I woke up the next morning, alarm clock ringing like mad, and was greeted
by my owl, which dropped a single piece of parchment on my face. Eyes fuzzy
from sleep, head filled with dreams that I wouldn't tell anyone (three
guesses about who), I grabbed the letter and read it quickly, as there was
only nine words on it.
Draco -
Dungeon sounds fine. 10 p.m. Invisibility cloak?
-Harry
Of course I had an invisibility cloak. I was a Malfoy, I had everything. Glancing at the clock, I drew back my green curtains, ignoring the looks of my roommates, and reached for my trunk, grabbing my uniform and my cloak. I observed my hair in my tiny mirror I had always kept in my pocket; it was as silvery as ever and as long as ever. Good. I had heard the hair-in-the- eyes look was sexy.
I put on my black leather shoes, grabbed my wand, and headed down to stairs to breakfast. Maybe I'd catch a glimpse of him there.
Fairly running past any girls who wanted to walk with me to breakfast and practically smacking Goyle when he offered his apologies, I headed out into the hallway alone, glancing behind me every so often just to make sure no one was following me. It seems stupid, but I wanted to be alone with my thoughts.
My thinking was rudely interrupted when I encountered a couple snogging in the hallway close to the boys' bathrooms. Inspecting them closer, I realized it was the Weasel. And his boyfriend.
"Why, hello." I interrupted their snog-fest. Their eyes wide, they leapt apart, hair mussed and cheeks red, and instantly looked around to see if anyone besides me had noticed them.
Weasley acknowledged me coldly. "What, Malfoy?"
I smiled, equally as coldly, then simply said: "You'll soon see me with my 'friend', Weasley, and don't you dare do a thing to us. Understand?"
He smirked in agreement, and I headed off to breakfast.
The Great Hall was not nearly as crowded as it would be in a half hour; people had only begun waking up a few minutes ago. There were no Slytherins, save me, a few Hufflepuffs, a Ravenclaw or two, and, of course, Granger and Harry at the Gryffindor table. Granger, with her book open, drinking up the knowledge like it was a pint of butter beer, and Harry, fingering something in his hands, gazing absently at his pile of toast, obviously somewhere completely different than Hogwarts, 7 a.m.
I walked past his table, slowing slightly, waiting for him to see me. He didn't, but I was pleased to see that it was parchment in his hand, my letter from last night.
I smiled, dropping my head so no one could see me, and walked to my table for a breakfast of toast and eggs, silently wishing for 10 p.m. to come.
The day went by - as it always does when you're waiting for something to happen - slowly. I fell asleep in History of Magic, and the other classes I just sat through, vacantly staring at my books in front of me, reading the same sentence time and time again.
Finally, my wish came true: classes were over, no Quidditch practice, and only twenty minutes to go before I would meet Harry in the dungeons.
I made sure I that I smelled good, was dressed well, and, most of all, looked good. The only time I gave any thought to my appearance was when I saw Harry, and then I brushed aside my long hair from my silvery eyes, smoothed my robes- I was like a first-year with their first crush.
No one in my House paid any attention to me now; they wouldn't have cared if I had announced I was killing myself, and then thrown myself out a window. But it didn't bother me; I didn't need to be cared for. I didn't need to be the center of attention anymore. I actually had something to make me happy, and I wanted to focus all my attention on him.
I got no glances from anyone this time, the room was silent as people changed for bed and brushed their teeth. I quickly got my cloak out of my trunk, hiding it beneath my robe, then donning it as I went down the stairs to my Common Room.
I silently exited the room and entered the dark hallways, lit only by torches set high in the stone walls. My shoes made no sound, and all the time my eyes were alert for signs of movement. Only having to descend one story to get to the dungeons, I slowed as to make sure I entered at the right time. Fashionably late was something Lucius (as I referred to him now, as he wasn't my father) had taught me and it worked quite well in situations like this, when I wanted to make the perfect entrance.
Looking around, I saw two heavy-looking wooden doors. One, I knew, led to the Potions classroom, and the other contained Harry, unless he too was taught the fine art of lateness.
