Wow I know its been a while but I've been on holiday without access to a
computer - it nearly killed me but it gave me plenty of time to brainstorm.
Thanks to everyone who reviewed - I love you all so much and am continually thankful that people are still reading this. Just . . . remember to keep reading k?
Thanks so much to my new Beta-reader! You kick ass!
So without further delay . . .
I blinked my eyes open sleepily, sunlight causing me to shut them at once.
I started to shift, and heard voices. The sofa under me creaked slightly and I froze immediately, not wanting to let anyone know I was awake.
I had to strain my ears to hear the muffled shouts and with a bit of thought I identified the unfamiliar voices as Granger and Weasley's. I could hear my name mentioned every few seconds, so they obviously thought I was asleep. That would have been a correct enough observation moments earlier but now . . . I opened an eye cautiously, and saw that they were standing in the kitchen. If I leaned back about half an inch I could see them all perfectly.
"We came as soon as the alarms went off," Granger told Harry. "What the hell was going on back there?"
Harry offered her a small smile. "Momentary blip."
"Momentarily blip??" she raged. "You call that a momentary blip???"
"You've gone and done it now," the Weasel told Harry, looking at him in a way that implied, 'She's going to be at it for days'.
Harry's eyes clearly said, 'I know'.
"Harry, he tried to kill you!" she exclaimed. "That's not exactly a momentary blip."
"He wasn't actually." Harry corrected her absently. "What?" Granger said, narrowing her eyes.
"He wasn't trying to actually kill me."
"Harry, he was halfway through saying the killing curse."
He sighed. "Mione, I know you're only worried about me, but you shouldn't be. If Draco wanted me dead, then I'd be dead."
"It really worries me that you can say that so calmly." Hermione said, frowning. "In fact, it worries me that you can be so calm about the entire situation. It's almost as if you don't care that he could kill you any second."
There was a pause and an alarmed intake of breath.
"You've got to be kidding me!" Weasley exclaimed.
Damn. I wish Harry didn't have his back to me. I hadn't seen whatever he'd done.
"Listen mate, you're my best friend and all, but you're being absolutely mental!' Weasley ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.
Granger silenced him with a look.
"Harry- we know how you feel about him."
"Much to our horror." Weasley muttered.
"But that doesn't change the fact that he could kill you!"
Hang on a minute - the way that he feels about me?
"I know that, Hermione." Harry's voice had hardened.
"Then what am I missing?" she asked desperately.
In the silence that followed, my heart beat so loudly I was sure they'd know I was awake.
Harry's serious voice broke the silence. "I think you should go."
"Harry . . . "
"Now." His voice left no room for questions.
"I didn't mean to-"
"I know." he said calmly. "but I think it would be best for all of us if you both left, and we never mentioned this again."
There was a second stunned silence, broken this time by Weasley.
"I don't believe this." he muttered bitterly. "I can't believe you're choosing him over us."
"He's not-" Granger said firmly. "are you, Harry?"
Harry looked at her impassively.
"Oh." she whispered, her face shocked. "I see."
Weasley backed over to the fireplace, shaking his head in incredulity. Without taking his eyes off of Harry, he disappeared.
"You know Harry," Granger paused as she followed Weasley's example, sadness in her eyes, "we never changed. Ron and I were always here for you. It was you who didn't want us to be - it was you who changed, not us."
He stared at her silently and she stepped into the fireplace, chin held high...and disappeared.
Harry swallowed, hard, and turned around to face me. Quickly I snapped my eyes shut.
I heard his soft footfall and then felt his presence as he stopped besides me. "Draco?"
I could feel his eyes boring into me.
"I know you're not asleep so you might as well just give it up."
Damn. Busted.
I opened one eye and peered at him.
He had his arms folded and a semi-amused expression on his face.
My throat felt like it was coated in a layer of sand and I swallowed nervously.
"Hi." I rasped, grimacing at the sound of my scratchy voice.
"Guess you heard all that, huh?" His expression told me in no uncertain terms that he'd rather I hadn't. Not quite up to discussing the many issues that had been raised by the conversation, I considered my answer.
"Bits." I agreed cautiously. Harry nodded expressionlessly. "Er...they sounded pretty angry." I offered.
"They'll get over it." he said shortly.
**You hope** I thought, looking at the ground so he couldn't see the doubt in my eyes. He seemed to sense it regardless. "And if they don't then they obviously weren't my friends to begin with. If they can't understand how I- " Harry broke off, biting his lip angrily.
Something in me told me that it was time to change the subject.
"You know you don't seem very pissed off that I just tried to kill you."
And how better to do it than with my customary bluntness.
He shrugged. "People have been trying to kill me since the day I was born - I've truthfully become rather blasé about the whole thing." he paused, contemplating in mock seriousness. "Plus, of course, the fact is that you weren't actually so much trying to kill me as get *me* to kill *you*." he tilted his head to one side. 'So why was that?'
"I don't want to talk about it." I mumbled.
"I do." he said firmly.
"Harry." my voice held a note of appeal.
"That's the second time you've done that, you know."
"Done what?" I asked curiously.
"Called me Harry."
I flushed. "Sorry."
"I don't mind."
"I do." I muttered
"It's just it actually sounds like we could be friends when you call me that."
"Well, I don't give a Fizzing Whizbee. You shall be Potter forevermore"
He smiled slightly. "Well, there obviously isn't that big an issue if you're back to sarcasm already."
'There isn't,' I was about to say, but stopped, realising with a twinge that maybe I did have a relatively large issue.
Harry seemed to sense my sudden downward spiral and his eyes instantly lost their teasing sparkle and softened.
