"So, let me get this straight—you were in such a hurry to get away from the Manor last night, not only did you forget to bring the bare essentials like a cloak, you left behind your only direct means of communication with Potter?" Theo clarified. "A two-way mirror that, as far as you're aware, anyone who happens across it can use?"

Draco grimaced. "Well, when you put it like that, it sounds really bad."

"You're an idiot," Theo declared.

Draco had gone searching for Theo as soon as he realised that the two-way mirror was missing. After checking his bedroom and the kitchen, he found Theo sitting in the living room nose deep in a book about portrait restoration. This wasn't the sympathetic response Draco had been hoping for when he told his best friend about his latest predicament. But he supposed it would have been far too optimistic to expect anything else from Theo. His brutal honesty might be cutting at times, but in Draco's eyes, it remained one of his most endearing qualities.

"I'm not going to argue that point," he bristled. "I just need you to help me figure out what to do."

"About what?"

"About getting the mirror back!" Draco cried. "If my parents find out about Potter and I—"

Theo cut Draco off with a derisive snort. "They'll do what? Strongly disapprove and arrange for you to marry some girl behind your back? Oh, yes! I forgot, they've done that already, haven't they?"

"This isn't funny," Draco hissed. "I don't know what my father will do if he finds out about us."

"You keep saying if. Don't you mean when?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yes, when I tell my parents, but you know what my father's like—no matter how I try to explain the situation to him, he's bound to take it badly. He just won't understand."

Theo's expression darkened. "Oh, I'm well aware of what your father is capable of. Ginny told me about all that shit in our second year with Riddle's diary. You and I both know that he isn't above hurting little girls when the need arises."

"That's exactly my point," Draco argued. "He's not a man to be trifled with. I don't think he'll do anything to really hurt me, but the same can't be said when it comes to Harry."

Theo didn't look convinced. "However cruel your father is, he isn't a stupid man. Do you really think he'd be foolish enough to take on Harry Potter, of all people, even if he is screwing his son? Potter killed the Dark Lord, for pity's sake! Your father might hate him, but your boyfriend would wipe the floor with him—and he knows it. You're worrying over nothing, Draco. Just let daddy dearest stew about Potter in his little office. He knows better than to take action against him."

"Honestly, I'd rather he just didn't find out," Draco admitted before tacking on, "at least until a more appropriate time."

"You sound suspiciously like your parents when you say things like that," Theo pointed out. "I don't see what the big deal is, they're going to find out about you and Potter eventually. Why not just get it over with and tell them now?"

"I just think it would be better to wait until after graduation to tell them."

Theo's eyes narrowed. "Why? What difference does it make whether they find out now or in six months?"

Draco opened his mouth to reply but immediately closed it again when he realised that he didn't know how to answer that. Finally, he replied lamely, "I just don't want to make things worse with my mother and father than they already are."

"You stormed out of their house last night after turning down a marriage proposal and finally admitting that you're gay. You really think telling them that Harry Potter is your boyfriend is going to damage your relationship with them any further? And I thought that you said that you were done with them?"

"I am!" Draco insisted. "I mean...of course, I am done with them controlling my life, but that doesn't mean that I want to completely cut them out of it. They're still my parents."

"Parents who arranged for you to get married to a complete stranger without telling you!" Theo reminded him. "And that's just the tip of the iceberg. After everything they've put you through, you don't owe them a damn thing."

"I know that!" said Draco angrily.

"Yet you continue to give them concessions," Theo chastised, shaking his head. "What does Potter have to say about your parents?"

Draco avoided Theo's inquisitive gaze as he admitted, "We don't really talk about them."

"But he knows what they're like," Theo pressed. "I'm guessing he's never given you ultimatums like, 'it's me or your parents', or anything like that?"

Draco shook his head. "No, he's been very understanding about the whole situation."

Theo did not look impressed. "Well, he's been far more accommodating than I would have been."

"In what way?"

"Well, I don't see how Potter benefits in any way from keeping your relationship secret other than to spare you the job of telling your parents about him."

Draco glowered at Theo. "You make it sound as though I'm ashamed of him."

"Are you?"

"Of course not!"

"Then why all of the secrecy?" Theo challenged. "Don't sit there and pretend that you're wanting to keep your relationship with Potter a secret for his benefit. If you're not going to be honest with him, at least be honest with yourself; the only person that you're worried about in all of this is you."

"That's not true!" said Draco angrily.

Theo drew Draco a withering look. "Really? You finally had the guts to stand up to your parents, but you couldn't find the time to tell them about Potter? You couldn't just say, 'By the way, I actually have a boyfriend already. You might have heard of him—it's Harry Potter!'"

"Considering what had just transpired, I didn't get the opportunity to talk about him," Draco argued.