I creaked open the door, inch by inch, and whispered a spell to see the contents of the room.
"Lumos."
To my surprise, the usually empty room was now equipped with a coach, two chairs, a crackling fireplace, and a coffee table. Apparently Harry was here already, and he had refurbished the place. Damn, that was my job.
Sliding carefully into the gap between the door and wall, I was greeted with a blindfold over my eyes. My wand was grabbed from me before I could curse the culprit, whoever it was, and I struggled as I felt myself being led to the center of the room - for what, I didn't know. Was Harry involved in this?
I sat down, sinking into the softness of the couch, and felt someone sit next to me. Before I could rip the blindfold off in frenzy, and grab my wand, I heard a voice.
"Hello, Draco."
My insides seemed to liquefy.
It was Harry.
I smiled and made to untie the blindfold, puzzled but pleased at the strange action. Harrys hand stopped me, and before I knew it, we were snogging.
Not any snogging, no, this was the kind of snogging that you only read about in those trashy romance novels, the kind that you get so into you barely realize what's around you, your breath stops, and a great tingly feeling fills up your brain, and you can't remember anything. That kind of snog.
My blindfold is untied and I'm facing him, his black hair as messy as ever, his green eyes penetrating mine, and his lips upturned in a grin.
"How're you doing?"
I laughed at his question, how did he THINK I was doing??
"I'm good too, thanks." he answered, grinning slyly. "Nice to see you."
"You too."
He took my hands in his. "So..well...I guess we're here to talk about..well...." his voice faltered and he looked down, fingering my scars again.
"Our summers?" I finished.
"Yeah."
"Well..want me to go first?"
He laughed and nodded, settling against the numerous pillows and looking intently at me. "Shoot."
Smiling gravely, I began.
"Well, it started at the beginning of the summer.I had been home for about a week and I knew something was wrong, my parents weren't getting along, our dinners were even more grim than usual. I generally avoided my dad for a while, and then it happened. He killed her."
Harry's eyes grew wide. "What?" he gasped.
I continued, recounting all the events of my summer, watching Harry as his face grew paler and paler and his mouth dropped in utter shock. Finally, I was done.
"Oh....oh God, Draco, I'm so sorry." Leaning over and taking my face in his hands, he kissed me softly before digging up his painful memories.
"You know how my relatives hate me, right? Well, they do, they seem to think I'm some kind of murderer, they blame me for every bad thing that happens in the house, they make me do all the housework, all of my clothes belonged to Dudley, the works. So I go back this summer, and everything's going as normal: the second I get home I'm given a paint can and ordered to re-paint the hallway and Dudley's bedroom. So I do it, I'm not going to argue, I'm too damn tired. So I'm doing this, Dudley's sick of bugging me so he goes off and watches some T.V., and I'm just painting when Uncle Vernon comes along. I prepare myself for some screaming and continue painting. He starts, ranting and raving about how I'm damn ungrateful and I'm messing up on purpose, and when I don't respond, he smacks me across the head. So hard, stars come to my eyes. But I pick myself up and continue. He grabs my arm, grips it so tight he leaves bruises, and he smacks me again, same spot, and I'm knocked into the wall again. I'm dazed, I can't get up or I know I'll black out, and he kicks me in the stomach and leaves. Just like that."
Silence. I have nothing to say, I want him to continue, I want to know if he was hurt as badly as me. He catches my eye once, and then continues.
"So it goes like that for a few more days. Dammit, Draco, I'm actually afraid of my uncle! I don't know what the hell's wrong with me...he's just never actually hit me, laid a hand on me before, and I don't want him to do it again..it just...scaring me, you know?
It gets worse. I know I can't use magic; I'll get expelled definitely, so I deal with it. Vernon sees that I'm taking it, and he hates that, he wants me to whimper, to cry, but I take it. So he "ups" the punishment, taking all of my possessions, he fuckin' kills my owl, he kicks me, punches me, and I'm screaming...inside. I want to die, for him to die..for me to kill him, I want my pain and his life to end. But I take it.
Then...one night he comes into my room, and Draco, I don't even want to say what happens next.he grabs me..and he..."
