-Chapter 11-
I wake up slowly, sluggish and groggy. I feel as if I've been hit by a truck. I look around while I rub the sleep out of my eyes, and realize that it is well before dawn- the sky is just barely lightening outside.
I am in a dorm room that looks exactly like my own, except for the excessive amounts of red. Red and gold banners drape the stone walls, red rugs line the floor; red curtains hang around each of the four beds in the room, and are drawn closed tightly. A wave of sadness hits me when I compare this room to my own Slytherin dorm, which holds not a single lick of green. I wonder how much of it was because of the school, and how much was because all the Slytherins this year can't muster up much pride.
I look down to the bed I am currently lying in. True to form, I am covered in bright red sheets. Beside me is Harry, his mouth open slightly, fast asleep. I take a moment to take him in- his sleep rumpled hair, the long black eyelashes that contrast against his cheek.
I shake my head and sit up, looking over the side of the bed for my shoes, until I remember how and why I was here. Right.
I start to get up but a strong arm slips around my waist, preventing me from moving any farther.
"Where do you think you're going?" Harry whispers seductively in my ear, his breath ghosting across my neck making me shiver. "Trying to run out on me again?" His nose nuzzles into the hollow of my shoulder and glides up until his face is buried in my hair, breathing in deeply. He is still half-asleep, but his grip is strong.
I lean back against his now half-sitting form, relaxing. I am enveloped by the heat of his body, and he pulls me back down so we are lying, facing eachother.
His eyes are still slightly sleepy but they are bright with warmth. I smile at how beautiful he is, and am hit by how kind he had been last night. He saved me, and helped me, and let me sleep in his bed.
The smile slips from my face when I remember the rest of yesterday.
I had tried to kill myself. And Harry, again, had saved me. I wonder how many times someone can owe another a life-debt.
I was so confused- why did he bother? Why hadn't he just let me die? It would've been so much easier. For everyone.
Maybe he just has a hero complex, and it had nothing to do with me anyways.
I don't let my thoughts wander to my mother or father again. I knew now what my thoughts were capable of. Instead, I look into Harry's eyes and pretend for a moment that he saved me because he cared for me.
"Good morning," he whispers with a sweet smile.
I try to smile back half-heartedly. He notices my change in mood with a frown.
"What is it?" He asks, his eyes showing concern.
"Why did you do it? Why did you save me?" I whisper hoarsely.
His eyes widen in disbelief. "You really have to ask, Draco? I care about you." I almost laugh. I wonder if Potter has been practicing his Legilimency. "Why on earth would you want to kill yourself? Did you really expect me to just let you die?" He asks, genuine confusion in his face.
I say nothing.
He sighs and pulls me into his chest. "God, Draco. You gave me a heart attack when you pulled that stunt- I'm just so grateful I could get to you in time."
I bury my face in his chest so he can't see my eyes tear up. "How did you know where I was?" I ask quietly into his chest. The skin is soft against my cheek, so I rub my face against it slowly. I wonder what he would do if I licked him.
"I..." He sighs, beofre seeming to come to a descision. He releases me, and I have to stop myself from clutching him closer. "My father, he made this map when they were in school. It-Here, let me just show you." He leans over under his bed, rooting around a bit before pulling out a brown piece of parchment. He unfolds it and places it in my lap. My eyes flit from name to name, watching the footprints move across the castle. I spot the names "Theodore Nott" and "Pansy Parkinson" quite close together in a small broom cupboard near the Great Hall and chuckle.
"I guess this is how you managed to stalk me all sixth year, huh?" I ask him with a raised eyebrow and feigned stern expression.
He blushes, high spots of pink blooming on his cheekbones. "Um, yeah. I've been using it to stalk you a bit this year, too," He says with a shy laugh.
I smile, thinking of Harry Potter sitting in his bed at night with his map, following my name around with his wand. The smile fades a bit as I mentally shake myself. He was probably keeping tabs on me to make sure I didn't do anything stupid again. With due cause, too, given last night.
After a pause, he clears his throat. "Promise me you will never do anything like that again. You can't do that to me."
I almost scoff. To him? What on earth did I do to him?
He pulls up my chin so my face is level with his.
"Promise me." He whispers, his eyes boring unrelenting into mine.
My eyes start to burn with unshed tears, and his finger moves to wipe one gently from my lashes. I nod in answer to his demand. "I promise," I croak, my voice cracking. I couldn't say no to him. And it wasn't like I had actually planned on trying to jump from the Astronomy Tower.
His lips lift in a sad smile. "Let's skip classes today. So you can rest."
