doing in there but I know whatever
his mission was, he had stopped. Someone else might be trying to continue where
he’d left off. Maybe it’s the person who had pushed him down the stairs…? I
don’t know. But they sounded like they were celebrating something, according to
Trelawney, and that doesn’t exactly sound good.” He shoved the map into
Hermione's hand. “Watch Zabini, or anyone else who gets close to that corridor.
Watch Snape too. Use everyone who you can round up from the D.A., Hermione. Use
the contact Galleons if they still work,” Harry finished.
“And Snape?”
“There’s extra protection on the school while we’re gone, but if Snape’s
involved, he’ll know what Dumbledore’s protection is, and how to avoid it. Just
keep an eye on him.”
“Harry —”
“I haven’t got time to argue,” said Harry quickly. “Take this too.” He thrust
the socks into Ron's hand.
“Thanks…? Er, what do I need the socks for?"
“You need what’s inside them, it’s the Felix Felicis I’d won. Share it between
yourselves and Draco too, if you see him. Tell him I’ll come back to him after
this thing with Dumbledore.”
Ron and Hermione nodded.
“I’ll be fine, but I have to go. I just wanted to know you lot are okay… Don’t
look like that, Hermione, I’ll see you when I get back. And make sure you tell
Draco what I said.”
Ron frowned, but they both nodded one last time.
And then Harry was off, hurrying back through the portrait hole and toward the
entrance hall.
===============================================================================
 
Draco should have known it was all too good to be true. He should’ve expected
for fate to intervene; he’d just been surprised it hadn’t happened sooner.
Harry, The Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, the Vanquisher of Evil.  
Draco, son of notorious Death Eater, Lucius Malfoy, right hand man of the Dark
Lord Voldemort.
It just wasn’t meant to happen. True love didn’t exist. It was a fantasy.
Draco had let himself become soft. He’d just wanted to be loved, and to love in
return. He’d just wanted Harry.
But Draco should have known better, he mused angrily to himself. He should’ve
known to avoid the seventh floor that night. He should have never listened to
Weasley and Granger when they’d warned him earlier about how Harry had heard
some activity going on in the Room of Hidden Things. He should’ve ignored those
catching Gryffindor tendencies from Harry, and just fled when he’d had the
chance.
No, that wasn’t right. Draco knew the real truth. He should’ve never fallen in
love with Harry Potter to begin with.
And as Draco stood there in the hallway near the room, frozen with horror at
the sight of his Aunt, Fenrir Greyback, and Blaise Zabini standing there,
smirking darkly at him, Draco knew.
True love wasn’t meant for Draco Malfoy.  
===============================================================================
 