"It's okay," he said reassuringly, "If you really don't want to talk about it, then we don't have to".
I looked down and realised that for once in my life (and the only time I, hasten to mention) I had to grow some balls and confront the truth. I sighed. "I just.couldn't take it anymore."
"Take what?" he asked softly, his eyes warm and concerned.
I felt a violent shiver run through me. Why did he always have to look like he actually cared?
But then.maybe he did. He was so full of goodness. It just seemed wrong that he wasted it on me when I didn't even deserve it.
"Draco?" He prompted gently.
I sighed again, preparing myself to tell him the truth.
Funnily enough, it never occurred to me to lie to him.
"I've never felt much of anything before- nothing except hate. Hate that was aimed at you. You were the only person who could get to me. And now . . . " I trailed off helplessly, ". . . since I saved you, there's been all these feelings inside me and I can't take it. I don't know how to cope with them all. They're driving me mad."
"You were already mad."
"Potter!" I exclaimed in annoyance.
"Sorry."
"I'm trying to pour out everything I'm feeling here and it would be a lot easier if you stopped interjecting every three seconds," I fumed.
"Sorry." Harry repeated.
"Yeah, well, if you don't stop then I'm just not going to bother telling you, and then you'll never be able to explain it to Granger."
"I'm not going to tell Hermione anything." he told me, grimacing. "I don't think she'd to listen to me, anyway.'
In a sudden rush, I remembered how much Harry'd lost to get me here, and how much more he had risked. He deserved to know.
"I'm just saying that suddenly all my memories have changed. When I think about what I've done-" I trailed off, unable to continue as I felt the regret I had never experienced during the acts themselves. My eyes fluttered shut briefly, as if that would somehow block out the never ending images that flickered through my brain. As if they weren't as deeply ingrained into me as my name- something I could never forget no matter how much I wished I could
I swallowed, feeling myself jerk as screams echoed through my head, the pleas of the dying who had a better chance of negotiating with the devil than with myself.
And I watched myself mercilessly slaughter, knowing that even if I had the chance to go back and undo what I had done, I wouldn't.
It was a part of me, an experience that had turned me into the person I was today. And as bad as I felt about what I had done. . . I didn't hate myself enough to change my soul.
If I even had one.
Was it possible to do what I had done and to still have your soul?
There was so much blood on my hands - the very reason for which I killed stained my hands as a reminder of what I'd done. Always blood. It was all that had ever mattered. Blood was life and I'd taken it away from those who were unworthy of it.
My hands were stained with blood. . .
And blood can never be washed away.
I shuddered and as if someone had flicked a switch the pain and the memories were gone and I could breathe again.
I looked at Harry, hoping he'd have got it by now and I wouldn't need to say anything else. I saw his face and realized with horror I realised that he thought I'd finally developed a conscience, and was suffering immense grief at what I'd done. He thought I was turning into a good guy.
With a frown, I realised I'd have to tell him what I'd never told anyone before. "Harry you don't understand."
I blinked in alarm. When had this whole "Harry" thing crept in?
I wasn't even *thinking* of him as Potter anymore.
From beneath my eyelashes, I saw a small smile cross his face. I could almost hear the thought 'That's the third time he's called me that' floating through his head.
I bit my lip, feeling slightly bad at the hopeful expression that was in his eyes -the hope that I felt something for him.
But I didn't.
I didn't and he needed to realise that.
"So explain it to me." He pressed.
I sighed. "I don't feel guilty."
His eyes looked at me disbelievingly and I corrected myself.
"All right, I do. But not because of what you think."
He didn't speak; instead his eyes asked the question his mouth did not.
"I killed my father."
Shock crossed his face. "*You* killed Lucius?"
"You don't need to sound like it couldn't happen." my eyes narrowed- okay, I wasn't proud of what I'd done, but I wasn't going to be slighted.
"I just never thought that-" He broke off, looking suitably shocked.
"What- you never thought that I'd be powerful enough to kill my father?" Bitter resentment entered my tone.
"Draco," he looked at me as though I was a petulant child, "teams of Aurors have been trying to bring you down for years with no success. I never thought that you were anything other than extremely powerful-"
"And dangerous!" I interjected poutily.
"And dangerous", he agreed with a smile.
"Okay. So what did you mean, then?"
"I just meant that you always seemed to adore your father, and look up to him."
"I did." I agreed. "I worshipped him. Everything I did in my life was to make my father proud. Every thought, every action was because I wanted his approval."
"So you killed him?" His voice was confused. I explained further.
"It was never going to be enough. No matter what I did I was always in his shadow. He always had one up on me. And at the end of the day- he had what I wanted. So I did what he'd always wanted me to do - I took it."
"And . . . killed him." Harry repeated.
"Your genius never fails to astound me." I said sarcastically. "*That's*the reason you killed your father?" He exclaimed, stunned. I nodded. "It can't be that simple," Harry said in disbelief.
"It was."
"He was your father! Didn't you love him?"
"Potter, you don't seem to understand me - I've never loved anybody. I don't know how!" Abruptly I stood up and began to pace from side to side in the room. "I know it shouldn't have been that simple, but it was. It never crossed my mind that I shouldn't kill him and I don't know why! All right, so I didn't love him, but he *was* my father- that should have counted for something, right?"
Harry put a hand on my shoulder and I recoiled from the touch instantly, like a wild animal. Frustrated, I raked a hand through my hair, trying to take deep, calming breaths.
Harry hesitated slightly and then spoke. "I don't know if it helps, but when I was anywhere near Voldemort I felt like a different person. He amplified all the anger and hate in me, and made me forget all the parts of me that were loving and good", he offered me a small embarrassed smile. "and I'm not sure you were ever given time to find those parts of yourself to begin with."