"Don't patronize me, Harry. I'm okay to go to class." I say with a roll of my eyes, trying to play off the tears.
He laughs. "I know… but I just want to stay here, like this, for as long as possible." He murmurs, his finger drawing patterns on my cheekbone.
My heart stops. I pull him in from behind his neck, our lips crashing together with a click of teeth. I try to go slow, but the kiss quickly turns passionate. He devours my mouth slowly, savoring. I tug on his lips with my teeth, loving the moan that reverberates in his chest.
We stay wrapped together for a while as the sun wakes, the world around us still fast asleep. It feels as if we are the only people in the world.
I pull away and bury my face in his neck, nibbling softly. He has slight stubble under his chin from the night, and it scratches pleasantly against my cheek.
He sighs contentedly. His fingers are contemplative as he runs them down my spine. I wait for him to speak what is obviously on his mind.
"You should talk to someone."
I pull away from him slightly and scoff. "It was a mistake. I know that now. I don't need to talk about my feelings or whatever." I don't want to have to relive my worst memories to some emotionless mind Healer who would nod along as if they cared before handing me a potion that would make me numb to the world. I had already tried that before, during seventh year. Self-hatred is better than emptiness. Talking would do no healing here.
"No, that's not what I meant." He protests. "I just mean… there's something obviously going on. You had this all buried inside, and Draco… I can't watch you be hurt like this."
I refuse to meet his eyes and show him how much his words were affecting me. He was the only one whose words ever really touched me to the core, whether they be cruel or kind. I want to say something biting, remind him that he has no reason to be concerned with my well being. I was nothing to him, and he needed to stop pretending. He was only helping me because I was pitiful, a project for him to fix.
"At least talk to me, Draco. I will listen. Talk to me, if you won't talk to anyone else."
His last plea breaks me, and it all comes out in a rush. If he wanted to know, I would tell him. "It's just… all these things piling up. My mother is kidnapped and I don't even know if she's alright. I can't help but thinking it's my fault, that I should be doing something more to help- but I don't know how.
And I'm all alone. My father, my mother, my godfather- everyone I ever loved is gone.
Every night I am bombarded by the memories off all my regrets and all the things I did wrong- how much I royally fucked everything up. And I'm so sorry, to everyone, for everything. I can't help but think how everyone who I've ever met would be better off without me."
I pause for a moment. Harry is looking into my eyes earnestly, and I wonder what he was thinking. His expression is one of the utmost grief, and I feel yet another pang of guilt for being the reason he was feeling it.
"God, its just like I can never escape this guilt."
I look down at my left forearm, at the scratched and scabbing mess that is now my dark mark. The mark is black as ever, stark against my pale skin. "And I have this to remind me of my mistakes every day of my life." He brings his fingers to my mark, tracing the outline of the snake. His eyes are sad.
I pause, and look up into them. I am ashamed for baring all of my thoughts to him, and try to steer the conversation away from me and his pitying eyes. "But at least I know I'm not the only one who can't quite leave the war behind."
His eyes cloud. "Yeah. The war changed so much, I don't think I'll ever be able to recover from it fully. It took my parents, my godfather, my friends… So much loss, so much destruction, and we're just supposed to get over it, move on." He laughs, the sound laced with slight bitterness.
He looks down at me abruptly and stares into my eyes with more intensity than before, as if he had suddenly realized something. "But we can move on, Draco. We can help each other. We don't have to live in the past forever. You don't have to feel guilty anymore."
I nod. He had a way of speaking in such a way that it could make anyone believe his words. Deep down I knew he was wrong, but at that moment, I believed in everything he said. I could feel hope, in the arms of Harry Potter.
He smiles at me warmly, and adds, "We will find your mother. I promise."
My throat clogs with tears, and I smile back at him. God, I can't seem to stop crying around Harry. I hope my gratitude is displayed on my face in ways my words could never express.
He nods and leans in, capturing my lips in a sweet, gentle kiss.
His fingers caress my jaw as his tongue darts out to slide against my bottom lip. I part mine slowly, allowing his tongue access. The kiss turns less gentle and sweet as our tongues slide sensuously against each other, his hand drifting down to grasp under my knee. He hikes my leg up over his hip before flipping our entwined bodies over so that I am seated on his hips.
Our new position brings certain other parts of our bodies together, and I noticed that the kiss was affecting him as much as me. I shyly move my hips up so that our clothed cocks slide together slowly, pulling a moan out of Harry.
Our eyes never leave each other's, held in a passionate stare. I bite my lip to stifle a moan, and his eyes light up with hunger.
