A Note from the Author: Hi everyone, thanks for joining me today. Draco Malfoy is still only wearing a towel, don't forget. Big shout out to my most recent followers, you know who you are. I'm a bit ahead in the writing, so you guys get a bonus chapter. I don't know how much you'll be thanking me, though. At least you won't have to wait long for the regular update..? These cliffhangers- they will be the death of me. As always, leave me a review, message me, whatever. Thanks for reading my silly story, I really appreciate it. 3

Chapter 26

"Where is it, Draco?"

The accusation in Potter's voice was completely unwarranted. He stared at him for a moment, needing him to see that. To feel the way he was feeling.

"I don't know, Potter. I left it here; it was always here."

"Who else has access to your room?"

Draco adjusted his towel, standing in front of the fireplace wishing he had gotten dressed, wishing Harry would suddenly forget he was angry and kiss him again. Or kiss him angrily again, that had been nice. "You, me, and Snape."

"You just let him come and go whenever?"

Again with that tone. "No, Harry, he's my head of house. He holds all the proverbial keys down here."

He could see Harry visibly deflate. He hadn't known that his boyfriend had such a temper. It made him feel more than a little anxious. In Draco's experience, people with tempers tended to lash out in more ways than one.

"I don't have a temper; I'm only feeling protective of you," Harry growled defensively.

Draco felt it then, true enough. But Harry's quick-to-rise anger was still there, poorly hidden.

"Would he have a reason to take it?" Harry was asking.

Draco thought about all of the nefarious things a wizard could get up to with another's wand. The truth was, unless the wand recognized said wizard, there wasn't much. A man like Severus Snape, though, as resourceful as he was, he wasn't sure.

"I'm not sure."

Harry looked like he was trying to pierce right through his mind with those shining emerald eyes of his. Draco tried hard to remain open to the Boy Who Lived, it seemed to be the only way to garner what little trust was left. He was finding it more difficult that he thought, however, after a lifetime of protecting himself, of hiding who he was.

"I know you're trying, Draco, but I'd really like to get to the bottom of this." Harry sounded weary.

"Does it even matter at this point?" Draco mumbled. It seemed to him there were bigger problems facing them right now. There was terribly little they could do about the binding, even if he himself had done it.

"Of course it matters." That wave of anger again. "You're trying to distract me, aren't' you? Next thing I know you'll be taking off your towel."

Draco's eyebrows went up, a small smirk curling his lips. "I can do that if you'd like, Potter."

Harry looked him up and down like he was actually considering it. Draco felt his smirk grow larger. His fingers toyed with the top of his towel and he watched Harry's eyes get big. His eyes were truly beautiful, shining in that way. "You would?" Draco whispered.

Draco started at the side, untucking what was tucked, slowly revealing a hip, a portion of his thigh.

Then Harry's hands were on his, stopping him. "Merlin's ghost, Draco, stop," Harry sounded out of breath and weirdly afraid. He thought Harry Potter wasn't afraid of anything.

"You've never done this before." Draco didn't think it was possible but Harry's eyes got even wider.

"I'm sure you can read my thoughts, Draco."

"I can't. But I can read you like a book." Draco leveled his gaze at Harry, but secured his towel back around his hips.

Harry ran a hand through his hair. Adjusted his glasses. He took more than a small amount of pride at the fact that he still made the other boy nervous. That meant something, didn't it?

Draco smirked.

"What are you smirking about now?" Harry demanded.

"I'm your first relationship, really? I thought you and that girl-"

Harry looked quite uncomfortable. It wasn't exactly that Draco enjoyed it, it was..complicated, familiar, made him feel a tiny spark of joy. "No, it was never..like this."

"Nothing is like this," Draco whispered, reaching out, pulling Harry closer.

Harry hesitated, looking away.

"You're my first boyfriend, Harry Potter."

Harry's eyes went wide again. "Seriously, stop doing that."

"What? You were wondering."

"So? Doesn't mean you have to answer." Harry pushed him away again and walked to the other side of the room, eyeing the large tome Draco had left on the table.