Harry's crying silently now, so I wrap my arms around him and rest my head on his shoulder, letting all his anger and sadness pour out, all the abuse, and all his memories.
"You can tell me."
Draco -
Dungeon sounds fine. 10 p.m. Invisibility cloak?
-Harry
Of course I had an invisibility cloak. I was a Malfoy, I had everything. Glancing at the clock, I drew back my green curtains, ignoring the looks of my roommates, and reached for my trunk, grabbing my uniform and my cloak. I observed my hair in my tiny mirror I had always kept in my pocket; it was as silvery as ever and as long as ever. Good. I had heard the hair-in-the- eyes look was sexy.
I put on my black leather shoes, grabbed my wand, and headed down to stairs to breakfast. Maybe I'd catch a glimpse of him there.
Fairly running past any girls who wanted to walk with me to breakfast and practically smacking Goyle when he offered his apologies, I headed out into the hallway alone, glancing behind me every so often just to make sure no one was following me. It seems stupid, but I wanted to be alone with my thoughts.
My thinking was rudely interrupted when I encountered a couple snogging in the hallway close to the boys' bathrooms. Inspecting them closer, I realized it was the Weasel. And his boyfriend.
"Why, hello." I interrupted their snog-fest. Their eyes wide, they leapt apart, hair mussed and cheeks red, and instantly looked around to see if anyone besides me had noticed them.
Weasley acknowledged me coldly. "What, Malfoy?"
I smiled, equally as coldly, then simply said: "You'll soon see me with my 'friend', Weasley, and don't you dare do a thing to us. Understand?"
He smirked in agreement, and I headed off to breakfast.
The Great Hall was not nearly as crowded as it would be in a half hour; people had only begun waking up a few minutes ago. There were no Slytherins, save me, a few Hufflepuffs, a Ravenclaw or two, and, of course, Granger and Harry at the Gryffindor table. Granger, with her book open, drinking up the knowledge like it was a pint of butter beer, and Harry, fingering something in his hands, gazing absently at his pile of toast, obviously somewhere completely different than Hogwarts, 7 a.m.
I walked past his table, slowing slightly, waiting for him to see me. He didn't, but I was pleased to see that it was parchment in his hand, my letter from last night.
I smiled, dropping my head so no one could see me, and walked to my table for a breakfast of toast and eggs, silently wishing for 10 p.m. to come.
The day went by - as it always does when you're waiting for something to happen - slowly. I fell asleep in History of Magic, and the other classes I just sat through, vacantly staring at my books in front of me, reading the same sentence time and time again.
Finally, my wish came true: classes were over, no Quidditch practice, and only twenty minutes to go before I would meet Harry in the dungeons.
I made sure I that I smelled good, was dressed well, and, most of all, looked good. The only time I gave any thought to my appearance was when I saw Harry, and then I brushed aside my long hair from my silvery eyes, smoothed my robes- I was like a first-year with their first crush.
No one in my House paid any attention to me now; they wouldn't have cared if I had announced I was killing myself, and then thrown myself out a window. But it didn't bother me; I didn't need to be cared for. I didn't need to be the center of attention anymore. I actually had something to make me happy, and I wanted to focus all my attention on him.
I got no glances from anyone this time, the room was silent as people changed for bed and brushed their teeth. I quickly got my cloak out of my trunk, hiding it beneath my robe, then donning it as I went down the stairs to my Common Room.
I silently exited the room and entered the dark hallways, lit only by torches set high in the stone walls. My shoes made no sound, and all the time my eyes were alert for signs of movement. Only having to descend one story to get to the dungeons, I slowed as to make sure I entered at the right time. Fashionably late was something Lucius (as I referred to him now, as he wasn't my father) had taught me and it worked quite well in situations like this, when I wanted to make the perfect entrance.
Looking around, I saw two heavy-looking wooden doors. One, I knew, led to the Potions classroom, and the other contained Harry, unless he too was taught the fine art of lateness.
I creaked open the door, inch by inch, and whispered a spell to see the contents of the room.
"Lumos."