I stared at the floor silently. I didn't deserve him trying to make this better. He'd already helped me far more than he should have done.
"I'm not trying to excuse what you did," Harry continued, as though he could read my mind. "But I don't think you should blame yourself so much. Voldemort had a large part to play in your father's death whether he was there or not."
"But ultimately . . ." I began.
"Ultimately it *was* you pointing the wand." Harry agreed. "But you shouldn't beat yourself up over it too much."
I looked at him seriously. "Why not?"
For the first time I saw a flicker of cold, hard anger in his eyes.
"Because he deserved it." Harry said evenly. "He died as a result of his actions. He died because that was the sort of person he wanted you to be - that's the sort of person he made you."
I took a deep breath in, something in me both appreciating and abhorring the sick irony that had led to my father's death. And hearing Harry's words, I felt a small part of my guilt begin to die.
It had taken Harry to understand that - it had taken Harry to understand me.
I thought of the way that he always seemed to know what I was thinking, the way he seemed to be aware of my fears and insecurities and also knew exactly how to soothe them. Why was that?
"You don't happen to have any mind-reading talents, do you?" I asked, suddenly suspicious.
"What? No!" he laughed. "Why?"
"No reason.' I said dismissively. "You just." I stopped abruptly, horrified by what I'd been about to tell him.
Harry waited for me to continue and, realising I wasn't going to tell him, prompted me. "'I just' what?"
"Nothing" I said quickly. "Nothing at all."
And while he looked at me in confusion, I couldn't help but wonder who I was trying to convince.
***
"Why does your cat hate me so much?" Harry asked me sulkily, staring at Crucio from his sprawled position on the sofa.
"He doesn't hate you- he hasn't attacked you in the last week." I informed him matter-of-factly.
"You don't have to constantly attack people to hate them." There was something in his tone that alerted me to the fact he wasn't talking about Crucio anymore.
"I don't hate you, Potter.'" I said simply, keeping my tone stable and almost blank. I could feel the doubt radiating off him. "I don't think we could be counted as friends, but I don't hate you." I expanded. "Not anymore."
Not be counted as friends?
He was the closest thing to a friend that I'd ever had . . . although I wasn't certain if people normally tried to kill their friends.
But I couldn't tell him that. I didn't know why but I just couldn't bring myself to.
A smile lit his face. "Do you want to hear a secret?"
"I'm dying to." I drawled languidly.
"I haven't hated you for a very long time."
My heart was beating so loud that I was sure he could hear it. To mask it, I spoke.
"That wasn't exactly the best kept secret in the world." I raised an eyebrow. "I mean, you've not acted very hateful, have you?"
"Not since fifth year." He elabourated.
If I didn't have endless poise and grace I would have choked. I almost did but caught myself in time, only allowing an exclamation to slip from my lips.
"Fifth year?"
He nodded.
I frowned. "Well you didn't act like you didn't hate me. In fact," I tried to remember fifth year, "didn't you tell me that I was a conceited idiot who was only passing my subjects because my father was Snape's sex slave?"
Harry opened his mouth sheepishly.
"And that I was a complete tosser who was just a ferret masquerading as a human.and not even doing it well?"
"Uhh-"
"And that I looked like a girl?" I said, indignant at the memory.
"Well-"
"And that my mother must have been a banshee because I was so ugly , all the first years were afraid of me." I frowned. "You know that was a terrible insult - it was such a blatant lie. The first years were afraid of me because if they got in my way I turned them into the insignificant bugs that they were and stomped on them."
He looked taken aback. "Oh."
"So if you didn't hate me then how the hell do you treat your enemies?" I crossed my arms.
He hesitated. "In all fairness ,you did start those fights."
I snorted. "And finished them, too-if I remember correctly."
"Well, I did get a few good shots in." He began to sulk
I frowned, re-capping the insults I'd reeled off.
"Actually, no-it was me who was supposed to be Snape's sex slave, wasn't it? Truly horrific thought, really. Ew." I shuddered.
"Well, at least I disturbed you." he said triumphantly.
"Not as much as you would have disturbed yourself if it had been true."
He winced. "True."
I laughed slightly and silence fell.
"Your cat's looking at me funnily again." Harry blurted nervously.
I smirked at his obvious trepidation.
"Probably."
"Why did you have to choose that insufferable ball of fluff to have as a pet? Why not some nice bunny, or something safe?"
"The wizard doesn't choose the pet, the pet chooses the wizard." I recited.
For someone who had apparently been a friend of that giant we'd had as a teacher, Harry sure hadn't paid a lot of attention in his lessons.
"Like wands?" Apparently, I had unintentionally caught his interest. I nodded. "So the pet chooses the wizard it likes most?'
"Partly. The type of pet a wizard has shows their character. All animals have an aura , and they choose the wizard with the aura that most matches their own."
"So, if we take a look at Crucio here." Harry trailed off, looking at me expectantly.
"Then I'd be fiercely independent, unable to get close to people, vicious, demanding, haughty and slightly malicious." I summed up.
Harry's lips twitched. "Doesn't sound like you at all."
"Shut it, Potter."
"Harry."
"Nope. I would be Draco." I gave him a dazzling smile.
He raised an eyebrow.
I laughed. "Fine - shut it Harry."
"That's more like it."
A warm feeling fluttered in my chest and I ducked my head.
What the hell was wrong with me?
"So why did I have an owl in Hogwarts?" Harry asked suddenly.
"Because they wouldn't let you have a dog."
Harry's eyes narrowed.
I sighed. "Fine- because you felt trapped."
