Disclaimer: as much as i would like to be the highly exulted one, J.K.Rowling, may she live forever, i'm not. these characters belong to her, and not to me, i'm just borrowing them fo a little while. but i'll make sure they get home safely. honest.
OK, if you've been following this story from the begining, i'm sorry, but you need to go back and read chapter 2 again. i just got my laptop back, and the original version that i wrote for that chapter was a lot better, so i switched them, but if you haven't read the previous chapter, then things late ron in the story won't make a lot of sense. so please read that before this. thanks.
Deciding what to do was remarkably easy. He had never expected that it would be. He thought that should he ever decide to reveal his feelings; it would take hours of agonised decision-making.
But all it had taken was the sight of messy black hair, the absence of emerald eyes, and the accidental brush of skin against skin. That was all it had taken to break his resolve, to change his decision never to allow Potter to know about how he felt.
For one thing, he did not think he could bear the grin that would spread over the Weasels face when he realised that he had something like this over his most hated enemy. He could not bear the horror and realisation he would see in Grangers face, and the inevitable hardening of her features, the decision to keep Draco as far away from Potter as possible. But most of all he would not be able to bear the pity in Harry's eyes. Pity, not horror, or glee, but pity, because that was the kind of person who Harry was.
Damn. He had called Potter Harry again. He would have to curb that if he was to carry his plan through. Despite his decision to seduce Potter, he had no intention of revealing his actual feelings to him. He was in love, not completely stupid.
But there was his problem. It had been easy to decide to seduce Harry - Potter, he had simply known that he could not bear being apart from him any longer. But seducing him was another matter. Despite the many rumours flying around Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy was still a virgin.
He had created many of the rumours himself. It was the only way he could think of to hide from his father. While homosexuality was accepted in the within the wizarding world, he was the only Heir to the Malfoy bloodline. Draco shuddered to think of what would happen if his father found out he had no intention of marrying a witch.
It might actually have worse consequences than his decision not to become a Death Eater. Draco had not informed his father of this decision yet, but he was certainly not looking forward to the conversation. He had been nervous about the decision for a long time, but he had never considered defying his father - until that dream.
He had been running, running through the mist. He had been searching desperately for something, something he could not find. He opened his mouth to call for it - and then stopped when he realised he did not know its name. And then something called his own name through the mist.
"Draco." Draco, not Malfoy. No one but his father called him Draco. And this was not his Father.
"Draco." the voice came again. And this time Draco knew who it was, knew who had called his name, knew that he had found what he was looking for.
"Harry," he called back, the name so dear to him, so loved. "Harry."
And through the mist a figure appeared. Draco ran forward, and he was in his beloveds arms. Desperately he pressed kisses all over the face in front on him. Finally he captured his lips, and it had felt so tender, so wonderful, that tears streamed down his face.
"Harry" he whispered again.
"Shh." Harry said. "Listen, Draco, there's not much time."
"Time? Time for what?" Draco had answered, bewildered.
"I'm sorry Draco, but I have to ask you do this. You have to make the choice."
"Choice?" Draco repeated stupidly.
The scene around them twisted and changed, and they were on a battle field. All around figures in black robes shot bolts of light at each other. Had any Muggles been present, they might have laughed at the pretty light show they created, but their laughter would soon have been frozen in the mouth when the saw the deadly effect of the spells.
Brilliant green was the predominant colour; wizards lay on the ground in piles, no sign of a wound but dead all the same, all with the same look of frozen shock on their faces. Still more lay on the ground, blood weeping sluggishly from their wounds. They would die soon, their cries pulled away from the macabre music of the battlefield, and their last moment would be full of agony.
He looked down at himself, and he too was wearing a black robe. In his hand was a wand. Harry stood in front of him. He was wearing a robe but he had no wand. Slowly, Harry reached up, and undid the buttons of his robe, leaving his chest bare. You have to choose he said again but he didn't speak the words aloud. They echoed through Draco's head.
