A/N: I'm so sorry for being slow in updating this fic! Real life has been an absolute mess and it's hard to find enough time and motivation to write more than a handful of words at a time.

That said, I'm really excited about chapter 11! It'll be a little longer than usual, partially to make up for how slow I am and partially because that's just how the chapter is shaping up. I hope you'll stick around to read it!

Chapter 10

Harry stares at Draco with unconcealed disgust. "I can't stand you," he spits out. "How could I ever love something as filthy as you? You revolt me." That final sentence rings in Draco's ears, refusing to be silenced. He claps his hands over his ears to block out the noise, a flash of red streaking through his periphery as he does so.

Trembling, Draco brings his hands to eye level. In the brief moment after he has uncovered his ears, he dimly registers that Harry's final vicious words have stopped echoing around him. Then he stops caring, because there is blood dripping in a steady stream from his hands, as fresh as though he had just liberated it from a living person.

Draco screams. The blood won't stop dripping, won't stop staining his clothes, he's standing in a pool of it now and it still won't stop flowing -

Draco jolted awake, heart racing and sweat soaking through his clothes. He threw the covers off his body and rolled onto his side, outstretched hands groping blindly for the lamp. He finally managed to turn it on, and he examined his hands in the resulting light, fully expecting them to be soaked in the blood of innocents.

It was a welcome surprise to find them clean, if a little clammy. Draco heaved a sigh of relief. He collapsed back into bed without bothering to turn off the light. A quick glance at the clock resting next to the lamp told him it was just past 5:00 in the morning - too late to try to fall back asleep. Draco rubbed his eyes instead of dragging himself out of bed, trying to prolong the inevitable.

His hands stopped their movements a second later when Draco suddenly remembered that it was already Christmas Day and he hadn't managed to buy Harry a present. He briefly contemplated the merits of staying in bed all day and ignoring reality in the hope that it would cease to exist, but the fragments of the previous night's nightmare that still danced behind his eyelids spurred him into action.

Draco felt like he was in hell for the rest of the day. Every sudden or loud noise sent a jolt of paranoia through his body. He had to force himself not to check over his shoulder every time he saw a shadow in his periphery. He took to avoiding his own reflection, knowing he would only find bloodshot eyes and gaunt skin staring back at him if he cared to look. He turned the television on briefly, hoping the Christmas spirit would take his mind off his worries, but he turned it off just moments later when the bright cheeriness and blinding optimism was too jarring for the unease that still lingered in his mind. Somewhere in between, he managed to send Harry a text saying "Happy Christmas!", the cheery words at complete odds with how Draco really felt.

He fared even worse that night. The nightmares increased in intensity, waking him intermittently throughout the night. When he finally crawled out of bed long after the sun had already risen, he felt as though he hadn't gotten any sleep at all. Even worse, Harry had said he would be back by noon today, barely giving Draco time to compose himself and present an unaffected front.

If there was one thing he knew, it was that Harry could not know about Yaxley's visit.

There was no doubt Yaxley had returned to London to report to Lucius about his meeting with Draco, and Draco knew Lucius would not let Draco's disobedience remain unpunished. At best, Lucius might send a team to retrieve Draco, by force if necessary. But Draco could handle that with ease; he'd practically grown up in the gang, and he'd learned early on how to hold his own against nearly any opponent. Unfortunately, Lucius probably knew that as well, which meant it was unlikely he would leave Draco's retrieval to chance and subordinates once again.

If Draco had to guess, he would say Lucius would come to fetch Draco himself, especially once he learned about how Draco had challenged him when speaking to Yaxley. And if Lucius came to get Draco, there was no doubt he would try to use Harry as leverage to convince Draco to return to London. That thought scared Draco more than anything; he couldn't let Harry get caught in the crossfire of Draco's mistakes.

On some level, Draco knew it was unfair to keep Harry in the dark about this, especially if he might be at risk because of it. But warning Harry about this meant telling Harry about his past, and the thought made Draco sick to his stomach. He couldn't imagine Harry would want anything to do with him after finding out about the crimes Draco had committed. His nightmares had made it abundantly clear that Draco had done too much harm to deserve the kind of love and support he was receiving from Harry now, even if he was past all that now.