In the dim green glow from the Mark that hovered over the Astronomy Tower,
Harry saw Dumbledore clutching at his chest with his injured, blackened hand.
“Go and wake Severus,” said Dumbledore faintly but clearly. “Tell him what has
happened and bring him to me. Do nothing else, speak to nobody else, and do not
remove your cloak. I shall wait here.”
“But —”
“You swore to obey me, Harry — go!”
Harry hurried over to the door leading to the spiral staircase, but his hand
had only just closed upon the iron ring of the door when he heard running
footsteps on the other side. He looked round at Dumbledore, who gestured to him
to retreat. Harry backed away, drawing his wand as he did so.
The door burst open and somebody erupted through it and shouted:
“Expelliarmus!” Harry’s body became instantly rigid and immobile, and he felt
himself fall back against the tower wall, propped like an unsteady statue,
unable to move or speak. He could not understand how it had happened —
Expelliarmus was not a Freezing Charm —
Then, by the light of the mark, Harry saw Dumbledore’s wand flying in an arc
over the edge of the ramparts and understood ... Dumbledore had wordlessly
immobilized Harry, and the second he had taken to perform the spell had cost
him the chance of defending himself.
Standing against the ramparts, very white in the face, Dumbledore showed no
sign of panic or distress. He merely looked across at his disarmer and said,
“Good evening, Draco.”
Draco stepped forward, glancing around quickly to check that he and Dumbledore
were alone. His eyes fell upon the brooms. "Who else is here?"
Harry was so confused. He didn’t know what was going on. He felt like he’d
skipped a step walking down the stairs. His heartbeat was racing, beating so
loud that the rush of blood thudded in his ears. Why was Draco here?
“A question I might ask you. Or are you acting alone?” Dumbledore asked calmly.
Draco looked at the Professor, shaking his head. “No,” he said. “There are
Death Eaters here in your school tonight.”
Harry’s heart felt like it was racing a mile a minute. What was Draco doing
with Death Eaters? Why was he here? What was going on?
“You made a Vow, Draco,” said Dumbledore, his voice completely calm.
Draco’s eyes darted around, searching for someone he couldn’t find. “I know,
Professor.”
“Yet, you found a way to let them in, did you?”
“I had no choice. It was before anything had happened,” Draco said, his heart
thudding loud in his ears.
“Before… the vow?”
“Before Harry. Before practicing with him. You had never even realized.”
“Ingenious,” said Dumbledore. “Yet… forgive me… where are they now?”
“They met some of your guards. They’re having a fight down below.” Draco met
Dumbledore’s eyes. “They won’t be long… Professor, they want me to…. I — I’ve
got a job to do.”
Dumbledore gave Draco a sad smile. “I understand, dear boy,” he said softly.
There was silence. Harry stood imprisoned within his own invisible, paralyzed
body, staring at the two of them, his ears straining to hear sounds of the
Death Eaters’ distant fight. He watched Draco, taking in the sight of him
standing there, mere feet away. And he could do nothing. It felt like an icy
fist had clenched itself around his heart. His feet burned to move, but he
could only stare.
Why was Draco doing this? Harry wanted to yell at him. Draco had promised.
They’d bonded, for Merlin’s sake.
The thought of the bond reminded Harry.
He quickly searched for that inner link he could feel thrumming in the
background of his mind, the connection that strung between somewhere in the
middle of his chest to Draco’s.
After a moment of concentration, Harry felt it. It was a soft beat, cool and
delicate and soothing. Just like how Draco felt against him and when they’d
make love.
But with that beat came an onslaught of emotions. Fear. Anger. Regret. Sadness.
Determination.
“Draco, Draco, you are not a killer,” came Dumbledore’s voice.
The blond’s eyes hurt from holding back tears, but he tilted his chin up. He
gazed at Dumbledore with a resigned, disheartened expression. “I’m not,
Professor. I knew that after…”
“You almost killed Katie Bell and Ronald Weasley,” Dumbledore sighed. “You have
been trying, with increasing desperation, to kill me all year.”
His heart dropped and Harry felt sick. His stomach churned and twisted. His
chest absolutely ached. And tears he couldn’t control fell in streams down his
cheeks.
He didn’t know what to do. Trapped against invisible binds, Harry had never
felt so helpless before, watching as his boyfriend held up a wand against his
mentor.
And he couldn’t believe that the person he loved more than anything had almost
killed Ron and Katie. All to kill Dumbledore in the end?
“But I didn’t!” Draco’s voice sounded loud in the Tower. Harry could see that
his eyes were desperate. “I couldn’t!”
Somewhere in the depths of the castle below, Harry heard a muffled yell. Draco
stiffened and glanced over his shoulder.
“Somebody is putting up a good fight,” said Dumbledore conversationally. “I had
thought it impossible for anyone to sneak into my school. How did you do it?”
But Draco looked as though he was fighting down the urge to shout, or to vomit.
He gulped and took several deep breaths, his wand pointing directly at the old
wizard’s heart.
“You would’ve died long ago if my heart had been in it,” Draco said, his voice
hoarse as he fought back tears. “But it wasn’t. Not after Harry —”
“He saved you, Draco,” the Professor said, his voice sad.
Draco nodded. “Before… before the bathroom, I — I was given a mission. I had to
mend that broken Vanishing Cabinet that no one’s used for years. The one
Montague got lost in last year.”
“Aaaah.” Dumbledore’s sigh was half a groan. He closed his eyes for a moment.
“That was clever… There is a pair, I take it?”
“In Borgin and Burkes…. They make a passage between them,” Draco admitted. “The
other one is in the Room of Hidden Things. I was the one who realized there
could be a way into Hogwarts through the cabinets if I fixed the broken one.”
If Harry could’ve let out a gasp, that would’ve been the moment. Instead, he
could feel his eyes begin to fill with hot, angry, frustrated tears. Did that
mean Draco… Malfoy had betrayed him…? Had he used Harry?
“Very good,” murmured Dumbledore. “So the Death Eaters were able to pass from
Borgin and Burkes into the school to help you —”
“I didn’t let them in,” Draco hurriedly said. “Harry was right about Blaise. He
worked with Crabbe and Goyle to finish the cabinet. Blaise just told me they
had finished fixing it earlier today.”
“How did he know how to fix it?”
Draco’s eyes skittered to the ground, looking ashamed. “At the start of term, I
was… close friends with Blaise. I’d told him a bit of what I had to do, only
vaguely mentioning certain Charms that I was using to fix something, powerful
charms that I knew would impress the Slytherins, including him.”
“And so he decided to fix the cabinet without you?”
“Blaise… he thought he was helping me,” the blond muttered. “After the summer,
he’d noticed I’d come back changed. I — We were… together last year. He wasn’t
terribly happy when I broke it off. I thought we weren’t anything serious, and
we had just gone back to being friends. But then he found out about Harry and
I.”
“Mr. Zabini was jealous?”
Draco shook his head. “He thought I was using Harry as a cover. Blaise had
figured I was doing something for the Dark Lord. He wasn’t sure exactly, but he
knew about the Charms, and that I’d been going to the Room of Hidden Things a
lot. I think I’d also mentioned the Cabinet at one point.”
“Ah,” said Dumbledore. “So Mr. Zabini though to earn your affections back by
completing your mission for you.”
“He thought I was getting too distracted with Harry. He got angry, and lost it.
That’s when he had Crabbe push me down the stairs. He’d been at the bottom of
the stairway, waiting to cast the Truth Spell on me to reveal my true
relationship with Harry. Apparently, I’d told him that I loved Harry for real.
Blaise had become even angrier. So, yes, he thought fixing the cabinet would
make me happy enough to give up Harry and take him back instead.”
The information sent Harry’s mind reeling. He wanted to yell and punch and kick
at Crabbe and Zabini for betraying their friend and almost killing him. He
wanted to rage at Zabini for even thinking he could ever have Draco.
“Mr. Zabini let the Death Eaters into the school then,” said Dumbledore in a
calm voice.
“I’d made a Vow, Professor,” Draco said. “I promised to protect Harry from
them. I couldn’t have let the Death Eaters in.”
“Yet, here you stand, Draco, with my wand within your reach.”
Draco took a breath, his own wand shaking badly. “I have no choice. They told
me to find you. They’d kill me otherwise.”
“So you decided to spring a trap for me?”
“They had already decided to put the Dark Mark over the tower and get you to
hurry up here, to see who’d been killed,” said Draco. “It worked.”
“Well…. Yes and no…” said Dumbledore. “But am I to take it, then, that nobody
has been murdered?”
“Someone’s dead,” he said, his voice breaking on the last word. “One of… I
don’t know who, it was dark…. I stepped over the body… I was supposed to be
waiting up here when you got back, only the Order got in the way….”
“Yes, they do that,” said Dumbledore.
There was a bang and shouts from below, louder than ever; it sounded as though
people were fighting on the actual spiral staircase that led to where
Dumbledore, Draco, and Harry stood.
Harry’s heart was in overdrive now, aching and feeling hollow inside his
invisible chest.
… Someone was dead... Draco had even stepped over their body… Like it’d been
nothing….?
Harry looked at his old lover, watching him with strange eyes. He’d thought he
had known Draco. Instead, all he could feel towards the boy was a mixture of
pain and confusion… and hate. Merlin, he felt like such a fool.
“There is little time, one way or another,” said Dumbledore, slipping a little.
“So let us discuss your options, Draco.”
“My options?” asked Draco. “What are they?? What can I possibly do?” The next
breath he took shook so badly, his body visibly tremored. “Professor, I haven’t
got any options! I’m stuck!” And suddenly he was white as Dumbledore. “I swore
an Oath to protect Harry. But I have an Oath with the Dark Lord to kill you. I
know you’ll protect my mother, but he’ll kill me. If I don’t kill you, I can’t
spy on Him for your Order and for this bloody, stupid war!”
“I understand, Draco, the difficulty of your position,” the old man said.
“Either way, you risk losing something. I only wish I could have help you
earlier, but I did not dare speak to you of the mission with which I knew you
had been entrusted, in case he used Legilimency against you. But now at last we
can speak plainly to each other…. No harm has been done, you have hurt nobody,
though you are very lucky that your unintentional victims survived…. I’ve
helped you once already, Draco. You’ve sworn an Oath to me.”
“How, then?” cried Draco, his wand shaking very badly now. “I let myself think
I could be with Harry and fall in love with him. He let me believe we could
live a happy life together, traveling the globe, retiring in our cottage. But
he was a fool. I’m a fool for believing in him.”
“If you kill me, Draco, Harry would —”
“What! ‘Harry would’…. What? Hate me? Kill me himself? Throw me into Azkaban
for betraying him? I know this!” Draco’s face was red with frustration now, his
eyes burning from holding back tears of frustration. “And what happens if I
don’t? If I let you leave? The Death Eaters are already here. They know I’m up
here. And if they see you and me…. They’ll go back and tell him. They’ll tell
the Dark Lord. They’ll take me with them…”
“Draco.”
“I’ve already thought about it coming up here. If I kill you, that wouldn’t
affect the Vow, right? Even if it did, I’d just die and then it’d be all over.”
Harry wanted to shake his head, distress coming over him at Draco’s words. No
no no, what was the Slytherin saying?
“But if I’m still alive,” Draco continued. “Then I would become a part of the
Dark Lord’s innermost circle for completing my mission. I’d be able to uphold
the Vow and spy on the Dark Lord for the Order. Harry would hate me, but he’d
be able to live on. There would be a chance for him to win this war.”
It was quiet for a moment, with only the distant sounds of shouts and broken
glass echoing from below them. Dumbledore was smiling a sad, soft smile towards
Draco.
“My dear boy, you thought of everything. You’re willing to sacrifice your life
for Harry, even now.”
“I want to live,” said Draco. “But if risking my life means the downfall of the
Dark Lord in the end…”
The Professor sighed. “Kill one, save a thousand, as the muggles say if I am
correct.”
Draco’s wand dropped a fraction, his eyes intense.
And Harry felt it again, Draco’s emotions rushing through the connected link.
Fear. Anger. Regret. Sadness. Determination.
 Draco’s wand shook. “I can try.” But he paused —
Suddenly, footsteps were thundering up the stairs, and a second later Draco was
buffeted out of the way as four people in black robes burst through the door on
to the ramparts. Still paralyzed, his eyes staring unblinkingly, Harry gazed in
terror upon four strangers: it seemed the Death Eaters had won the fight below.
Harry’s eyes shot towards Draco again, pleading through the link. Don’t do
this, Draco!
To both his relief and utter dismay, he saw when his words hit Draco. The blond
gave a slight jerk and his eyes had grown round with the feeling. But then the
blond shook his head to clear it and his eyes frantically began to search
around the small area.
Draco knew Harry was in the room.
A lumpy-looking man with an odd lopsided leer gave a wheezy giggle.
“Dumbledore cornered!” he said, and he turned to a stocky little woman who
looked as though she could be his sister and who was grinning eagerly.
“Dumbledore wandless, Dumbledore alone! Well done, Draco, well done!”
“Good evening, Amycus,” said Dumbledore calmly, as though welcoming the man to
a tea party. “And you’ve brought Alecto too ... charming ...”
The woman gave an angry little titter. "Think your little jokes’ll help you on
your death bed, then?” she jeered.
“Jokes? No, no, these are manners,” replied Dumbledore.
“Do it,” said the stranger standing nearest to Harry, a big, rangy man with
matted grey hair and whiskers, whose black Death Eater’s robes looked
uncomfortably tight. He had a voice like none that Harry had ever heard: a
rasping bark of a voice. Harry could smell a powerful mixture of dirt, sweat
and, unmistakably, of blood coming from him. His filthy hands had long
yellowish nails.
“Is that you, Fenrir?” asked Dumbledore.
If it wasn’t for Dumbledore’s spells on him, Harry would’ve gasped aloud.
"That’s right,” rasped the other. “Pleased to see me, Dumbledore?”
“No, I cannot say that I am ...”
Greyback grinned, showing pointed teeth. Blood trickled down his chin and he
licked his lips slowly, obscenely.
“But you know how much I like kids, Dumbledore.”
“Am I to take it that you are attacking even without the full moon now? This is
most unusual ... you have developed a taste for human flesh that cannot be
satisfied once a month?”
"That’s right,” said Fenrir Greyback. “Shocks you that, does it, Dumbledore?
Frightens you?”
“Well, I cannot pretend it does not disgust me a little,” said Dumbledore.
“And, yes, I am a little shocked that you were invited, of all people, into the
school where they’re friends live ...”
“I didn’t,” breathed Draco. He was not looking at Greyback; he did not seem to
want to even glance at him. “Blaise…. I didn’t know he was going to come —“
“I wouldn’t want to miss a trip to Hogwarts, Dumbledore,” rasped Greyback. “Not
when there are throats to be ripped out ... Delicious, delicious ...”
And he raised a yellow fingernail and picked at his front teeth, leering at
Dumbledore.
“I could do you for afters, Dumbledore ...”
“No,” said the fourth Death Eater sharply. He had a heavy, brutal-looking face.
“We’ve got orders. Draco’s got to do it. Now, Draco, and quickly.”
Harry watched as Draco’s eyes grew wide, the wand in his hand shaking nervously
and his cheeks ashen with fear.
He wanted to scream. Harry wanted to break free and run towards Dumbledore to
protect him. He wanted to grab Draco and hold him close. He wanted to hex all
the Death Eaters for even daring to hurt the students or any members of the
Order. He wanted to ask what the bloody hell Draco was thinking.
But he was helpless to watch as Draco’s terrified face stared into
Dumbledore’s, which was even paler, and rather lower than usual, as he had slid
so far down the rampart wall.
“He’s not long for this world anyway, if you ask me!” said the lopsided man, to
the accompaniment of his sister’s wheezing giggles. “Look at him — what’s
happened to you, then, Dumby?”
“Oh, weaker resistance, slower reflexes, Amycus,” said Dumbledore. “Old age, in
short ... One day, perhaps, it will happen to you ... if you are lucky ...”
“What’s that mean, then, what’s that mean?” yelled the Death Eater, suddenly
violent. “Always the same, weren’t yeh, Dumby, talking and doing nothing,
nothing, I don’t even know why the Dark Lord’s bothering to kill yer! Come on,
Draco, do it!”
But at that moment there were renewed sounds of scuffling from below and a
voice shouted, “They’ve blocked the stairs -- Reducto! REDUCTO!”
Harry’s heart leapt: So these four had not eliminated all opposition, but
merely broken through the fight to the top of the tower, and, by the sound of
it, created a barrier behind them —
“Now, Draco, quickly!” said the brutal-faced man angrily.
But Draco was shaking his head back and forth, his wand lowering slowly until
it was all the way to his side. His eyes darted around frantically, searching,
seeking out, as if a hero would suddenly appear and save him. “I can’t… I can’t
do it. I won’t.”
“You’re weak!” snarled Greyback, his lips pulled back in a malevolent snarl
that revealed his sharp, glistening fangs.
Harry struggled with all his might against the bindings, suddenly afraid for
Draco’s life as the werewolf set his malignant eyes on the blond. He could feel
the other boy’s heartbeat racing with severe panic.
“No!” Draco cried, stepping backwards away from the wolf. Without thinking, he
turned his wand against Greyback.
“You raise your wand against me?” the wolf roared, eyes flashing. He looked
furious.
Harry’s heart was hammering so hard it seemed impossible that nobody could hear
him standing there, imprisoned by Dumbledore’s spell — if he could only move,
he could aim a curse from under the Cloak —
“Draco, do it, or stand aside so one of us —” screeched the woman, but at that
precise moment the door to the ramparts burst open once more and there stood
Snape, his wand clutched in his hand as his black eyes swept the scene, from
Dumbledore slumped against the wall, to the four Death Eaters, including the
enraged werewolf, and Draco.
“We’ve got a problem, Snape,” said the lumpy Amycus, whose eyes and wand were
fixed alike upon Dumbledore, “the boy doesn’t seem able —”
But somebody else had spoken Snape’s name, quite softly.
“Severus ...”
The sound frightened Harry beyond anything he had experienced all evening. For
the first time, Dumbledore was pleading.
Snape said nothing, but walked forwards and pushed Draco roughly out of the
way. The three Death Eaters fell back without a word. Even the werewolf seemed
cowed.
Snape gazed for a moment at Dumbledore, and there was revulsion and hatred
etched in the harsh lines of his face.
“Severus ... please ..."
Snape raised his wand and pointed it directly at Dumbledore.
“Avada Kedavra!”
A jet of green light shot from the end of Snape's wand and hit Dumbledore
squarely in the chest. Harry's scream of horror never left him; silent and
unmoving, he was forced to watch as Dumbledore was blasted into the air. For a
split second, he seemed to hang suspended beneath the shining skull, and then
he fell slowly backwards, like a great rag doll, over the battlements and out
of sight.
===============================================================================
 