"I didn't." Harry began and then stopped, obviously doubting the validity of his argument.
"Whatever you say."
"But I didn't buy her- Hagrid did."
"Doesn't matter. It was still intended for you."
"I didn't feel so trapped that I wanted to fly away." he objected.
"So you should have had a dog."
He was about to emphatically deny something again, but then his breath caught. "I did."
It was so quiet I could barely hear it.
"What was that?"
"Sirius." He breathed, a look of sadness etched on his face.
"You called your dog Sirius?" I wrinkled my brow.
"Er.no, that would have been Snuffles."
"Then Sirius is.?"
"Sirius *was* my godfather."
"Was?"
"Yeah." He looked at his feet. "He and Remus died during the war."
I frowned. "Sirius *Black*?"
He nodded.
"And Remus Lupin?"
A tired smile briefly flickered across his face. "The one and only."
"Sirius *Black*?" I repeated dumbly.
"Yeah, my godfather." He caught my look. "Oh, he wasn't evil - it wasn't him that betrayed my parents."
Well duh.
"No offence, but I think I know who's on my side." I tried to slow down my heartbeat.
"Draco . . . I don't think you even know which side you're on." He smirked at me slightly.
"I do when you're not there to confuse me.'" I said absentmindedly, so distracted I barely noticed Harry's blush at my words.
His mentioning of those two people was as though he had picked the top off a scab and no matter what I did, the blood would continue to flow.
Sirius Black. Remus Lupin.
Those two names lingered in my mind, turning into faces.
Faces which I'd seen many times.
I shifted my weight uncomfortably.
I glanced guiltily at Harry, as if he could somehow read the thoughts running through my head.
I felt the leaden feeling of nausea thread its way through my stomach. Even from the few words he'd said about them I could tell they'd been important to him - no, not even 'been' - they were important to him.
And Dumbledore had told him they were dead.
The room suddenly felt stuffy and I tugged on my collar, feeling like my shirt was strangling me.
They were currently housed in a top security prison. No-one who made it into that prison ever made it out again - dead or alive.
Unless of course you were a Death Eater who had specific instructions to be in there . . . like me.
Holy crap.
I buried my face in my hands.
I'd overseen their interrogations - I'd tried desperately to get every bit of information from them.
I'd spent countless hours in their presence, learning how to best get to them.
"Draco, are you all right?" Harry's voice was full of concern.
Concern for me.
"No." I tried to get my breathing under control. "No, I'm not."
I wanted to tell him- tell him that two people who he obviously loved dearly were still alive but if he knew then he'd want to know where.
And then I'd really have turned my back on my past.
Harry was talking to me, asking me questions anxiously.
"They're not dead." I blurted suddenly.
He stopped. "What?"
"Your godfather and the werewolf- although I bet they wish they were." This whole blurting things out thing was obviously addictive.
"What do you mean, they're not dead?" His voice had hardened.
Shit. Had I really meant to tell him that?
"They're still alive. They're," I ran my fingers through my hair, "they're prisoners."
All the colour had drained out of his face and I felt a niggling of that blasted guilt in my stomach. Instantly I tried to press it away, tried to crush it until no trace of it remained in me.
Harry seemed unable to form words. "Prisoners?"
I nodded in reply.
"But Dumbledore told me they were dead."
Well Dumbledore's a lying git who didn't want you risking your life to save them. "He probably thought they were."
I stared at the sofa, noticing that his hand that was resting on it was shaking slightly.
"Where are they?" he asked, his voice slightly stronger.
I hesitated.
"Draco, please. . . where are they?"
Crap. This was a situation I'd rather not be in.
I could not tell him and have him hate me for eternity, or tell him and therefore give him access to the information he'd need to track down every last Death Eater in the world. Everybody who had ever been a part of my life.
I met his green eyes.
They were filled with desperation and pain and I felt a lurch of guilt. My heart racing I stood up and walked over to the map. I searched it intently until I found what I was looking for. "Here." I circled a small town. "They're in here."
"Thank you." he grabbed the map and headed towards the fireplace.
"Harry, wait!" I ran to catch up with him. "You can't go in there."
"Try and stop me."
"You have no idea how dangerous it is."
"You have no idea how much I don't care."
"You can't take on dozens of Death Eaters by yourself!"
"I damn well can." "Harry!" Even to my own ears ,my voice sounded desperate.
He stopped and looked at me, breathing heavily. '"They're the only family I ever had." His eyes pleaded with me to understand.
However I refused to give up my case. "Just take someone with you. Please! I don't want anything to happen to you." I snapped my mouth shut before I could say anything else incriminating.
He stared at me in stunned silence and I fought a blush.
"Nothing's going to happen to me." he said finally, his tone firm. "I'll talk to you later."
He stepped into the fireplace and I felt the bitter taste of sick rise up my throat. I was dizzy with fear and my heart thumped so quickly it felt as though it would explode from my chest.
I tried to remember all the defences of the prison but fear closed my access to the information like a solid door. Yet one glaringly obvious fact slipped through.
"Harry!" I yelled.
"What?" he paused, a handful of Floo powder held high.
I swallowed, feeling my limbs begin to tremble. "You can't use magic in the inner keep."
Confusion crossed his face and he looked at me questioningly.
"Once you're in the actual prison area, no magic can be used- by either side. Watch out for the defence system. It won't be what you're expecting."
He nodded, fully immersed on his objective and how he would achieve it.
Barely even looking at me, he threw the handful of powder down.
And as he disappeared, I wondered with a sinking heart if I'd ever see him again.
So there we go.
Slightly less dramatic than the last chapter but hopefully still enjoyable.
