AN: Written for Round 3 of QFL. OP, dramatic Harry. AU. No Horcuxes or Deathly Hallows.
Warnings: Language, Violence, Canon Character Death, Character wishing he had died.
Wordcount: 2988
Prompt: The Tell-Tale Heart by Edgar Allan Poe: Write about someone hiding a big secret.
Optional Prompts:
1. (quote) "I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one,
I will indulge the other." - Mary Shelley, Frankenstein
2. (season) winter
3. (plot point) a wedding
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
One Act Can Change Everything
It was chaos.
What had started as a beautiful winter's day in Hogsmeade was now a complete and utter nightmare. The snow-covered paths were now littered with debris and dropped packages. The frigid air was thick with smoke, curses being flung in every direction. Explosions rang out like thunder.
Panic reigned.
Emerald eyes scanned the scene, desperately searching for the platinum hair and stormy grey eyes of the boy he loved. Relief swept over him as their eyes met.
He began to move, but it was too late.
The relief turned to ash in his mouth as the masked figures, shrouded in black, converged, resembling a dark cloud as they surrounded their target.
"HARRY!"
As the scream echoed above the mayhem around him, the cloud vanished.
It all began with a single note.
I know you tried to save Diggory. Don't be such a Gryffindor. It wasn't your fault, scar-head.
-DM
Harry rolled his eyes. Apparently, Malfoy couldn't refrain from using insults, even when he tried to say something nice. Harry's first instinct had been to crumple the note and be done with it, but for some reason, he couldn't.
Harry threw his hands up in frustration, giving in to his curiosity. He scribbled a reply without bothering to sign it and sent it off with Hedwig.
Why would Daddy's Little Death Eater care if I blame myself?
A week passed before Harry received a reply.
He was staring at the ceiling when Hedwig flew in, dropping a package and a letter on the bed before moving to her cage.
Harry set the package aside and opened the letter.
I resent that, Potter. I have no intention of becoming a Death Eater. As for why I care… Open the package.
-DM
Frowning, Harry set the letter down and picked up the package. Turning it over in his hands, he realized it was a book. He was suspicious, but also curious. Hermione would probably skin him alive for this... He smiled at the thought and opened it.
Inside was a black leather-bound notebook. On the first page, written in Malfoy's handwriting:
This journal will allow us to communicate.
Harry almost threw the book, thinking back to Riddle's Diary. Only the fact that the writing had stayed on the page, rather than disappearing, convinced him to continue.
He couldn't help but scoff a little when he read the following words. Apparently, Malfoy had anticipated his reaction.
This is NOT like the diary my father gave the girl Weasley. This journal is linked to mine, simply allowing us to write to one another. Once you open it, you will be the only person who can open or read it. It is also impervious to most damage.
Potter, I know there has been more than a bit of animosity between us, but you were curious about my intentions, and this seemed like an easy way for us to talk. Toss it if you want, and we can settle for mutual indifference.
Harry debated with himself. He hated Malfoy… and Malfoy hated him… right? But then why did he seem to care about Harry blaming himself when not even Ron or Hermione had noticed?
…
Note: the next section will be dialogue only.
…
Malfoy?
Potter.
Hey.
Hello.
This is… different.
I suppose that's one word for it.
What would you call it?
Mental?
Agreed. What now?
What would you like to know?
Why did you send me that note?
Two reasons. The first is that regardless of what you may think, I am human.
Well, that clears it up. And here when I called you a ferret, I thought you really were one.
Must you be a prat? This is rather difficult.
To be fair, you've made my life difficult from the start.
And you have responded in kind. I hardly think it matters at the moment.
You're right, old habits and all.
Continue.
Thank you so very much.
How do you manage to be that sarcastic in writing?
It's a talent.
Look, Potter, I know that when we first met, I was a spoiled, arrogant little snot who parroted my father and thought the world owed me. When you refused to talk to me at the shop and rejected me on the train, my pride was wounded, and I took it out on you. By the time I realized my mistakes, it was too late.
I wrote you that note because I had always wanted us to be friends. I saw your face that night, and I know what happened. I couldn't just let you sit here all summer, blaming yourself. I had to at least try.
I find this all a little hard to believe, Malfoy.
You still act the same at school.
Because I have no choice. My father would literally have my head if I behaved any differently. While I am still spoiled, arrogant, and haughty from time to time, I am not the bigot my father raised me to be.
You said there was a second reason?
Yes. I need something from you.
I don't know why I'm surprised.
I can practically hear your suspicion, but it's not what you think. When you wrote back, I saw a chance. I told you that I don't intend to become a Death Eater because, honest to Merlin, I never thought Voldemort would actually return. But now that he has, I need to make that clear.