If he drove Harry away now, he would never be able to protect him. He needed to be able to keep Harry safe from whatever Lucius might be planning, and he couldn't do that if Harry kept him at arm's length out of disgust, as he inevitably would once Draco revealed the truth about his past. The best thing for Draco to do right now was to keep this to himself until he could fix the situation.

And he would fix this somehow. Despite his best intentions, he had fallen hard for Harry, and he couldn't bear the thought of losing him so soon after experiencing what true freedom was like.

He received a text from Harry a half hour before noon, letting him know that Harry would be back soon. It gave Draco enough time to freshen up and plaster a smile on his face, though he knew he couldn't do anything to hide the exhaustion painted across his expression.

The doorknob rattled then, pulling Draco out of his thoughts. The door opened a moment later and Harry stepped through, gently kicking the door shut behind him. "I'm back," he called unnecessarily. Draco stepped into the room to greet him and found himself immediately pulled into a tight embrace.

"Yes, I missed you, too," Draco teased, though he could tell his voice sounded flat.

Harry apparently thought so as well, since he pulled back and frowned at Draco. He seemed to take in Draco's tired eyes and halfhearted smile for the first time, and his frown deepened. "What happened? Are you alright?" he asked.

Draco's gaze skittered away from Harry's. "I didn't get you anything," he said reluctantly. At least it wasn't a lie, so much as it just wasn't the full truth.

Harry chuckled. "Waiting for the post-Christmas sales?" he joked. "Wish I'd thought to do that." The statement coaxed a quiet laugh from Draco. He took a moment to silently appreciate the fact that Harry was giving him an out.

"I was going to pop out and pick something up before you came back, but I ended up sleeping in," Draco said with the appropriate amount of chagrin.

Harry tsked dismissively. "We can go out together. This way you know you're getting me something I'll like, and I'll be able to guilt you into spending an exorbitant amount of money to make up for it." His eyes brightened then. "Did you open your gift?"

"It didn't feel right without you," Draco said. It was another lie; he'd simply forgotten in the aftermath of Yaxley's visit.

Harry grinned. "Fantastic. I'll get to see your reaction firsthand," he said, genuine excitement coloring his voice. His happiness was infectious and Draco couldn't help smiling a little in response. He didn't resist as Harry pulled him to their eyesore of a tree, where a single poorly-wrapped package was nestled beneath the cheap plastic branches. "We should put some fake presents under the tree next year," Harry mused even as he sank to the ground, dragging Draco down with him, and shoved the present into his hands.

Draco was still for a moment, taken aback by Harry's easy assumption that they would be spending next Christmas together. A pang of guilt shot through him. Harry had no reason to be aware of the complications Draco would soon be facing, nor would Draco let him find out. That conviction spurred him into action again, and he carefully unwrapped the package in his hands.

As the last of the gift wrap fell away, Draco found himself holding an unbelievably soft, emerald green scarf in his hands. The material was obviously high-end, and the color was one that brought out Draco's eyes. A subtle shimmer was woven into the scarf, lending it a certain allure that Draco couldn't quite explain.

"It's beautiful," Draco whispered in awe. He carefully unfolded the scarf to see it in its entirety before looping it around his neck. The scarf was warm as well as enthralling, and Draco found himself duly impressed.

"You like it, then?" Harry asked eagerly. The question was unnecessary, in Draco's opinion. He had made it quite clear how he felt about the gift. Still, Harry looked expectant, and Draco found he didn't mind assuaging Harry's ill-founded insecurities.

"I love it," he said sincerely. Harry's answering smile left Draco breathless.

They considered hitting up the post-Christmas sales that afternoon before the shelves were ravaged by determined shoppers, but Harry claimed he was too tired and cold from having just returned. They ordered takeout and cuddled up on the couch instead, putting on some comedy on Netflix that had them both in stitches. They relocated to the bedroom when it started to grow dark, where they engaged in a heated makeout session. By the time they fell asleep entangled in each others' arms, Draco had managed to forget about both Yaxley's visit and his nightmares. He felt more lighthearted than he had in days.

The contentment lasted right up until the moment he woke up gasping for breath, phantom blood painting his hands and Harry's concerned voice breaching his racing mind.