"What is it?" Draco asked, his voice soft and knowing, "You wish it were different?" He watched Harry run his fingers over the cover, feeling Harry's emotions: uncertainty, regret, love. Others probably, he couldn't name or sort out. They were both a mess, emotionally, it was plain to see, and feeling each other's mess of emotion, well, that was tangled indeed.

"I don't like feeling as though we were puppets on Voldemort's strings," he said, his voice acidic.

Draco scoffed. "You and me both, Potter." He swallowed hard, pushing down his own conflicting emotions, hoping Harry wouldn't notice. He seemed to have enough of his own to deal with, currently. It was like sliding back into an old skin; putting up the wall, making his face a mask of indifference.

"You're doing it again."

Draco turned at the sound of Harry's voice. He was turning the pages in the book now, not even bothering to look up. "It's a defense mechanism, Potter. Since when do you study so hard?"

Harry didn't respond so Draco busied himself in his closet. Everything he had picked out before was wrong. He would have to start over. He would have to keep Harry's attention, keep trying to make him see that the only way through this was together.

"If it were different.." Harry was muttering while running his finger down a page and frowning.

"Yes, Harry?"

Harry looked at him as though he hadn't realized he'd been talking out loud. He cleared his throat, flattened his hair. "If it were different, if we unbound the spell, we would know then, for sure, right?"

Draco thought about the implications of being unbound. He had been quite enjoying getting this close to Harry, even if the circumstances were less than ideal. The warmth was incredible, the physical sensations it brought were nothing short of divine. But he could feel Harry's uncertainty, his doubts. And, perhaps worse, he could understand it. Having sudden feelings of love and lust for a bully? Because if he was being honest with himself, that's what he was. But then again, Hermione had talked about latent feelings. It was as if Harry's uncertainty was contagious. "Is that the most important thing right now?"

"Of course not, but it would answer some questions. Wouldn't it? Give us some direction, instead of none."

Answers, yes. But somehow, Draco felt the questions were better left unasked.

Draco crossed the room as he buttoned up his dark shirt. He stopped by Harry's elbow, purposely waiting until this moment to tuck it in. He watched with delight as Potter's cheeks flushed a bright red. "I've been through this book, Harry. There's no way to undo it, short of death."

"Who's death?" Harry asked quietly. "This isn't your handwriting is it?"

Draco leaned over Harry, touching him as much as the other boy allowed. The warmth flooded him, and he knew, Harry, too. It made him feel good, better than good. All he could think about was Harry's tongue in his mouth, his soft touch on his scared back. "The caster's death," Draco said, the words almost dying on his lips. Harry craned his neck to look up at him, a discerning look on his face.

"Is that why you don't want to know?"

Draco backed up, finishing doing up his belt. He felt that the question didn't need an answer, so he didn't waste his breath. Of course he had thought about it, that night while Harry had lain next to him, sleeping soundly. He wondered if he would have the courage to end his own life, if Harry wanted it that way. Not that he could say any of that out loud. He chose to answer a different question instead. "That's not my handwriting, Potter."

"I suppose not, yours is more loopy."

"My handwriting is not loopy."

"It looks so familiar.."

Draco was at his mirror, knotting his red silk scarf around his neck, staring at Harry in the reflection. "It's not Granger's, is it?"

"No. Have you read some of this stuff? It's real weird."

Draco laughed. He knew what he was talking about. Harry looked up and favored him with a smile, making his heart melt.

Harry started reading aloud from the book. "'The binding, if done correctly, requires a part of the wizard to meld with another, but the rewards reaped can be without bound.' I mean, who writes like that?"

Draco turned, meeting Harry's eyes. The smile was gone, realization dawning in his face. Draco had a suspicion, a hunch, some might say. If Harry came to the same conclusion, it might even be correct.

"Do you remember, Harry, just before our second year?"

Harry's face turned grim. "When your father slipped Ginny Tom Riddle's diary?"

"Well, it was meant for you, but yes."

He felt Harry's anger flare at his words. Perhaps it wasn't the wisest way to phrase things. He turned away, shrugging on his patterned vest, his fingers faltering at the buttons, apprehension compressing his chest.