Hesitantly, without really being aware of what he was doing Draco raised the wand and pointed it at Harry's bare chest. And the Harry flickered. He was still himself, but in him, Draco could see Granger superimposed upon his face. Then the Weasel. Then the other Weasley's, one following the other, even the little spitfire, the one who'd loved Harry the way he did now. To think that he would have anything in common with a Weasley, other than contempt.
And dozens of likenesses flickered over Harry's form, so fast Draco could barely follow it. Faces he knew well, faces he barely remembered, and people he'd never met, but had seen a photo of. And there was only one thing they had in common. None of them would ever consider joining Voldemort.
And then, in the blink of an eye the flickering stopped and it was just Harry again. But when he spoke, it was with a thousand voices. "You have to choose." and then Draco heard his own voice say "Avada Kedavra." and although he had not meant to say it, his voice was firm, and as cold as ice. And a jet of light, as green as Harry's eyes shot out, and caught him in the chest. And down Harry fell, down so slowly Draco wondered if he would ever truly touch the ground. And when he spoke one last time he spoke in his own beloved voice, "you have to choose."
Draco had woken up, sweating and pale. He had promptly staggered to the bathroom and thrown up. He had decided then that he could not be a Death Eater. He had never wanted to be a slave to Voldemort, and he knew now that he couldn't kill. He had already known that if he ever faced Harry, he would not be able to do what he was supposed to.
But now he felt that it would be all very well to say that should he see Harry, he would not kill him but in his heart he knew that every death, every crime or act of torture he committed on a person merely because of their blood would help to kill Harry as surely as if he stood in front of him and said the Killing Curse as he had in his dream.
For him he would do the unthinkable. He would do what few others than he himself had done. He would defy my father, and the Dark Lord.
He only hoped that he wouldn't survive. He didn't have the strength to survive anymore.
Not without him.
But right now, he had far more serious problems on his mind. Like how to seduce Harry. Obviously asking for help from anyone in Slytherins was out of the question. In fact, he could think of only one person he could ask. Now he just had to swallow enough pride to do it.
"Thomas!" it was the end of Potions. Draco had been struggling with his decision all week and he had finally decided to ask for help. He had been watching Harry for weeks and he knew that there was no way that he would get close enough to Harry to do what he wanted on his own. So he had swallowed his pride, and approached Thomas at the end of class.
Thomas was looking warily at him, surprised at being called to by any of the Slytherins. Finnegan was glaring at Draco menacingly, obviously expecting a patented Malfoy remark on Thomas's muggle heritage. But none was forth coming. "Don't get your panties in a twist, Finnegan." Draco smirked. "I just want to talk to Thomas here. Alone," he added pointedly when Finnegan failed to move.
The boy looked as though he'd far rather tear Draco limb from limb than allow him to talk to Thomas, but when Thomas assured him that everything was alright he left, glancing back over his shoulder several times.
"Alright Malfoy. What do you want now," Thomas asked.
"I simply felt that the time was right for you to repay that little favour you owe me," Draco sneered, every inch the pure blood wizard. Thomas was not impressed.
"Well, what is it? What do you want?" he asked, clearly exasperated. This was it. Draco drew a deep breath. The time had come for him to sacrifice his pride forever. But it would be worth it, he decided, when he held Harry in his arms. He opened his mouth, and spoke quickly, desperate to get the awkward conversation over with.
"Indutelpmesdcepttr."
Thomas blinked.
"What?"
Perhaps a little too fast. He took another deep breath and tried again.
"I need you to help me seduce Potter." Thomas merely gawped.
"Come again?" This was going to be harder than he had thought.
"I said, I need you to help me seduce Potter." if he had to say it again, he thought he might just shrivel up and die, rather than face the embarrassment of a Malfoy asking for help.
"Oh" Thomas blinked again. With his mouth still hanging open, he greatly resembled a codfish. "That's what I thought you said." and then suddenly he broke out into huge peals of laughter.
