This was written for two different competitions. oneofthosepeopleonthestreet's What If? challenge and Laux14's Greek Mythology challenge. The prompts I'm using are 'true love's kiss', 'wine', 'center place', and 'Time Turner'.

I don't own Harry Potter.

Thanks!

-Kit Kat

"No."

I was genuinely sure no one had ever said no to the Dark Lord before. But he'd done it. He done it for me, and now neither of us were going to make it out.

Draco had refused to kill Albus Dumbledore.

He refused to take the punishment set for him for his father's failures. Draco had to say that fateful word to the Dark Lord just because Lucius couldn't retrieve a prophecy. Well, he didn't have to, I suppose, but he did.

"Don't you understand, Astoria?" he'd told me, "I have to kill him, or he's going to kill me. He'll kill me, and if he ever finds out about us, if he ever finds out about you…he'll kill you, too."

I couldn't bear it. I didn't want the person I'd fallen so hard for to become a murderer.

"Please," I'd begged him, "If you do, you'll be half the man I thought you were. I can't love someone with such a heart of stone."

And so he'd told him no. He did it all for me.

Now he's going to pay. The Dark Lord is going to kill him. He's going to because of me.

The Dark Lord, who had implanted an idea in people's mind like a sickness worse than the plague. The idea that purebloods could reign and crush everyone else beneath them. That Muggle's were nothing. The idea that turned my Draco into a monster.

"Are you afraid Draco?" Voldemort had seethed, "Will you not follow the orders of your master?" But he hadn't, and that's what nearly got him killed. But the Dark Lord had another punishment in mind.

******oOo******

I remember sitting on the couch at my house. My parents and sister were already in. I couldn't force myself to fall asleep. I just watched the slowly diminishing flames in the brick fireplace and listen to Celestina Warbeck sing awfully out of the old radio. Music normally calmed me. Now all it reminded me of was him. The wind shrieked outdoors. It wasn't the wind that was scaring me, though. It was what I had done. Draco had refused the Dark Lord on my behalf. I hadn't heard from him in months. Ever since the Ministry had fallen chaos had reigned. Nothing seemed safe anymore. I know I couldn't blame myself for the war, but I could blame myself for Draco, who was probably dead. I heard a snap outside. Then another, and another. I jumped off the couch and pulled my wand from my pocket. I heard the shatter of glass behind me. I turned around to the now broken window behind me. Black smoke seemed to pour through the windowsill. Dark figures in hoods formed from the darkness,

"Stupefy."

It was the last word I heard before the world seemed to slip away.

My eyelids felt like they had weights attached to them. I wanted to open them, but it seemed impossible. I just sat there and listened. I was propped up against what I was pretty sure was a chair on a hard, tile floor. My arms were tied behind my back. I could hear voices. Even though my eyes weren't open I could tell it was dark. I didn't…couldn't…open them. That is, until I heard his voice.

It was Draco's voice. Cracked, fearful. Against their will, my eyes opened to a fearful scene. I was in Malfoy Manor. I'd never been there before, but I knew it was. A crystal chandelier hung high above me. Figures in dark cloaks swarmed about the room, muttering. My vision was a bit muddled. I tried to open my mouth to speak, but it was dry, and what I actually produced was a croaking sound even a frog would be ashamed of.

"Ahh," said a voice. It was high and cruel, and slightly amused, "she's awake."

I could see things clearly now. I caught a glimpse of Draco standing by a dark wooden table. His face was as pale as ever. It was obviously afraid, and his startling grey eyes were looking right at me. The same voice started speaking again. I could see where it was coming from, but I knew the speaker (definitely male) was behind me.

"I do say, Draco, you've made your bed. I suppose you've got to lay in it now. You wouldn't kill Dumbledore? That's fine. But you don't get off that easy, Draco. I'm afraid you've got another job to do. Kill her."

I must admit, I had a brief moment of idiocy. Wait…he's got to kill who, now? crossed my mind before I realized it was me.

"No," I heard him say, trying to be brave, a trait not commonly associated with Malfoys," I can't…I won't…I shouldn't…how? How did you know about us? Why? Why would you…"

"Draco, Draco, I thought I told you. I know everything. What made you think you could hide anything from me? I will always find the truth. And don't think you can defy me. I'll just kill you both, if that's the case."