"Bullshit," Theo spat. "You just want to live this charmed little existence with Potter in secret until it becomes inconvenient for you. If you had your own way, you'd tuck him away safely in a box out of sight any time your parents popped round for a visit."

"Why are you being like this?" Draco demanded. "You're supposed to be my friend!"

"I am your friend!" Theo shouted. "I wouldn't be much of a friend if I didn't call you out on your crap!"

"You know that the situation isn't that simple! There's not just my parents to worry about, what about the press?" Draco argued, desperate to steer the argument in another direction. "When the Prophet finds out about us they're going to have a field day."

"Well, of course, the papers are going to find out. And when they do, they'll do...what, exactly? Tear you to shreds? Sully your stellar reputation?" said Theo sarcastically. "They've already done that— to both of you, on several occasions, no less. And you've both come out the other end of it. Do you really think Potter gives a shit about what the papers have to say about him? Or what they have to say about you?"

"I…" Draco stammered. "I suppose not."

"Of course, he doesn't. If he cared that much, he wouldn't be with you in the first place," Theo assured him. "And the same goes for his family and friends. They might not approve of you, but since when has Potter ever been one to be swayed by popular opinion? You care about him, yes?"

"Obviously."

"Do you love him?"

Draco lowered his gaze and nodded. "Yeah, I do."

"Then why the hell are you sitting here on Christmas day, of all days, getting your wand in a knot over people whose opinions don't matter?" he cried. "What's stopping you from marching straight up to him and being honest with him about how you feel?"

"Because I'm not good enough for him!" Draco snapped, finally losing his temper. Seeing the shocked expression on Theo's face made Draco immediately shrink into himself. "Is that what you wanted to hear? Because that's the truth of the matter. You and I both know that I'm not good enough for him, and soon enough, he'll realise that, too."

"Draco…"

"Don't," he mumbled, unable to look his friend in the eye. "I've known from the very beginning that getting involved with Harry was sheer folly, but I'm not strong or noble enough to turn down what he was offering up willingly. I'm under no illusions that this will last forever, and I know what will happen when he realises that this is a pointless endeavour: he'll leave me and it'll just be just another thing for people to mock me about. It's bound to happen at some point. Honestly, who can blame him?"

Draco's voice trailed off and he crossed his arms around his waist, hugging himself. He was used to people hating him. That in itself was a bitter pill to swallow, but one that he had learned to take in his stride over the years. But for people to openly mock him, as he knew they would, for thinking that he could be with someone as good as Harry Potter...he wasn't sure that he could take that level of ridicule. It probably didn't help that on some level, he agreed with them. But the fewer people who knew about the two of them, then the less mocking he would have to face when Harry did inevitably leave him. It would hurt, yes, but at least he could hurt in relative privacy.

"Do you think Potter loves you?" asked Theo, wrenching Draco from his spiral of morbid thoughts.

"Maybe," he replied uncertainly. "I think so...I don't know. I don't know how he could."

Theo sighed and sank back in his seat. "I won't pretend that I know him as well as you do, but consider this: we're talking about Harry Potter here. The veritable saviour of the wizarding world and all that nonsense—"

"I thought you didn't believe in all of that fate malarky?" asked Draco.

"I don't," Theo confirmed. "But plenty of other people do, and that leads me to the point I'm trying to make. Being the so-called 'Chosen One' comes with certain benefits. Namely, Potter could have anyone he wanted at the drop of a hat, but to date, he's had only...what, two girlfriends before he got together with you?"

"Yes…"

"Well, that tells me that Potter isn't the type of person that would take up with anyone without giving it a lot of consideration first."

"I suppose."

"And when you asked him to keep quiet about your relationship, he did so," Theo reminded him.

Draco hesitated. "Yeah, he did."

"It sounds to me that your trust wasn't misplaced. In the time that you've been together, has he ever betrayed your trust?" asked Theo.

"No," Draco replied quietly. "He hasn't."

"Then why would he start now?" When Draco said nothing, Theo tutted impatiently. "I think it's high time that you were honest with him about how you feel. Which you cannot do if you continue to sit here moping about and feeling sorry for yourself."

"What do you suggest I do?"

"Go and see him," said Theo simply. "Right now."

"Now?"

"Why not?"

"He'll be with the Weasleys. Everyone will know."

"Exactly! Come on, Draco, you've been dancing around this for long enough already. Stop treating Potter like he's some dirty little secret and show him how serious you are about him. All you need to do is march straight up to the front door and ask to see him."

"But I don't know where the Weasleys live."

"Well, as luck would have it, I do," he smirked, rising to his feet. When Draco didn't immediately follow, Theo's shoulders sagged. "Come on, mate. What have you got to lose?"

"Everything."

