He looked up at me, surprised. "You do? Where?" His eyes looking straight
into mine, I could barely breathe. When I didn't respond, he asked again:
"Draco? Do you really have a place to escape?"
I held my breath, willing myself not to blurt out "No!" I wanted Harry to be comfortable, safe over Christmas, and his knowing that I was to become a Death Eater, that I had no way to escape from my fate, was not a big help. I'd figure out a plan eventually. Maybe this would be the last time I'd see Harry. Maybe I'd escape. I didn't know.
I smiled at Harry, feeling horrible as I did so. "Yeah, Harry, I'll be fine." Leaning down, I lightly kissed his forehead, a somewhat sappy thing to do, but I felt it was good for the moment. Harry responded by lifting his head, leaning forward, and firmly kissing me on the mouth. I squeezed my eyes shut, holding back tears, and kissed him back, far rougher than I meant to. Gasping as the kiss became deeper; Harry ran his black painted fingers (which I had done for him) down my back, resting his hands just above the top of my pants. Gripping the end of my shirt, he began pulling it up, over to my shoulders, and then he moved his lips away from mine, to allow the shirt to slide over my head. Eyes glistening, he whispered "Draco..can I see..?"
He didn't have to finish his sentence; I turned around for him to see my back. He lightly traced his fingers over the welts and bruises, the long red scars that contrasted so greatly with my milk-white skin. I winced as he explored my back, where my father had let all his anger out, and, though I couldn't see his face, I heard a small sob escape his throat.
"Oh, my God, Draco, how could he do this to you?" Harry whispered, his voice filled with sorrow and awe. "How could anyone hurt you?"
Pulling back from my skin, he stood, angrily pacing the cold stone floor, making imposing shadows on the cobweb-covered walls. "I'll kill him!" he declared, his dejected voice suddenly replaced with white-hot anger. I watched him do so, clenching his fists, glancing at me occasionally, where I sat on the couch, watching him with half-lidded eyes. I'd never seen Harry so passionate about anything in the while time I had known him. He honestly wanted to kill Lucius, the murderer I had once called my father.
Finally, he slowed, walking slowly across the floor, his head down, seeming to stare at something infinitely beyond what I could see.
"Harry?" I asked quietly, and he started, then smiled sadly and returned to the couch. Sitting close to me, he curled his knees up to his chest and looked at me. Slowly he said, "Draco..I trust you. I know that when you go back to the Manor, you will find some way to defeat Voldemort, to defy your father, and when you do that.." He took a deep breath, and then continued, quickly, "I want you to hurt him. For me."
I nodded once, then we held each other for a good part of an hour, occasionally whispering to each other, occasionally kissing, knowing that in three days we'd be separated, with no way to reach each other, no way to communicate, no way to tell each other we cared.
Three days later, it was Christmas Eve. The halls were bustling with activity, since we had no school for a week, people could do almost whatever they liked. Mistletoe was hung over every door, the ghosts were busy bursting in during meal times and singing loud rounds of Christmas carols, with Peeves behind them, grinning, ending the usually slow song with a jolly chorus of 'Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer.'
Harry and I had met in the abandoned classroom last three days ago, and before my train left tonight, at 7:00 P.M., we were planning to meet again. Oddly cheery, we decided to give the whole school a special pre-Christmas treat.
Five o'clock arrived, and with it, a hoard of students entering the Great Hall. Surprisingly enough, most students had stayed at school for the holiday, and there was a great rush to get to the table. Everyone was ravishingly hungry, the couples had spent the whole day snogging, the frightened-first years had explored the school, only to get trapped in a dungeon by Peeves, and the few teachers left had been spent getting them out.
After all of the students had gone in, Harry and I exited our hiding spot behind a large suit of armor, who had been chattering noisily to us until we had whispered at it to shut up. We tiptoed to the main doors of the Hall and entered, interrupting the chatter of our classmates. Everyone stared, they hadn't seen us together much during the school year, and of course they had heard about our "late-night romps", as people called them. We would give them quite a show.
Harry turned top me, grinning. "Ready?" he asked, voice giving no hint of how nervous we both really were.
"Yeah!" I answered, and leaned forward.
The kiss seemed to last for at least a minute; I could feel it from the tips of my toes to the top of my head, the tingling persisting even after we had pulled apart. Smiling, we turned to sit down at an empty table, and when we did, we looked around. Everyone, from the smallest first-years to the teachers, was staring at us. Some with deep looks of disgust, some giggling, and Dumbledore, like always, had a glitter in his eye and a smile on his face. Winking at us, he stood up and began his speech.