"Voldemort. It's Voldemort's notes I'm reading, isn't it?"

When Draco didn't answer, Harry made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat and shoved the book off the table. It hit the floor with a dull thump and a papery rustle. Draco waved a finger and it floated easily to his outstretched hand. "Careful, Potter, it's very old."

Harry's intoxicating eyes and his taut jaw held the promise of violence. Draco cleared his throat, thinking fast of how to defuse the situation. He took a breath, calming himself, trying to feel his own emotions so Harry would too.

"Anything else you want to tell me, Malfoy?" Harry was on his feet, advancing. At least he didn't have his wand out.

Draco stood his ground, squaring his shoulders. "I had a theory, Harry. I needed you to come to your own."

"And?"

"And you've confirmed it. I believe the dark Lord was in possession of this very book. That he probably poured over it just like we're doing, but for a different purpose."

The anger left Harry in a rush. Draco actually gasped, his boyfriends mood changed so suddenly, it was like a cold shower. "The dark mark."

Draco smirked as he nodded. He knew Harry wasn't stupid, but he was actually much quicker than anyone gave him proper credit for.

Harry was suddenly in his arms, arms wrapped around Draco's neck, his breath in his ear. "Stop being proud of me," he murmured.

Draco chuckled, feeling it odd that such a sound could come from him, and Harry's lips were suddenly on his own. Harry's tongue on his lips, his teeth, his tongue. It took his breath away and made his whole body tingle every time.

"Are you ready, yet?" Harry asked with a smile on his face, tugging at Draco's vest.

Draco's hands went to his hair. His wet hair had dried in that slicked back style he used to wear. "I have to fix this, Potter."

"What? This?" Harry grinned, his hand touching Draco's hair. "It makes you look..younger." He snorted with laughter.

"Shut up, Potter." He felt the air swirl around his fingertips, turning cold. He ran his hands through his hair and as he did so, it changed. It fell around his face, tickling his ears. He did it once more, sweeping it to the side. He met Harry's wide eyes.

"How does magic still shock you?"

"I don't know," Harry stammered, embarrassed. "I just never think about it for regular things like, that." He gestured to Draco's hair.

"That's probably why yours is always a mess." Draco meant it good-naturedly, but by the look on Harry's face, his tone must have been wrong. Something to work on. "I meant it as a joke, Harry. You know I love the way you look."

Harry sighed. It felt to Draco like just one thing too many. The straw that broke the wizard's broom, or however the saying went.

"I've been thinking," Harry said, turning his back to Draco.

Draco wanted to reach for him again, but he could tell the other boy wasn't in the mood. Besides, they were both fully dressed and what a pain it would be, to get ready all over again. Draco set his mouth in a firm line. Whatever it was, it didn't feel good. "What is it?"

"We need to break up."

"I thought we already did," Draco said slowly. "I also thought I was winning you back with my good looks and impeccable charm."

Harry smiled grimly. "You were. That's the problem. Nothing has changed."

Draco felt the floor open up beneath him and swallow him. He felt his heart drop into a bottomless pit of despair. He couldn't breathe and the room swam. His knees shook once and buckled, thankfully he was able to grab the edge of the table and stay on his feet. His chest was tight, very little air going in and out, or maybe it was too much, he couldn't tell.

Harry turned, alarm on his face. His hands were on Draco's chest, on his face. Harry's firm grip was on his shoulders, guiding him to a chair, warming his bones. The despair wouldn't leave, though, it only got stronger. He looked into Harry's eyes, needing him to say more, to say anything except what he just said.

"What?" His voice came out a strangled whisper.

Harry was suddenly on his feet, pacing, his voice a bit frantic. "I'm sorry Draco. I am very sorry for this, but with everything you've told me, everything that's happened," Harry paused, he stopped walking, but he wouldn't meet Draco's eyes.

"You can't trust me."