Harry felt as though he too were hurtling through space; it had not happened…
It could not have happened…
“Out of here, quickly,” said Snape.
He went to seize Draco by the scruff of his neck, but the blond shoved his way
out from his grasp.
“No, Severus, I can’t! I need to see —!”
“Never mind that traitor!” Greyback yelled with a snarl. “He doesn’t belong
with us. You bring him, and I’ll kill him and enjoy eating his flesh myself!”
Snape scowled at him, but there was nothing he could do. They needed to leave.
He turned to the blond one last time, glaring at him for a moment as Greyback
and the squat brother and sister left, the latter both panting excitedly. 
“Severus,” pleaded Draco as the Professor paused near the doorway. “I made an
Oath…”
Snape’s scowl darkened. “To the Dark Lord.”
Draco hesitated, glancing over to where the Headmaster had fallen. “And…”
Snape’s eyes narrowed. “You foolish boy!” he spat, fuming. “You’re a traitor
now, don’t you see that?”
“But Severus… you…” the blond said, utterly confused and looking so lost. 
“I have to leave you, Draco. I tried helping you and it’s cost me everything.”
“But —”
“Stay here, with the Order. Otherwise, the Dark Lord will kill you.”
With that, Snape quickly left with a last billow of his dark robes.
It was like someone had cut the strings attached to him. Draco crumpled almost
instantly, his wand scattering and rolling along the stone floor. His face was
deathly pale, gray eyes wide with horror and bewilderment at what he’d just
done; had almost done.
Draco had failed. Snape had killed Dumbledore. Snape, not Draco. Draco was a
traitor now. The Dark Lord would find out.
The Dark Lord will kill his Mother. He’d kill Draco.
He’d lost his chance to spy for the Order. He’d lost. Harry. The Order. The
war. Everything.
Draco had ruined everything.    
Merlin, and Harry.… Wherever the boy was, if he found out —
“Malfoy.”
Draco’s head whirled up, horror washing over him as he saw Harry step forward
from the shadows beside him.
“…Harry?” he gasped, the dread and humiliation nearly crushing him. “You saw…?”
“How could you?” said Harry, his voice a harsh whisper. His emerald eyes, so
utterly vibrant and loving before… Now they looked so cold. Empty, except for
the anguish and shame that filled them as Harry looked down upon the fallen
Slytherin. “I trusted you.”
Draco whimpered, his eyes smarting with hot tears at the look of cruel betrayal
flashing in those once beautiful green eyes.
“N-No, Harry. I had no choice…”
Draco reached for Harry; but his heart slammed in his ribs as Harry recoiled
from his touch and stepped back away from him. Draco froze.
“Malfoy…” Harry’s voice sounded so broken, so hollow. “I had given you a
choice, and I’d thought you’d chosen the right side. Apparently I was wrong.
About everything.”
Tears welled in Draco’s eyes, spilling down his cheeks as he let out a dreadful
sob. “No Harry, please. Please. I told you… my mission —”
“You told me nothing!” Harry screamed, the hurt and rage driving him as he
roared at the blond on the floor. “You never said anything to me! You used me,
Malfoy!”
“No! I didn’t —!”
“You think I could ever believe you again? I loved you! And I had thought you’d
loved me back!”
“I do! Harry, please believe me. I-They —!”
“I gave you everything! EVERYTHING!”
“Harry, stop! It’s not —!”
“They were right. Ron was right. I was just blinded by my cock…”
“That’s not true!” screamed Draco. He moved forward, desperate to reach again
for Harry. “You know what we have is real —!”
“KEEP AWAY FROM ME!” Harry roared, his magic rumbling loud as it filled the
small space.
Draco gasped as the magic bit into him, its strength hitting the blond so hard
and viciously that he flew backwards from the powerful force. His head cracked
on the unforgiving stone floor, stars flashing in his eyes for a quick moment
as the dazed blond fought to breathe and stay conscious. His body was against
him but he struggled to force himself to roll and sit up.
“Harry…. no….” he tried to say, his words coming out jumbled and broken.
But when he looked to where Harry was at, the boy was gone. He’d left the room.
Draco was alone. 
 
***** Chapter Twenty Two *****
Early July
 
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore died on the evening of June 30, 1997,
and his funeral was held a few days later.
The late Headmaster’s funeral was a ceremony conducted for those who sought to
pay respect and give tribute for his life’s works and achievements, and would
be presided by the Care of Magical Creatures Professor Rubeus Hagrid. The event
was scheduled to be held in the open green field on Hogwarts grounds, to honor
Dumbledore’s wish to be laid to rest there.
Examinations and classes at Hogwarts were canceled or postponed, and nearly
every student still in attendance at the school planned to be present at the
ceremony. All Professors, excluding Severus Snape, would also attend.
===============================================================================
 
