Now I know what Love Is, Chapter 6-Rain and Regret
Harry was sitting in a large comfy armchair in Gryffindor Common room, attempting to practice his Charms homework and failing miserably. Rain was beating against the windows and he was thinking of Draco, somewhere out there, soaked to the bone. Professor Sprout had had all the fifth-years out to the greenhouses at night to study Moonflowers, similar to Morning Glories except that they were white and they only bloomed at night. The Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs had had clear weather for their excursion the night before, but it was pouring tonight and the Slytherins and Ravenclaws would be soaked. Harry stood up abruptly.
"Be right back," he told Ron. "Going to look for something in the library."
He hurried through the Common room and out the portrait hole, sneaking down the grand staircase and flattening himself against the side to wait for Draco.
The double doors soon opened, and students poured in. The Ravenclaws, with the foresight of clever people, had brought umbrellas to the greenhouses. The Slytherins, with the forcefulness of "ambitious" people, had taken them away halfway up the lawn, so all the students were about half-soaked. Draco was one of the first in, flanked on either side by Crabbe and Goyle, who had of course managed to procure two of the largest umbrellas for themselves. Draco caught a glimpse of Harry out of the corner of his eye, lurking by the foot of the staircase. He made no sign to Harry, knowing Harry had seen him, knowing Harry would wait for him.
He was right. Draco soon appeared around the edge of the stairs. Harry motioned for Draco to come even closer, leading him back into the dark corner formed by the junction of wall and stairs.
He even looks good drenched, Harry thought. Draco's normally slicked back hair was hanging forward in his face and curving softly around his neck and ears. Draco wiped his hands across his face, clearing away some of the rain that had collected there. Harry came closer to him, reaching up to smooth his index finger over Draco's wet lips.
Draco kissed Harry's fingertip and said, "Filch will kill us both if he catches us, what with me dripping all over his floor. Did you want something that can't wait until I go up and change?"
"Want you," Harry murmured.
"I know, love, I want you too," Draco said softly, "but I'm soaking wet and cold. What are you going to do with me when you've got me?"
In answer, Harry kissed a raindrop from the tip of Draco's nose, and then licked a trail of raindrops streaming down Draco's neck from his hair. He grasped the front of Draco's robes and pulled him closer.
"Going to get wet," Draco said, low. Harry made no answer. He had moved on to the hollow at the base of Draco's throat and was licking away the rain from there.
"You look so good wet," Harry said against Draco's skin. "I can't decide whether to look at you or kiss you."
"Kiss now," Draco said. "You can look any time."
Harry happily obliged, and the two of them were pleasantly occupied for a few minutes, until Harry remembered the reason he had come to meet Draco. He reluctantly pulled away. He hung his head, then looked up at Draco.
"I need to know something... I need to know if I can trust you," Harry said.
Draco frowned a little.
"Harry, you may not believe this, but you can trust me. I may not act like the most trustworthy person, and in most instances I'm not. I'm a Slytherin. Crabbe and Goyle have been my best friends since I was five but I'd betray them in a second, its true. But not you. I would take any secret you told me, any burden you want me to help you bear, and I'd carry it to my death. Do you believe me?"
Harry nodded, unable to speak for a minute. He stared into Draco's eyes, knowing, believing, that what Draco had told him was true.
"I do believe you," Harry said. He could feel the bond between Draco and himself, tugging at his heart, telling him Draco wouldn't hurt him, not anymore.
Draco could feel it also. He knew Harry trusted him, and he was thankful for it. "If you ever need reassurance, put on the ring," he said. "I'm not telling you anything but the truth, Harry."
"The ring, that's why I came to see you," Harry said. "I almost forgot."
"And here I thought you pulled me into this dark corner so you could take advantage of me," Draco teased.
"Well, that too," Harry admitted. "I did find out some things about the ring, though, and I'd like to talk to you about it. Alone."
"Of course," Draco said, smiling. "Meet me again tomorrow night?"
The two boys shared another lengthy goodbye kiss and then snuck off to their respective dorms, each with his own private thoughts, each thinking of something they wanted to tell the other.
