Author's Notes: Hey everybody, and thank you so much for the wonderful response on the previous chapter. As always, I can't put words on how much I appreciate your feedback. I know that this chapter is long overdue, but I've been so busy with school with final exams in all of my courses before the summer. Hopefully I'll get some more free time now, so that I can finish Chapter 10 faster.

I'd like to take the chance to direct a thank you to my wonderful friend Emy (Vendelin here on ) and dedicate this chapter to her. Without your support and honest feedback, I don't know what I would do. To all of you HP/DM-lovers out there – check out her fiction Glued. Pure brilliance.

I'm done talking now. Here's chapter nine, please let me know what you think :)

Chapter 9 – Out of exile

Never thought all this could expire
Never thought you'd go break the chain

Placebo, My Sweet Prince

"Step forward, Draco Malfoy."

Draco's heart stopped dead in is chest as he heard Voldemort's cold voice call out his name. He cast a glance at his mother's broken form on the floor, immediately wishing he hadn't. He was so terrified he barely dared to breathe.

He had to stay focused. His father had trained him for this - he needed to keep his calm, and above all, he needed to be careful. The Dark Lord did not appreciate lies.

He broke free from the crowd of dark-hooded figures, making his way towards the middle of the room. He stopped in front of Voldemort, carefully avoiding the other man's gaze that seemed to pierce right through him.

"My Lord" he said, kneeling. He controlled the tone of his voice carefully, not letting any of the emotions that were raging inside of him betray him.

"Draco Malfoy" Voldemort said softly. He sounded amused. "You refer to me as your Lord, and yet, you have still left to prove yourself to be a worthy servant. How…. interesting."

Draco suppressed a shiver, his mind working swiftly. He had been preparing for this moment his entire life. He was not going to succumb to fear.

"My lord... my Lord must know that I only wish to serve…"

He knew immediately that he had made a mistake, and he didn't need to see Voldemort's face to understand that his eyes were blazing scarlet.

"Silence! You will only speak when spoken to, young Malfoy. It seems that I will need to teach you some manners."

He understood what would happen before the curse hit him, but nothing, nothing could have prepared him for the unbearable pain that seemed to rip his body apart from the inside. He bit down on his lip hard enough to draw blood to prevent himself from screaming out loud.

He didn't know for how long the curse had been on him when Voldemort finally stopped – it seemed like forever, but maybe it had only been a few minutes, or even seconds, when he collapsed on to the floor, his whole body shaking from the shock.

"As I was saying," Voldemort said coolly, "you, young Malfoy, have not yet proven your loyalty towards me. However, let it not be said that the Dark Lord is not patient when patience is needed – you are only sixteen, after all."

He laughed, and the rest of the crowd joined in as Draco struggled to get back up on his knees, catching a glimpse of Narcissa's tousled hair in the corner of his eye. He could not lose now - he needed to stay strong for her.

"I admit that I am… intrigued," Voldemort continued, "by what you may be able to offer me. One of Dumbledore's own students, could you imagine?" He was speaking to his Death Eaters now, and they all cheered in appreciation. "The old man would never know what struck him."

Draco kept quiet, fixing his gaze on to the floor. He wouldn't make the same mistake again.

"Do you wish for me to become your Lord, in the true sense of the word?" Voldemort's voice was louder now – excited, even. "Are you as loyal towards me as my other servants? Do you think that you could serve me in a way that would make you worthy of being called one of my Death Eaters?"

It wasn't really a question, Draco knew that. It had never been his choice to make. This was the path that was staked out for him by his father, and likewise, this was the path he was going to follow.

"I do, my Lord," he answered, certain that he was allowed to speak now. "I could not imagine a greater honour."

Voldemort laughed again, without joy.

"You are frightened, young Malfoy" he said, sounding slightly amused. "You will never bring your family back to the good graces of Lord Voldemort if you let yourself be ruled by fear. Do you really believe that you are strong enough to be my servant?"

"I would not disappoint you, my Lord" Draco said, struggling to keep his voice under control. Beside him, Narcissa was stirring slightly, and Draco forced himself not to look. Voldemort would spot any sign of weakness. "I would serve you to the best of my abilities."