"Gods, you're so melodramatic," Theo muttered. Rolling his eyes at the furious expression on Draco's face, he argued, "Look, you weren't the only one who went out on a limb with this relationship. Potter took a chance on you when nobody else would, not even me." He held out his hand to Draco. "Isn't it about time you did the same for him?"

Draco stared at Theo's hand as an internal battle of wills raged on inside of him. He knew that Theo was right (as he, somewhat infuriatingly, often was). The rainbow-coloured kneazle was already out of the bag with his parents, what more damage would them or anyone else finding out about him and Harry really do? The braver part of Draco was screaming at him to get up off of his arse and go to Harry, but a seed of doubt remained—that once Harry was faced with having to choose between Draco and his friends, Draco would be cast aside, and then he truly would be alone in the world.

The thought of being hurt and abandoned terrified Draco, but he was equally afraid that his inaction would eventually drive Harry away anyway. Harry had kept holding out olive branches to Draco, reassured him over and over again that he would not leave, that he did not care what other people said or thought about them. And Draco had repaid Harry by forcing them both to live a lie. Wasn't it time to repay Harry's loyalty and patience by trusting him?

Gods, he wished that he was braver, like Harry.

It was time to make a choice—to choose trust over fear.

Draco clenched his jaw tight and grabbed Theo's hand.

Theo's face broke out in a wide grin then. "That's the spirit!" He pulled Draco to his feet. "I don't suppose you remembered to bring your broomstick?"

"Um, no."

Theo clicked his tongue disapprovingly and pulled Draco towards the front door. "I suppose we'll just have to share mine. Come on, if we go now, we can arrive at The Burrow in time for lunch."

Within a few minutes, Draco and Theo were airborne. Normally, Draco would insist on piloting the broomstick (there was no argument that between the two of them, he was the superior flyer) but since he didn't know where the Weasleys lived, he had to settle for the passenger seat and rely on his friend to get them safely to their destination. Rather frustratingly, the best broomstick that Theo had in his possession was a Comet 290, which only clocked in at a top speed of sixty miles per hour. To make matters worse, Theo was a nervous flyer, so what should have been an hour-long journey was being dragged out over nearly two.

"Can't this thing fly any faster?" Draco grumbled for the umpteenth time. He wanted to get to The Burrow and make his semi-public declaration of love before he completely lost his nerve.

"Keep your hair on!" Theo cried over his shoulder. "We're almost there."

"You said that an hour ago!"

Theo ignored Draco's complaints and glanced down at the compass attached to the handle of the broomstick before suddenly veering left. Draco's grip on Theo's waist tightened as they dipped below the clouds, revealing snow-covered fields in all directions. In the distance, however, a large, dark structure began to emerge on the horizon—a crooked building several stories high that looked like a mismatch of several different houses piled haphazardly on top of one another. Draco assumed that Theo would bypass the condemned building and was surprised when they began to soar lower and lower, finally landing in the front garden of the strange-looking house. A lopsided sign stuck into the snow-covered ground near the entrance that had 'The Burrow' written across it confirmed that this was their final destination.

"This is where the Weasleys live?" asked Draco, casting a disparaging look over the wild garden.

As he dismounted the broom, he flinched as he felt something soft and warm brush against his leg and looked down to find a large, bandy-legged ginger moggy rubbing its head against his shin. Theo chuckled and swung the broomstick over his shoulder.

"It certainly is," he said, wading through the snow towards the kitchen entrance.

Draco followed, his legs suddenly feeling like they were made of lead as they approached the kitchen entrance. Before Draco could even ask what their strategy was, Theo had knocked on the kitchen door and pushed Draco in front of it.

"What do I say?" asked Draco nervously.

"Wishing them a merry Christmas would be a good start," Theo suggested.

A few moments later, the front door swung open and Draco came face to face with Ron Weasley. This put his mind at ease a little. He'd been worried about Ron's parents or one of his many siblings answering the door. Ron, at least, would know why he was there, so there was far less explaining to do.

"Weasley," he greeted him with a curt nod. "Merry Christm—"

WHACK.

Before Draco even had the chance to extend a festive greeting, Ron's fist had connected with the end of his nose. An explosion of pain erupted across his face and he staggered backwards a couple of steps, clutching his nose.

"OWWWWW!" he groaned, hot tears streaming down his cheeks. "What the bloody hell was that for?!"

"You know damn well what that was for!" Ron shouted. "What the hell are you doing here? Oh, let me guess, you've come to rub it in Harry's face, have you? If you think for one second that you're setting foot in this house—"

"Who's at the door?" cried a voice over Ron's shoulder. Just then, Hermione appeared, her curious expression turning into one of apoplectic rage when she laid eyes on Draco. "You!"

"Granger," Draco croaked. "Can you explain to me what on earth has gotten into Weasl—OUCH! What the bloody hell are you doing?!"

