A/N: So I got bored and this was what happened. Yeah. Tell me what you think.
Disclaimer: I don't own.
Somewhere In The Middle
"Draco I don't understand you," Astoria murmured as they laid side-by-side on the dew-covered grass, watching as the first rays of sun burst up over the line of distant trees.
"What is there not to get?" He inquired softly. He spoke low so as not to disturb the tranquility that rested upon the land like the early-morning mist.
Astoria propped herself up on her elbow so she could look at her husband more clearly, her long auburn tresses swinging as she did so. "Well, you were a Death Eater. But the way you speak, it seems like you never really chose a side."
Draco closed his eyes briefly, letting out the air that he had been unconsciously holding. He had been anticipating this. It was natural that Astoria would want to know the details to what had happened to him during those dark times. After all, she had divulged into her past plenty of times. But how was he supposed to explain the fact that he had always considered himself an outsider, no matter what front he had put on?
"It's… a long story." He finally replied.
"I have time."
Draco squinted up at the cerulean sky as Astoria watched him expectantly. She deserved the truth. "Well, it all began the summer before my sixth year-"
"Why don't we discuss this over a cup of tea?" Astoria pulled Draco to his feet, her fervor barely contained. At last, she would get to hear the mysterious part of Draco that he had always refused to talk about.
Draco sank wearily into a chair as Astoria bustled about in the kitchen. He reflected idly on the reason Astoria cherished watching the sun rise. "When I see it come up, every day in the same place, never changing, it makes me feel sane again. It reminds me some things stay unaffected, even when the wizarding world was at war and my life was chaos." She had told him, the passion of her words flickering in her deep grey eyes. And over the years, she had become exactly that for Draco; his own dear sun.
"Here we go," Astoria announced, setting two steaming mugs down on the mahogany tabletop. She took a seat across from Draco and he began.
"Okay, so like I said, it all began in the summer before my sixth year. That was when I was branded with the Dark Mark. And along with it, Voldemort bestowed me with the responsibility of killing Dumbledore." Astoria tried vainly to hide her shock. Kill Dumbledore? But Snape had been the one who had ended the revered man's life, not her husband!
Draco scowled as a flood of his most abhorred memories rushed back to him. "At first I wore that bloody Mark like a badge of honor. I was the youngest Death Eater, and it was I the Dark Lord trusted enough to end his biggest rival's life." His scowl morphed into a cold sarcastic sneer. Astoria had never seen Draco like this before, so filled with self-rage.
"But as I tried to kill Dumbledore and everything kept going wrong, I started to get scared. If I failed, then Voldemort would kill me." Draco purposely skimmed over the details of his botched attempts. He took a sip of tea before continuing.
"And he wouldn't stop with my death. Voldemort would probably decide it would be prudent to just do away with the rest of my family." Astoria lifted a hand from off her lap and laid it gently on top of Draco's. She felt the sudden want to be able to rid him of his suffering.
"I spent half the year trying to fix a vanishing cabinet, so that a few of my fellow Death Eaters could enter the castle undetected. And finally the night came I had to do it. This time, it would have to come from my own hand."
Draco's heart beat double-time, as if trying to make up for the few the man in front of him had left. Never before had he doubted himself, his whole mind-set more then he did as he stood with his wand trained unsteadily at Dumbledore's chest. He felt a surge of compunction, for he knew he was soon to further disgrace his family. When Snape swept up behind him, he gratefully stumbled back. After a year of incensed refusals for his help, Draco felt a bit staggered to suddenly feel so thankful for Snape's intervention. A blast of green light. And then Dumbledore was dead.
Astoria watched as her husband's eyes glazed, focusing on a time and place far from their kitchen. When he finally collected himself enough to keep going, he said no more on that night. She didn't mind though. She wasn't so sure she wanted the details.
"After that, I stayed holed up in my parent's manor. Voldemort was using it as headquarters-" He continued on, describing the emerging feelings of restlessness that he tried ineffectually to stifle as time passed. Astoria listened with rapt attention all the while.
Draco glanced out the window to see the sun had climbed its' way up the sky. Had he really been talking that long? He hurriedly narrated the Final Battle, swirling the cold dregs that remained of his tea around in the mug.
"So. There you have it." He concluded, praying Astoria wouldn't hate him now she knew how pathetic his past was.
They both pushed away from the table at the same time, the scraping of the chairs against the floor the only noise. Draco mutely walked to the window and fixed his gaze on a rosebush outside, too anxious to look at Astoria.
Without a word, she stepped over to his side and slowly pulled up the sleeve on his left arm. A deep gnarled scar marred the surface of his once smooth skin. The vestiges of his past. She held back the grimace that threatened to appear on her face, and let go delicately as he yanked the sleeve back down.
"So let me get this straight," She whispered up to him, "You weren't truly a Death Eater. But you weren't on Harry Potter's side either. I guess that leaves you… Somewhere in the middle." His rigid stance melted away and he turned to look down at her.
"Yeah. Yeah, I suppose I was in the middle." He replied, as relief resounded from every inch of his body.
"You don't have to be alone in the middle you know. Because if you're in the middle, then I am too." And looking into her steely eyes, Draco knew she meant every word.