In the days that had followed Dumbledore’s death, the school was very quiet.
The students were solemn, the Professors grieved aloud in the hallways, and the
sounds of sobs and tears were shed openly in nearly every direction Draco
looked.
Since classes and exams had been canceled for the year, some students had
decided to go home early. No one could blame them. Everyone knew that
Dumbledore’s death was the tipping point for the Dark Lord’s war to begin. Most
parents urged for their children to return home instantly, but the students who
stayed were determined to attend Dumbledore’s funeral ceremony first.
One student who was almost imperceptibly absent was Blaise Zabini, along with
Crabbe and Goyle. Draco figured the latter two were on their way to join their
father’s in becoming junior Death Eaters. Zabini, Draco wasn’t sure of. The
Slytherin boy hadn’t been on the tower that night, nor had Draco seen him
afterward in the aftermath after the blond had eventually left. He figured
Zabini had joined the other two. But he honestly didn’t care.
Since he’d left the tower that night, Draco had been in a fog. He hadn’t slept
the last few nights, he’d hardly eaten, and his lack of personal care was
nearly close to showing itself. His hair had become limp, and his robes seemed
to hang from his bony shoulders. But he didn’t care. He had no room to care. No
energy. No motivation. Just a blanket of numbness. Nothing. Draco literally
felt nothing.
He’d thought he’d feel sadness or anger at everything that had happened. He
thought he’d feel some sort of remorse and heartbreak at losing Harry. The loss
of Dumbledore, Snape, Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, all of them. It should’ve hit
Draco hard.
But he felt nothing, which he was somewhat glad for. It felt better to be numb
than to feel overwhelmed with the crushing emotions of despair, fear, pain,
humiliation, disgrace… The list could go on.
The morning of Dumbledore’s funeral, Draco was awake early and already packed
for the Hogwarts Express, which was scheduled to leave an hour after the
funeral.
Draco decided to skip breakfast, like he had skipped all of his meals in the
Great Hall these last few days.
It was still early in the morning when he showered and then left the dungeon
wearing his dress robes, bypassing a sparse but subdued crowd around him as a
few students walked into the Great Hall in preparation for one last
announcement from Professor McGonagall. Draco ignored them, heading for an
entirely different direction on the seventh floor.
His feet carried him up until Draco soon stopped. He stared at the empty
section of the wall.
He didn’t know how long he stood there, watching blankly as he willed for the
room to do something. Could it revert time? Would it show Harry to him? Could
the room do that, create rooms and objects as well as people? Draco honestly
didn’t know what to ask the room to do. He was pulling a complete blank.
Eventually, his body moved without thinking, crossing across the hall three
times until a door appeared.
Draco opened it and walked inside, not surprised to see the room appear as it
always did. His eyes roamed around, taking in the space one last time.
The loveseat sofa, littered with small cushions, sat with a small table in the
corner. The tapestries hung above. The four-poster bed was on one side of the
open room, its plush covers and silk sheets appearing warm and welcoming as it
always did.
But it was so empty.
Draco had felt that before. Without Harry, it was just another training and
studying room. It didn’t mean anything. If someone walked in right now, they
would never know that this was the space in which Draco’s life had irrevocably
changed. It was the room in where he had fallen in love, the room he had lost
his virginity to the only person he’d ever want, the room he’d made his lasting
choice to choose Harry above all else, the room where he had screamed and cried
tears in, where he had loved a boy and shared his entire heart with, where he
had bonded with his soul mate.
And Draco had known. He always had. The little sparks of light and the heated
touches he’d felt from Harry from day one. If the concept of soul mates existed
in the wizarding world, Draco knew that he and Harry had been it.
But now without Harry, it was just another space. Without Harry, it was
nothing.
Draco was nothing.
He’d failed. His mission, his Oath to Dumbledore to protect Harry, his promise
to spy for the Order. He’d failed and lost nearly everything. And after he left
Hogwarts, Draco was sure it would only be a matter of time until the Dark Lord
found him. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was a bounty currently on his head
now.
He would have stayed at Hogwarts so that he could stay safe. He would’ve even
tried going into hiding, in his family numerous town homes or secret villas
scattered across the globe. But there was no point. Being a traitor to either
side of the war was like open season on him. He wouldn’t get very far either
way.
Draco was surprised Aurors hadn’t been sent for him already. He would’ve
thought Harry had told the others what had happened on the tower, of what Draco
had done in disarming Dumbledore and leading him to his ultimate death at
Snape’s hand.
There were only two reasons Draco was sure of on why he wasn’t in Azkaban at
that very moment — Harry was either biding his time to have him arrested until
the war officially started or when they were off Hogwarts grounds, or Harry had
forced the entire event from his mind because he couldn’t bother with Draco
anymore.
Draco was positive that it was the latter. Going off by Harry’s reaction and
his last words on the tower that night, Draco was sure Harry didn’t want to
have anything to do with him. Since the incident, Harry hadn’t even looked in
his direction or had even acted as if Draco existed. It reminded Draco of the
first time Harry had ignored Draco all those weeks ago, except worse because
this time Draco absolutely knew that it was his own fault and that Harry was
never going to come after him.  
Draco wasn’t dismissing his actions. He knew that while he hadn’t said the
words or aimed the wand, Draco was partly responsible for the Headmaster’s
death, and in turn responsible for setting the early spark towards the start of
the Dark Lord’s war. He knew it and accepted it. His only problem was, Draco
wished he wasn’t so alone in this. He’d had choices before — to join the Dark
Lord or to be by Harry’s side. Neither were options now.
The Slytherin sighed, heart aching just a bit. He blamed the room for the
numbness receding. This space had always been a safe-haven for Draco to take
cover and bear it all open with Harry. His emotions always become raw the
moment he crossed the door.
Even now, his breathing was starting to become labored in his chest. It hurt to
take a breath, almost struggled as his heart began to pick up speed, and pound
faster and faster and harder. It hurt. It hurt so much. Draco shut his eyes,
willing his heart to relax and the numbness to take over, but it was too late.
He was feeling the emotions, and Merlin were they bloody hitting him all at
once in waves… again and again. Anxiety, despair, worry and panic. It was like
a sledgehammer to his ribs, pounding over and over and over. There was a
thudding in his ears. His heart hurt. His head felt stuffed. He felt like he
was about to have a heart attack. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t scream. No no
no no no no nononono.
The darkness began to lick at the corner of his eyes, and Draco fled forward.
His body hit the mattress of the bed in the corner. Draco didn’t think, he just
climbed in and buried his face into the pillows. He shut his eyes tight and
wrapped his arms around himself, wanting to just hide and escape it all. Leave
behind the wizarding world, and all of its obligations and lack of mercy.
He just wanted to end it all. To just stop everything. From hurting, from
happening. Draco wanted the numbness back. Why wasn’t it coming back?
“Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry…”
He didn’t know how long he chanted as he rocked himself on the bed, tears
threatening to fall. His body seemed to lack the energy even to cry, because
they just stayed there stinging his eyes.
Merlin it hurt. He hurt everywhere.
And what he would give to have Harry back in his arms again —
“Draco.”
The blond stilled.
No. Please no.
He rocked himself faster, closed his eyes tighter.
“Draco, I’m here.”
Merlin, fuck. This was like salt being poured into a stabbed wound. Had he
actually conjured a fake Harry by wishing the room to bring him to Draco?
“Draco, can you hear me?”
The voice was coming closer.
No no no no no no no.
“Draco, why are you doing that? Stop it, please.”
Draco couldn’t handle it. He went to cover his ears.
“Love, what are you doing? Listen to me. Uncover your ears and look at me.”
His rocking slowed. He couldn’t help himself. Even though a part of him dreaded
the thought of a conjured Harry talking to him in his room, the rest of him
yearned for his presence, ached for it.
Draco opened his eyes and slowly turned around to see Harry standing by the
bed, looking at him with both worry and remorse.
“Draco,” the other boy sighed, his eyes a bit swollen and his face flushed,
like he had been crying for hours overnight.
Draco gulped, feeling his own swollen eyes welling up with more tears.
“Harry, you’re here…?”
The figure gave a bitter choke of a laugh, but he nodded.
“Yes, Draco. It’s me, really.”
Draco was so confused. He felt lost.
Who was this? Was this really Harry? Or the room’s conjuration of him?
The blond studied the boy, taking in his wild black hair and his horribly round
trademark glasses.
It certainly looked convincing. If he was real…  But Draco almost didn’t care
either way. Harry was here.
Harry had come back to him.
Fuck the part of him that said he should be angry and resentful, and dismiss
Harry.
Harry was here.
“Harry,” he choked out, the tears finally falling as he sat up completely. He
reached out a hand towards him. He needed to feel him. See if he was real.
The other boy was already meeting him halfway, and had to partly crawl on the
bed so that they could both wrap their arms around one another.
Draco’s breath whooshed out of him the moment his body fit into Harry’s.
“Harry, Merlin Harry, you’re here. Fucking hell,” Draco gasped out, his nose
and face buried into Harry’s shoulder as he gripped onto the boy’s robes.
Harry was holding on tight to him, too, shoving his face and cheeks into
Draco’s hair and breathing in the Slytherin’s musky and familiar scent.
“Yes, I’m here. Love, I’m with you. Took me a bloody stupid while to come see
you, but I finally got my head on straight.”
Draco almost didn’t want to say anything and just keep holding onto Harry like
he was. Forever.
But Harry had broken his heart, shattered it into pieces the other night, and
the little amount of pride that Draco had was rearing up and demanding answers
out of the Chosen One.
He pulled away, though not taking his hands from Harry’s. The other boy didn’t
seem to mind.
“Why?” Draco asked, not even knowing exactly which question he wanted to ask.
There were so many answers he wanted to know, answers he felt he deserved. “I…
I’d hoped you’d come back. At least once before the train left. For sentimental
reasons, if for nothing else.”
Harry sighed, looking down and away from Draco.
“I hadn’t planned to, the last couple of days. But this morning, the last day…
I somehow knew you were going to be here. I didn’t even have to check the map.
I just felt it.”
“The bond?” Draco hesitated to mention.
Harry nodded. “Yeah, probably.”
“What did you feel?” he asked.
“It’s difficult to describe. I didn’t feel anything at first, but once in a
while I felt like I got a snippet of how you were feeling at the time — sad,
lonely, hungry. Did… er, did you feel anything from me?”
Draco wavered. “Yes, a bit. I felt your anger,” he said, his voice low and
soft. “I also felt like you were really tired, and lonely too. And…” Draco
paused. “I felt your love…”
The other boy gave a forlorn smile. “Yeah, I did — do feel that.”
Draco felt a bit more confident now. “You missed me,” he said contemplatively.
“I felt it the most anytime I walked into the same room. You felt… like you
were missing something, until I would walk in. You’d get happy. But then the
anger and confusion would return.”
Harry bit his lip, still refusing to meet Draco’s eyes. “Yeah.”
“So, you came to your senses then and sought me out?” said Draco, a bit of his
old self seeping back in. Now that the Gryffindor was back within reach, it was
like a habitual role he fell into whenever he was with Harry. Even hurting and
heartbroken that he was, Draco knew Harry wouldn’t be here if he didn’t still
love him. He knew it, felt it. He shouldn’t have given in so easily, but he
hoped Harry was here to at least apologize. He thought he deserved that much.
“Hermione helped a bit,” admitted Harry. “Told me that she hadn’t even had to
know the whole story. When you and I weren’t seeing each other these last few
days, she’d figured I’d said something the other night to you.”
“I was giving you space.”
“I know. You shouldn’t have had to, but… well, I’d practically screamed at you.
Which I’m really sorry for. According to Ron and Hermione, I tend to act a bit
dramatic after a loss of someone I care about.” His tone was flippant, but his
eyes and stance were anything but.
“That’s completely normal, Harry,” Draco said softly. “I understood that. Even
when you’d been angry and yelled at me, I knew that. You’d just lost Professor
Dumbledore, your mentor. Right after going to find a horcrux, which I had
figured couldn’t have been very easy. Dumbledore didn’t look… right after you
came back.”
Harry shook his head, the fringe of his hair flying wildly. “I had to poison
him,” his voice whispered. “I didn’t think about it then, but how could I have
possibly been angry with you when I’d practically helped kill him myself?”
“You were angry at me, as well as yourself. Both of us played a role in
Dumbledore’s death,” Draco said.
“But you wouldn’t have killed him,” said Harry, his eyes meeting Draco’s
steadily. “I know it.”
“I wanted to,” Draco muttered. “Merlin, it would’ve solved everything if I had
just killed him. I would’ve been able use that to secure a place within the
Death Eater’s ranks. I wouldn’t have been completely safe, but it would’ve
helped in gaining information for your Order. I would have been able to save
mother…”
“But you’re here now, with me,” Harry pointed out seriously. “I know that if
you had… killed him, you wouldn’t be here with me right now. You’d be with
Snape and your aunt and the Death Eaters instead.”
Draco gazed softly at Harry. “You’re right.”
“I had felt that,” Harry said, his voice broken but a bit awed. “I felt your
determination and anger in wanting to kill him. That’s partly why I became so
angry. I knew what you wanted to do, despite Professor Dumbledore helping you
and willing to help save your mother.”
“I should have killed him, but I couldn’t.”
“You chose not to.”
“Because I’m weak,” Draco uttered. He remembered Greyback’s words to him that
night.
“No, because you are strong,” Harry said. “I know you wouldn’t have chosen that
other path. I was too blinded by everything to realize that the other night,
but inside I knew it all along. Dumbledore was right, you’re not a killer,
Draco.”
Draco nearly whimpered at the onslaught of emotions Harry’s words brought in
him. It was such a comfort, a relief, to have Harry here again beside him,
holding him.
There was more that needed to be said, though, and Draco looked up carefully at
Harry.
“It doesn’t matter,” he told him. “Because Snape carried out the order
instead.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed.
“Yeah, he did.”
Draco hesitated. “I think he was supposed to, though. I think Snape knew what
would’ve happened if he’d let him live. He was bound by an Unbreakable Vow that
he’d made with my mother to protect me. If I couldn’t carry out the deed, he
had to.”
Harry listened carefully, for once. Draco was glad for it, and he watched
Harry’s shoulders slump with resignation.
“You think Snape killed Professor Dumbledore… and is still on our side?” His
tone was doubtful.
“I’m not entirely sure,” Draco admitted. “All I know is that Snape isn’t what
you think. I didn’t follow my orders. Snape should’ve killed me, or at least
taken me with him to deliver me to the Dark Lord for being a traitor. Instead,
he told me to go to the Order. He practically sent me to you instead of taking
me away.”
“Yeah, I heard that…”
Draco looked at him, his eyes cautious and watchful. “Do you believe me?” he
asked him.
Harry stayed quiet for a moment, his eyebrows furrowed and his frown stagnant
on his face.
“I don’t know,” he eventually admitted. His eyes met Draco’s. “But I think we
already established that I don’t do too well in thinking when I’m an emotional
wreck,” he sighed. “I don’t know whether to trust Snape or not. I’m still angry
as hell at him. Snape still killed him.”
“That’s understandable.”
“But I’ve already doubted a Slytherin way too many times,” he continued. “I
trust you, Draco. Despite everything that happened on the tower, I was feeling
too overwhelmed at it all, I wasn’t thinking straight, but I do put my trust
entirely into you. I should’ve shown you that, that night.”
“I believe you, Harry,” said Draco softly.
“If you think I should give Snape a chance,” he said. “Then I’ll believe you.”
“I know he’s not entirely bad,” Draco told him. “I’d watch out for him, but I
do think he’s still playing both sides.”
“The questions is, which one?” Harry scowled, looking away.
Draco shrugged. He watched Harry for a moment, his eyes locked onto that frown
and the boy’s full lips. He realized he missed kissing Harry, and Draco gave
Harry a soft smile. “Thank you, Harry. For trusting me.”
The Gryffindor turned back to look at him, slightly startled at the abrupt
statement. But he sighed, pulling Draco close into his embrace. Their bodies
fit together perfectly, as always.
“I love you, Draco,” Harry said. “Truly, I do. I’m so sorry for hurting you,
and I’d completely understand if you never forgave me again —”
“Foolish as I am to take you back so quickly after you nearly broke my heart
the other night,” Draco muttered, tone partly in jest. “Love makes people do
stupid things. It saved us, though. It’ll keep saving us, I know it. I love you
too, Harry.”
“You’ll stay with me then?” asked Harry, looking at him. “With the Professor…
g-gone, I still need to look for the horcruxes.”
Draco hesitated. “What about…?”
“The locket was a fake,” he scowled, arms tightening around Draco. “It was
empty except for a note inside.”
Harry reached into his pocket, where he held the small piece of paper with him
always. He handed it to Draco, who took it and read it carefully.
Draco frowned. “R.A.B.?”
The other boy shrugged. “I dunno who that is.”
“R.A.B….” Draco thought to himself for a moment. “I’m not sure who that could
be. But I had a cousin named Regulus Arcturus Black. Apparently, he’d been into
the Dark Arts and there were rumors he’d been a follower for the Dark Lord
once.”
Harry’s eyes widened. “Really? Isn’t that a relative of Sirius’s?”
“His brother.”
Harry remembered now. “Sirius told me he had gotten killed. He’d found out
something about Voldemort… I’m not sure.”
“The initials fit the name. Regulus was involved with the Death Eaters, and he
did work under Voldemort. It all fits,” Draco pointed out.
“But how could he have found out about the horcruxes?” asked Harry. “I don’t
believe that Voldemort actually told someone his secret.”
Draco thought back to what little information he knew of his mother’s side of
the family. “Well, if we were to find any kind of information about Regulus, it
would have to be at the Black Family House, right? There might be a way for me
to…”
“You’re right!” Harry cried happily. But then he stopped. “Damn, I forgot.”
“What?”
Thinking furiously, Harry told him. “The Black House. I can’t tell you about
the house because Professor Dumbledore was the Secret Keeper for it.”
Draco frowned. “What, why? That house should’ve gone to Sirius Black, since
he’d been the only living relative left. He hadn’t any heirs, though, so I’m
not sure who would have been able to inherit the house.”
Harry raked a hand through his hair and scratched his neck a bit. “Er, me
actually. Sirius gave it to me in his Will.”
The blond looked up at him in surprise. “Really?”
“We use it for the Order Headquarters though, which is why we needed a Secret
Keeper. We keep the house under Fidelius.”
Draco nodded. “That makes sense. It’s better it went to you, then, and not to
my mother or me. If anything of Regulus’ could tell us more about him, it would
be in that house.”
The Gryffindor gave him a big grin for his effort, and laid a quick kiss on the
blond hair in thanks. “I’m glad you’re with me. Dumbledore was right about you
being able to help us.”
Draco smiled softly at him. “For you, Harry.” He reached up, and pulled the
Gryffindor down for a slow kiss.
Harry hummed into the blond’s mouth, utterly relieved and feeling whole again
at Draco’s touch. It was like a craving he couldn’t get enough of. Draco was so
addicting and wonderful.
When a few minutes had passed, they finally broke away. Both of their eyes
shined.
“The funeral is about to start. We should get going,” said Harry after a
moment, looking reluctant to leave the blond’s embrace.
Draco was glad for that. He felt the same way, and he was sure Harry felt that
too.
He sat up with Harry and crossed towards the door with him to leave. Before
they left, they stopped to turn, almost as one, so that they could look back
behind them.
Draco took it all in one last time, feeling both melancholy and appreciative as
he studied the room. He could feel Harry’s emotions of contentment and pleasure
as he also scrutinized the space. Draco was glad he wasn’t the only one who
felt grateful for the room and how it provided for them, in more ways than what
they thought they’d initially needed.
They were leaving a special place, like a home. A small piece of themselves.
“We’ll come back.”
Draco looked at Harry, smiling. He nodded. “Yes. We will.”
Then he took Harry’s hand and left together with him out of the room.
===============================================================================
 