Without cause or explanation, Hermione had lunged forward and begun slapping Draco about the head, crying shrilly, "You pathetic little—you foul—oh, how could you?"

"You tell him, Hermione!" Ron goaded.

Draco tried as best he could to protect his head with his hands but to no avail. He looked to Theo for help but he had swiftly retreated to the bottom of the garden out of reach from Hermione's furious blows.

"How could I what?" Draco yelped. "What am I supposed to have done?!"

Suddenly, Ginny appeared at the front door. "Whoa, what is going on? Hermione, that's enough!"

With some effort, Ginny managed to pull Hermione off of Draco, holding them apart long enough so that he could take several steps back from the pair.

"What the hell?" he cried.

"What do you want?" Ginny demanded, rounding on him.

"Please, don't hit me!" Draco pleaded, recoiling.

"I'm not going to hit you... yet," she warned. Glancing over Draco's shoulder, her eyes narrowed when she spotted her boyfriend standing awkwardly off to one side. "Theo, what are you doing here?"

"Merry Christmas, love," he cried, far too brightly. "Draco and I thought we'd pop round and wish our better halves a Happy Noël."

"If I had known that I'd receive such a 'warm' welcome, I wouldn't have bothered," Draco snapped. He gently pressed the bridge of his nose and winced. "Urgh, I think you broke it."

"You're lucky that's all I broke after what you've done!" Ron snarled. "You've got some nerve showing your face around here."

"Could someone please explain to me what it is that I'm supposed to have done!" Draco demanded. "Other than being violently assaulted without cause!"

"You are joking, aren't you?" said Ginny, crossing her arms across her chest.

"I'm really not!" Draco insisted.

"I must confess, I'm not sure what he's supposed to have done either," Theo piped up before adding unhelpfully, "Other than the usual."

"I only came here to wish Harry a merry Christmas," said Draco. He looked past the three Gryffindors into the corridor of the Weasley residence. "Where is he, anyway?"

"What's all the racket? Is somebody at the door?" came another voice, one that Draco wasn't familiar with. A moment later, a stout red-headed woman appeared at the door. Mrs Weasley stopped dead in her tracks when he caught sight of him. "Good gracious, what happened to you?"

Draco withdrew his hand from his face and saw his fingertips stained with bright red blood. The sight made him feel nauseous and his world lurched violently. "Urgh, I don't feel so good."

Mrs Weasley must have had a thousand questions running through her mind at that moment—namely, why the bloodied and beaten son of Lucius Malfoy was darkening her doorstep. Rather than seek answers, she stepped out into the snowy path in just her slippers, wrapped an arm around Draco's shoulders and steered him into the house. "Come on inside, dear. We'll get you fixed right up."

"Mum!" Ron cried. "Don't bring him into the house. I've just told him to bugger off!"

"Ronald Weasley, I don't know what is going on but we are not leaving the poor boy bleeding all over our garden!" she snapped. "Now make yourself useful and fetch me dittany from the first aid kit. Ginny, grab some ice from the freezer and wrap it in a kitchen towel. Hermione, you put the kettle on. Theo, it's lovely to see you again, dear. You better come in before you catch a chill."

Everyone knew better than to argue with the Weasley matriarch, so they all piled back into the house and set about their tasks as quickly as they could. As Theo was the last person to enter, he closed the front door behind him and carefully balanced his broomstick on the wall beside a large pile of mismatched shoes.

"Need a hand making the tea, Granger?" he asked.

"Oh. Yes, if you wouldn't mind grabbing milk from the fridge," she said, pouring boiling hot water from the kettle into several mugs. "Thank you."

While Theo and Hermione busied themselves making tea and searching for a packet of biscuits, Draco was plonked into a wooden chair at a large kitchen table. The noise that they were making drew the attention of the other inhabitants of the house, and soon the kitchen was full of Weasleys, including Mr Weasley, Fleur, and a dishy blond fellow that Draco didn't recognise.

"Molly...why is Lucius Malfoy's son sitting at our kitchen table?" asked Mr Weasley, pointing at Draco.

"What happened to his face?" asked Percy curiously.

As the Weasley clan fired a barrage of questions at him and Mrs Weasley, Draco wanted nothing more than for the floor to open up beneath his feet and swallow him whole. Mrs Weasley, however, shushed her family's queries and pulled a chair in front of Draco.

"Everybody be quiet and let me concentrate!" she shouted over the noise. "In fact, if you're not here to administer first aid, please exit the kitchen. That goes for you too, Arthur."

Mr Weasley gaped at his wife. "This is my house!"

"And this is my kitchen," she countered. "Go make yourselves useful and give the ghoul in the attic his Christmas present. Well, why are you all still standing there gawking for? Everybody out! Now!"