"We will see. Stand."

Draco did as he was told, and with some effort, he got to his feet. He could feel his pulse racing – he had no idea whether or not Voldemort was satisfied by his answers or not. Maybe this would be the end for him.

"You are very much like your father" Voldemort said softly, twirling his wand between his long, slender fingers. "Lucius, however flawed he has proven to be, have taught you well."

Draco didn't dare to breathe. Had he passed the test?

"However" Voldemort continued, and Draco froze again, "I am not certain where your loyalties lie, young Malfoy. Look at me."

Draco barely had time to register what was about to happen, let alone prepare for it, when he met Voldemort's scarlet gaze. His surroundings abruptly vanished and he wasn't in the cellar anymore – vivid images, memories, started to race through his mind, and he couldn't fight it, couldn't resist – his own Occlumency skills were nothing compared to Voldemort's raw power. He saw his mother – not lying defeated on the cold stone floor, but coming towards him, smiling… no, it wasn't his mother, it was Pansy, and they were dancing at The Yule Ball… now he was standing in front of his father who was gazing at him sternly as he handed over Draco's first broomstick, warning him not to disappoint him…

The next time the image changed, Potter was there. They were standing in Draco's kitchen, too close, and suddenly, it wasn't a memory anymore, and Draco really was standing there, his back pressed tightly against the wall, heat of Potter's body radiating against his own skin.

"Potter" Draco said, uncertain. "How did…"

"Merlin, Malfoy, you just don't get it, do you?"

The next second, Potter was kissing him just like he had done before, making Draco think for a second that it was just a memory after all, that he was still stuck in that cold cellar and that Voldemort was still reading his every thought. But it felt so real, the way that Potter's lips curled against his own and the way that Draco's pulse raced faster and faster making his heart beat painfully hard against his chest. Draco was safe, Voldemort couldn't hurt him anymore, and Potter was there – Potter who had promised him that everything would be all right again. Draco didn't know how it happened, but suddenly, Potter was the one with his back against the wall, and Draco was pushing against him, opening his mouth and kissing Potter fiercely back. He slid his hand to the back of Potter's neck, curling his fingers around thick, wild hair, and Potter was angling his body so that their hips were crashing together - it simply couldn't be a memory, because this was like nothing that Draco had ever experienced before – and Potter's tongue was so warm and inviting, and…

Draco's eyes flew wide open.

His heart felt as though it was trying to escape from his chest, and it took him a few confusing seconds to realize that he was lying in his bed, and that his nightmare had returned again. Blurry images from the night were flickering before his eyes, and he blinked hard, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to grasp exactly what the dream had been about. Voldemort had been there, of course – and his mother. He had a vague feeling that Pansy and his father had made appearances as well, and there had definitely been something about a broomstick. And then there had been… Draco's eyes widened in realization.

Potter had been there, and he had… no, Draco had been…

Oh Merlin.

He sat up straight, shielding his eyes from the sunlight that was streaming in from the small window – at least he had slept through the entire night. Not that the fact that it was daytime helped him to deal with the million thoughts and questions that were spinning around in his head.

It was one thing that his subconscious mind had recreated that… thing that had happened between him and Potter yesterday. That was fine – natural, even. But where had the rest come from? As far as Draco could remember, he had most definitely not kissed Potter back.

Admittedly, he hadn't put up much of a resistance when Potter had approached him, but that had to be more due to the sheer shock than anything else. The important thing was that he hadn't responded to the kiss in any way, and it made no sense for him to dream that he had.

Then again, dreams didn't have to mean anything. People dreamed about nonsensical things all the time, and maybe Draco was just being over analytical. After all, the alternative, that his mind subconsciously was trying to tell him that he in any way wanted Potter was… just bizarre. Impossible. Outrageous.

And yet, he couldn't get the image of Potter's kiss-swollen lips out of his head.