The funeral was beautiful in its own poignant way, Draco thought to himself
after the display of arrows from the centaurs’ tribute. He watched as they
turned back into the trees, along with the other few creatures who’d decided to
pay their respects to Dumbledore. The crowd began to also shift around them,
the staff moving silently but quickly as students also hurried to say their
last goodbyes before heading towards the Hogsmeade Station to board the
Express.
Draco had stood a little in the back in the shadow of a low hanging tree, away
from Harry and his friends to give them some space. He felt he didn’t deserve
to sit among them, contrary to what Harry might have said otherwise. The blond
knew the truth. He’d played a hand in Dumbledore’s death. It didn’t matter if
Harry had done likewise because of the poison, or if Dumbledore’s blackened
hand would’ve become worse and eventually spread even further. Draco was the
one who’d disarmed him. He’d live the rest of his life knowing that.
He watched Harry now, glimpsed his flushed, tear streaked cheeks as he talked
amongst his friends. Draco felt a rush of undeniable coldness sweep over him as
he looked at them and at everyone else around. Students, teachers, reporters,
the castle ghosts, those who worked in Hogsmeade, and the Ministry. He saw the
many tears and heard the whimpers and sniffles of those in the crowd; he could
almost feel the lingering pain from the merpeople who were swimming away.  
It was a lot to take in and when he felt a hand suddenly in his, Draco hadn’t
realized that his own breathing had been coming fast until he stopped. He
didn’t have to look over to know that it was Harry, and that his friends had
gone off without him, walking together just a bit away from where Draco still
stood.
“I told them,” came Harry’s voice.
Draco glanced at him. “About?”
“I’m not coming back to finish Hogwarts,” he said. “I have to go back to the
Dursleys’ for the protection spell that lasts until my birthday. Then later, we
need to attend Bill and Fleur’s wedding or Molly Weasley will have my hide.
Afterwards, we’ll begin our search for the horcruxes at Godric’s Hollow.”
“What’s at Godric’s Hollow?” Draco asked him.
“It was where my parents died; I’d like to visit them. I also think there might
be a lead there for the horcruxes.”
His tone sounded all kinds of sad, and Draco couldn’t help but fall in love
with the Gryffindor just a bit more. He wanted to protect Harry so much — this
boy, who’d seen death and witnessed his loved ones killed right in front of
him, who fought the Dark Lord and lived to fight him again and again — and
Draco was just glad for the chance to be there by his side where he could.
Harry deserved to be protected.
“I’ll go with you,” said Draco, smiling. “At your side, the entire way.”
Harry gave him an unreadable look. It might have been a cross between worried,
grateful, and loving.
“I’d actually wanted to give you a speech about how it’s too dangerous, that
Voldemort likes to use people who I’m close to —”
“But you knew I wouldn’t give a fuck and that I’d ignore you anyway so I could
travel with you to those stupid muggle Dursleys,” Draco talked over him,
dismissing his words. “Smart man.”
Draco tugged away from Harry so that they could leave the tree’s shadow and
join the crowd towards Hogsmeade.
“I thought Slytherins were all about self-preservation?” Harry smirked, walking
along beside him with a smile.
Draco kept forward, and spoke his next words with a purposeful haughty voice.
“We’re also very ambitious and resourceful. Thus, I’m aligning myself with the
most powerful wizard in the world who can kill the other powerful Dark wizard
in the world.”
“Ah, so you’re just using me for my magical and political affiliations.”
“That, and your money,” Draco drawled proudly.
Harry shook his head, grinning widely. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re the Boy-Whose-Hair-Cannot-Be-Tamed. We’ve all got our burdens.” But
Draco smiled softly back at him, giving Harry a wink as he did so. Harry just
groaned.
They neared the Hogsmeade Station where the Hogwarts Express waited for
students to board. Draco saw the rest of his dorm mates, Pansy, and a few other
Slytherins boarding the train already. He didn’t see Weasley or Granger, but he
assumed they’d already boarded as well. It was nearing the time for the train
to depart.
“Stay with me?” Harry’s voice said beside him.
Draco thought about it for a moment, looking at the crowd around them and
seeing the glances from the other students as they stared at the two of them
together. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, standing so close near each other
without a single insult traded between them.
For a second, Draco considered saying no, only to protect Harry’s reputation
and safety from the Malfoy’s influence. If they’d been in school, rumors
would’ve surely started and the public would’ve surely voiced their opinions on
the matter.
But Draco honestly didn’t care. A war was about to start. He couldn’t go back
home to Malfoy Manor where his mother may or may not be. He’d been killed
before he could step on Malfoy grounds. And Draco had already decided not to
run. His only choice left was to stay with Harry and remain by his side; it
wasn’t too much of a difficult concept to become accustomed to. It was the
obvious choice, really. And he was happy to do it.
So, who cared what anybody thought? Draco was in love with Harry, and Harry
loved Draco. That’s all that mattered. The war could start tomorrow, next week,
next month. But here, right now, he was with Harry. He’d help him find the
horcruxes, they’d defeat the Dark Lord together, and they’d come out on the
other side of this alive and with each other.
Harry was still waiting for an answer as the crowds around them thinned until a
sparse number of students remained on the platform to board. The Gryffindor had
one hand on the bar to lever himself up, and he glanced back at Draco
questioningly with his other hand raised towards him.
Draco gave Harry an attractive smile. “I’ll always stay with you,” he said,
grabbing a hold of Harry’s hand.
Harry gave him a wide smile back, green eyes glittering with warmth and
happiness.
Later, Draco would be immensely glad for that smile and that amazing open look
that Harry gave him. It would be the only memory, the only thing that was pure
remaining that would give him hope in the upcoming months of pain and torture.
Draco was glad for those precious few seconds that his hand was in Harry’s,
their eyes connected, their bonded link tingling warm and tender between them.
They’d been so wrapped up in the moment that they didn’t realize until it was
too late when the Hogsmeade Station was suddenly filled with the loud cracks of
apparition and the sudden appearance of black robes and white masks.
Both boys didn’t even have time to react as the station went pitch black — they
both instantly recognized the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder — and the last
thing Harry saw was Draco’s grey eyes go wide before the blackness swept over
him. Then Harry felt Draco’s hand being ripped away from his and Harry’s hand
grasped only air.
It was only a few minutes at the most and when the black smoke finally
dissipated, Harry stood frozen on the train with his hand still outstretched
grasping nothing.
A few students who still hadn’t boarded were either standing still with fear or
had fallen on the ground. No one seemed hurt, nobody was killed.
But one person was missing.
Harry hopped off the train, ignoring the rush of sound that sounded in his
ears. His eyes roamed over the platform, searching frantically.
He heard someone call out his name behind him. Harry didn’t look. He started
running.
The sound of someone screaming vaguely registered to him. The scream was
anguished and broken. Like someone had been torn apart.
Draco wasn’t there. Draco was missing.
Harry felt a rumbling below him.
It took him a moment to realize it wasn’t an earthquake; it was him.
The Death Eaters took him.
Then Harry realized he was the one screaming. His magic was running wild.
And the realization fully hit him.
Draco was taken.   
Draco was gone.
Voldemort had kidnapped Draco.
 
 
***** Epilogue *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
White hot agony.
Flames. Or at least what felt like icy heat searing inside his veins.
He knew that his fingers were broken. The bones of his toes were shattered. He
knew this because he couldn’t move anything without a surge of vomit and
dizziness overwhelming him.
And the pain was so excruciating, he wanted to scream out loud with the agony
of it.
Terror seeped into his very heart at the core of him.
Helplessness.
Despair.
He was going to die. He knew it. He knew with all of his heart.
His hope was fading.
The light was growing dim.
He was losing the fight.
Oh, but how he missed the other boy. So, so much. His heart felt full with
tenderness and heartache.
And love —
Burning and throbbing sensations overwhelmed him once more. Panic filled his
nerves. And pain!
So much pain!
And agony. Misery and despair filled his heart again.
Darkness. The darkness was safe.
Escape. Hide. Forget.
He felt himself slowly slip away.
…. And then something else.
…. Laughter… satisfaction that the plan was effective... The boy would be his….
His body was almost ready… blood coated the floor…. Blond hair spilled across
the stone….
His forehead was burning terribly…. White hot agony….
And Harry woke up in a cold sweat, tangled up in his thin blankets as they lay
haphazardly around him. His heart was racing a mile a minute, and his forehead
was burning so hot Harry wouldn’t be surprised if his scar had split open.
But none of that mattered, because Harry was close to screaming with anguish.
Tears flowed from his eyes as he gasped brokenly and sobbed; turning onto his
side while gripping his pillow hard.
Even awake, Draco’s emotions from the dream echoed in Harry’s heart. Those
feelings of fear, and pain, and helplessness.
And Harry couldn’t do a fucking thing about it.
Draco was gone.
He was being tortured. By Voldemort.
And he couldn’t do anything.
Harry had never felt so weak in his entire life.
===============================================================================
Early September
 