I held my breath, willing myself not to blurt out "No!" I wanted Harry to be comfortable, safe over Christmas, and his knowing that I was to become a Death Eater, that I had no way to escape from my fate, was not a big help. I'd figure out a plan eventually. Maybe this would be the last time I'd see Harry. Maybe I'd escape. I didn't know.
I smiled at Harry, feeling horrible as I did so. "Yeah, Harry, I'll be fine." Leaning down, I lightly kissed his forehead, a somewhat sappy thing to do, but I felt it was good for the moment. Harry responded by lifting his head, leaning forward, and firmly kissing me on the mouth. I squeezed my eyes shut, holding back tears, and kissed him back, far rougher than I meant to. Gasping as the kiss became deeper; Harry ran his black painted fingers (which I had done for him) down my back, resting his hands just above the top of my pants. Gripping the end of my shirt, he began pulling it up, over to my shoulders, and then he moved his lips away from mine, to allow the shirt to slide over my head. Eyes glistening, he whispered "Draco..can I see..?"
He didn't have to finish his sentence; I turned around for him to see my back. He lightly traced his fingers over the welts and bruises, the long red scars that contrasted so greatly with my milk-white skin. I winced as he explored my back, where my father had let all his anger out, and, though I couldn't see his face, I heard a small sob escape his throat.
"Oh, my God, Draco, how could he do this to you?" Harry whispered, his voice filled with sorrow and awe. "How could anyone hurt you?"
Pulling back from my skin, he stood, angrily pacing the cold stone floor, making imposing shadows on the cobweb-covered walls. "I'll kill him!" he declared, his dejected voice suddenly replaced with white-hot anger. I watched him do so, clenching his fists, glancing at me occasionally, where I sat on the couch, watching him with half-lidded eyes. I'd never seen Harry so passionate about anything in the while time I had known him. He honestly wanted to kill Lucius, the murderer I had once called my father.
Finally, he slowed, walking slowly across the floor, his head down, seeming to stare at something infinitely beyond what I could see.
"Harry?" I asked quietly, and he started, then smiled sadly and returned to the couch. Sitting close to me, he curled his knees up to his chest and looked at me. Slowly he said, "Draco..I trust you. I know that when you go back to the Manor, you will find some way to defeat Voldemort, to defy your father, and when you do that.." He took a deep breath, and then continued, quickly, "I want you to hurt him. For me."
I nodded once, then we held each other for a good part of an hour, occasionally whispering to each other, occasionally kissing, knowing that in three days we'd be separated, with no way to reach each other, no way to communicate, no way to tell each other we cared.
Three days later, it was Christmas Eve. The halls were bustling with activity, since we had no school for a week, people could do almost whatever they liked. Mistletoe was hung over every door, the ghosts were busy bursting in during meal times and singing loud rounds of Christmas carols, with Peeves behind them, grinning, ending the usually slow song with a jolly chorus of 'Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer.'
Harry and I had met in the abandoned classroom last three days ago, and before my train left tonight, at 7:00 P.M., we were planning to meet again. Oddly cheery, we decided to give the whole school a special pre-Christmas treat.
Five o'clock arrived, and with it, a hoard of students entering the Great Hall. Surprisingly enough, most students had stayed at school for the holiday, and there was a great rush to get to the table. Everyone was ravishingly hungry, the couples had spent the whole day snogging, the frightened-first years had explored the school, only to get trapped in a dungeon by Peeves, and the few teachers left had been spent getting them out.
After all of the students had gone in, Harry and I exited our hiding spot behind a large suit of armor, who had been chattering noisily to us until we had whispered at it to shut up. We tiptoed to the main doors of the Hall and entered, interrupting the chatter of our classmates. Everyone stared, they hadn't seen us together much during the school year, and of course they had heard about our "late-night romps", as people called them. We would give them quite a show.
Harry turned top me, grinning. "Ready?" he asked, voice giving no hint of how nervous we both really were.
"Yeah!" I answered, and leaned forward.
The kiss seemed to last for at least a minute; I could feel it from the tips of my toes to the top of my head, the tingling persisting even after we had pulled apart. Smiling, we turned to sit down at an empty table, and when we did, we looked around. Everyone, from the smallest first-years to the teachers, was staring at us. Some with deep looks of disgust, some giggling, and Dumbledore, like always, had a glitter in his eye and a smile on his face. Winking at us, he stood up and began his speech.