Reluctantly, everyone (with the exception of Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Theo) filed back out of the kitchen, grumbling mutinously under their breaths as they did so. Mrs Weasley waited for the kitchen door to close before turning her attention back to Draco and smiled warmly at him. "Move your hand away from your face, dear, and let me take a look," she instructed him gently. Draco did as he was told and allowed Mrs Weasley to assess the damage. She immediately pulled a face and tutted. "Oh yes, it's definitely broken. Who did this to you?"

"Your son," he gritted out, drawing Ron an accusatory look.

Mrs Weasley's eyes widened with surprise. "Really? Well, I'll be interested to hear his explanation for why he did that."

"Believe me, so am I."

"Don't act like you didn't have it coming," Ron muttered, slamming the jar of dittany on the kitchen table.

"Let's just deal with one thing at a time, shall we?" Mrs Weasley drew her wand from the front pocket of her floral apron. "First things first, let's get that nose of yours fixed. Now, I'll be able to mend it, but I'm afraid that it's going to hurt."

Draco sighed and closed his eyes. "It's fine. Just do it."

"Ready?" Draco nodded and Mrs Weasley pressed the tip of her wand to the bridge of his nose. She cleared her throat before saying clearly, "Episkey."

There was an audible crack as Draco's nose reset itself and he couldn't help but yelp in pain. Mrs Weasley patted him gingerly on the knee and assured him that he'd be fine. Once they had mopped up the blood on Draco's nose and chin, Mrs Weasley unscrewed the jar of dittany and applied a dollop of the healing ointment to his nose and under his eyes before taking the cooling pack from Ginny and instructing him to hold it against his face.

"It'll help with the swelling," she explained. "And the dittany should ease the bruising."

"Thank you," Draco mumbled, his face already throbbing with pain.

Hermione placed a mug of tea on the table in front of Draco before handing out fresh cups to everyone else. Mrs Weasley took hers from Hermione's outstretched hand and smiled. "Thank you, love." She took a sip before turning her attention back to her unexpected guest. "So—Draco, isn't it? I wasn't expecting you and Theo to turn up today."

Draco glanced at Theo, who merely shrugged his shoulders. "It was a spur of the moment decision."

"Ah. Then I assume that you're here to see Harry," she guessed.

"Uh, yes," Draco glanced about the room wondering where his boyfriend was. "I'd like to speak to him, if you don't mind."

"In a moment," she replied. "But first, I hear that congratulations are in order."

Draco frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You're getting married, aren't you?"

Draco lowered the ice pack from his face. "How do you know about that?"

"There's an announcement in the newspaper, you idiot," Ron hissed.

"Ronald!" Mrs Weasley chastised.

"What?" Draco whipped his head around to look at Ron and immediately regretted it when shooting pains ran down his face and neck. "What are you talking about?"

Ron slid the latest edition of the Daily Prophet across the table for Draco. "Take a look for yourself."

Draco pulled the crinkled newspaper towards himself, his hands shaking as he fumbled with the pages. It didn't help that he had a room full of angry onlookers as he searched through the newspaper, but eventually, he found the announcements section, hoping that this was Ron's poor attempt at humour. But sure enough, just under the header for engagements was his and Aline's names. Theo leant over his shoulder to take a look for himself.

"Bloody hell," he breathed. "Your parents have really outdone themselves this time."

Draco felt sick. It was bad enough having his parents doing this to him, now they had hurt Harry, too. Thinking about how Harry must have felt when he read this filled him with a level of anger and shame that he'd never experienced before. Unable to even look at the announcement, he pushed the newspaper away in disgust.

"I can explain."

"Oh, this should be good," Ron sneered.

"It's true," Draco began. "My mother and father arranged for me to marry this girl, Aline."

"So, you admit it!"

"They made the arrangements behind my back!" Draco snapped. "They knew that I would never agree to it, so mine and Aline's parents arranged everything without telling either of us. Aline only found out herself hours before the party—"

"Party?" Ginny cut in.

"A winter ball at the Manor," Draco explained. "My parents' attempt to salvage our reputation. Anyway, Aline told me what was really going on last night. Believe me, I was as shocked as you are when I discovered what they had done."

Ron scoffed and shook his head in disbelief, but Hermione drew him a steady look. "You really had no clue what your parents were doing?"

"None," Draco assured them. "Neither did I realise that they had contacted the papers about it."

That drew some more sceptical looks, but thankfully, Theo chose that moment to speak up. "He's telling the truth. He turned up at my doorstep last night and told me everything that happened. He was so furious about what they'd done, he marched out of the house without even remembering to bring a bloody cloak with him."