Thanks for reading and PLEEEEAAASSEEEE leave a review!
Thanks to everyone who reviewed - I love you all so much and am continually thankful that people are still reading this. Just . . . remember to keep reading k?
Thanks so much to my new Beta-reader! You kick ass!
So without further delay . . .
I blinked my eyes open sleepily, sunlight causing me to shut them at once.
I started to shift, and heard voices. The sofa under me creaked slightly and I froze immediately, not wanting to let anyone know I was awake.
I had to strain my ears to hear the muffled shouts and with a bit of thought I identified the unfamiliar voices as Granger and Weasley's. I could hear my name mentioned every few seconds, so they obviously thought I was asleep. That would have been a correct enough observation moments earlier but now . . . I opened an eye cautiously, and saw that they were standing in the kitchen. If I leaned back about half an inch I could see them all perfectly.
"We came as soon as the alarms went off," Granger told Harry. "What the hell was going on back there?"
Harry offered her a small smile. "Momentary blip."
"Momentarily blip??" she raged. "You call that a momentary blip???"
"You've gone and done it now," the Weasel told Harry, looking at him in a way that implied, 'She's going to be at it for days'.
Harry's eyes clearly said, 'I know'.
"Harry, he tried to kill you!" she exclaimed. "That's not exactly a momentary blip."
"He wasn't actually." Harry corrected her absently. "What?" Granger said, narrowing her eyes.
"He wasn't trying to actually kill me."
"Harry, he was halfway through saying the killing curse."
He sighed. "Mione, I know you're only worried about me, but you shouldn't be. If Draco wanted me dead, then I'd be dead."
"It really worries me that you can say that so calmly." Hermione said, frowning. "In fact, it worries me that you can be so calm about the entire situation. It's almost as if you don't care that he could kill you any second."
There was a pause and an alarmed intake of breath.
"You've got to be kidding me!" Weasley exclaimed.
Damn. I wish Harry didn't have his back to me. I hadn't seen whatever he'd done.
"Listen mate, you're my best friend and all, but you're being absolutely mental!' Weasley ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.
Granger silenced him with a look.
"Harry- we know how you feel about him."
"Much to our horror." Weasley muttered.
"But that doesn't change the fact that he could kill you!"
Hang on a minute - the way that he feels about me?
"I know that, Hermione." Harry's voice had hardened.
"Then what am I missing?" she asked desperately.
In the silence that followed, my heart beat so loudly I was sure they'd know I was awake.
Harry's serious voice broke the silence. "I think you should go."
"Harry . . . "
"Now." His voice left no room for questions.
"I didn't mean to-"
"I know." he said calmly. "but I think it would be best for all of us if you both left, and we never mentioned this again."
There was a second stunned silence, broken this time by Weasley.
"I don't believe this." he muttered bitterly. "I can't believe you're choosing him over us."
"He's not-" Granger said firmly. "are you, Harry?"
Harry looked at her impassively.
"Oh." she whispered, her face shocked. "I see."
Weasley backed over to the fireplace, shaking his head in incredulity. Without taking his eyes off of Harry, he disappeared.
"You know Harry," Granger paused as she followed Weasley's example, sadness in her eyes, "we never changed. Ron and I were always here for you. It was you who didn't want us to be - it was you who changed, not us."
He stared at her silently and she stepped into the fireplace, chin held high...and disappeared.
Harry swallowed, hard, and turned around to face me. Quickly I snapped my eyes shut.
I heard his soft footfall and then felt his presence as he stopped besides me. "Draco?"
I could feel his eyes boring into me.
"I know you're not asleep so you might as well just give it up."
Damn. Busted.
I opened one eye and peered at him.
He had his arms folded and a semi-amused expression on his face.
My throat felt like it was coated in a layer of sand and I swallowed nervously.
"Hi." I rasped, grimacing at the sound of my scratchy voice.
"Guess you heard all that, huh?" His expression told me in no uncertain terms that he'd rather I hadn't. Not quite up to discussing the many issues that had been raised by the conversation, I considered my answer.
"Bits." I agreed cautiously. Harry nodded expressionlessly. "Er...they sounded pretty angry." I offered.
"They'll get over it." he said shortly.
**You hope** I thought, looking at the ground so he couldn't see the doubt in my eyes. He seemed to sense it regardless. "And if they don't then they obviously weren't my friends to begin with. If they can't understand how I- " Harry broke off, biting his lip angrily.
Something in me told me that it was time to change the subject.
"You know you don't seem very pissed off that I just tried to kill you."
And how better to do it than with my customary bluntness.
He shrugged. "People have been trying to kill me since the day I was born - I've truthfully become rather blasé about the whole thing." he paused, contemplating in mock seriousness. "Plus, of course, the fact is that you weren't actually so much trying to kill me as get *me* to kill *you*." he tilted his head to one side. 'So why was that?'
"I don't want to talk about it." I mumbled.
"I do." he said firmly.
"Harry." my voice held a note of appeal.
"That's the second time you've done that, you know."
"Done what?" I asked curiously.
"Called me Harry."
I flushed. "Sorry."
"I don't mind."
"I do." I muttered
"It's just it actually sounds like we could be friends when you call me that."
"Well, I don't give a Fizzing Whizbee. You shall be Potter forevermore"
He smiled slightly. "Well, there obviously isn't that big an issue if you're back to sarcasm already."
'There isn't,' I was about to say, but stopped, realising with a twinge that maybe I did have a relatively large issue.
Harry seemed to sense my sudden downward spiral and his eyes instantly lost their teasing sparkle and softened.
"It's okay," he said reassuringly, "If you really don't want to talk about it, then we don't have to".
