Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.
Written for Hogwarts Assignment 11 - Notable Witches and Wizards Task 8 - Write about unrequited love.
Word Count - 2143
Beta'd By The Lovely Sam and thanks to Liza for the help.
If He Asked (I'd Be His)
Draco didn't quite know what to say, so he covered it up with a sneer and a barb and he walked away because he was hurt. Why would Potter just dismiss him out of hand, especially on the word of a Weasley?
His father had told him all about the redheaded losers of the wizarding world. How could Potter possibly prefer Weasley's company to Draco's?
He didn't understand, but the embarrassment and hurt were turning into anger and he'd make Potter pay for making him feel this way.
...
He watched with a feeling of disbelief as the green and silver decorations in the hall turned the gaudy red and gold of the Gryffindors. He'd been so proud for Slytherin to come first in the house cup, and yet…
Bloody Potter.
Looking over to the other side of the hall, he saw Potter sitting with Weasley and Granger, a wide smile on his face as the people around them congratulated Longbottom for his ten points.
The rumours over Potter's stay in the hospital wing had been rampant around the castle, of course, but Draco had a feeling that none of them were anything close to the truth.
Staring at the smile on Potter's face, Draco felt a little warmth in his chest. Brushing the thoughts away, he turned his attention to his food, the excitement and happiness of the night draining away.
When he went to bed that night, the only think he could think about was the smile on Potter's face.
...
The word slipped from his lips almost without his permission. He knew it would cause a reaction, and he just wanted to hurt Granger, because how dare she be so close to Potter when Potter wouldn't even give him the day.
Draco tried to tell himself that Potter wasn't worth it; that if he preferred the company of Mudbloods and Bloodtraiters, he wasn't worth Draco's time, but…
He wanted his attention. And if this was the only way to get it… well. He didn't care about Granger's feelings in the slightest.
…
Draco smoothed his robes, pride welling up inside him even though they hadn't even mounted their brooms yet.
"As much as I hate to admit it, Wood's put together a solid team. Bring your A-Game, because they sure will."
Taking a deep breath, Draco stood with the rest of the team. Nerves and excitement battled within him, but he was ready for this.
…
He should have been more angry that Potter beat him.
...
He was a bloody idiot.
Why couldn't he keep his mouth shut? Something about Potter just made him want to get a reaction, any reaction.
"You'll be next, Mudbloods."
He'd said that once, had elicited a response already. Last time he could call it a victory, this time it was just stupidity.
Either Potter would suspect him of being Slytherin's heir (not that Draco would be insulted by that), or he'd hate Draco just that little bit more for using slurs.
Shaking his head at himself, Draco climbed into bed, not looking forward to the meeting he had with Snape the next day. Everyone knew his Head of House hated that word, and Draco was surely in for a gross punishment.
He ignored the part of his mind that told him he deserved it.
...
Draco watched warily from across the hall as Potter set himself and his friends up with sleeping bags. To know that Sirius Black had gotten so close to him had left Draco with an edge of fear that he couldn't shake.
If Black got Potter…
He knew he shouldn't care but…
The purple sleeping bag was uncomfortable and Draco shifted against the hard floor. He knew that even had he been in his comfortable bed, he'd have had trouble sleeping that night. Turning his head, he glanced once more at Potter.
It was comforting to see him in his own sleeping bag, just across the hall.
Draco didn't want to examine why that was comforting.
...
He couldn't believe Weasley. Anyone that thought Potter had put his own name in the Goblet of fire was suffering from a case of idiocy that Draco had never known before.
One look at Potter's face had told Draco that he hadn't done it, and he didn't spend nearly as much time with Potter as the Gryffindors did.
Watching Potter walk up the middle aisle had made Draco uncomfortable. It looked as though Potter was walking to his death.
And if Draco's father was right about the first task…
Draco wouldn't be surprised if he was.
...
Potter looked gorgeous.
Draco couldn't deny it. Watching the other boy fumble his way through the opening dance, Draco wanted to laugh at him but found he couldn't.
He wanted to tease the boy for his poor dancing, but knew that if he had the chance, he'd be in Potter's arms in a second, showing the boy just how it was done.
Draco couldn't help but picture them together, the contrasts between their skin colours and hair colours, the way he could teach Potter to move smoothly across the floor.
"You're such a dreamer, Draco. I hope you're thinking about me," Pansy murmured, interrupting his thoughts.
Draco glanced at her. She was eyeing him in what he supposed was a seductive way.
It made him want to run in the other direction as fast as his legs could carry him. Instead, he smiled charmingly and replied, "Of course, Dear."
...
Potter was a state. Draco half listened to the Headmaster's speech, but his attention was more firmly focused on Potter. His face was drawn and pinched, his eyes darker than usual with a pain Draco had never seen there before.
Draco believed the Dark Lord was back. He hadn't spoken to his Father yet, but he was sure it would be one of the main topics of discussion at the Manor over the summer.
He was scared.
He could admit that, if only in his own mind.
For himself. And for Potter.
...
He knew he was playing with fire. He knew he was and he kept doing it anyway, because his barbs were getting a rise out of Potter when little else seemed to be.