Desperate for a distraction, Draco got up from his bed and dressed quickly before going in to the kitchen where he made himself a large cup of tea. Drinking tea, however, didn't keep his mind from wandering at all – in his head, he kept repeating the scene where he was throwing himself all over Potter, and it was driving him insane. Abruptly abandoning his half empty cup, Draco stood
up again, restlessly scanning his kitchen for an appropriate way to keep himself busy.

Four hours later, he had cleaned his entire apartment three times, finished the crosswords Potter had brought him and rearranged all of the furniture in his kitchen twice. He had even scanned the latest issue of The Prophet for the article he knew Duncan Robbins had written about him, although he had come up short on that one. It seemed like Robbins was waiting for the right time to publish the scoop, which suited Draco well – he wasn't too eager on reading the piece of rubbish that Robbins had come up with anyway.

But what was he supposed to do now? It suddenly dawned on Draco what an immensely boring life he had been living for the past few years – was this really all that he normally occupied himself with when he wasn't working? Was cleaning the apartment like a common house elf really the best that he could come up with?

He could always go outside, he supposed. A nice long walk normally did the job of clearing his mind of disturbing thoughts, and Draco was in desperate need of some fresh air. He knew that it was probably unwise of him to leave the apartment due to the risk of running in to another journalist, but he just couldn't bear the thought of staying inside for another minute. He was almost beginning to feel as though the walls of his kitchen were closing in on him, and he decisively went to the hall and grabbed his coat.

It was much warmer outside than it had been the other day and the welcoming sunrays felt like soft caresses against Draco's skin. Deciding not to push his luck, he pulled up the collar of his coat to partly hide his face, which probably made him look totally ridiculous but would also make it harder for any lurking reporters to recognize him.

As he was walking aimlessly down the street, he wondered what he would say if another reporter would corner him like Robbins had done. Maybe "Oh, the current status of my relationship with Harry Potter? Well, he kissed me the other day, and tonight I had a highly disturbing dream involving me shoving my tongue down Potter's throat. You know, nothing out of the ordinary.", or "Yes, you were right all along. Apparently, I have this huge thing for men with glasses and impossible hair. Funny how the entire world found out before I did."

He snorted to himself, which made an elderly woman that he passed by give him an odd glance. It would almost be worth it just to see the look on their faces.

Draco had almost been out for an hour when he realized the sun had disappeared – it was suddenly very chilly, and dark clouds were quickly gathering above him. Realizing he would probably do best to return home before the weather struck, Draco swept his coat more tightly around his torso and started to walk back in the direction that he had come from. However, he didn't get very far until he felt the first wet drop splash against his forehead, and before long, it had started to rain heavily.

Cursing himself for not having enough sense to bring an umbrella, he scanned the street for some form of shelter from the downpour. He spotted a small alley, the overhanging roof offering a limited sort of protection under which he decided to wait out the shower. Leaning against the hard brick wall, his whole coat soaked in wet, cold rain, he felt more miserable then ever, wishing he had never thought of the idea to leave the apartment. He seemed to be making all the wrong decisions lately.

"So, who are we hiding from?" a soft voice from his left suddenly said.

Draco turned around quickly, surprised that he wasn't alone. The voice belonged to a rather tall woman his own age who was standing in the doorway to a small coffee shop. Her long, blonde hair was pulled into a thick braid that was hanging over her left shoulder, and she was wearing a long, loose-fitted dress with an excessively colourful floral pattern. Her large, silvery grey eyes where open and curious, reminding Draco slightly of Luna Lovegood. Then, he also remembered the last time he had seen Luna, locked up in the cellar of Malfoy Manor, and his throat closed up.

"Excuse me?" he said coolly, carefully excluding the sudden emotion the memory of Luna had evoked from his voice. He glanced down and noticed that his intruder was bare-feet, which made him wrinkle his nose in distaste.

"Your outfit" the woman explained, making a gesture towards Draco's dark coat and black trousers. "All black, and with that collar hiding your face… very inconspicuous."

Draco could feel himself blush slightly, and gave the her a venomous glare.

"I'm not hiding," he said shortly, pointedly folding his arms across his chest and turning away from her.