I looked down and realised that for once in my life (and the only time I, hasten to mention) I had to grow some balls and confront the truth. I sighed. "I just.couldn't take it anymore."
"Take what?" he asked softly, his eyes warm and concerned.
I felt a violent shiver run through me. Why did he always have to look like he actually cared?
But then.maybe he did. He was so full of goodness. It just seemed wrong that he wasted it on me when I didn't even deserve it.
"Draco?" He prompted gently.
I sighed again, preparing myself to tell him the truth.
Funnily enough, it never occurred to me to lie to him.
"I've never felt much of anything before- nothing except hate. Hate that was aimed at you. You were the only person who could get to me. And now . . . " I trailed off helplessly, ". . . since I saved you, there's been all these feelings inside me and I can't take it. I don't know how to cope with them all. They're driving me mad."
"You were already mad."
"Potter!" I exclaimed in annoyance.
"Sorry."
"I'm trying to pour out everything I'm feeling here and it would be a lot easier if you stopped interjecting every three seconds," I fumed.
"Sorry." Harry repeated.
"Yeah, well, if you don't stop then I'm just not going to bother telling you, and then you'll never be able to explain it to Granger."
"I'm not going to tell Hermione anything." he told me, grimacing. "I don't think she'd to listen to me, anyway.'
In a sudden rush, I remembered how much Harry'd lost to get me here, and how much more he had risked. He deserved to know.
"I'm just saying that suddenly all my memories have changed. When I think about what I've done-" I trailed off, unable to continue as I felt the regret I had never experienced during the acts themselves. My eyes fluttered shut briefly, as if that would somehow block out the never ending images that flickered through my brain. As if they weren't as deeply ingrained into me as my name- something I could never forget no matter how much I wished I could
I swallowed, feeling myself jerk as screams echoed through my head, the pleas of the dying who had a better chance of negotiating with the devil than with myself.
And I watched myself mercilessly slaughter, knowing that even if I had the chance to go back and undo what I had done, I wouldn't.
It was a part of me, an experience that had turned me into the person I was today. And as bad as I felt about what I had done. . . I didn't hate myself enough to change my soul.
If I even had one.
Was it possible to do what I had done and to still have your soul?
There was so much blood on my hands - the very reason for which I killed stained my hands as a reminder of what I'd done. Always blood. It was all that had ever mattered. Blood was life and I'd taken it away from those who were unworthy of it.
My hands were stained with blood. . .
And blood can never be washed away.
I shuddered and as if someone had flicked a switch the pain and the memories were gone and I could breathe again.
I looked at Harry, hoping he'd have got it by now and I wouldn't need to say anything else. I saw his face and realized with horror I realised that he thought I'd finally developed a conscience, and was suffering immense grief at what I'd done. He thought I was turning into a good guy.
With a frown, I realised I'd have to tell him what I'd never told anyone before. "Harry you don't understand."
I blinked in alarm. When had this whole "Harry" thing crept in?
I wasn't even *thinking* of him as Potter anymore.
From beneath my eyelashes, I saw a small smile cross his face. I could almost hear the thought 'That's the third time he's called me that' floating through his head.
I bit my lip, feeling slightly bad at the hopeful expression that was in his eyes -the hope that I felt something for him.
But I didn't.
I didn't and he needed to realise that.
"So explain it to me." He pressed.
I sighed. "I don't feel guilty."
His eyes looked at me disbelievingly and I corrected myself.
"All right, I do. But not because of what you think."
He didn't speak; instead his eyes asked the question his mouth did not.
"I killed my father."
Shock crossed his face. "*You* killed Lucius?"
"You don't need to sound like it couldn't happen." my eyes narrowed- okay, I wasn't proud of what I'd done, but I wasn't going to be slighted.
"I just never thought that-" He broke off, looking suitably shocked.
"What- you never thought that I'd be powerful enough to kill my father?" Bitter resentment entered my tone.
"Draco," he looked at me as though I was a petulant child, "teams of Aurors have been trying to bring you down for years with no success. I never thought that you were anything other than extremely powerful-"
"And dangerous!" I interjected poutily.
"And dangerous", he agreed with a smile.
"Okay. So what did you mean, then?"
"I just meant that you always seemed to adore your father, and look up to him."
"I did." I agreed. "I worshipped him. Everything I did in my life was to make my father proud. Every thought, every action was because I wanted his approval."
"So you killed him?" His voice was confused. I explained further.
"It was never going to be enough. No matter what I did I was always in his shadow. He always had one up on me. And at the end of the day- he had what I wanted. So I did what he'd always wanted me to do - I took it."
"And . . . killed him." Harry repeated.
"Your genius never fails to astound me." I said sarcastically. "*That's*the reason you killed your father?" He exclaimed, stunned. I nodded. "It can't be that simple," Harry said in disbelief.
"It was."
"He was your father! Didn't you love him?"
"Potter, you don't seem to understand me - I've never loved anybody. I don't know how!" Abruptly I stood up and began to pace from side to side in the room. "I know it shouldn't have been that simple, but it was. It never crossed my mind that I shouldn't kill him and I don't know why! All right, so I didn't love him, but he *was* my father- that should have counted for something, right?"
Harry put a hand on my shoulder and I recoiled from the touch instantly, like a wild animal. Frustrated, I raked a hand through my hair, trying to take deep, calming breaths.
Harry hesitated slightly and then spoke. "I don't know if it helps, but when I was anywhere near Voldemort I felt like a different person. He amplified all the anger and hate in me, and made me forget all the parts of me that were loving and good", he offered me a small embarrassed smile. "and I'm not sure you were ever given time to find those parts of yourself to begin with."