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Ron, who was supposed to be writing an essay for History of Magic, was occupied in watching Seamus and Dean offering Ogre Jellies to every girl in Gryffindor Common room. The candies were Fred and George's latest invention, designed to turn pretty girls into hideous ogres. The prettier the girl, the uglier she became after eating one of the sweets. Fred had given Ron some "free samples", saying they'd be a great way to get to know girls. Ron rather doubted it. Thank Saturn the effects were only temporary.
"Herm, Get OFF!" said Ron. Hermione was trying her best to talk seriously to Ron, and failing, so she had rapped him sharply on the ear with her wand. Green sparks shot out, narrowly missing Ron's nose.
"I'm trying to talk to you, Ron," Hermione answered.
Ron sighed and turned his head away from the action. Parvati Patil had just taken on the appearance of something that crawled out from under a rock, and the entire common room was laughing uproariously.
"Where is Harry?" Hermione continued.
"In the library, Hermione, crikey, you didn't have to HIT me," Ron replied, rubbing his ear and looking sullen.
"He is NOT in the library," Hermione said. "I just came from there."
"Well, maybe he's visiting Hagrid," Ron said, shrugging.
"Without us? Besides, Hagrid isn't back yet," Hermione hissed.
Ron's eyes grew wide as a thought occurred to him. The ring! Maybe it WAS cursed. Maybe Harry was out there somewhere right now, doing evil deeds, things You-Know-Who...
Hermione interrupted his thoughts.
"Ronald Weasley, if you know something about what's been on Harry's mind since we came back to school, you had better tell me. Has Draco Malfoy been doing something to him?"
"Malfoy?" said Ron, puzzled. "What's he got to do with it?"
"You DO know something," said Hermione. "Did Harry tell you what happened at tea with Professor Figg?"
Harry had already told Ron, of course. Ron knew about the ring anyway, he reasoned, it wouldn't hurt any worse to tell him the rest of the tale, excluding Draco. Besides, Ron was sure not to tell anyone. Hermione wouldn't have told anyone either, but they decided not to let her in on the secret for her own protection. Danger seemed to follow Harry everywhere he went, and he hoped, for once, to keep Hermione out of it. Ron agreed, although Harry thought his desire to protect Hermione was probably for entirely different reasons.
Hermione was now giving Ron what he and Harry termed "the gimlet eye" and he knew he wouldn't be able to resist her stare for long. It was like a combination of his mother and Professor McGonagall, two women that had the power to frighten Ron out of his wits.
"If I tell you, Hermione, you have to promise not to let Harry know. He's afraid for you, that's why he didn't want to tell you."
"Afraid for me?" Hermione seemed incensed but she was secretly pleased. It was about time those two nitwits started appreciating her.
Ron scooted his chair closer to Hermione and started to tell her the story. They were interrupted several times by Seamus's dogged attempts to feed Hermione Ogre Jellies, but he eventually got through the whole thing.
Hermione was astonished by Harry and Ron's recent experiences.
"You know, I've never heard a word about a ring with truth-discerning powers, much as I've read," Hermione said. Ron stuck out his tongue at her. "Well, its true," she continued, unruffled. "Between searching every book in the library for the Philosopher's Stone first year and searching every other book in the library last year trying to find something to help Harry breathe underwater, you'd think we'd have read at least a mention of it."
They both glanced around as Harry entered the Common Room, speeding straight off to bed without so much as a look at either of them.
"Why is he wet?" said Ron. He and Hermione looked at each other wonderingly.
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"My turn," said Draco, sitting down in the floor and holding out his arms to Harry. Harry sat down between Draco's knees and rested his back against him.
Draco's arms tightened around Harry, and the two sat for a moment in silence. It was an enormous relief for both of them just to be together. They had been sneaking around Hogwarts, meeting whenever and where ever they could. One day they both missed breakfast, because they were busy making out in a tiny alcove behind a tapestry on the second floor and hadn't noticed the time. Both of them arrived for their first class flushed and disheveled, Harry in Transfiguration and Draco in Arithmancy, friends and teachers alike wondering what each had been up to.
Harry was relieved to be with Draco for another reason also. Most every person has one other to whom they tell all their secrets. Draco had become that person for Harry. Harry had so many things to keep private, the ring, Professor Figg, his relationship with Draco. Draco was the only person who knew everything, or would, once Harry told him the Figg story. Harry had nothing to pretend when they were together. He was himself.