We are pulled out of our haze with the sound of a slamming door, and we drunkenly turn towards the interruption.
Finch-Fletchley stands in the doorway, staring at us. He was the seventh-year's Head Boy, and his robes were pristine and topped off with his proud Head Boy pin.
He recovers from his shock enough to address me. "Uh, sorry. I went to your dorm already, but your friend Blaise told me you'd probably be here. Am I interrupting?"
I have to bite my tongue from an angry comeback, because obviously he was interrupting, but Harry speaks first, sensing my annoyance.
"No, it's alright." He sits up, effectively dislodging me from his lap. He lands a quick kiss on my lips before getting up. "I'll leave you two to it." He enters the bathroom and closes the door behind me. I can't help but think about how much I'd rather be in that bathroom showering with Harry than staring at the alarmingly zitty face of Justin Finch-Fletchley.
After Harry leaves, his demeanor changes. He sneers at me. "McGonagall needs to see you."
I pull on my clothes and shoes and follow behind him, shooting daggers at the back of his ugly head.
"So, you're a fag?" He asks, all pretense of tact thrown completely to the wind.
I grunt noncommittally in response. I really didn't want to be having this conversation.
The Head Boy laughs cruelly. "And Potter is a fag, too? Who would've thought. The Golden Boy has some secrets, I see."
I have to clench my fists to contain my anger, itching to punch him.
"How did scum like you manage to get with Harry Potter? I guess there wasn't much option for other fags he could bugger, hm?"
I am positively shaking by the time we stop in front of the Headmistresses office. Finch-Fletchley doesn't seem at all put-out that I had ignored his questions, and instead starts to head off in another direction, leaving me in the hall.
"See ya later, fag." He says over his shoulder as he rounds the corner.
I practically snarl the password to the Headmistresses office before I barge into her office, unable to shake off my anger. How dare some worthless zitty ponce such as Finch-Fletchley call Harry, the Saviour of the freaking Wizarding World, a fag? Who did he think he was?
I stop in my tracks at the sight I am met with. McGonagall, Kingsley, and two other aurors pace the Headmistresses office, arguing with each other.
"He's just a boy! You can't ask that of him-" McGonagall stops mid-sentence when she spots me.
I forget my anger and step forward. "Who are you talking about?" I ask.
McGonagall and Kingsley share a look before returning eyes to me. "Nothing, Draco. We wanted to have a talk with you, sit."
I sit cautiously, wary of their nervous expressions.
McGonagall speaks first. "We think we may know how the Death Eaters found you in Hogsmeade."
She pauses for dramatic effect, and Kingsley continues.
"Draco, can I have your wand?"
I hand it over to him after a moment, suspicious.
He holds mine in his palm and pulls out his own wand, waving it over mine slowly. My wand emits a slight red glow for a moment, before Kingsley lowers his arms.
"There was a tracking spell placed on your wand. The Death Eaters were likely using it to track you until you were away from Hogwarts so they could ambush you."
My heart drops.
"Was there any point where someone had your wand who wasn't from the Ministry?" Kinsley asks.
I shake my head. "No, there was no one." I pause for a moment before I remember something. "Although… after I was acquitted, a man came and took my wand from me, claiming the Ministry needed to confiscate it. It struck me as rather odd, since I had just been released, but I gave it to him anyways. Right after was when we were ambushed at the Manor…"
Kingsley looks thrilled by this news. "Can you tell me anything else about him?"
I try to remember for a moment, my face scrunched in effort. "Yeah… he didn't seem like a normal Ministry employee. He was hostile, and his name was rather odd… Kennedy, I think it was."
Kingsley practically claps his hands with glee.
"And a couple months later, my wand was returned to me here."
"Could you give one of my Aurors a description of him?" Kingsley asks.
I nod, and he ushers me to the two Aurors by the door. Kingsley keeps a hold of my wand. "I need to use it for the tracking spell, if you don't mind."
I nod again, my head spinning.
"This could be the break in the case we have been waiting for! Riley, take Mr. Malfoy's statement, please."
*0*0*0*
A couple of hours and plenty of stressful questions later I am headed to breakfast with the last few stragglers.
I can sense a change in the mood of everyone in the Great Hall. There is a certain excitement, and everyone is staring at either me or Harry, who is seated with his friends, with wide eyes. I sit down at the Slytherin table next to Blaise.
"What's going on?" I ask him, taking a tart off his plate. He swats my hand.
"Take a look for yourself." He hands me the Daily Prophet, this morning's edition. They must've come in earlier than usual.
I almost choke when I see the front header: 'Boy Who Lived… To Be a Pouf?'