To my surprise, the usually empty room was now equipped with a coach, two chairs, a crackling fireplace, and a coffee table. Apparently Harry was here already, and he had refurbished the place. Damn, that was my job.
Sliding carefully into the gap between the door and wall, I was greeted with a blindfold over my eyes. My wand was grabbed from me before I could curse the culprit, whoever it was, and I struggled as I felt myself being led to the center of the room - for what, I didn't know. Was Harry involved in this?
I sat down, sinking into the softness of the couch, and felt someone sit next to me. Before I could rip the blindfold off in frenzy, and grab my wand, I heard a voice.
"Hello, Draco."
My insides seemed to liquefy.
It was Harry.
I smiled and made to untie the blindfold, puzzled but pleased at the strange action. Harrys hand stopped me, and before I knew it, we were snogging.
Not any snogging, no, this was the kind of snogging that you only read about in those trashy romance novels, the kind that you get so into you barely realize what's around you, your breath stops, and a great tingly feeling fills up your brain, and you can't remember anything. That kind of snog.
My blindfold is untied and I'm facing him, his black hair as messy as ever, his green eyes penetrating mine, and his lips upturned in a grin.
"How're you doing?"
I laughed at his question, how did he THINK I was doing??
"I'm good too, thanks." he answered, grinning slyly. "Nice to see you."
"You too."
He took my hands in his. "So..well...I guess we're here to talk about..well...." his voice faltered and he looked down, fingering my scars again.
"Our summers?" I finished.
"Yeah."
"Well..want me to go first?"
He laughed and nodded, settling against the numerous pillows and looking intently at me. "Shoot."
Smiling gravely, I began.
"Well, it started at the beginning of the summer.I had been home for about a week and I knew something was wrong, my parents weren't getting along, our dinners were even more grim than usual. I generally avoided my dad for a while, and then it happened. He killed her."
Harry's eyes grew wide. "What?" he gasped.
I continued, recounting all the events of my summer, watching Harry as his face grew paler and paler and his mouth dropped in utter shock. Finally, I was done.
"Oh....oh God, Draco, I'm so sorry." Leaning over and taking my face in his hands, he kissed me softly before digging up his painful memories.
"You know how my relatives hate me, right? Well, they do, they seem to think I'm some kind of murderer, they blame me for every bad thing that happens in the house, they make me do all the housework, all of my clothes belonged to Dudley, the works. So I go back this summer, and everything's going as normal: the second I get home I'm given a paint can and ordered to re-paint the hallway and Dudley's bedroom. So I do it, I'm not going to argue, I'm too damn tired. So I'm doing this, Dudley's sick of bugging me so he goes off and watches some T.V., and I'm just painting when Uncle Vernon comes along. I prepare myself for some screaming and continue painting. He starts, ranting and raving about how I'm damn ungrateful and I'm messing up on purpose, and when I don't respond, he smacks me across the head. So hard, stars come to my eyes. But I pick myself up and continue. He grabs my arm, grips it so tight he leaves bruises, and he smacks me again, same spot, and I'm knocked into the wall again. I'm dazed, I can't get up or I know I'll black out, and he kicks me in the stomach and leaves. Just like that."
Silence. I have nothing to say, I want him to continue, I want to know if he was hurt as badly as me. He catches my eye once, and then continues.
"So it goes like that for a few more days. Dammit, Draco, I'm actually afraid of my uncle! I don't know what the hell's wrong with me...he's just never actually hit me, laid a hand on me before, and I don't want him to do it again..it just...scaring me, you know?
It gets worse. I know I can't use magic; I'll get expelled definitely, so I deal with it. Vernon sees that I'm taking it, and he hates that, he wants me to whimper, to cry, but I take it. So he "ups" the punishment, taking all of my possessions, he fuckin' kills my owl, he kicks me, punches me, and I'm screaming...inside. I want to die, for him to die..for me to kill him, I want my pain and his life to end. But I take it.
Then...one night he comes into my room, and Draco, I don't even want to say what happens next.he grabs me..and he..."
Harry's crying silently now, so I wrap my arms around him and rest my head on his shoulder, letting all his anger and sadness pour out, all the abuse, and all his memories.
"You can tell me."