A/N: Ok, so I wasn't going to post this until Saturday, but I was so excited about the positive feedback from the last chapter that I decided to give this to you early. Cause you guys ROCK. In particular, I'd like to thank Don'tClimbOnThat, whose review made me so happyexcitedtouched that I sat down and wrote two chapters ahead of schedule, allowing this to be posted sooner. Enjoy! :D
Chapter Twelve
When Draco was a very little boy, his mother gave him every stuffed animal he asked for. So, naturally, Draco had a massive collection. Most of the toys he ignored once he owned them, as he had only really wanted them because they weren't his. But a few of them were entertaining enough to be granted a coveted space on his bed.
There was the stuffed sphinx he named Egypt (he had thought he was quite clever with that one) who would tell him riddles and give him candy if he answered correctly. There was his toy niffler, Nifty, who he used to help him find his watch, which he was constantly losing because having something tight wrapped around his wrists had irritated him. He'd had a stuffed jarvey named Jackass; he didn't know what the word meant, but his jarvey would say it whenever his father was around and his father would turn red and look funny. Jackass was the only toy his mother had eventually confiscated (and wasn't THAT the biggest temper tantrum he ever threw).
But by far, his favourite stuffed animal, the one he slept with every night, was Puffy the puffskein. His mother was allergic to real puffskeins, but when Pansy Parkinson got one for her fourth birthday and Draco wanted one too, she got him the stuffed one, enchanting it to be even better than the real thing. Puffy would harden when he wanted a ball so he could practice Quidditch, or soften when he wanted to snuggle. When he had nightmares, it hummed and emitted a Soothing Charm to calm Draco. It was the most comforting memory he had.
One day when his father had been in a particularly bad mood, he had come across Draco playing with Puffy in his office. Draco was practicing his Beater skills, and was gleefully whacking the toy around the room. Not noticing his father's entrance, he accidentally sent it careening straight into his father's face. Enraged, Lucius exploded Puffy with a single Confringo. As Draco sobbed for his lost toy, Lucius Vanished the mess and cast a Silencing Charm on Draco. Holding his son's gaze, Lucius waited until the crying had stopped before lifting the charm. He said coldly, "Control yourself, Draco. Malfoys do not cry, and they do not rely on silly little toys to make them happy. What makes Malfoys happy?"
"Power," Draco whispered. "Prestige. Principles."
"Exactly," Lucius nodded. "Power, prestige, principles. Not puffskeins." With that, he shooed Draco out of his office, slamming the door shut behind him.
That night, Draco got rid of all of his stuffed animals. For the first time in his life, he slept completely alone in bed. When he woke up from a nightmare, he whispered, "Power, prestige, principles," over and over until he finally fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.
Draco went to bed alone and without comfort every night after that. Whenever he felt lonely or afraid, he refused to remember the warmth and security that Puffy had given him, instead repeating his father's mantra in his head. Eventually, he forgot what it was like to feel another comforting presence in his bed, and adjusted to his solitude.
Which is what made waking up with a sleeping Harry Potter in his arms quite so alarming. It felt foreign, and strange, and he knew that he should be much more upset about this turn of events. This was wrong; he should not feel so relaxed, so rested, so…fucking content. He should be shuddering away from his touch, should be shaking him awake and berating him for last night's order to stay, should be angry and disgusted and-
Potter snuffled in his sleep and buried his head deeper into the crook of Draco's neck. It felt… good. Thinking it over, Draco decided that he would not question the strange rightness he felt. It was probably just a side effect of the bond anyway. He felt no differently toward Potter than before, just… comfortable in the moment. He could live with that, it wasn't his fault.
Unconsciously tightening his arm around Potter's shoulders, Draco relaxed into the pillows and tried to decide how best to handle the coming day.
Harry resolutely did not want to wake up. He had never had a more restful sleep in his entire life, and he wanted to enjoy the comfort for as long as possible.
Living with the Dursleys, he had become an extremely light sleeper, as any creak from the stairs would wake him at a moment's notice, lest his Aunt or Uncle punish him for being lazy and sleeping in. The sound of the latch opening could mean an imminent prank from Dudley, and the snores from Vernon could mean it was safe to sneak out and try to steal something for dinner.
At Hogwarts, living in a dorm with four other teenage boys did not prove to be terribly peaceful. The room was a cacophony of snoring, sleep-talking, whispered conversations, and- well, other teenage boy activities. Couple that with his nightmares, and he rarely slept an entire night through.