I stared at the floor silently. I didn't deserve him trying to make this better. He'd already helped me far more than he should have done.
"I'm not trying to excuse what you did," Harry continued, as though he could read my mind. "But I don't think you should blame yourself so much. Voldemort had a large part to play in your father's death whether he was there or not."
"But ultimately . . ." I began.
"Ultimately it *was* you pointing the wand." Harry agreed. "But you shouldn't beat yourself up over it too much."
I looked at him seriously. "Why not?"
For the first time I saw a flicker of cold, hard anger in his eyes.
"Because he deserved it." Harry said evenly. "He died as a result of his actions. He died because that was the sort of person he wanted you to be - that's the sort of person he made you."
I took a deep breath in, something in me both appreciating and abhorring the sick irony that had led to my father's death. And hearing Harry's words, I felt a small part of my guilt begin to die.
It had taken Harry to understand that - it had taken Harry to understand me.
I thought of the way that he always seemed to know what I was thinking, the way he seemed to be aware of my fears and insecurities and also knew exactly how to soothe them. Why was that?
"You don't happen to have any mind-reading talents, do you?" I asked, suddenly suspicious.
"What? No!" he laughed. "Why?"
"No reason.' I said dismissively. "You just." I stopped abruptly, horrified by what I'd been about to tell him.
Harry waited for me to continue and, realising I wasn't going to tell him, prompted me. "'I just' what?"
"Nothing" I said quickly. "Nothing at all."
And while he looked at me in confusion, I couldn't help but wonder who I was trying to convince.
***
"Why does your cat hate me so much?" Harry asked me sulkily, staring at Crucio from his sprawled position on the sofa.
"He doesn't hate you- he hasn't attacked you in the last week." I informed him matter-of-factly.
"You don't have to constantly attack people to hate them." There was something in his tone that alerted me to the fact he wasn't talking about Crucio anymore.
"I don't hate you, Potter.'" I said simply, keeping my tone stable and almost blank. I could feel the doubt radiating off him. "I don't think we could be counted as friends, but I don't hate you." I expanded. "Not anymore."
Not be counted as friends?
He was the closest thing to a friend that I'd ever had . . . although I wasn't certain if people normally tried to kill their friends.
But I couldn't tell him that. I didn't know why but I just couldn't bring myself to.
A smile lit his face. "Do you want to hear a secret?"
"I'm dying to." I drawled languidly.
"I haven't hated you for a very long time."
My heart was beating so loud that I was sure he could hear it. To mask it, I spoke.
"That wasn't exactly the best kept secret in the world." I raised an eyebrow. "I mean, you've not acted very hateful, have you?"
"Not since fifth year." He elabourated.
If I didn't have endless poise and grace I would have choked. I almost did but caught myself in time, only allowing an exclamation to slip from my lips.
"Fifth year?"
He nodded.
I frowned. "Well you didn't act like you didn't hate me. In fact," I tried to remember fifth year, "didn't you tell me that I was a conceited idiot who was only passing my subjects because my father was Snape's sex slave?"
Harry opened his mouth sheepishly.
"And that I was a complete tosser who was just a ferret masquerading as a human.and not even doing it well?"
"Uhh-"
"And that I looked like a girl?" I said, indignant at the memory.
"Well-"
"And that my mother must have been a banshee because I was so ugly , all the first years were afraid of me." I frowned. "You know that was a terrible insult - it was such a blatant lie. The first years were afraid of me because if they got in my way I turned them into the insignificant bugs that they were and stomped on them."
He looked taken aback. "Oh."
"So if you didn't hate me then how the hell do you treat your enemies?" I crossed my arms.
He hesitated. "In all fairness ,you did start those fights."
I snorted. "And finished them, too-if I remember correctly."
"Well, I did get a few good shots in." He began to sulk
I frowned, re-capping the insults I'd reeled off.
"Actually, no-it was me who was supposed to be Snape's sex slave, wasn't it? Truly horrific thought, really. Ew." I shuddered.
"Well, at least I disturbed you." he said triumphantly.
"Not as much as you would have disturbed yourself if it had been true."
He winced. "True."
I laughed slightly and silence fell.
"Your cat's looking at me funnily again." Harry blurted nervously.
I smirked at his obvious trepidation.
"Probably."
"Why did you have to choose that insufferable ball of fluff to have as a pet? Why not some nice bunny, or something safe?"
"The wizard doesn't choose the pet, the pet chooses the wizard." I recited.
For someone who had apparently been a friend of that giant we'd had as a teacher, Harry sure hadn't paid a lot of attention in his lessons.
"Like wands?" Apparently, I had unintentionally caught his interest. I nodded. "So the pet chooses the wizard it likes most?'
"Partly. The type of pet a wizard has shows their character. All animals have an aura , and they choose the wizard with the aura that most matches their own."
"So, if we take a look at Crucio here." Harry trailed off, looking at me expectantly.
"Then I'd be fiercely independent, unable to get close to people, vicious, demanding, haughty and slightly malicious." I summed up.
Harry's lips twitched. "Doesn't sound like you at all."
"Shut it, Potter."
"Harry."
"Nope. I would be Draco." I gave him a dazzling smile.
He raised an eyebrow.
I laughed. "Fine - shut it Harry."
"That's more like it."
A warm feeling fluttered in my chest and I ducked my head.
What the hell was wrong with me?
"So why did I have an owl in Hogwarts?" Harry asked suddenly.
"Because they wouldn't let you have a dog."
Harry's eyes narrowed.
I sighed. "Fine- because you felt trapped."
"I didn't." Harry began and then stopped, obviously doubting the validity of his argument.