"No, I can't. And this is too important.," Harry's voice was getting louder, his arms waving around. Draco could only listen and watch. "You- You're the son of a Death Eater. Not only a Death Eater but this particular Death Eater is the right hand man of the dark wizard who is trying to kill me. He's been trying to kill me all my life. You say Lord Voldemort is your family legacy. This is everything to me, Draco, it's my life. He wanted us together for a reason, so it's extremely clear to me," Harry paused. Draco could feel his resolve weaken, build again. "We have to stay apart. "

Draco's head whirled. The room spun. He couldn't think. He had to think. If he could just convince Harry to stay-

"I can protect you, Harry. We-"

"How can you when you won't chose a side?"
Draco bristled, his hands curled into fists. "I told you I would help you."

Harry scoffed. "Yeah, you did and where is that help now?"

"We've been a bit," he paused, looking for the right word. He could feel Harry's anger and every time he talked it seemed like he inadvertently stoked the fire. "Preoccupied," he finished, thinking of the wild dreams and romantic interludes. Preoccupied indeed.

Harry scoffed again, walking away, pacing. Draco wanted to reach out to him, to calm him. "Don't touch me," Harry mumbled. Draco could sense that wasn't what he really wanted, but he respected Harry's wishes.

"We can start now, Harry. I'll teach you everything I know. I said I would. But what you're asking me to do, that's an impossible choice. I would need.." his words failed him as Harry came rushing back to him, all anger and frustration.

"Assurances?" The Boy Who Lived spat.

Draco cleared his throat. Adjusted his shirt collar. It felt quite tight all of a sudden. How could he tell Harry Potter that the only way he would be on the side of good is if they were together? It sounded like a weird play for power in their already strange relationship and that wasn't how he meant it, not at all. He just needed a reason. A good reason. A life-changing reason.

"Your hesitation says everything, Malfoy." Harry turned away, swatting at the air as if Draco was a bug. "No matter how you feel."

Harry's anger was catching. Or maybe he was finally feeling some of his own. It was so hard to know the difference. "It's more complicated than that, Harry. You know it is. Even this, this war-" the word was hard to say; no one he talked to had referred to current events as such, no one except for Harry, "-it's not all black and white, good versus evil. You of all people should know this. You're not the savior of the wizarding world, Harry, no matter what they, what Dumbledore tells you. You don't have to shoulder that responsibility. A seventeen year old kid, responsible for killing the darkest wizard of our time? It's insane. It's ludicrous." Draco thought his words would calm Harry down, but they seemed to have the opposite effect.

"And you?" He was advancing on Draco again, his glasses obscuring his beautiful angry eyes. "Choosing between doing something good and right and your awful family who hardly cares for you? And you won't do it? That's insane. That's ludicrous. You have no secrets from me, not any more."

"I didn't ask for it, Harry."

"It's not like I asked for this either! For any of it!" Harry paused and Draco felt that he was talking about him. About them. Harry's eyebrows pulled down in a scowl, maybe feeling Draco's sudden pang of hurt feelings, he couldn't be certain. "And for all I know, you did ask for some of it. You could have cast the spell, you said it yourself."

It felt like a blow to the chest but Harry's hands never left his sides. "I said I didn't know for certain."

"And now your wand is gone. How convenient."

"That's not fair, Harry."

"You want to talk about fairness? He killed my parents. He wants to kill me. After everything I've been through, it's becoming increasingly clear to me that this is just something I have to do. No one else can. It's him or me."

"You don't have to, Harry." He made his voice soft, trying to remain calm and clear-headed. "There's always a choice. You could walk away. We could leave, together."

Harry scoffed. "Maybe you could, but I can't." Harry paced a bit more then stopped suddenly. "There is another option."

"What?"

"You bring me in. Complete your mission. Let me face him head on."

Draco's felt his insides turn to ice. He had trouble drawing a breath and once again, he couldn't find his voice. He thought of his father's face when he walked through the threshold of Malfoy Manor with Harry Potter in tow. "I can't do that, Harry."

Draco could feel Harry's frustration coming off him like heat from a fire. He could also feel..

"You love me," Draco whispered. "Stay with me." He reached for Harry's hand, but the other boy pulled away.

"I can't, Draco." The anger had leached out him in a rush, replaced by resolute despair. His voice was quiet and choked. "You know I can't."