Draco knew that Diggory's death must still be affecting Potter, and he knew, he knew, he probably wasn't helping by referencing the Prophet, but when Draco goaded there was a life in Potter's eyes that wasn't there the rest of the time.
Potter already hated him… but he needed Potter to fight.
For himself if nothing else.
...
His Father was in jail, and Draco was terrified.
Not so much because his Father was in jail, but the ramifications of the Dark Lord's anger. Draco knew that he would be expected to take the mark at some point, but with his Father's failure, he wondered what that would mean for him.
And what it would mean for his mother.
Draco wanted to blame Potter. In fact publically he had.
He didn't though. He blamed his Father for being too weak to do his job to protect his family.
...
The mark was bold. It was black and it was ugly and it was a stain on his once perfect skin. Draco couldn't stand to look at it, and yet, he couldn't look away from it.
It was proof to him of his Father's failure. Proof that his mother couldn't fix everything.
Proof that Potter would always hate him.
It was proof of all the things that Draco didn't want, and proof that he was about to become something he'd never thought himself capable.
The Dark Mark was the mark of a murderer, and Draco had a choice.
Become a murderer, or have the deaths of his parents laid at his feet.
Either way, there would be blood on his hands.
…
If Draco had to die at anyone's hand, he was glad it was Potter. Blood seeped from his chest, creating a morbid red sash across his skin. Falling to the floor, he could see the panic in Potter's eyes and he wanted to tell him to relax.
It was a freeing feeling.
His mind was clouding and yet surprisingly clear, as though it had been emptied of all but the moment he was in.
He saw Severus run into the bathroom, heard him murmuring spells to try and fix him, but Draco didn't really want to be fixed.
Later, he looked in the mirror at the mark's Potter had left on his chest. He would wear these scars with more pride than the tattoo on his arm.
...
Draco ran and he ran and he ran. Severus was at his heels, with Potter shouting and cursing behind them.
"Draco, go!"
Draco didn't need telling twice. He apparated to Severus' home and was still leaning against the wall panting when Severus appeared a few minutes later.
"You didn't… Is Potter alive?" he gasped out, clutching his side.
Severus rolled his eyes. "Of course he is. The Dark Lord wants his life for himself. I am not stupid."
"Severus… I…"
The older man shook his head. "You will be punished, but you will live. As should your parents."
"I just-"
"I understand, Draco. Clean yourself up, we're expected. And here."
Draco held his hand out to accept a vial. He raised his eyebrow at Severus.
"Dreamless sleep for after. I have a feeling you'll need it tonight."
...
Hogwarts was different. Draco could make a long list of things that made it different but only one thing really stood out to him.
Potter wasn't there.
Draco didn't like the change.
...
He screamed, the pain from Bellatrix's cruciatus second only to the Dark Lord's. She was angry, raging even.
"Why didn't you confirm it was him, Draco?" his Father had asked.
His mother had looked at him with understanding.
Bellatrix had gone crazy.
When she finally let up, he lay on the floor, his hands clutching at his chest, his body twitching and shaking.
It was worth it, he told himself. Worth it, if Potter can end this madness.
...
The flames were hot, and this was not the way Draco wanted to go out. Except… except Potter was coming back.
Potter gripped his arm, swinging him onto the broom, and they were in a race for the exit, the fire chasing them closely.
When they were out, when the air was clear, and Draco could only cough against the smoke he'd inhaled, he couldn't help but stare at Potter.
After everything that had happened, Potter had saved his life.
...
It was over.
Draco couldn't believe it. He sat at the Slytherin table between his parents, knowing that they were all about to be ousted but not caring one jot because it was over.
No matter what happened next, he'd never again have to fear his parents deaths because he refused to do something. Or because he failed.
He wouldn't have to bow and scrape to a monster.
Whatever happened next… it couldn't be worse that what there was before.
...
"Draco made some bad choices, but a lot of what he was involved in, he didn't really have a choice. He was a child - we all were - and he was forced into taking the mark and doing some really bad things because if he didn't do them, his parent's lives were forfeit.
"I'm not saying don't punish him. I'm saying don't send him to Azkaban when he was only doing the same thing that any child would do under the circumstances he was in."
Draco could only stare as Potter gave an impassioned speech to the Wizengamot. A speech on Draco's behalf.
When the verdict came back not guilty, Draco sagged in his chair. He felt high with relief. They were letting him go.
...
Draco stood with his Mum to the side of the hallway outside the courtroom.
"I've seen the way you look at him, Draco."
"If he asked, I'd be his," Draco whispered. "But he'll never ask."
"You could write him a letter? Perhaps put your feelings in words?"
"You want me to write love notes to Harry Potter?"
His Mum cracked a smile, and asked, "Is there nothing -"
Potter came into view and his Mum stopped talking. Draco saw her mask slide into place from the corner of his eye as Potter approached him.
Oddly, Potter looked first at his Mum. "We're even now, yes?"
His Mum nodded once. "We are. I thank you, Mr Potter."
Potter nodded and looked at Draco.
"Thank you," Draco murmured.
Potter just looked at him.
Draco stared into green eyes for seven seconds (the longest they'd even maintained eye contact) before Harry nodded his head. "Look after yourself, Draco."
And Draco watched him walk away.
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