"Whatever you say."
"But I didn't buy her- Hagrid did."
"Doesn't matter. It was still intended for you."
"I didn't feel so trapped that I wanted to fly away." he objected.
"So you should have had a dog."
He was about to emphatically deny something again, but then his breath caught. "I did."
It was so quiet I could barely hear it.
"What was that?"
"Sirius." He breathed, a look of sadness etched on his face.
"You called your dog Sirius?" I wrinkled my brow.
"Er.no, that would have been Snuffles."
"Then Sirius is.?"
"Sirius *was* my godfather."
"Was?"
"Yeah." He looked at his feet. "He and Remus died during the war."
I frowned. "Sirius *Black*?"
He nodded.
"And Remus Lupin?"
A tired smile briefly flickered across his face. "The one and only."
"Sirius *Black*?" I repeated dumbly.
"Yeah, my godfather." He caught my look. "Oh, he wasn't evil - it wasn't him that betrayed my parents."
Well duh.
"No offence, but I think I know who's on my side." I tried to slow down my heartbeat.
"Draco . . . I don't think you even know which side you're on." He smirked at me slightly.
"I do when you're not there to confuse me.'" I said absentmindedly, so distracted I barely noticed Harry's blush at my words.
His mentioning of those two people was as though he had picked the top off a scab and no matter what I did, the blood would continue to flow.
Sirius Black. Remus Lupin.
Those two names lingered in my mind, turning into faces.
Faces which I'd seen many times.
I shifted my weight uncomfortably.
I glanced guiltily at Harry, as if he could somehow read the thoughts running through my head.
I felt the leaden feeling of nausea thread its way through my stomach. Even from the few words he'd said about them I could tell they'd been important to him - no, not even 'been' - they were important to him.
And Dumbledore had told him they were dead.
The room suddenly felt stuffy and I tugged on my collar, feeling like my shirt was strangling me.
They were currently housed in a top security prison. No-one who made it into that prison ever made it out again - dead or alive.
Unless of course you were a Death Eater who had specific instructions to be in there . . . like me.
Holy crap.
I buried my face in my hands.
I'd overseen their interrogations - I'd tried desperately to get every bit of information from them.
I'd spent countless hours in their presence, learning how to best get to them.
"Draco, are you all right?" Harry's voice was full of concern.
Concern for me.
"No." I tried to get my breathing under control. "No, I'm not."
I wanted to tell him- tell him that two people who he obviously loved dearly were still alive but if he knew then he'd want to know where.
And then I'd really have turned my back on my past.
Harry was talking to me, asking me questions anxiously.
"They're not dead." I blurted suddenly.
He stopped. "What?"
"Your godfather and the werewolf- although I bet they wish they were." This whole blurting things out thing was obviously addictive.
"What do you mean, they're not dead?" His voice had hardened.
Shit. Had I really meant to tell him that?
"They're still alive. They're," I ran my fingers through my hair, "they're prisoners."
All the colour had drained out of his face and I felt a niggling of that blasted guilt in my stomach. Instantly I tried to press it away, tried to crush it until no trace of it remained in me.
Harry seemed unable to form words. "Prisoners?"
I nodded in reply.
"But Dumbledore told me they were dead."
Well Dumbledore's a lying git who didn't want you risking your life to save them. "He probably thought they were."
I stared at the sofa, noticing that his hand that was resting on it was shaking slightly.
"Where are they?" he asked, his voice slightly stronger.
I hesitated.
"Draco, please. . . where are they?"
Crap. This was a situation I'd rather not be in.
I could not tell him and have him hate me for eternity, or tell him and therefore give him access to the information he'd need to track down every last Death Eater in the world. Everybody who had ever been a part of my life.
I met his green eyes.
They were filled with desperation and pain and I felt a lurch of guilt. My heart racing I stood up and walked over to the map. I searched it intently until I found what I was looking for. "Here." I circled a small town. "They're in here."
"Thank you." he grabbed the map and headed towards the fireplace.
"Harry, wait!" I ran to catch up with him. "You can't go in there."
"Try and stop me."
"You have no idea how dangerous it is."
"You have no idea how much I don't care."
"You can't take on dozens of Death Eaters by yourself!"
"I damn well can." "Harry!" Even to my own ears ,my voice sounded desperate.
He stopped and looked at me, breathing heavily. '"They're the only family I ever had." His eyes pleaded with me to understand.
However I refused to give up my case. "Just take someone with you. Please! I don't want anything to happen to you." I snapped my mouth shut before I could say anything else incriminating.
He stared at me in stunned silence and I fought a blush.
"Nothing's going to happen to me." he said finally, his tone firm. "I'll talk to you later."
He stepped into the fireplace and I felt the bitter taste of sick rise up my throat. I was dizzy with fear and my heart thumped so quickly it felt as though it would explode from my chest.
I tried to remember all the defences of the prison but fear closed my access to the information like a solid door. Yet one glaringly obvious fact slipped through.
"Harry!" I yelled.
"What?" he paused, a handful of Floo powder held high.
I swallowed, feeling my limbs begin to tremble. "You can't use magic in the inner keep."
Confusion crossed his face and he looked at me questioningly.
"Once you're in the actual prison area, no magic can be used- by either side. Watch out for the defence system. It won't be what you're expecting."
He nodded, fully immersed on his objective and how he would achieve it.
Barely even looking at me, he threw the handful of powder down.
And as he disappeared, I wondered with a sinking heart if I'd ever see him again.
So there we go.
Slightly less dramatic than the last chapter but hopefully still enjoyable.
Thanks for reading and PLEEEEAAASSEEEE leave a review!