Draco stared at him, bewildered. He had no idea what to do. In the end he settled a expression of contempt upon his face to hide his confusion, and waited for Thomas to stop laughing. By the time he was done, he had tears streaming down his face.
"Just what," Draco asked icily, "do you find so amusing about my request?" still gasping, Thomas managed to wheeze out,
"You! You, Draco Malfoy, The Slytherin Prince, Heir to the Malfoy's, resident Don Juan asking me for help to seduce Potter! You are asking me, a Mudblood for help to seduce him. Gryffindors Golden Boy, poster child for all that's good and pure. I mean come on! Have you ever heard anything more ridiculously clichéd."
Draco continued to stare at the boy before him in amazement. he didn't anyone had ever laughed at him before in his life - well except for the bouncing ferret incident, but still... But then, in spite of himself, Draco felt the corners of his mouth twitch. This was accompanied by a strange urge to laugh. Swiftly pushing the urge away, he smoothed down the corners of his mouth with his hand.
"That is exactly what I'm asking you Thomas, and remember, you owe me. So start thinking." Even to Draco's ears, the words sounded weak. Thomas went into another bout of laughter, but when he straightened up again, his eyes were hard.
"Nothing doing Malfoy."
"What!" after having plucked up the courage to ask for help, Draco had never expected Thomas not to help him.
"I'm not going to help you Malfoy. I may owe you, but Harry's not my friend. I'm not going to help you get him in a position where you can hurt him. I know you're reputation Malfoy. If Harry starts something, it will be for good. You won't do that for him. You may want him but you don't love him, and that's what Harry deserves, what Harry needs." Thomas walked away down the corridor.
"But I do." The words tore desperately from his lips. He clapped a hand over his mouth, horrified. He hadn't meant to say that. He just hadn't been able to let his only chance at having Harry, even for a little while, simply slip away.
"What?"
"I do," Draco said quietly. He had resigned himself to this now, to the pity, or horror or mockery that would follow. "I do love him. I didn't - I didn't want anyone to know, you're the only one that does, but I need him Thomas. I know that he can never l-love someone like me, but I thought, I thought that maybe I could have just a little piece of him, something to remember him by."
Dean stared at Malfoy. He had never seen him look so - so - vulnerable. It didn't seem possible that this was the same boy who had tormented him for years. Dean's heart softened slightly.
"You could still hurt him," Dean accused. "You support You-Know-Who. Just by being with him you would be a danger to him."
"I don't support him. No one else knows, but I won't be going home again. I'm staying here for Christmas and Easter - my fathers decision not mine. But I'm glad. I don't want to go back to that house ever again. I haven't spoken to Dumbledore yet, but I will. I won't join the Death Eaters. I love him far too much to even think about killing him." Dean continued to stare.
"I've always known," Dean said quietly, "that you liked him. I never said anything, you did save me, I figured I owed you that much. And the thing is, I know that he likes you too." Draco's head shot up at this, his eyes questioning, but Dean continued talking.
"But I never said anything to either of you, because I just can't trust you with him. Whether you join them or not, your father has. It's just too easy for him to get to him through you."
"You think I don't know that? You think I don't know the danger I could put him in? That's why I can't tell him how I really feel. This won't be a long term relationship. He'll have some fun and I'll get what I need."
Dean opened his mouth to meet but Draco forestalled him. "I know that sounds selfish, but try and look at this from my point of view. I love him, I need him, and I can't spend the rest of the year just knowing that he's going to leave. He can't love someone like me, I know that. This way we both get what we need, I get him, and he gets chance to - to relax, to let loose for once. And I'll be the only hurting at the end."
"You won't." Dean spoke quietly. "He may not love you, but if you walk away you'll hurt him badly." Draco laughed mirthlessly.
"Oh, I won't be the one to walk away. He will."
"Promise me you won't hurt him." Draco's silver eyes stared into the earnest brown ones before him.
"I promise." Dean smiled.
"Alright. I'll help you.