Draco finally spoke, asking Harry what he had wanted to tell him about the ring. Harry told him about his meeting with Professors Figg and Dumbledore.
"I trust you, Draco, you know I do, that's why I told you everything. But you have to promise me you won't tell your father any of it. I don't fancy having someone make another attempt on my life, and much as your father hates me..."
"Hates you?" Draco said. "Of course I won't tell him, but Father doesn't hate you, Harry, whatever gave you that idea? He wouldn't exactly be ecstatic to find you lying here in my arms, but still..."
"I know about your father, love. I saw him last year, during the Triwizard tournament. Draco, I know he's a Death Eater."
Draco paled, if possible, even more than usual. "It's true. He is a Death Eater. I can't hide anything from you, and I won't. But you don't understand WHY he's a Death Eater." Draco laughed a little. "I can't blame you for that. It took me most of my life to understand it myself."
"What d'you mean?"
"Father doesn't hate Muggles and Muggleborns, Harry. He hates weakness, and for the most part, they are weak. Think about it. If one wizard, one powerful wizard like the Dark Lord, could cause such a revolution among our kind, he could very likely have the power to rule the rest of the world. Father chooses whom he supports carefully, and his only concern is with the winning side."
"He doesn't hate you, either. In a strange way he was grateful to you for whatever happened between you and Lord Voldemort. It put more pressure on him, because he had to figure out how to return to the other side while seeming to maintain his loyalty to Voldemort. But it gave me, his son, a chance for a normal life, a life where I wasn't under the thumb of a more powerful wizard. He doesn't gladly suborn himself to anyone, you should know that. In times of peace, he rules those around him, and that's as it should be."
Harry turned his head a little, resting his forehead against Draco's neck. "What happens when he wants you to join him, as a Death Eater? What will you do then?"
Harry was shaking inside as he asked that question. He knew he was really asking Draco to choose, Harry or his father, love or the honour of a Malfoy. What would his answer be?
Draco laughed again. "Father has done everything in his power to make sure I'll never be a Death Eater, love, to make sure I'll never HAVE to be one."
Harry's heart stopped beating, so great was his relief.
Draco sighed. "Imagine my life when we met, Harry. I knew about Father. All of his close associates had been Death Eaters also. I heard about that life, the life of killings and torture, and it sounded... well, if it was what Father wanted, it was what I wanted too."
Draco continued, "But he never let me be involved in any of that. I know you thought I was a little Death-Eater-in-training, and I tried my best to give that impression. The truth is, he kept me as far away from the Dark Lord and his supporters as possible. Do you remember, last year, when you saw me at the World Cup? In the woods?"
Harry nodded.
"Where was I? Out there wreaking havoc with Lord Voldemort's supporters? No. My Father sent me away as soon as he saw what was happening, same as Weasley's father did for you. He doesn't want me to be a Death Eater, Harry. He's only a Death Eater himself for two reasons. One, he thinks Lord Voldemort is powerful enough to gain a hold on the wizard world, and he won't back a losing side. Two, he'll do anything to make Mother's and my lives safer. His concern is maintaining the power and influence of the Malfoy family."
"I'll give you another example," Draco continued. "I know you remember, second year, when the Chamber of Secrets was opened, and everyone in school was wondering who the heir of Slytherin was?"
"Yes, I remember!" Harry said excitedly. "You said you didn't know who it was, your father wouldn't tell you anything about it..." He trailed off, remembering that he wasn't supposed to know that.
"I don't recall telling you that, Harry," Draco said quietly. "How do you know what I said? I only admitted that I didn't know anything about it to Crabbe and Goyle."
Harry was trapped. He had to tell Draco the truth now, how he, Hermione and Ron had made the Polyjuice Potion, how he and Ron had pretty much abducted Crabbe and Goyle, stuffing them in a closet, and finally, how he and Ron had followed Draco back to the Slytherin common room, pretending to be his two closest friends.
"The other night, Draco, when you asked me how I knew where the entrance to the Slytherin dorms is? I lied to you."
Harry reluctantly told Draco the entire story, expecting Draco to get up and leave at any moment. Draco sat silent for a moment after Harry was done.
"There was me thinking you knew where Slytherin dungeons are because you'd snuck into them at some point to meet somebody else. God, Harry, I've imagined you with everybody from Blaise Zabini to, to Millicent Bulstrode."