The others listened closely as Draco and Theo explained in more detail the events of the previous evening. He was acutely aware that Mrs Weasley was still in the room and was reluctant to divulge too many details, in particular how events pertained to his relationship with Harry. But considering he had turned up on her doorstep looking for Harry, and given Ron and Hermione's furious reaction at Draco's purported engagement, he figured she had already worked out why he was really there. When he was done talking, Mrs Weasley sighed and sat back in her chair.

"Well, I'm sorry to tell you this, dear, but Harry isn't here."

"Oh." Draco immediately felt deflated. So coming here had been for nothing. "Then, where is he?"

"We don't know," said Hermione mournfully. "He stormed out of here about an hour ago, right after he saw the announcement in the paper."

"Well, he can't have gone too far," Ginny posited. "There aren't many places that he would go without his broomstick or his wallet."

The wooden chair creaked as Mrs Weasley rose to her feet and walked towards a large grandfather clock in the corner of the room. "Well, wherever he is, at least we know that he's not in any immediate danger."

Draco looked at the clock and felt his stomach drop as he noticed the hand with Harry's name on it was pointed towards 'lost'. While the others exchanged ideas for where Harry might have gone, Draco glanced in Ron's direction, who had remained uncharacteristically quiet. He muttered an excuse about needing to collect more firewood and exited the kitchen without the others taking much notice. Draco was in two minds about whether he should go after him, but after a minute's consideration, he dropped the ice pack on the kitchen table and followed Ron outside.

Draco heard him before he saw him. He followed the sound of metal whack on wood, trudging down the snowy path and round the corner of a red brick garage to find Ron furiously swinging an axe down on a plank of wood, cleaving it in two. His face was set into a deep frown, a mixture of frustration and fury. He didn't bother looking up as Draco approached.

"Imagining that piece of wood is my face?" Draco joked.

"Yup," Ron confirmed, swinging the axe down on another piece. He brushed the chopping block clear and carefully placed another plank on top of it.

"Figured as much," Draco muttered. "You know where Harry's gone, don't you?"

"Maybe."—whack—"Even if I did, I wouldn't tell you, would I?"

"I really didn't know what my parents were doing."

"I don't believe you," said Ron, bringing the axe down harder this time and spraying splinters of wood in all directions.

Draco brushed the splinters from the front of his cloak and asked, "Do you really not believe me or do you just not want to?"

"I don't believe you"—whack—"because ever since I've known you, everything that's come out of your mouth has been a lie."—whack—"And I don't see how now should be different from any other time."

"I might twist the truth a lot on occasion...well, most of the time," Draco conceded. "But not always. You know that I was telling you the whole truth on Halloween, when I told you how I felt about Harry."

Ron raised the axe high into the air, paused, then let it fall by his side, finally looking up at Draco. "You know, I thought the same thing. When this engagement stuff happened this morning, I actually defended you to Hermione and Ginny. I said it didn't make sense that you would hurt Harry—not on purpose, anyway—because you told me that you loved him and really meant it. I said that there was no way that you could have lied to me because you'd been spiked with truth serum that night."

"Exactly," Draco nodded vigorously. "So, you know that I'm telling the truth now when I say that I really do care about him."

But Ron shook his head. "It's not as straightforward as that, is it? Hermione—thank Merlin she actually takes the time to read the bloody school textbooks—she pointed out that there are two ways in which a wizard can resist the effects of Veritaserum. One is an antidote."

"Which I didn't have."

"The other is if the wizard is an accomplished Occlumens," said Ron fiercely. "Which you just so happen to be. Funny that, eh?"

Draco blinked. "Well, yes, that is technically true…"

"More lies," Ron muttered, swinging the axe down again with more ferocity than ever.

"But I wasn't lying to you that night!" Draco insisted. "I really do love him!"

"Well, since you're such an accomplished bullshitter, I guess we'll never know for sure, will we?" Ron sneered. "Good luck convincing Harry. You know, he doesn't trust people easily, and for good reason."—whack—"People have taken advantage of his good nature before, but for some reason beyond my understanding, he still chose to put his trust in you."—whack—"He was so convinced that there was some good in you that he ignored mine and Hermione's warnings. Hell, you almost had me convinced that you really had feelings for him. And what did you do? You went and threw it in his face!" Ron kicked the log pile in frustration, scattering some across the snowy ground, before his shoulders sagged and he shook his head. "I told him that you would let him down but it gives me no satisfaction to be proven right. I'd much rather have eaten my words and have him happy. But no."—whack—"A person can't change their nature. Once a liar, always a liar."

Draco watched Ron continue to hack away at the wood for a few moments, mulling over his words before finally speaking up again. "You're right, I let Harry down. I should never have asked him to keep our relationship secret, especially from you or Granger when I knew that he wanted to tell you. And I didn't tell my parents because I knew that they'd never approve, nor did I want to deal with the fallout from it. I didn't want to rock the boat, for no other reason than sheer cowardice on my part."