"Kill me then!" Draco shouted, "kill me and let her go."

"Draco…it doesn't work that way."

I didn't get to witness anything else, because it was then I decided to slip back into unconsciousness.

I woke up on the couch at my house. The sun was just rising and the birds were singing. I could hear Daph' rummaging around in the bathroom. The window was fixed and the fire looked as if it had just burned out. My wrist bore no marks from any ropes. It was like nothing had even happened. The whole thing seemed like a dream, far away. For awhile I thought maybe that's what it had been. I felt groggy, like someone had very poorly attempted a memory charm. I recognized the tingling sensation of recently mended wounds on my wrists, and the wasn't the only thing that made be believe it wasn't just some crazy late-night dream. Because I'd heard his voice. No matter how many times I'd dreamt of Draco before, he'd never spoke.

The school year started. Most of the Slytherins were overjoyed to have Snape as the new headmaster. I really didn't care. I often caught glimpses of Draco. He would avoid me at all costs, it seemed. It would've worn off by now…the love potion.

****oOo****

I've never regretted something so much. I think if I'd known the things he'd say, the things he'd do, under the effects I would've never done it. Maybe it was because of the way everything he said sounded like poetry. Maybe because of the way the sunlight shone off his white-blonde hair. Maybe because I spent almost every moment dreaming about true love's kiss until I had tricked myself into thinking he was perfect. Maybe because I knew he'd never pay any attention to half-blood like me if I hadn't. I remember the day I did it like it only happened this week.

Slughorn's office was beautifully decorated. I couldn't pretend I wasn't surprised I was invited to attend the Christmas party. I wanted to slap Filch when he drug Draco in by the back of his shirt. Was I obsessed? No…

"Draco?" I'd asked tentatively once Slughorn had declared all forgiven, "Are you okay?"

"What do you think?" he snapped, adjusting his tie.

"Here," I offered, holding out a glass of blood-red wine. He took it.

"To Slytherin," I said cheerfully as I could muster, raising my own glass.

"To Slytherin," he muttered. Quickly gulping down the glass, he also swallowed the potion.

It was quality grade-A Weasley Wizard Wheezes love potion; he drank every last drop and never knew it.

I've often wondered since then, if I had a Time-Turner, would I go back and change that moment? I'm pretty sure Time-Turners don't work like that, though. My father always told me we have to live with the choices we make. I guess I'll have to, too, but it will take time to heal.

Then something strange happened. Draco started speaking to me again, in letters. Long letters that were always signed 'anonymous'. He must have been under the impression any memory of mine of him had been erased, that all his words of regret and secret love were completely faceless. He still cared, even without the potion. Of course, he wasn't as near passionate for crazy. He wasn't brave or selfless like he had been under the effects of the potion. In fact, he was as selfish as always, rude, and cold. But he still cared, and to me that's all that mattered. He must've broke some sort of deal with the Dark Lord. I still have all those letters, but he doesn't know it.

I remember standing on the nearly demolished stone steps of Hogwarts after the battle.

"Harry Potter is dead," the Dark Lord sneered, "join me and you will not die. Join me and you will be rewarded."

Draco was standing about five steps above me. He stared straight foreword. There was blood and dirt on his face.

"Draco," he mother hissed. Lucius looked at Draco pleadingly, but silently. I had never seen anyone so torn. Draco took a step foreword, then another. He kept walking down, every eye on him, until he was on the same level I was. He looked at me, almost like asking my permission. Is this really the man I loved? I wondered The man I would've given the world for a year ago? Do I even love him anymore? I wasn't sure what the answer to the last question was, so I just look down at the crumbling stone steps in defeat. I didn't care.

I heard gasps on both sides of the battlefield. I looked up. Slowly, Draco was shaking his head at his parents. He walked over on the narrow step and stood by me. I had been through a lot that day, but for the first time since the sunrise, I cried.

****oOo****

Right now I'm standing on Platform 9 3/4. My exited son looks up at my with his grey eyes, the spitting image of his father. He sits center place in the middle of my life. I couldn't imagine living without him. Draco smiles at us and puts his arm around my shoulder. He affectionately pats his son on the head and smiles over at Harry Potter and his kids.

Often I think about what would've happened if I hadn't given him that love potion. He loves me now without, I know, but still? Would anything be any different? I wonder.