*** Day 108 - Harry ***

"So England officially has a new self-proclaimed Minister of Magic."

Harry glanced up from the parchment he was doodling on, blinking. Draco was standing at the foot of the bed, one of his arms lazily draped around the left post. Slowly, Harry set down his quill. "I figured as much. I heard them come back last night…" Boisterous and arrogant and drunk off of victory.

A grim line grew between Draco's brows. "You should've been there."

Harry's gaze flicked away as guilt surged up his throat like bile. He only barely managed to swallow it back down before he asked, "Who died?"

"Fewer people than was expected," Draco said with a sigh. "Most of the Ministry actually got out in time. Someone must have tipped them off."

Harry swallowed. "So…Ron and Hermione—?"

"Alive, as far as the Prophet is aware."

Relief flooded Harry's veins.

"But the Dark Lord is planning another big attack in a couple of weeks," Draco continued. "If we get you out and you can be there to take him by surprise then maybe—"

"No," Harry said tersely, his eyes finding Draco once more.

Something sharp flickered across Draco's gaze. "No?"

"We went through this already."

Several muscles in Draco's jaw tensed in rapid succession, as if he was chewing on his words before he spat them out. "Okay, then let's talk about something else."

Harry huffed. "Fine."

"You kissed me."

Surprise gripped Harry's heart, sending a sharp, electric jolt cascading through his limbs. He blinked, vainly studying the immobile expression on Draco's face. "I thought you said you didn't want to talk about it."

Draco shrugged, his lips pursing. "That was yesterday."

"Right." Harry sighed. He didn't know what else to say. Whatever had come over him yesterday was unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. It was as if he'd been possessed by the swell of dark heat that had burned through his blood the moment he'd realized what he should have known all along. He didn't just care about Draco not dying…he cared about him living. He cared about Draco's hopes and his worries, about what made him tick and what made him sigh, and about what made the side of his mouth curl up to dimple his cheek.

He'd seen Draco there, alive and flushed and breath escaping between parted lips, and he'd lost all sense of control. The hunger that had come over him—Merlin, he'd wanted to meld every molecule in their bodies together. He'd wanted to taste the sounds that Draco made as he sank his teeth into his skin. He'd wanted to know every pressure point that made Draco's muscles seize. The kissing part seemed rather mild compared to all of that.

Harry felt his throat go tight. "I'm sorry if I…hurt you."

Draco made a face, as if Harry's comment was a spec of dust that had dared to stray onto his otherwise impeccable robes. "I'm not that delicate, Potter."

Harry frowned at him, unconvinced.

Draco tilted his head, his grey eyes sharpening. He looked like something from a dream—all dazzling bright colors set afire in the sunlight. "And curious though your affinity for sadism may be, that's not exactly what interests me at the moment."

"What do you mean?"

"I want to know why you did it," Draco said.

"Why I did what?"

Draco blew a sharp breath through his nose. "Why you kissed me, you dolt."

Harry felt an embarrassed heat creep into his cheeks. He averted his gaze to the comforter, willing himself to focus on the waves of green silk instead of the unsteady pounding of his heart. "I suppose," he started, rolling a chapped bottom lip under his teeth, "because I wanted to." Which was the truth…it just wasn't the complete truth.

"Because you wanted to?" Draco returned, disbelief coloring his voice.

The skin between Harry's brows creased. "Isn't that why most people kiss someone?"

"That doesn't count with us."

Harry's eyes flicked up. "Why not?"

"Because you know what I am!"

Hurt flared in Harry's stomach. "And you know what I am," he said thickly. "But you kissed me back anyway."

Draco's arm dropped from the post, his expression hard and unmoving as stone. "You're delusional."

Harry scoffed. "Funny, I was about to say the same thing about you."

Draco rounded the corner of the bed, marching up the side to loom over Harry. The muscle along his jaw was tight and pulsing as he clenched his teeth. In a whir of heated movement, Draco jut out left his arm and pulled up his sleeve. "Look at it."

Harry glared up at the other boy. He didn't have to look down to know what was there. "No."

"Look at it and tell me what I am!"

With a seeker's speed, Harry's hand whipped out and latched around Draco's wrist, pulling down hard. Draco fell with a startled gasp, his eyes going wide upon finding Harry so abruptly close. "This mark is not what you are!"

The edges of Draco's mouth pulled down into a blood-curdling sneer. "Let. Me. Go."

But Harry's grip only tightened, his nails digging into the pale, tender skin of Draco's wrist. "Why do you keep doing this? Why do you keep letting me in and then shoving me away as soon as you realize I'm too close?"

"Potter, I swear if you don't let me go this instant I'm going to—"

"You're going to what?" Harry seethed. "Torture me? Just like you did in those first few weeks? We both know you don't have the stomach for it—not like Carrow does."

Draco's eyes shimmered with something that was rapidly approaching terror. The muscles beneath Harry's hand flexed, but just as Draco moved to pull free Harry countered his weight and hurtled him onto the bed. A mad tangle of limbs ensued as Harry grappled for Draco's other wrist and struggled to gain control of the writhing body beneath him. For once in his life he found himself grateful that Dudley and his gang of morons had bullied him so much when he was younger—though Harry wasn't nearly as strong as he'd been before he was captured, sheer experience carried him through. He pinned Draco down firmly, his wrists trapped above his head and his legs useless beneath the weight of Harry's thighs.