"Well, finally we can both agree on something," Ron quipped.

Rather than be goaded into another argument, Draco continued. "That's actually why I came here today. Harry had extended an invitation for me to visit The Burrow over Christmas but I was afraid of the ridicule that I might face from your family, so I immediately turned him down. But after what happened with my parents last night, and after talking things through with Theo today, I realised that it was time to stop hiding in the shadows and be honest about how I feel about Harry. And not just with him, I want to be honest with everyone."

Draco could count on one hand the number of times he had truly spoken from the heart, and this was one of them. Ron, however, appeared unmoved by the declaration.

"Wow," he said sarcastically. "That was wonderfully rehearsed but I still don't know if I can really believe a word of it."

Draco snarled in frustration then. "For fuck sake, Weasley, what is it going to take to prove to you that my intentions are pure?"

Ron sighed and shook his head, then he stilled, a contemplative expression on his face. He drew Draco a challenging look. "Let me see inside your head."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Legilimency," said Ron. "You might be able to beat Veritaserum, but with Legilimency, you can't hide how you really feel. Let me see inside your head without your guard up, it's the only way that I can be certain that you're telling the truth."

Draco snorted. "Absolutely not."

"Fine." Ron swung the axe down one more time and embedded it in the chopping block. After roughly wiping the sweat from his palms onto the front of his jeans, he began marching back towards the house. "We're done here."

"No, wait!" Draco cried out quickly. Ron stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face him. Draco worried his lip for a moment before asking, "If I let you do this, you'll tell me where Harry is?"

"I suppose that depends on what I see, doesn't it?"

Draco gnashed his teeth in frustration. Every instinct was screaming at him to tell Ron to fuck off and run for the hills. His greatest fear had always been to expose his vulnerabilities to others, fearful that they would be used against him. But that long-held fear now paled in comparison when faced with the real prospect of losing Harry forever. Well, if relinquishing some dignity (or what little he had left at this point) to Weasley would lead him to Harry, then so be it. Finally, Draco gave Ron a curt nod.

"Fine. Do it, then."

Ron's eyes widened with surprise. "Wow, I really didn't expect you to agree to it."

"So...you're not going to do it?" asked Draco hopefully.

"Oh, hell no," Ron chuckled darkly and drew his wand. "There's no way that I'm passing up an opportunity like this."

Draco glowered at Ron but said nothing. He knew fine well that if the shoe was on the other foot, he'd take full advantage of the situation as well. He couldn't help but flinch when Ron pointed his wand at his face but made no attempt to retrieve his own. He tried his best to relax, but his heart was pounding furiously in his chest.

"Legilimens."

The moment Ron uttered the incantation, Draco felt an invisible tendril of magic reach out and press against the edge of his mind. Instinctively, he erected a mental barrier to protect himself, which drew him a withering look from Ron.

"Malfoy…"

"I know," he snarled. "Force of habit."

Reluctantly, Draco lowered the mental barriers and permitted Ron unfettered access to his mind. The moment the barriers fell, he felt the tendril of magic from Ron's wand push forward and penetrate his mind. He gasped and snapped his eyes shut at the strange and invasive sensation, but that didn't stop the tidal wave of memories from tumbling across his mind's eye: Hermione slapping Draco across the face quickly cut to a memory of a much younger Hermione doing the same thing on the school grounds. Draco grimaced and tried to push that memory aside only to bring forth similarly the unpleasant memories of being punched in the face by Ron—

Draco snarled and with some effort, he managed to force Ron from his mind and put his mental barriers back in place. "None of those memories are relevant!"

"I know that, but I've never done this before!" Ron protested, raising his wand again. "Just give me a minute to get the hang of this."

"I will not permit you to use my mind as a training ground to improve upon your paltry grasp of magic!"

"You're not making this any easier," Ron countered. "I can still feel you resisting!"

"I can't help it!" Draco cried.

"Well, try harder!" Ron shouted before pointing his wand at Draco again. "The more you resist, the longer this is going to take. You ready?"

Draco closed his eyes and threw his head back in defeat. "Urgh...yes, let's just get this over with."

"Alright then." Ron cleared his throat and repeated the incantation. "Legilimens."

Again, Draco felt the tendril of magic from Ron's wand reach out towards his mind, only this time, he didn't resist. He allowed the invisible probe to wriggle and squirm like a worm, burying deeper and deeper into his memories. Snapshots of random memories flitted past: memories of the first time Draco met Harry in Madam Malkin's Robe Shop quickly morphed into their less than amicable reunion at Twilfitt and Tattings a few months prior...in the blink of an eye, the scene changed again and now Draco was clutching to Harry for dear life as they hurtled through fire and smoke only to burst through the clouds high above Hogwarts, the feeling of fear and exhilaration overlapping one another...the next memory made Draco cringe with embarrassment as he saw himself and Harry lying in bed together, only the bedsheets saving Ron from an eyeful. He watched himself bury his face into Harry's wild locks and breathe in deeply before tightening his grip around Harry's waist, not wanting to let him go. What made it all the more overwhelming was remembering the feeling of that moment—of contentment and overwhelming love.