You said his name!
I beg your pardon?
Voldemort, you said his name!
Yes? And?
You didn't call him You-Know-Who or The Dark Lord!
Don't make me laugh, Potter. "The Dark Lord"? He may be powerful, but he's a mutant, and he's certainly not the Lord of anything. And "You-Know-Who"? That just sounds ridiculous. I won't say his name in public for obvious reasons, but I refuse to allow that creature to control me any further.\
Wow. I never thought I'd say this…
but I'm impressed, Malfoy.
Naturally.
Arrogant ponce.
Well, yes, but I said that I'm not as arrogant as I pretend to be. That doesn't mean I'm not arrogant.
Fair enough.
But what do you want from me?
When the war begins, I need someone to know I'm not the enemy. You are the only one I have a prayer of convincing, and that includes Dumbledore.
And until then?
I stay right where I am and act as usual.
Scared, Malfoy?
Low blow, Potter. And yes, as a matter of fact.
I didn't expect you to admit it.
Well, I did. Satisfied?
Sorry. What's your plan then?
I keep up appearances. It's my only chance to stay safe until I come of age, at which point I will become Head of the Malfoy Family.
And?
Honestly, Hogwarts really should offer a course in magical culture. I'll be able to disown my father.
I'm guessing there's more to disowning a Wizard than not associating with them?
Correct. He won't have the Malfoy name or access to any of the vaults or properties, rendering him virtually powerless.
And if the war starts before then?
That brings us back to you. If I'm underage, I'll run. But even if I make it out alive, I won't survive long on my own. I'll need help.
And if it starts after, will you just hide?
Is this a test, Potter?
A bit, but mostly I'm just curious.
I may. It all depends. I don't care what anyone thinks, but I won't risk my life if I am treated like a Death Eater. If that happens, I'll stay in the Manor and out
of the way. If not, I'll help where I can.
That's… fair.
Does this mean you believe me?
Why wouldn't I?
As you pointed out, I've made your life miserable. I'm a Slytherin; my father is a Death Eater, I've been a bully. Why should you trust me?
Do I need a reason?
You really are a Gryffindor.
I'll take that as a compliment.
This time, it was.
And Potter?
Yeah?
Your handwriting is atrocious.
Shove off, Malfoy :)
From that night on, they wrote to each other constantly. Harry had decided to keep his new friendship with Draco a secret, though Draco had said he could tell anyone he trusted. Harry didn't want to take any chances or deal with any judgment. He told Ron and Hermione he had been listening to a muggle TV program one day when someone said that journaling was an excellent way to control your emotions. Ron had shrugged indifferently, and Hermione had praised him for his initiative. Neither questioned him after that.
When school started, they began meeting in the Room of Requirement.
They were growing closer every day. They still argued and challenged each other, but there was no malice behind it. They learned they had a surprising amount in common and could spend hours debating their interests. Draco began tutoring Harry in Potions, while Harry trained him in Defense. Within a couple of weeks, they had begun meeting every night.
One night, Draco had arrived first. He was beginning to worry when Harry burst in, eyes blazing with fury and hand dripping with blood.
"What happened?" Draco yelled in alarm.
"That bloody bint, Umbridge! She made me write lines with a blood quill!" He began to pace back and forth in his rage and frustration, "I must not tell lies! What a load of bollocks! I am so bloody sick of this! Every blasted year it's something! I'm the Boy-Who-Lived, I'm the Heir of Slytherin, I'm targeted by a traitor, I put my name in the Goblet of fire, and now I'm an insane liar who seeks attention! As if I wanted my parents murdered!" His voice began to crack, tears streaming down his face, but he continued as though he didn't notice or care that he was crying for the first time in years, "As if I wanted to be raised by people who think I'm worthless! As if I wanted to be targeted every year by a madman! As if I wanted to be the one who brought him back to life and watch Cedric get murdered! I didn't want any of this! I'm either a saint or evil, and I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!"
Harry dropped to the ground, wrapping his arms around his knees as he sobbed, whispering, "maybe it would have been better if I had just died with my parents."
He gasped as he was yanked up and encircled by a pair of strong arms. Draco hugged him fiercely. Then he lifted Harry's gaze to meet his, "You listen to me, Harry Potter," he said softly, his grey eyes shining with an emotion Harry couldn't place, but took his breath away regardless, "I don't want to hear you say anything like that ever again."
"But..."
"No, Harry," Draco said fiercely, grasping his chin tighter, "Those people out there don't deserve you. Fuck Voldemort. Fuck Voldemort. Fuck them all. The world would be a much darker place without you. You are strong, smart, funny, sarcastic, talented, stubborn, reckless, brave. You are a beautiful person, not because of what you did, but because of who you are. Never again, do you understand me?"