"Get off of me, Potter," Draco panted, his breath hot on Harry's nose.

"I know you're scared, Draco. Merlin, I know—"

A rancid snarl parted Draco's lips. "Don't presume to know things you can't possibly understand."

"Why? Why can't I understand?"

"Because you don't know me."

The words hit him like a slap across the face. Harry's nails dug even deeper into Draco's wrists, carving angry crescent-shaped indents into his skin. "Don't know you? You were the one that said you can't be with someone for three and a half months and not know them!"

Grey eyes darkened, like a storm moving over a winter sky. "That was different."

"Why?" Harry growled. "Because it convenienced you then and it doesn't now?"

"Potter," Draco struggled beneath him once more, his muscles bunching and twisting beneath Harry's grasp. "Get off!"

But Harry ignored him. "I do know you!" He pressed Draco harder into the mattress, watching as his sharp features flickered with a glimmer of surprise. "And I know that this mark isn't what you are! And I'm sorry if what happened yesterday scared you, but don't sit there and act like you didn't feel anything!"

"And what if I did feel something?" Draco flared, a violent red cresting over his cheekbones. "What then? We kiss and we fuck and we live here until one day the bubble bursts and they kill me?"

Harry felt himself go very still.

"Is that what you want? Because that's what would happen! If anyone found out we were involved with each other, I'd be dead faster than I could say 'I told you so'! Hell, if someone came in here now and found us like this they'd pr—"

"Then come with me."

Draco stared up at him as if he'd just sprouted a second head.

"You were going to let me go anyway," Harry urged even as the idea spread its warm roots into his veins. "You could come with me."

"Potter…are you even listening to yourself?"

"We could make it work. I know it would be hard but—"

"Hard? Potter, you're asking me to abandon my life."

His life? Harry was just courteous enough not to snort—though he was sorely tempted. "Draco…you know as well as I do that there's nothing for you here."

Within a blink, Draco's face went from alabaster to crimson. "Don't you dare go there with me, Potter," he hissed, the tendons in his neck straining.

"You're not a—"

"Stop trying to tell me what I am! I am whatever I say I am!"

A sneer curled Harry's lips as a sour hatred made his stomach curdle. "So you say you're a Death Eater? It's as easy as that to you? You're fine with just letting You-Know-Who destroy everything you've ever cared about?"

Fury, such as Harry had never seen, erupted in the body beneath him. In a flash of color and movement, Harry was catapulted to the side, only to have a strong weight pin him back down. When he opened his eyes, Draco's face was mere inches from his own.

"You think this mark on my arm is just for show?" Draco snarled, his grey eyes glittering violently. "It tethers me to the Dark Lord—ensures my loyalty to him through the only method he seems to understand. I once saw him torture Greyback from at least a hundred miles away. You haven't the slightest clue about the things I've seen other Death Eaters endure—that I've seen my father endure! How he was forced to sit helpless while my mother was flayed right in front of him! The things he had to do to make it stop! You have no idea what it was like to live the life that they lived! And I do what I have to in order to keep it from happening again, and I'm certainly not going to belittle their sacrifice by letting the same thing happen to me!"

Harry felt a stone drop in his stomach. "Their…sacrifice?"

Draco's expression dropped and all color drained from his face. The long tendons in his neck tensed, and Harry could practically hear how heavy the words were in his throat as he struggled to push them out. "Never mind. Forget I said anything."

"Draco," Harry pleaded.

Draco's next breath came out in a rapid whoosh. It pooled warmly against Harry's lips and trickled down the exposed skin of his neck. "I got a letter…"

Pain, raw and pure bloomed in Harry's chest and he felt Draco tremble against him.

"It was weeks ago…right after…" Draco shook his head, tendrils of white-blond hair sweeping across his brow. "They're dead, Potter. They're…both dead."

And somehow, Harry knew who they were. Draco's parents. "Dead?" Harry whispered.

All Draco could do was nod.

"I—Draco I didn't know…I'm…" Harry's voice dried and cracked in his throat.

Draco's fingers dug deep into Harry's shoulders as he pressed his eyes shut for a long moment and opened them once more. Whatever vulnerability Draco had allowed Harry to witness had been firmly tucked away beneath layers of ice and marble. "No," Draco hissed. "You didn't know. But even if you did know it doesn't matter—I'm still a Death Eater, and I will always be a Death Eater. Nothing either of us says or does can change that now. Which is why," something dark and pained waded across his features, "you need to stop this."

The words hit Harry like a blow to the stomach. "Draco…don't—"

"Whatever you think you're feeling—it isn't real, Potter. This isn't freedom. You're still a prisoner and I'm still your captor, and as long as you're here that's never going to change. Carrow is still going to torture you every Wednesday while the Dark Lord is out there slaughtering thousands. There will never be anything good for you here, do you understand?"

Harry could feel a swollen sickness ballooning in his chest. The backs of his eyes felt strained, like something was trying to pull them out of his skull. "Why do you care? If you really are a Death Eater, then why are you still trying to help me?"

Draco frowned. "Just because I'm a Death Eater doesn't mean I believe in genocide."

Harry shook his head, tears spilling over the corners of his eyes and dripping into his hair. "I don't know how to stop him, Draco. I don't—I tried."

"Then let me help you."