The woman, however, didn't seem too taken aback by his hostile attitude.

"Right, of course you're not" she said, sounding a little disappointed. "It's just… it would have been really cool if you had been some sort of super-spy, you know? Working for the MI6 or something, like James Bond, maybe out on a secret mission to protect the government. I could have been your side kick."

Draco gave her a questioning glance – clearly, she was insane, but he had to admit that he was curious.

"James who?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

She just laughed.

"You're funny" she said as-a-matter-of-factly. "I still think you would have been much cooler if you really were a spy, though. Anyway, I'm Rachel."

She was holding the doorframe open with her shoulder, stretching out her hand for Draco to shake. He took it apprehensively.

"Draco Malfoy."

She didn't even raise an eyebrow at his name, which Draco had to provide her bonus points for – most muggles laughed or at least made a stupid face the first time he mentioned it.

"You look very cold, Draco Malfoy," she said, pushing the door a little further open. "It seems like the rain might stick around for a while, so why don't you come inside? I'll make you a cup of coffee and then you can tell me all about not being a spy."

Draco hesitated for a second – this girl was completely out of her mind, and a muggle at that. It was true that Draco had lived among them for more than four years, but that didn't mean that he had to like them. He still didn't trust most of them, especially not mentally disoriented strangers that spoke of weird things like James Blonde. But then he remembered that Rachel had offered him free coffee, and that was simply too good of an offer to turn down, so he followed her inside.

The shop was really cramped with large, mahogany shelves packed with a wide selection of different coffee- and tea blends filling up most of the already limited space. Rachel gestured for Draco to sit down in an old sagging armchair by a small wooden table before disappearing behind one of the shelves. Draco could hear her rummaging through the different jars in search for the right blend as he leaned back in the chair, finding it to be surprisingly comfortable in spite of its battered look.

"You'll like this one, it's got a real kick to it" Rachel said cheerfully, reappearing with a large jar filled with grinded coffee beans. She placed the jar on the small counter by the right wall and started fiddling with an old fashioned-looking coffee machine, and shortly afterwards, she had placed two large cups of steaming hot coffee on the table in front of Draco.

"Thank you" Draco said politely, grabbing one of the cups as Rachel sat down in the armchair opposite of him. He hummed in appreciation as he took his first sip from the cup, savouring the rich, slightly spicy and sweet taste.

Rachel grinned at him, sipping carefully on her own cup.

"Good, right?"

Draco nodded.

"Just what I needed."

Rachel crossed her legs and placed her cup on the table, leaning backwards in her chair.

"So, what brings you to this part of town, Draco Malfoy?" she asked, peering curiously at him from under her long eyelashes. "I haven't seen you around before, and now you're suddenly showing up soaking wet on the threshold of my shop. Are you new in the neighbourhood?"

"Well, no, I actually live quite a few blocks from here" Draco answered, stretching out his legs. "I was just out for a walk in the sun, but I guess I got lost in thoughts and didn't notice the rainclouds until it was too late."

Rachel furrowed her eyebrows.

"I wouldn't have thought of you as the kind of guy who just gets lost in his own thoughts like that though" she mused. "I don't know, you just don't seem that easily distraught to me."

Draco was surprised at her answer – he hadn't met a girl that was quite this straightforward before, and that was even counting Pansy.

"Well, usually I'm not" he admitted. "I've just had a lot on my mind lately."

"Let me guess… girl trouble?"

Draco almost choked on his coffee.

"No" he said, glowering angrily at her as she laughed at his reaction. "I don't have girl trouble, I just…"

He paused, and an idea struck him. Admittedly, this woman was rather weird, and she was a muggle, but she didn't seem like the judgemental type. Maybe Draco could tell her the whole story, or at least parts of it. After all, he had longed for a way to get out of his own head, and what better way to do just that than to confide in someone else? He didn't even have to see her again. It was the perfect opportunity.

"Well, I'm actually having some issues with this friend of mine" he explained slowly. "We had a… disagreement the other day, and I just… I'm just not sure where we stand right now."