The sub-header reads: 'Harry Potter, Buggering a Death Eater!' Blaise smacks my back as I hack up the bite of tart I had lodged in my throat.
"He certainly worked fast," I mutter, thinking of this morning's interruption.
A large photo of me straddling Harry's lap at the eighth year's party graces the front page. I continue to read the article, which details Harry's and my "closeted romance," which had only recently been discovered by a student who "happened upon a steamy scene" between the two of us. The article also included information detailing the party the eighth years had thrown, describing Harry's and my "passionate grinding and sensual dancing." It even talked about how we had gone up to the dorms together afterwards.
"I'm going to kill him. I'm going to kill Finch-Fletchley." I growl.
Blaise pats my arm. "He isn't in his usual seat, he probably didn't come down this morning. What the hell is this all about, anyways?"
"I stayed with Potter last night," Blaise's jaw drops open, "nothing inappropriate, I promise. Not until this morning anyways. And Fletchley comes into Harry's dorm uninvited, looking for me, and gets an eyeful of me and Harry kissing. Kissing. That's it. Honestly, half of this isn't even true!" I exclaim, gesturing to the paper.
I look up from the table and over at the Gryffindor table, searching for Harry. He is nowhere to be seen, but the Weasel and Granger are still eating breakfast.
I sigh. "Listen, I have to go. This is ridiculous. I have enough to worry about."
Blaise starts to protest, but I am already halfway across the Hall.
I walk quickly back down the corridors, fuming. Really, why did people have to stick their noses where they didn't belong?
I was almost to the Eighth year dorms when I am yanked by an unseen force and pulled into a dark room on my right. The door closes behind me. Honestly, what is it with me and getting yanked into dark places?
A whispered lumos lights up the small room, and I realize I am in a broom cupboard. With Potter, no less.
I look at him annoyed. "Really? Was the yanking necessary?" I ask him.
He laughs. "Sorry. I didn't think we'd be able to get some privacy any other way."
I raise my eyebrow at him. He doesn't allow me to speak, and instead pulls me into him, his lips claiming mine.
After a few minutes he breaks away from me, both of us breathless.
"Are you okay?" He asks, concern lacing his voice.
"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"
"The whole thing with the paper. I wanted to make sure you weren't freaking out."
"Not hardly." I laugh. "You mean you're not mad?" I ask.
"Mad? About what?"
"About being outed. With me, a former Death Eater, as well."
He gives a breathless laugh. "This has been my life since I was eleven. The press always barging in my business. I knew it would only be a matter of time before the entire Wizarding world knew I was gay."
"But what about the part with me? Aren't you mad at being caught with a Death Eater?" I ask shyly.
"Draco, how many times do I have to tell you? I don't care about your past. We can move on. And I am certainly not upset at being caught with the hottest guy in Hogwarts." He smiles gently.
I blush, trying not to let his words affect me.
"And, to be honest, it's easier than having to tell everyone myself. About being gay. And about you, if this is a thing." He says. His eyes search mine curiously.
I look down, not replying. I couldn't let this go on, couldn't let Harry care for me just so he could find out he didn't want me after all, later on.
He sighs sadly. "Right. Well, we better get back before someone notices our absence."
He takes my hand and pulls me out of the cupboard, releasing it when we enter the dorms.
"See you later, Draco."
*0*0*0*
Later that day, at lunch, I am sitting with Pansy and Blaise again. I try to focus on their conversation, knowing I've been neglecting them.
"...and I don't know what to do! You know how hard it is for me to express my feelings." Pansy was saying.
Blaise patted her hand consolingly. "Don't worry. You just need to have an honest chat with him. Tell him you want to shag him for the rest of your life." We all snicker at this. "Tell him preferably while you're shagging." We break out laughing.
"I can always count on you, Blaise." Pansy says sarcastically.
"Oooh, speak of the devil." Blaise whispers as Theo strolls up to the table. He avoids eye contact with Pansy awkwardly, sitting down next to me.
"Hey, guys! Have you heard about the next Quidditch match? I heard it's against Gryffindor."
I tune out and let my eyes drift, eventually landing on Harry across the Hall. As if he could feel my eyes on him, he looks up and meets my gaze. We hold eye contact for a moment before he abruptly stands, making his way towards the Slytherin table.
I start to panic, but don't have enough time to bolt before he is standing in front of me, his green eyes blazing into mine.
"Do you want to leave?" He asks me, his voice deep and gruff.
On impulse, I reply, "Absolutely." And get up. He takes my hand and I follow him out of the Great Hall, all eyes on us.
*0*0*0*