Two full months now. Sixty-one days and nights. Which meant it was just over
1,460 hours since Harry had last seen Draco.
In that time, he’d done nearly nothing else except think of the blond.
Harry remembered how long it had taken the Professors and staff at Hogsmeade
Station to react to what had happened.
While Harry had collapsed into a mental state of shock on the platform, Ron and
Hermione had run from the train to try to revive him. The train became delayed
as the staff had issued a lockdown and searched for any other missing students.
Later, Harry had found out that it was about a dozen Death Eaters who had
stormed into the village of Hogsmeade and raided it shortly after Dumbledore’s
funeral.
Because the station was outside the protections of Hogwarts, they’d been able
to apparate directly onto the platform to carry out their mission.
No one else had been hurt, and the Aurors had later stated that Draco Malfoy
had seemed to have been the only student targeted on the Hogwarts Express. The
authorities hadn’t known how the Death Eaters had planned their attack or
whether they had inside intelligence concerning Draco Malfoy’s exact location
at that exact time.  
A search had been underway as the Aurors had deemed Malfoy Manor to be the
obvious first choice to search for him. But apparently, the wards of the Manor
prevented anyone from entering or getting near. The Aurors who attempted to
storm in weren’t heard from or found for the longest time, until a few weeks
later when their burnt and broken bodies were recovered several hundred yards
away from their previously assigned location.
After that, Malfoy Manor was declared enemy territory and a hazard to anyone
who dared tried to enter.
Harry wanted to say damn the consequences and storm inside to rescue Draco
anyway.
But the Order refused to hear of it, including his best friends and the
Weasleys. They argued with him, told him to think rationally and avoid doing
something that could get himself killed. They said that walking into Malfoy
Manor was a suicide mission, and that it was a trap for Voldemort to get his
hands on Harry.
He listened to all of this, but he didn’t give a damn. He screamed and yelled
at them that he didn’t care, he was going to save Draco by himself if no one
else would. His magic reared itself a few times as he fought to keep his wild
emotions under control.
Until finally it was Remus Lupin who managed to calm Harry down with his
statement of sympathy. He told Harry how he would’ve reacted the same way if
his newly married wife, Tonks, had been kidnapped. However, Remus told Harry,
in order to save the Malfoy boy, they needed to have a plan. They needed to
prepare themselves wisely. Or they’d all be killed, including Draco.
And Harry had had no choice but to relent.
Because he knew the truth — Harry could feel that Draco was still alive. Harry
could feel the bond between them stretched like a tight piece of corded string.
Luckily, when Harry reached out to feel Draco’s emotions, it’d been calm and
quiet those first few days, which had brought a sense of comfort to him. The
bond was still there but nothing extenuating was happening, otherwise Harry
would feel it.
So, Harry reluctantly went to the Dursleys, and he stayed with them for a short
while until they left. Then Harry had been transported to the Weasleys, and
although Harry fought hard against Voldemort, he still lost Hedwig, Mad-Eye was
killed, and George lost his ear.
Meeting Ted and Andromeda Tonks had been a comfort, because he’d known Draco
was related to them. He’d wished he could’ve talked to the woman longer, but he
was whisked away to the Weasleys by portkey without much time to dawdle.
After that, everything was a blur. Dumbledore’s will, the snitch, Bill and
Fleur’s Wedding, the announcement of the Ministry having fallen… and all
throughout, Harry had the most vivid dreams at night.
He dreamt of bloodcurdling screams — hearing them only, at first.
Then he’d dreamt of fear. Terrible, anxiety-filled, repulsive horror that
filled his nerves even after he’d awaken. He began to feel paranoid during the
daytime, and jumped at nearly every sound and movement of those around him.
It only got worse from there. The screaming had soon become louder and more
internal. Pain entered Harry’s dreams after almost three weeks had passed since
Draco’s kidnapping. And the fear never lessened.   
Throughout it all, Harry wept and he ached. He tried to send emotions through
the link, tried to communicate in any way through his bond with Draco. It had
worked at first, too; he’d felt it. After a particular night of dreaming about
his stomach being in pain, Harry had woken up and immediately sent feelings of
love and hope through the bond. The pain had diminished soon after, and he
almost felt a spark of determination being sent back from Draco.
And he loved it. He loved every single moment that he could feel Draco through
their bond. He missed the boy so bloody much, and it was heart wrenching not
having him in his arms. The fact that he could communicate with the other boy,
even if it was only this way, was the only thing that kept Harry sane.
He passed the days with a determined stride. Before long, the days soon turned
into weeks and then into months since he’d seen Draco. Harry worked hard with
Ron and Hermione planning their mission into finding the horcruxes, until
finally they got a lead. Umbridge had the locket.
The night before Harry, Ron, and Hermione were set to break into the Ministry
to get the locket from Umbridge, Harry was laying in his bed.
Instead of sleeping, he was busy sending waves of reassurance and love to
Draco. He could sense through the bond that the other boy was feeling immense
hunger and physical pain. The blond struggled to send even a glimmer of
responsiveness through the bond, but Harry kept at it late into the night.
Harry was in the middle of sending a strong, impassioned wave of hope through
to Draco, sending him a message of how close they were to obtaining a horcrux,
when he felt the bond seemingly waver for a moment before the tight string
suddenly froze.
Harry instantly knew something was wrong. The bond that flowed between the boys
had always been a warm, comforting heat.
Now, the bond felt like something cold and foreign had taken ahold of it.
Harry struggled to use his magic to recover the bond, elongating his power to
feel itself around and against the magical strings, searching for that foreign
substance so that he could get rid of it.
And then there was a strong shake within Harry, precisely at the connected
point in his chest where he knew his bond originated from.
The connected cord thrummed once, twice, like someone was pulling at it.
Opening it. Dissecting it.
Harry sat up quick, clutching his hand to his chest as he let out a silent cry
of pain at the agonizing assault. His breath left him in quick, raspy gasps.
His hand clenched tighter, as if holding his heart back into his chest while it
struggled to tear itself out.
He fought harder and harder, confused and distressed at what was going on. He
didn’t know anything. He was so scared. Who was invading their bond? Who was
trying to break it apart?
Then, hot, searing pain crashed into his chest and filled his limbs.
Harry did scream then, as he twisted over and onto his side at the feeling of a
gaping, bleeding hole being carved into his chest. He felt a hard snap, like a
cord breaking apart after too much tension, and Harry let out another roaring
scream, hands clawing into his chest, head wrenched backwards in agony.
It was too much.
The forceful breaking of the bond, his connection to Draco going deathly quiet,
and an immediate emptiness like his soul was being wrenched in half — the
abrupt pain overwhelmed Harry, and he felt himself finally give in to the pain.
His bond with Draco was broken.
His scar began burning, everything went black for a moment.
Then he the saw the whiteness of his own long-fingered hand against a door…. He
knocked…
===============================================================================
They never asked him questions. They never cared to really speak to him about
Harry or Dumbledore, except to hurl insults at every chance they could. Draco
had tried bargaining with them at first, knowing it was useless. Money, gold,
information on Harry and the Order (They couldn’t know that it was false
details. Draco refused to break his Oath to the light side).
But no one listened. They only wanted to hear his screams.
Today, Draco was chained to the wall.
His placement always changed according to whoever’s turn it was to torture him.
The room had no windows, and only flat stones lined the walls and floors. One
door let his torturers in and despite the many times Draco had tried to
wandlessly spell his way out, he never got very far before he was brought back
and chained. Then he was beaten further until he was near to death.
Draco stopped trying after his body was rack tortured for the third time. And
oh how it filled Draco with irony at how medieval and Muggle their torture
methods were.
Sometimes it was Peter Pettigrew who came into his dungeon cell or even the
Dark Lord himself. Most of the time it was just the Death Eaters as they took
turns seeing how loud he could scream.
The lackeys weren’t very imaginative, and so he mostly only endured a few
Crucios from them until their bloodlust was sated. They usually kept him on the
floor, watching with glee as Draco writhed against the cold stones.
Whenever they weren’t torturing him inside the room, they hovered in groups
outside the cell door. They laughed and spit and jeered at him, calling him
Potter’s whore and tormenting him with false news of the boy’s capture or
death. Draco loathed them all.
Out of all of his tortures, Draco hated when his aunt visited, rare that it
was. She loved to tie him up onto a chair and send blasting hexes wildly
towards him. Some would hit the ground around him, and a few would manage to
hit his toes or his legs. He never knew how many of her spells would land. She
also had him gagged whenever she visited, so that his screams were always
muffled by whatever dirty cloth she conjured around his mouth.
“Oh, ickle Draco wants his mummy!” her mad cries echoed through the room. They
were not nearly loud enough to be heard properly over Draco’s screams as two of
his toes were blasted off. “Oh, did that hurt? Does wittle bitty baby Draco
want to stop playing with me?” she mimed a whiny, babyish voice hysterically.
“Ah! I know! Have another instead!” She aimed another hex, which missed his
pinkie toe by mere inches. She yelled and danced in frustration. “Ah, traitor!
You deserve more than this!” And then she’d deliberately sent a hex that tore a
layer of skin off of his right leg, and blood coursed down to his feet in thick
rivulets.
Draco threw back his head in agony, letting out another muffled scream amongst
his aunt’s maniacal laughter.
Draco also hated when the Lestrange brothers visited him. Their bloodlust was
nearly unquenchable as his Aunt’s. They loved to take turns making him scream
the loudest. Knives were their specialty, and they loved showing off their
skills as they carved into Draco’s skin. Most of their art was abstract, but
occasionally they’d find inspiration in carving words into his body.
Traitor. Whore. Deserter. Mudblood lover. Failure. Weak.
Rodolphus had a knack for slicing neat, bloody gashes down his face. Draco
screamed as the knife ripped down his skin, not so deep as to puncture bone,
but enough to cause a thick scar if it wasn’t healed properly. Worse than that,
Rodolphus reveled in Draco’s screams and would reward Draco for every one he
let loose with a wet lick or kiss against his lips. It disgusted Draco, and so
he tried to hold the sounds in, but after three or four slices he’d break and
let out a loud cry of excruciating pain.
“Ah, yes, that’s it. So fucking beautiful, you are,” one of the brothers would
say. Draco began to lose track of who would say what through the haze of
unbearable agony. His head lolled forward, his chin brushing his chest. He saw
the drip drip of his blood as it coated his legs and the floor around him.
“Look at him, taking it like that,” the other brother would pant heatedly, and
Draco could swear that if the brother could, he’d get off on this; he was such
a bloody lunatic.
And the Lestrange brothers always made sure his gags were removed when they
were there. They loved to laugh at his screams.
Draco had begun to lose count of how many days he’d been in the dungeon, how
many different tortures they’d all performed on him.
Every time someone cast a curse or sliced him up, afterwards was always the
same. He felt white hot agony tear through his chest with every panting breath,
and he’d cry out. He tried to whimper, screw his remaining pride, but sometimes
the pain was just too great.
Most of his days were actually filled with silence, thankfully, as he recovered
between bouts of torture. Peter Pettigrew was sent in to heal him with certain
potions after each torture session. He was usually fully healed every single
time. His bones would be mended, the cuts and bruises that bloomed his skin
would disappear, and any internal bleeding he suffered was also healed.
He was always unblemished when the Dark Lord would come to see him. And Draco
dreaded his visits the most out of everyone. He’d only visited twice, and both
times had nearly broken Draco beyond the brink. This was because the Dark Lord
never resorted to physical means or magical torture.
He attempted to emotionally and mentally break Draco.
The first time had been two weeks after his being kidnapped. He’d been tied to
the chair at the time, stripped naked and his clothes strewn in strips around
the room. He would get another set of grimy clothes a few days later, but at
that moment Draco shivered with fear and at the icy coldness of the dungeon.
The Dark Lord’s red eyes gleamed in front of Draco, assessing him. He’d stood
over him, just looking at Draco’s naked body with a blank sort of stare.
Draco had been gagged, too, since it’d been left over from a session with his
Aunt Bellatrix. Pettigrew had healed him right before the Dark Lord’s
appearance. He hadn’t, however, replaced his clothes or untied him. Which is
exactly what the Dark Lord had wanted.
After what felt like half an hour of those red eyes perusing his bare skin, the
Dark Lord finally stepped forward. And if Draco could have, he’d have sickened
up all over the floor at what the man did to him.
His touch on Draco’s skin had filled him with utter revulsion. The Dark Lord’s
hand trailed along his cheek, down his jawbone to his chin. He’d wavered there,
running his reptilian, white hand across the skin of Draco’s lips. Draco had
nearly shuddered at the smell and near taste of the Dark Lord’s musky, decaying
scent.
He’d almost been relieved when the hand had moved away, until he felt him
sliding both of his hands across his chest and down his pebbled nipples. The
Dark Lord hadn’t lingered, thankfully, but he kept going lower and lower until
he’d pressed against Draco’s flaccid cock.
Draco had nearly jumped as those icy cold hands gripped his length, not
touching him in a sexual way but merely examining every inch of him.
The white hands had settled onto his thighs and abruptly pulled his thighs
apart. Draco had screamed at that, but the sound was muffled. The Dark Lord
didn’t react except for a twitch of his cold lips as he perused his arse hole
carefully with his cold, red eyes. He didn’t do anything for the next few
minutes except hold Draco’s legs apart and stare at the shivering skin. Draco
had felt beaten and stricken with his other torturers, but never had he felt so
invaded like this. So open. Violated by those red eyes.
The Dark Lord did nothing but look, but that somehow was worse than him doing
anything else because Draco didn’t know what to expect. He didn’t actually
think the mad monster would rape him but he wasn’t sure. That might break him,
because he only wanted Harry to have ever been inside him. Another person’s
cock thrusting in him instead would be a total act of violation against his
body, as well as his connection to Harry. It would be one of the worse things
he’d had to endure, despite his bones and skin being torn and broken apart.
Luckily, the Dark Lord never did anything like that. But his next words chilled
Draco, and would continue to haunt him for the weeks to come.
“Your body is perfect,” the Dark Lord had hissed, pleased. “So perfect. You
should be honored to receive me.”
Then he’d left.
And Draco had been scared to death for his next visit.
Which happened right on Harry’s birthday.
 