They stood together, their gazes locked.
Harry's lips trembled as he nodded.
Draco smiled gently and wiped the tears from Harry's face.
His touch lingered against Harry's cheek.
Harry closed his eyes briefly at the contact, heart beginning to pound.
Neither knew who made the first move, and neither cared.
Slowly, tentatively, warm lips met.
They melted into the embrace. Tongues tangled together, hands wrapped in hair, and they pressed as close as they could get.
When they finally broke apart, shining silver eyes met blazing emerald green, and an understanding passed between them. There could have been fear, hesitancy, awkwardness, or doubt, but there was none—only passion and determination.
Draco was ripped from his pleasant memories when a slash of pain struck him across the cheek.
"You will look at me when I'm talking to you, baby Malfoy." his attacker hissed. "I know about your traitorous behavior. We have you, and soon we will have Potter. All that's left to decide is whether to kill you or mark you as one of mine, allowing you to live with your guilt."
For the last year, they had kept their relationship a complete secret. It had quickly become a competition to see who could insult and prank more creatively and win their 'fights.'. No one saw the sparks of amusement and affection in their exchanges, or so he had thought.
While Draco had been terrified when he'd first been captured, that was no longer the case. Now, looking up at snake-face himself, Draco was royally pissed off.
Rage like he had never felt coursed through his body. The anger was so intense that Harry felt as though white-hot flames engulfed him. Tom Riddle had gone too far, and now he would pay.
Magic began to flow from his core, seeking his soul mate. As his anger and desperation increased, so did the magic. The air vibrated with it, and people cowered around him, unsure how to react to such immense power. All at once, his magic surged, reaching its destination and connecting with Draco. Although he couldn't see it, he felt their magic swirl together, forming a rope as it snapped into place.
His soul sang with joy as he felt Draco in his mind. Harry knew exactly where to find him and could feel surprise, love, and then smug satisfaction from Draco.
What came next left him howling with rage, causing the crowd around him to flinch.
They. Were. Torturing. His. Draco.
He disappeared, preparing to wreak havoc.
Draco sneered defiantly as he felt the power of the soul-bond coursing through him. Tom Riddle was in for a world of hurt.
"You've made a big mistake, Snake-Face."
Voldemort's eyes flashed, "Crucio."
His face slammed against the stone, and he bit through his lip as the curse pierced its way through him. He felt as though he were being submerged in a lake of fire while knives, needles, and swords slashed their way through every inch of his body. He felt a surge of anger and worry through the bond through the agony before he lost consciousness.
When he awoke, he was being held upright by random death eaters. Harry was in front of Voldemort, his eyes trained on Draco. As he watched the air crackle with the force of Harry's magic, he sneered weakly at Voldemort, not caring about the blood in his mouth.
"I told you so."
Harry was surrounded, but he only saw Draco, bound, bruised, and bleeding.
Facing Tom, he spoke to Draco, "You alright, love?"
"Fine, Harry. I'm not made of glass." He could hear the smirk in Draco's voice. "Take care of him and get me out of here, yeah?"
"You think it will be so easy?" Tom jeered, "you think you can just-"
"ENOUGH!"
Magic exploded throughout the room.
Tom rose quickly to his feet, and Harry stared him down. His eyes seemed to glow fiercely as he spoke, "I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other."
He began a low chant in parseltongue. Tom was rendered immobile until moments later, he began shrieking in horror and agony. The dark mark ripped itself from his skin, taking with it the results of his experimentation and violently reverting him to the 71-year-old man he would have been. Seconds later, he collapsed, his heart giving out.
Harry grabbed Draco and apparated.
Throughout the world, willing followers of Voldemort were entirely drained of their magic as their dark marks shifted to cover their faces.
Those who had been forced into servitude were left baffled as their marks disappeared without a trace.
Under the new ministry, those with marks were imprisoned, and those whose marks had vanished were released with full pardons.
Though the winter night was cold and the ground was blanketed with snow, the atmosphere was one of warmth and love.
On Christmas Eve, in a forest of evergreens, surrounded by their closest family and friends, Harry and Draco were married under the clearest starry sky any of them had ever seen. The lights that decorated the trees created an ethereal glow, surrounding the couple with beauty and wonder.
Harry and Draco saw none of it. As they made the age-old promises, they had eyes only for each other and their hearts were full of love.
Since that day four years ago, they no longer had to hide their relationship. They stood side-by-side, soul-mates and partners, regardless of any hardship they faced.
After everything they had gone through, they were together forever; mind, body, and soul.
And all thanks to one little note.