He and Harry looked at each other for a minute, then began laughing so hard tears formed in their eyes.
"Oh my god, Draco, how could you?" said Harry, wiping his eyes and shaking his head. "Millicent Bulstrode?"
Draco stopped laughing and regarded Harry, who was now half turned toward him.
"I was wrong, though, wasn't I? You were there for me," said Draco, stroking Harry's face. "Thought I'd be mad if you told me, didn't you?" Draco looked away. "I would have been happy that you'd go to all that trouble just to talk to me."
"Draco," said Harry, "don't think about me with anyone else. There are no Blaise Zabinis, and surely no Millicent Bulstrodes." He settled back against Draco, almost afraid to ask his next question. "What-what about you?"
"There is no one else for me, either," said Draco. "I've wanted you since I was eleven. There is no room in my heart for anyone else."
The two boys snuggled in peaceful silence for a moment.
"You would have been a good Slytherin," said Draco, chuckling. Then he thought about what he had just said. "Oh, Harry, I didn't mean it like that..."
"I know what you meant," Harry said. "Actually, the Sorting Hat said the same thing. It wanted to put me in Slytherin."
"It did?" said Draco, surprised.
"Yes," said Harry. "I asked not to be put in Slytherin because I thought that all Slytherins were, well... bad."
'Bad, huh?" said Draco. "Well, you weren't far wrong. But you know, love, sometimes it feels good to be bad."
Feels good to be bad? What was Draco talking about?
Harry tried to turn and look at Draco.
"Come back here," Draco said. "Come here and let me show you how good it can feel..."
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Harry looked around, startled to find himself on the gallery of what appeared to be quite a large house, when it seemed to him he had just gone to bed a few minutes before. He left the chair he had been sitting in, walking to the porch railing. He recognized the huge oaks lining the drive in front of the house as the ones he had been walking through with Augustin in his last dream.
"Hello again, Harry," said a voice beside him.
"Augustin!" Harry replied. "I found out all about the ring, you know, what it does and all, I didn't get a chance to ask you before..."
"Oui, oui," said Augustin, laughing. "I know, and I am glad for you. I think you found a purpose of your own for it, hmmm? The ring showed you some of your own truth?" Augustin winked at Harry, his brown eyes dancing with merriment. Harry felt his face grow hot.
"Yeah, I guess I did," he replied.
"He loves you, you know," Augustin said. "He thinks you make him better, as a person. He knows you make him happy."
"I love him, too," Harry confessed. "We haven't, you know, told each other yet or anything."
"You will, soon," Augustin said.
Augustin was silent for a moment, and Harry glanced at his face. It had grown dark, as though a shadow had passed over it. "I wish that was what I had come to talk to you about, Harry," he said. "As Arabella told you, I am the ring's guardian, although that was not my role in life. But I can not protect it. I can only warn others when it is in danger. I can feel thoughts that are connected with the ring. That is how I knew what was happening with you."
"Are you feeling something about it now?" Harry said. He was dreading the answer. He didn't want anything to mar his happiness, but he was a Gryffindor, and it was in his nature to face things bravely. If Lord Voldemort had found out he had the ring, he needed to know.
"Not many people knew about the ring, even at the time it was made," Augustin said. "It has always been a secret, though it was created with the purest intentions. But those who find their home in darkness often make their way to things that can help them gain the power they so desperately crave."
"He doesn't know you have it, Harry, not yet. But he knows it exists. If his mind turns toward you, you will know, won't you?" Harry nodded. He had learned to trust the pains in his scar. "If that happens, you must talk to Albus and Arabella, immediately."
Augustin saw the worried look on Harry's face, and smiled at him once again. "I did not mean to frighten you, Harry. I have been in this world a long time, both as participant and observer, and I sometimes forget how young you are."
"I'm not afraid," said Harry, pretending a confidence he did not entirely feel.
"I am glad to hear that," Augustin said. He looked out through the avenue of oaks again, gloved fingertips lightly touching the rail, and sighed. "It is time for me to leave you again." He looked at Harry. "Do not take your happiness for granted," he said. "Cherish every moment you have together. Goodbye, mon ami, until I see you again."
"Goodbye, Augustin," Harry tried to say, but his own voice sounded far away to him, and he was already returning to sleep.
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