"Oh, I see" she said conspicuously. "A friend, I get it. Go on."

Draco rolled his eyes at her before continuing:

"We went to school together a couple of years back, and during that time, we weren't exactly friendly towards one another. I guess you could say we where rivals – enemies, even. Anyway, we graduated four years ago, and we hadn't seen each other since then. Until a few weeks ago when he came looking for me at the pub where I work."

Rachel leaned slightly forwards, her eyes wide with curiosity.

"And when you saw each other again, love struck instantly, and you realized there was no point in denying it?" she asked hopefully. "Oh, I think I like this story."

Draco resisted the urge of kicking her under the table.

"No, of course not" he said impatiently. "But something strange happened, and after that, we decided that we wanted to try and become friends. I never thought it would work, but the funny thing is that it kind of did. At some point, I think we actually started to enjoy each others company, but then we had this argument that I mentioned earlier, and well… I'm just not sure how to solve it."

Rachel was eyeing him thoughtfully.

"What were you arguing about?" she asked at last. "There has to be some way to make things all right again. If he came looking for you after four years in spite of you two being enemies and tried to befriend you, I don't think you will get rid of him that easily."

Draco hesitated. It really shouldn't make a difference if he told Rachel about the kiss, but for some reason, it just didn't feel right.

"Nothing important" he decided. "It was just… nothing."

"Well" Rachel said firmly, "if it wasn't important, I'm sure there's nothing to worry about, right? You'll probably make up in no time."

"But…"

"If I were you, I would apologize, though" Rachel continued, ignoring him completely. "That would make the whole making up-part a lot easier."

Draco glared at her.

"Who said that I was the one who did something wrong?" he said irritably. "Because I didn't, it was…"

"Does it really matter who did what?" Rachel said, taking a careful sip of her coffee. "Sorry is just a word, after all, and if saying it could make things right between the two of you again, why wouldn't you?"

"It's a bit more complicated than that," Draco snapped.

"That's possible" Rachel admitted, "but from where I'm standing, you're looking lonely and miserable as hell, and I don't see any reason for you to stay that way when the solution might be as simple as a small apology. Just saying."

Draco stared at her, preparing to snap at her again. But then he realized that Rachel actually, Merlin forbid, had a point. There was even no point in denying that Draco really wanted to make up with Potter again, because he did. He just wanted things to go back to normal. Maybe an apology, even though Draco technically hadn't done anything wrong, would do that.

"That" he answered slowly, "actually makes a tiny bit of sense. Just barely."

Rachel grinned.

"I know it does," she said smugly. "I'm a genius. I told you I would make an excellent side kick."

Draco reluctantly smiled back.

"I guess you would," he agreed, emptying his cup. The last swig was lukewarm and left a bitter taste on his tongue.

"Well, would you look at that" Rachel suddenly said, gesturing towards the window. "The rain stopped. I guess you're free to go home."

Draco stood up and stretched out his body leisurely.

"Yes, it's getting late" he admitted, and Rachel also rose from her chair. "Thank you for the coffee, it was delicious."

"Oh, it was nothing" Rachel said, waving her hand dismissively as she followed him to the door. "I couldn't just have ignored what possibly could have been the next James Bond standing on my doorstep in desperate need for aid, now could I?"

Deciding not to point out that he had not been in desperate need for aid at all, Draco waved goodbye and pushed the door open.

"You should come by again," Rachel blurted out just as he stepped over the threshold. "I mean… if you ever happen to be in the neighbourhood again. You could give me an update on your whole old-nemesis-but-now-kind-of-friend-situation. You know, if you want."

Draco turned around, surprised to see that she was blushing. He felt the corner of his mouth twitch.

"I might just take you up on that offer," he answered, surprised to realize that he meant it. Rachel actually didn't seem so bad after all – admittedly, he still thought she was absolutely insane, but she was quite entertaining. And Draco could certainly use some entertainment in his life.

"Goodbye then" she said, smiling.

"Goodbye."

The door closed behind him, and Draco started on his long walk home with something resembling a smile on his face. For the first time that day, he thought that things might just be all right after all.