"I'm going to miss you," he watched himself whisper.

Harry rested his hands on top of Draco's and replied, "I'm going to miss you, too."

It took all of his willpower not to push Ron out of his mind again, but Ron didn't linger on that particular memory, moving swiftly on to other more recent ones: the train journey from Hogwarts to London...their trip to London zoo...Draco walking up the steps towards Malfoy Manor…

The random stream of memories flickering past Draco's vision slowed and came to a halt as Ron zeroed in on one memory in particular. Draco watched unblinkingly with morbid fascination as the discussion he'd had with his parents the previous evening played out in his mind's eye:

"I just had a very illuminating conversation with Aline," he watched himself say through gritted teeth. "She seemed to be under the impression that this was an engagement party. Would either of you care to explain why she would think that?"

Lucius appeared unmoved, but Narcissa cast a guilty look at her husband. Draco saw his angry expression turn to one of horror. "So it's true? This whole winter ball is just some elaborate front for you both to get me hitched behind my back?"

"Don't be absurd," Lucius scoffed. "The purpose of the gathering was for our family to establish new connections with the wider wizarding community. Your engagement to Aline is secondary to that, at best."

Draco wobbled on his feet and clutched the back of a nearby chair to steady himself. "Oh, gods…"

"We were going to tell you," said Narcissa. "At a more appropriate time."

"When?" Draco snapped. "At the altar? Once you'd tricked me into the marital bed?"

"Hold your tongue, boy," Lucius warned. "Remember who you are speaking to."

Draco watched the whole scene play out again: the argument escalating to the point where his father lunged forward and grabbed the front of his robes, threatening him. Draco shaking him off and marching out of the house. The argument with his mother. And finally, exiting the Manor gates and Apparating to Nott Hall. It was only when Theo opened the front door and invited him inside that Ron felt that he had seen enough and finally lowered his wand. The moment Ron severed the connection between them, Draco slumped forward and gasped for breath, physically and mentally drained from the experience. After holstering his wand, Ron stepped forward and grabbed Draco by the shoulder and steered him over to the large bundle of firewood piled against the garage and instructed him to sit down on top of it. It wasn't the most comfortable seat, by any means, but it was a damn sight better than collapsing in a heap on the snow.

"Wow," said Ron quietly. "Your parents really are the worst."

"Don't get me started," Draco croaked. When he finally got control of his breathing again, he drew Ron a hard look. "Satisfied now?"

Ron had a conflicted expression on his face. "You really do love him, don't you?"

"That's what I've been trying to tell you!" Draco cried.

"I know, but you can't blame me for being suspicious of you," Ron argued. "Considering...well, everything."

Draco couldn't really argue with that. He sighed and shook his head. "No, I suppose not." He looked expectantly at Ron. "So, are you finally going to tell me where Harry is?"

Ron hesitated. "Now, I can't say for certain where he is…"

Draco gaped at him. "Are you serious?"

"Let me finish! There's a pretty high chance that he's gone to Grimmauld Place."

"Grimmauld Place," Draco repeated. "The ancestral home of the Blacks?"

"The one and only," Ron confirmed grimly.

"Why would he go there?"

Ron shrugged. "Apart from here or Hogwarts, there aren't many other places that he would go. He'd maybe go to The Leaky Cauldron, but since he doesn't have any money, I'd rule that out. Plus, Sirius left Grimmauld Place to Harry in his will, and it's quiet there, so it's where I'd go first."

"Yes, I remember my Aunt Bellatrix wasn't best pleased about that," Draco muttered. "If you think Harry's there, why didn't you go looking for him yourself?"

"Because he asked to be left alone," Ron explained. "He does that a lot, you know. When he's upset, he'll just disappear for hours on end, find a quiet spot to sit and mull things over. But you didn't see the look on his face when he thought you'd screwed him over, he was devastated."

"All the more reason I need to find Harry and explain to him what really happened," said Draco. "Please, Weasley. Let me fix this."

A pained expression flashed across Ron's face before he sighed and took hold of Draco's shoulder. "Alright. Come on, let's see if we can sort this mess out in time for Christmas dinner. I'm bloody starving."

Before Draco could chastise Ron for thinking about his stomach at a time like this, he felt his feet being wrenched from the ground and into the air as Ron Apparated them away from The Burrow towards Grimmauld Place and (hopefully) to Harry.