Living on the run, of course, offered absolutely no peace. Harry had startled awake, battle-ready, at every single disturbance, and often would awake for no apparent reason at all. It kept him and his friends tired, but alive.
Even the past few weeks in Grimmauld Place had not proven restful. Harry's nightmares had increased and whenever he would awake, alone, he would inevitably panic and be unable to sleep for hours after. Often he awoke disoriented and, upon finding Ron and Hermione missing, he would shoot up and begin searching the house for them until clarity returned.
This morning, however, something was different. In his sleepy haze, he could not quite put his finger on what it was, but he was so relaxed he didn't care. He was warm, and his pillow was comfortable, and something smelled like apples, and a warm breeze was ruffling his hair…
Wait. He tensed suddenly, feeling the pillow under his head moving. And the breeze was moving back and forth, and something metallic was pressing against his shoulder-
Harry bolted upright, groping aimlessly for his wand, which was not under his pillow where he normally left it. In fact, his pillow was not where he normally left it. Peering around at the blurry shapes, he finally ground out, "Accio glasses," hoping he would be able to locate his wand when he could see.
Scrambling to place his glasses on, Harry finally had to acknowledge the truth that he had been ignoring steadfastly since the moment he woke up: that someone was in his bed, and that someone was Malfoy.
Malfoy was lying down and hadn't moved a muscle since Harry shot up. However, the bright grey eyes staring at him steadily destroyed Harry's hope that he was still asleep.
"You did wandless magic again," he said calmly, cocking his head, his voice too loud in the silence, yet too quiet with Harry's heart beating away forcefully.
"I couldn't find my wand," Harry said eventually, once he cleared his dry throat enough to speak.
Still staring, Malfoy slowly sat up and rested against the headboard. Holding Harry's gaze, he lifted his hand and held out Harry's wand.
"I was afraid you would freak out when you woke up, so I hid it," he explained.
"Oh." Harry blinked, then accepted his wand cautiously. "Er, good thinking. Cause. Um. I might still freak out?" He winced as it came out as a question.
"I couldn't sleep last night, the Bond was agitating me. I came here and you were having a nightmare. I woke you up, and you asked me to stay," he said in a practiced, matter-of-fact way, as if it were normal and not cause for alarm.
"Asked you, or told you?" Harry said in a low voice.
Malfoy finally averted his gaze and didn't answer.
Harry felt his frustration begin to rise. "You should have woken me up!" he said angrily. "I never would have- I mean- this is so- wrong."
Something in Malfoy's face flickered briefly, before a look of anger and disgust replaced it. "My deepest apologies," he said. "I never meant to insult your delicate sensibilities. May I leave Your Lordship's exalted presence now?"
Harry ran a hand through his messy hair, not noticing as Malfoy's eyes tracked the movement oddly. "Go," he said, irritated. Malfoy immediately launched himself off the bed and left, slamming the door shut loudly behind him.
Harry couldn't help but feel like something significant had just happened, and he had missed it.
For the rest of the day, Harry was oddly restless and irritable.
He did his best to avoid Malfoy, as the urge to bark orders at him became almost overwhelming when he was nearby. But somehow, Malfoy always seemed to turn up wherever he was: in the kitchen for lunch, in the drawing room when he was reading, even in the hallway as they passed each other for the bathroom. Each time Malfoy would sneer at him and walk back out, but still, his presence filled the room for hours after.
He needed to get out of the house.
Thinking it over while lying on his bed, Harry decided that tomorrow was as good as any to go and visit the Weasleys. He could have some time away from Malfoy, visit with his friends, and see if Hermione had come up with anything useful about the Vow.
Satisfied with his idea, Harry went in search of Malfoy to inform him of his plans. He checked the drawing room first, followed by the kitchen and the dining room.
He didn't start to panic until after he knocked on Malfoy's room and found it, and the main bathroom, completely empty.
Returning to the basement and going up, Harry methodically made his way through all of the rooms floor by floor, searching for Malfoy. He was on the third floor, halfway up the stairs to the top level, when he heard a noise.
Turning, he rushed back down and stared. Malfoy was standing in the middle of the hallway by a blank stretch of wall, looking at him with his customary derision.
"Lose something?" he drawled.
"Where the hell were you?" Harry asked in angry disbelief.
Malfoy twitched. "This is a big house," he evaded. "Lots to explore." He quickly walked to the staircase leading down, dismissing Harry.
The fury and the frustration rose in Harry. He caught Malfoy before he could descend and slammed him against the wall, leaning heavily on him and gripping his arms tightly when he moved in protest. "I was looking for you," he snarled.