===============================================================================
July 31st
 
Draco lay on the floor, fully healed but sore from not haven eaten anything for
two days. There was a bowl in the corner for him to relieve himself. They gave
him water twice a day and food once a day. It wasn’t much either, just whatever
leftovers they’d somehow retrieved from one of the house elves. Draco hoped. He
couldn’t bear to imagine what grime he’d been eating for the last month. But
for some reason, they’d skipped his meals recently. Draco absently wondered if
he’d done something wrong, or if they’d actually forgotten about him.
He’d tried pleading with them as to what they’d wanted. He’d screamed at them,
yelled, cried, asking for any kind of reason as to why they were doing what
they were.
But he never got an answer back, just a vague response from Peter Pettigrew,
who told him that all the torture was to “prepare” him. Draco tried not to
think too much about it after that.
Today he was waiting quietly, humming brokenly to himself as he tried to lose
himself into thoughts that took him away from this cold cell of his.
Sometimes he’d used Legilimency to lock his mind away just for a short retreat.
It didn’t take up too much magic, which he was glad for. Lack of food and water
was draining him in more ways than one. But Draco was glad for the occasional
escape.
It was just like one of his sessions with Harry, when the boy had taught him to
resist Imperius. He’d concentrate on calming his mind and envisioning his room,
except instead of his bedroom it was now the room he and Harry used in the Room
of Hidden Things.
He’d had everything exactly like the room, too. Their bed was in the same area
of the room, along with the sofas and the table, the tapestries, the book cases
of interesting spell books. His school trunk and wardrobe was added in one
corner, along with a small bathroom.
Most of everything in the room wasn’t necessary, but Draco wanted to get it
exact so that he could lose himself in the room in the middle of one of his
Aunt’s or Uncle’s tortures. It was a helpful escape he’d only use once in a
while. He was afraid that one of his torturers would find out why he wasn’t
screaming as much, and somehow give him a potion or other way to prevent him
from escaping into his own mind.
It was on these escapes where he’d meet Harry too. How he loved the moments
when Harry would send him reassurances through the bond. Draco always tried to
send love and other small, quick messages to him. But his lack of strength
sometimes made his mind a bit fuzzy, and it was harder for him to concentrate
enough to form a coherent message back.
I love you, Draco. Please stay strong. I want to save you. Takes time. Need
help.
Luv you, mis you. …Tired.
I know, love. Stay awake. Stay alive.
‘right. Gonna live.
Miss you. Very much. Hang in there, love.
Draco lived for these moments, and he looked forward to them every day.
But on Harry’s birthday, the bond was strangely silent. Draco tried not to
think anything of it, but it did worry him a bit. He also hadn’t been tortured
for the last few days, and he wondered if the Death Eaters were too busy with
something else, like a raid or another attack.  
Merlin, Draco hoped Harry was safe.
Draco had heard movement, then. He struggled to sit up, still a bit weak from
malnutrition but a bit more energized from being left alone for a short while.
He heard the lock on his door open, and he prepared himself for a Death Eater
to show himself and get to work.
But to his absolute, jaw dropping horror, a boy with a familiar nest of black
hair was shoved roughly into the room. He was bare naked, with not a stitch of
clothing on him. When the boy fell, he practically collapsed onto the stone
floor, like his arms and legs were too weak to support him.
Draco noticed how the boy’s hands were shaking, and he realized the boy must
have suffered at least half a dozen Crucios to not be able to even sit up.
The door was slammed closed. Draco hurried to the boy’s side, dreading the
worst as he turned the figure over.
His heart slammed hard into his ribs as Harry Potter’s features came into view.
The boy was unconscious, he could see that now. But the scar, the messy hair,
his knobby knees… Harry Potter had been captured and thrown into the same cell
as Draco.    
Draco almost wept, cradling the unconscious boy against him and rocking him
back and forth as his thoughts raced.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Harry was captured. Did the Order know? Were they coming to
save him? Fuck, Harry is here. If the Dark Lord finds out —
A noise near the door sounded, and Draco quickly looked up. He tried to move
Harry’s body away from view as the cloaked figure stepped in.
The figure shed his cloak and red eyes revealed themselves.
No!
The Dark Lord had arrived, and Harry Potter lay unconscious on the ground.
NO! This couldn’t be happening.
“Ah, the lovers are reunited,” the Dark Lord hissed gleefully, teeth gleaming
as he smiled. “Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived.”
The Dark wizard waved his hand, and magic filled the room as several things
happened simultaneously.
Draco felt himself being thrown against the wall with the chains, the metal
manacles wrapping and locking themselves around his ankles and wrists. Draco
was helpless to fight back or move, and he watched powerlessly as another wave
of the Dark Lord’s hand sent Harry’s body hovering into a chair. Another wave
and Harry was bound and gagged as well.
Draco’s heart was beating against his chest fast, and blood began to pound in
his ears. No no no, this wasn’t happening! Harry couldn’t be here! How’d he get
in? Had he been captured?
Thoughts raced through his mind as he panicked and blackness began to fill the
edges of his vision.
No, this couldn’t be real! Not him. Not now.
The Dark Lord seemed to read his thoughts clearly on his face. He turned
Harry’s chair so that he and Draco could face each other.
“Rennervate.”
Harry stirred from the Dark Lord’s spell, his green eyes blinking open wearily.
His head slightly tilted around until he found the strength to fully look up.
Green eyes met Draco’s, and he watched as Harry’s eyes widened. His eyes kept
growing and Harry began to struggle in his bonds. The boy looked down quickly,
seeing the ropes around him, and began to struggle harder. He began screaming
and yelling, but the gag prevented any words to sound through clearly.
“Harry Potter,” the Dark Lord hissed from behind him.
The green-eyed boy froze. He slowly tried to turn his head around to see the
wizard behind him.
“And Draco Malfoy. A blood traitor and the Chosen One. Both in one room. Both
at my disposal.”
Draco recoiled at the look in those red eyes. He tried to form a coherent plan
so that he could wandlessly release himself and save Harry. But he was too weak
still and there were too many variables. He didn’t know how strong Harry was
after his bout of curses, and he was sure the Dark Lord could kill him before
he had any chance to defend himself.
It was a losing situation either way that would only end up with one, if not
both of them, killed.
“Ah Draco, how far your family has fallen. Whoring themselves to the other
side.”
Harry was still struggling and screaming, but the Dark Lord ignored him for the
moment.
“Did you want to know how your precious Chosen One got himself captured?” the
wizard hissed. “He was found skulking on the property, trying to save you.”
Draco whimpered, gazing into the panicking green eyes.
What was Harry thinking? Why would he do such a stupid thing? Where were
Granger and Weasley?
“He tried to save you, Draco. He came to rescue his beloved.” A toothy grin
spread on his malevolent features. “He risked everything to save your life.”
The tied-up boy struggled faster, harder, rocking wildly in the chair as it
threatened to tip over.
Voldemort chuckled darkly.
“I think you should give him a reward,” he hissed maliciously, and waved his
hand in the blond’s direction.
Draco’s eyes widened as the chains released him, and he fell hard onto his
hands and knees onto the floor. He struggled to breathe through the pain for a
moment, so he was too distracted to protect himself as the Voldemort cast his
spell.
“Imperio.”
A fog clouded Draco’s mind and his limbs relaxed to his side.
“Stand.”
He felt his legs moving before he could even think to struggle. He stood up in
front of Harry, gazing blankly ahead.
Inside himself, Draco was hurriedly escaping to his room to try and close the
door against the dark claws that raked through his mind. He pushed and shoved
his way against the barrier that would keep the Dark Lord out from controlling
his mind and thoughts.
“Go to Harry.”
No, no, no. He concentrated hard, shoving all of himself safely into the room
away from the Dark Lord’s grasp.
In the outside world, Draco’s body faltered, one step hovering in the air.
The Dark Lord frowned.
“Go to him!”
But the blond was winning, and Draco slowly settled both feet on the ground. He
didn’t move.
The Dark Lord hissed with fury.
“Crucio!”
Draco fell to his knees, screaming and writhing on the ground as white-hot
knives pierced every inch of his skin. Inside his mind, Draco also felt the
spell invading him, and the image of his room began to blink out and falter as
he struggled to concentrate.
The curse was lifted. The pain went away, and Draco laid on his side. He looked
right into panicked green eyes. Draco tried to reach for the bond that
stretched between them, but he was too weak. Too tired.
“Walk to him.”
Draco couldn’t even try to struggle this time. His head hurt and his mind was
aching. His legs carried him over until he stood right in front of Harry. The
boy’s eyes met his, and Draco yearned with everything that he had that Harry
could make it out alive somehow. He tried to will it to be so, chanting the
words over and over in his head.
He has to stay alive. He has to stay alive.
The Dark Lord was pleased that the spell seemed to be working this time. He was
glad that the blond seemed more powerful than he’d imagined previously. It
worked perfectly into his plans.
“Kiss him.”
He was surprised, but Draco didn’t bother to fight against this order. Whatever
happened, he was glad for this last chance to touch Harry. His body bent itself
and his lips met the other boy’s. There was no pleasure in the kiss, because
the spell kept everything carefully blank for Draco.
But even looking at the other boy’s reaction told Draco that it was different
for Harry too. The green eyes were wide, fear and confusion dancing within its
depths.
“Kill him.”
Draco’s eyes widened, and his hand raised itself up without much hesitation.
No! NO!
Draco couldn’t fight it though. He was tired, he hadn’t eaten, he was weak from
nearly an entire month of torture. His earlier fight against Voldemort’s
Imperius had drained him considerably, and he had nothing left in his reserves
to struggle again.
“Kill him. With the Killing curse.”
Draco’s hand began to grow green as he began to cast wandlessly.
No no no no no no NO NO NO!
His heart pounded. He ached and his chest was moving hard with every breath.
Sweat beaded his forehead and his hand trembled madly as he fought against the
Dark Lord’s order.
“KILL HIM.”
His hand steadied and the green glow grew brighter.
NO! NO!
But Draco’s body wasn’t his anymore. He stood still with his glowing green hand
out, raised towards Harry’s chest. Panicked green met his grey, glassy eyes.
And he was too weak and helpless to fight anymore. He was panicking. Draco was
terrified at his loss of control, and he could nothing. Nothing. He was weak.
His training sessions with Harry had been useless. Draco was still as weak as
ever, and he could do nothing about it. He was losing.
He knew it.
And Draco knew exactly when his body finally gave up the struggle.
The thundering of his heart and his panic began to subside. A cold something
seeped into him. Everything felt calm and peaceful. He was swept away, and the
door to his room in his mind closed firmly behind him as the waves carried
Draco. He was floating, flying so high. He was away. He was safe. He just had
to listen.
“KILL HARRY POTTER.”
Draco didn’t blink. He didn’t hesitate this time. Because everything suddenly
made sense. He just had to give in and listen. The pain would go away.
His hand raised itself and all Draco saw was green. He opened his mouth….
And promptly closed it.
No.
He couldn’t.
He wouldn’t.
He refused.
He would not kill Harry!
Draco’s hand lowered itself with difficulty, but he was in control now and his
eyes strayed over to Voldemort’s. Triumphant.
Fuck you, he wished he could say.
And the Dark Lord glared menacingly at him, lips curling back to reveal vile
teeth as he let out a long hiss.
“Traitor,” the man hissed.
Then he stepped forward, raising his own wand towards the green-eyed boy.
“Avada Kedavra!”
The green glow hit the boy straight in the chest. Green eyes widened right
before the green radiance spread. Everywhere. Everything. The light encompassed
every single living thing.
And there was screaming. It was a heart wrenching, broken, loud, viscous cry
that echoed and bounced off the stone walls.
Draco was frozen, helpless to stare as the green eyes went lifeless. Hollow.
Empty.
And the screaming grew louder. The walls were thudding. The floor was shaking.
Dust fell from overhead.
He fell and fell and fell. Hard onto the cold, unforgiving ground.
And the Dark Lord was laughing madly. He was grinning and roaring with
delighted, dark laughter.
Draco couldn’t stand it. He wanted to kill. Kill. Kill Voldemort.
The screaming became more pronounced.
It altered into a viscous, snarling growl of a word. “Avada —!”
“Crucio!”
Draco’s screaming switched to a more piercing pitch. His body was wracked with
agony for several minutes as the Dark Lord punished his mind and body.
Within his mind where Draco had been safe, the room shuddered once, twice. The
memories of the room filled him, flashing before him and encompassing every
single cell of his body. It lasted only a couple of minutes, but it was so much
all at once. And it grew louder, and stronger, and fuller, until… until…
Draco felt something within his mind crack.
The Dark Lord eventually lifted both spells and he stood over Draco.
He hovered like a dark demon over his broken, motionless body.
“Dear Draco,” the dark voice hissed from above. “You’re weak. A coward.”
It took a moment for the words to register in the pain hazed mind of Draco’s.
When they did, Draco stared up blankly at the wizard.
“But it matters not.” Sharp teeth stretched into an evil smile. “Did you really
think Potter would die at your hands?”
Draco’s head was hard to control. It was like he had no power over his senses
any longer. But he managed to tilt his head a bit so that he could look at
Harry’s body.
But no, it was changing.
Harry’ hair suddenly morphed and shrank until it was less of a mop. His pale
skin grew a few shades darker and darker, until it was a black boy and brown
eyes that lay lifeless in that chair.
If Draco could’ve gasped, he would have. But he just stared. Blank. Empty.
The boy had been Blaise.
Blaise Zabini was dead. Not Harry.
Draco vaguely heard the dark laughter sound again before the Dark Lord left the
room, leaving the bodies of both boys inside.
Crumpled on his side, gray eyes never moved from those lifeless brown ones. Not
for hours.
And while he should have felt relief and happiness at Harry still being alive,
Draco lay there. Broken.
The Dark Lord had finally destroyed his will and everything that he contained.
He was just an empty shell now, his gray eyes a mere blank reflection of his
former self.
Draco Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy line, privileged prince of Slytherin, and
former lover of one Boy-Who-Lived was no longer.
He was just an empty, broken shell of a boy who had felt too much, seen too
much, lost so much, and just felt empty now.
Draco was gone.
He felt at peace.
===============================================================================
Early September
 
