I'm sorry for taking so long to update and then write so little; I have been slammed with school and music. Thank you to my little sister for proofreading everything. These characters do not belong to me, they belong to the fabulous J.K. Rowling. Please review and tell me what I can do to make future chapters better!

CHAPTER 3

To be entirely honest, I didn't know what I was doing. Potter and I had been talking for the better part of two hours. I had quickly changed the subject to more mundane things than the Dark Lord, and we were discussing everything from Quidditch to the best spells to use in a fight. My mind kept returning to the question: "Is this real?" Was I pretending to have a truce with Potter to hand him over to the Dark Lord, or was this genuine? Did Potter want a truce with me only to find out my secrets then hand me over to the Ministry? I didn't know.

If I was being honest, I would never give Potter to the Dark Lord. I hated them both, but Potter was better than-

I doubled up. Merlin, why do I keep doing this? I didn't bother to try and take my thoughts back; I just let the pain wash over me. The lights went out quicker this time.

•

I didn't know what I was doing. I had thought about a different timeline where I took Draco's hand back in first year. I would probably be in Slytherin. I wouldn't be a Death Eater, that's for sure. But I wonder if Draco would be, if I had been there, talking to him like this.

My thoughts and awkward rambling were suddenly interrupted by Draco clutching his arm, hissing. I grabbed onto his shoulder, and he fell into me, his eyes closed.

Time seemed to slow for a bit. I thought about calling for Madame Pomfrey, but she had been so mad at me before, and she deserved more sleep. I started performing check-up spells, trying to see what was wrong with him. His left forearm lit up like a Christmas tree.

I slid his robe back and undid his cuff. As I rolled the clothe up, his pale skin became visible, along with a Black Death Eater's mark. Somehow, I wasn't upset by this; I was worried about how red and angry the skin around the mark was. I started casting healing spells.

•

"Reparifors."

A soft voice began to shed the black fog hanging over me. I just wanted to sleep. I was so done. I didn't want to wake and see Mother's blank face, hear Lucius say that I deserved the curse.

"Come on, Draco. I need you to wake up, you prat. Reparifors."

That was definitely not Mother's voice. I started to swim out of the fog.

"Okay, Draco. I'm going to do this, and if you don't wake the fuck up, I'm going to punch you, got it?" I would have laughed if I could.

"Vulnera Sanentur." The words were lovely, like a song. I was pulled awake and the world cleared. More on point, Potter's worried face hovering over me cleared. I blinked, and his face split into a beautiful grin.

"Thank, Merlin. You alright, Draco?"

Furious at myself (for more than one reason) I snapped. "What do you care, Potter? Get off of me."

Hurt, the green-eyed boy got up and offered a hand to me. I pretended not to notice and stood.

"I don't know why I care, Malfoy, but I do. So, if you would kindly tell me why you keep passing out, maybe I can help-"

"I don't need your help, Potter."

•

He practically spit my name out of his mouth.

•

Why couldn't he leave me alone? Why couldn't he get it? I couldn't be around him, I couldn't be nice to him, I couldn't even think about him, and here he was, trying to help me. I couldn't handle it.

"I know it has something to do with the Dark Mark, Draco." I froze. He stepped closer.

"I know you're a Death Eater. I know you're supposed to kill Dumbledore, but you don't seem to want to. I know that you keep passing out, and I know that you're ROBE IS ON FIRE!"

To be honest, I had fallen under a stupor from his soft repetitive words. I was out of it now.

•

Draco's left sleeve was licked with poison green flames. I rushed forward as he waved his arm, trying to put the fire out.

•

The flames shot up, encasing my entire body. My skin crawled.

•

"DRACO!" He had become a writhing shadow in the green blaze. I cursed the Hogwarts education for teaching me how to set fires, but not extinguish them! I turned to yell for Madame Pomfrey when I felt a rope of heat encircle my wrist. Looking down, I could see a lick of fire had caught my arm and was dragging me into the roar. It didn't hurt, so I let it take me to Draco.

•

My nerves should have shut down a while ago. That's how I knew that this was not a normal fire. (Obviously, it wasn't normal; it was green and had a mind of its own. It just wasn't a normal magic fire.) As soon as I realized this, I sat down on the cold stone. (Why was it cold?) The pain washed over me, and I could feel the tears streaming down my face. I'm a coward. I know that. I'm a Slytherin after all. There was a magical fire and I was sitting on the floor, crying. Harry would have figured all of this out by now. Speaking of which, since the fucking when did he walk through fire? He knelt beside me, taking my face in his calloused hands. His thumbs brushed the tears from my cheeks. He was trying to say something, but I could hear. I was going to die. I was going to die in green magical fire, and Harry Potter was holding my face. In that moment, I came to terms with what I had not admitted to myself since I was eleven. I was in love with him. And he was going to die with me.

•

"Draco, you're going to be okay. I promise. I think the fire is trying to help you." I knew he couldn't hear me, but I did see when his expression went from awe to tragic acceptance to fear. He was shouting something, but the roar of the fire was too intense to hear anything else. He was trying to push me back, trying to get me out of the flames. Nice try, buddy, but that's not going to happen. I attempted to pin his arms against his sides; as I grabbed him, the flames shot to the ceiling with a scream and dissipated. Draco collapsed against me. I took him by the shoulders. "Draco? Are you okay?"

A small snuff answered me. I couldn't believe it; he was asleep. I shook my head and started to lift him from the floor. Unconscious boys are heavy! I finally got him into his bed and removed his robes. I wasn't as surprised as I should have been to discover that his Dark Mark had disappeared.