Malfoy raised his eyebrows as if unconcerned, but his pale face gave away his stress. "Well, you obviously didn't try very hard," he returned. "Honestly, I'm not impressed, My Lord. You used to be a better Seeker than that."
Harry slammed Draco against the wall again with more force this time. "Enough games," he gritted out. "Tell me where you were." He felt nothing but triumphant relief as Malfoy swore and fought for a moment before giving in, slumping against the wall.
"I was in the library," he answered in a monotone.
Harry was so surprised he nearly let go of Malfoy. "The library?" he echoed, confused. "This house doesn't have a library."
Malfoy looked at him contemptuously. "This is the Black family manor," he scorned. "Generations of Blacks have lived in this house, cultivating their Dark magic in these rooms and imbedding their secrets in these walls. Do you really think that they would leave such precious secrets lying around for just anyone to find?"
Harry stared at him, mystified. "Explain," he demanded.
Malfoy struggled not to respond, biting his lip so hard it bled. Harry watched one drop of blood trickle down over his lip and toward his chin. Without thinking, Harry reached out wiped it away with his thumb.
Malfoy's hands came up to grip Harry's wrists. He didn't push Harry away or pull him in, but simply held him there, tense as a wire.
The moment past in a bright white light as the bands around Malfoy's wrists shone suddenly and sizzled. Malfoy gave a startled gasp as the bracelets burned him and he groaned, "It's the blood, the Black blood."
Harry, stuck in his stupor, thought Malfoy was still talking about the bleeding lip. "It's not black," he said, confused. "It's red."
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "I have Black family blood," he said as if speaking to a toddler. "You do not. It allows me to see things about this house that you can't."
Harry was getting a headache from the stress and confusion. "But I own the house," he argued. "Sirius left it to me. The magic and the wards all respond to me- even Kreacher responds to me!"
"The magic of the house is forced to listen to you, as the owner," Malfoy explained. "But any secrets that belong only to the Blacks? Those respond to me."
"So what you're telling me," Harry said slowly, "Is that this house has a secret library that only someone with Black blood can see?"
"And probably enter," Malfoy confirmed, nodding. "Now will you let me go?"
Sense suddenly returned to Harry and he immediately backed away from Malfoy as if he was the one who had been burned. He looked between the bleeding cut on Malfoy's lip to the raw and blistered skin around his wrists and felt shame creep up and seize his throat.
"Malfoy," he choked, "I'm-"
"Will you stop bloody apologizing to me," Malfoy said through clenched teeth. He paused and took a deep breathe. "It's becoming tedious."
Harry felt helpless. He wanted to explain himself to Malfoy, but he couldn't. He couldn't even explain his actions to himself.
"What did you want?" Malfoy asked abruptly.
"What?" Harry said dimly.
"You were looking for me," Malfoy said, annoyed.
"Oh," Harry said. "Er. I'm going to go visit the Weasleys tomorrow, before they go back to- before they're gone. And I just wanted to tell you that. Oh, and maybe Hermione will have found something, something that can help us."
"Well, thanks for informing me," Malfoy said sarcastically.
"Did you- did you want to come?" Harry asked uncertainly. "You know, get out of the house, see other people, or… something?"
Malfoy looked at him with disbelief etched on his face. "You really must be feeling guilty," he said slowly, looking bemused. "No, Potter, I do not want to go with you to visit your little friends. No fresh air is worth that encounter."
Harry was inordinately relieved to hear Malfoy referring to him as Potter again. "Ok," he said. "Just thought I'd offer." He began to walk away, before saying uncertainly, "Um, Malfoy?"
Malfoy looked at him wearily. "What now?"
Harry paused, before he rushed out, "What would you like for dinner?"
Malfoy looked caught off guard. "I have a choice this time?" he asked, smirking slightly.
Harry's throat tightened again. "Of course you do," he said. "You always have a choice."
Malfoy looked away. "No, Potter," he said. "Not everyone always has a choice."
Harry waited until Malfoy met his gaze again. Jerking his head to the side, he gestured for Malfoy to follow him and they proceeded down the stairs together, each lost in their own thoughts of choices made and choices taken away.
Thanks to Death'sAngel18, lovergirl101, DustyWolf, rosez-have-thornz, darkmoonlady, Don'tClimbOnThat, AchillesTheGeek, drkmgic, Guest, and Roslyn Drycof for your wonderful reviews! You're all so awesome.
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