A month of ongoing torture later, Draco Malfoy was deemed ready.
The Dark Lord was pleased that his last method had worked so well on the boy.
Bellatrix and Rodolphus had been unsettled at the lack of reaction they’d
received in the last month when they took turns torturing the boy. Sometimes
the boy still screamed. But it was automatic, meaningless screams that sounded.
The boy’s soul seemed to have gone elsewhere some time ago.
Voldemort entered the room, his dark aura filling the small space of Draco
Malfoy’s cell. As he looked, the Dark Lord noticed the way the boy’s
bloodstains coated the floor and how the blond hair spilled across the stone.
The boy’s broken shell of a body lay motionless in the corner.
Physically, he was perfectly intact. No cuts or bruises, no broken bones. Other
than curse scars that slashed across the boy’s chest, Draco Malfoy’s body was
perfect and exactly what he needed.
“Pick him up,” he ordered Wormtail.
The measly man hurried to do his bidding, and he picked the Malfoy boy up and
slung him over his shoulder.
They left the room and walked into another open space where a single altar lay
in the middle.
Wormtail deposited the Malfoy boy’s body onto the empty slab.
The Dark Lord grinned. “Perfect.”
He looked around at his inner circle that surrounded the perimeter of the room.
He saw Severus standing nearby, his black eyes riveted on his former student.
Lucius Malfoy stood next to Severus, and was another empty shell of a Malfoy.
However Lucius was aged from Azkaban, and much more haggard. The Dark Lord
delighted in seeing the horror in Lucius’ eyes as he gazed upon his only son
and heir. Voldemort only wished the Malfoy set was complete with Narcissa
Malfoy, but her absence was well noted; another traitor in the midst of both
the Black and Malfoy families.
Voldemort glanced around, red eyes boring into his followers as they cowered at
his presence.
He stepped closer to the dais, and readied his wand. The Dark Lord motioned to
Wormtail.
“Begin the spell.”
===============================================================================
 
Draco was reading by the warm fire, indifferent to the room around him. It was
quiet. Bare, except for a bed and a few sofas. The small room was barely lit.
He heard a sound and Draco looked up.
There was a figure standing behind him, a strong back facing him. Black hair
filled the top of the figure’s head.
“Harry?” Draco heard his voice ask. He set the book to the side and stood up.
The figure didn’t turn.
“Harry?”
He reached for the figure.
But the man’s shoulders began to shake. The man began to laugh.
“No, actually,” a deep, charming voice sounded. “I go by another name.” The man
turned. Attractive features and dark brown eyes faced Draco. “My name is Tom
Riddle.”
The blond frowned.
Something was wrong.
He knew it, but the reason why escaped him.
“Who?”
The attractive figure smiled.
“It doesn’t matter. I’ll soon be someone else anyway.”
The blond was drawing a blank. He stared at the figure, trying to reach for
some emotion to feel towards the stranger.
But he couldn’t find it in himself to care. About anything. He felt nothing.
“You’re weak,” the man named Tom Riddle spoke.
Draco looked at him. He stayed quiet.
“You’re weak, but your body is somewhat healthy. Potions would have healed any
injuries you might have come upon before.”
The blond didn’t move.
“Would you mind terribly if I stayed here? This room is nice.”
Draco gave a small shrug. He didn’t care. He turned back to the book.
“Oh, what’s this?”
Slightly curious, Draco turned to see what Riddle was referring to.
He grew still.
Riddle was touching the link.
In Draco’s mind, the link was a glowing, white chain. It was the only source of
light that filled Draco’s room, and it stretched high across where the ceiling
was above him.
“What is this?” Riddle repeated, running his hand across the chain.
Draco shuddered. The whole room shuddered. Violently.
“Stop.”
Riddle glanced at him. He raised an eyebrow.
“Oh? So, you have a connection with someone else then. Who is it, I wonder.”
His entire hand wrapped around the chain this time, gripping it tightly. His
face concentrated as he studied the link.
“Stop it,” Draco said louder.
“Your bond with the other person is quite strong. Emotional, too. He’s quite
powerful.” Riddle tugged at the chain. He grinned at something. “Oh, I think he
felt that. He certainly doesn’t feel very happy about it.”
“Stop it, please.”
Riddle tugged harder. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”
Draco tried harder to feel angry, to get upset. But the emotion escaped him. He
lost the fight in him. Draco only knew that what Riddle was doing was wrong.
“Leave it alone.”
But Riddle’s charming smile slowly turned malevolent. He tugged harder, yanking
the chain so tight that Draco felt a vague, painful pierce in the center of his
chest. The palm of his hand began to tingle.
“No.”
But his voice was just a broken whisper. There was no strength in it at all.
Riddle laughed harshly, and he yanked harder. He yanked and pulled and tugged
and twisted the chain.
All the while, Draco stood there, watching. He wanted to move, wanted to say
more. But the words escaped him, and he didn’t know what he could’ve done
anyway.
He felt nothing. He could do nothing.
The burning in his chest grew and grew, with every violation that Riddle made
upon the chain. Riddle didn’t stop. He wrapped his hands around the link now,
bending and wringing it, folding it across itself as he attempted to break the
links, using his own magic against it, until finally —
POP.
Draco fell to his knees as his legs suddenly gave out. The light that had
illuminated the room earlier vanished into a million pieces, and only the
slight glow from the fire gave Draco the chance to see anything.
Oh no.
Something had happened.
Something terrible just happened.
He felt so lost.
So incomplete.
So empty.
Why did he feel so suddenly alone?
Draco didn’t know what had happened. But he was cold, so terribly cold. He
wrapped himself into a tight ball, unheedful of his world around him. His eyes
unseeing.
Tom Riddle looked over at him, seeing the empty shell of the boy that had once
been the proud heir of the Malfoy line.
Oh how the mighty have fallen, he chuckled to himself.
Riddle turned his back to the boy and to the darkening room that enveloped him.
He spread out his hands, and began to chant.
Slowly, bit by bit, Draco’s mind began to recede into itself as another more
powerful force filled his body.
The entity was strange and malicious. Draco’s magic tried to fight it for a
moment, but it was useless. His magic gave in, and the surge of dark power
enveloped him from the inside out.
Memories of Harry, of his parents, Hogwarts, Malfoy Manor, the wizarding world
— it all began to twinkle away until it was mere dust specks clouded around
Draco.
He huddled into a tight ball, his gray glassy eyes staring into a far-away
place.
He never noticed the figure named Tom Riddle making himself right at home
within his body.
===============================================================================
 
Outside in the physical world, the Dark Lord was immensely pleased.
Some time had passed, and the spell was working marvelously. The Death Eaters
looked on at the cloud of magic that had enveloped Draco Malfoy. Powerful magic
was at work here, and they all knew it.
Only two pairs of eyes looked on in horror as they witnessed the inevitable
outcome transpire. They couldn’t move forward or help in any way, however. They
had no choice but to watch helplessly.
When everything finally began to settle down, and the swirling cloud of ancient
magic had diminished from around the boy’s body, Voldemort stepped forward to
gaze upon his new creation. The only one of its kind.
While the Dark Lord did feel a bit brittle and vulnerable at the moment, he
waited. Nothing at first. Then, the strong chest began to rise steadily once
more.
There was a stir.
The boy took his first breath. His eyes opened. And they were red.
Lord Voldemort grinned.
“Welcome to the living, Mors.”
 
Chapter End Notes
     *I utilized the ancient Roman myth and literature use of Mors, who is
     essentially the personification of death.
     And it is finished! Hope you enjoy the next Part 2 of this series! I
     will be updating every week. : )
End Notes
     Thank you so much for reading! Comments and Kudos are always lovely!
     I'd REALLY love to hear more from you guys!
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
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