A/N: After an extremely, extremely long wait chapter thirteen is done. It's brief, but it's done. Thank you so much for your patience and continued feedback.
Thank you Sherlock 2K, sinead, ashley, Mandy Evens, cosmciwolf12887, HPMystery, AstriAnya Tvaira, Silent Stalker, nobody, V-star, twilights death, Tria, orcando, Mystica, BballStardust41, Violet Rose, kit cloudkicker, Spirit, Zoe, harrypotterroxmysox, Princess of Insanity, Minna, Joe, RandomThought,Alice, Nuriko no Tenshi Redhawk, Cassie, AnelicPyro, Silverfox, Myst, MiniMe, Pepperjack Candy, Fleur, Rehanna, and ClarKeRaVen. Thank you sooo much to everyone who continues to review F & I and L & D. I'm sorry to anyone whom I forgot. I love you too!
***
Draco snuggled closer to Harry in the crimson warmth of Harry's bed. No matter what he did, he couldn't get comfortable in the other bed. But here...He pushed back a stray lock of hair back from Harry's brow, noting absently that he still smelled of Padma. Vaguely he wondered if she had left her perfume on him as well. He sighed. Life just seemed too normal since Voldemort. He could hide the Dark Mark, but it was still there, contaminating everything with ugliness. Including himself. If it hadn't have been for Harry- if he didn't love him so much, weirdo that he was, would he have resisted Voldemort? Or would he have been first in line? He didn't know. It bothered him that he didn't know. He should know. If Harry wasn't there, would he have become another spineless, gutless death eater?
As it was, he felt more like Snape. Is that how he was going to end up- alone, greasy, living on the edge of acceptable society and- horror of horrors- teaching a new generation of Weasels? He shuddered. Then he was angry. Why did he have to live like this- hiding from his former dorm mates, wondering who his father had spying on him now, shagging one of the hottest guys on the planet? Okay, that part of his life was good. Everything else sucked.
He thought about his mother. She cared. He never knew that she cared. She had never read him books or hugged him close when he was scared or said "I love you." She nitpicked and she fussed, but fussing was what Narcissa did: "Your hair wants trimming." "You didn't eat your dinner." "Your dress robes are an inch too short." "Don't they feed you at that school?" "There's dust on my table. Sack the house elf." "The diamond in this ring too small. How am I supposed to give this to my son?"
Yes, he thought his mother only fussed at him until he got her letter.
"Dear Draco,
Dumbledore told me where I could find you. You had me so worried. You were acting so strangely before you left. I've never seen you so melancholy or gloomy. What's wrong, darling? I want to help you. Please tell me what's wrong. I hate seeing you like this. I love you. Narcissa."
//She wants to know what's wrong?// For years and year she didn't want to see. She had pretended. She had pretended that Lucius was a decent man. She had pretended that her son was a normal child. She had pretended that everything was just peachy and now she had the nerve to ask him what the hell was wrong? He would let her know what was wrong. He would tell her what had been going on right under her nose for years and she never knew because she didn't want to know. He had sent a reply that morning.
Narcissa opened the letter with trembling hands, expecting a polite, yet cold brush off. What she got were instructions. "Tap the mantle above my fireplace. The password is confessions. Don't let father know."
"What's that?" Lucius inquired. Narcissa crumpled the letter.
"Nothing. I sent an inquiry to Madam Milkin about my new set of dress robes. She says they'll be ready next week," she lied calmly.
"How nice," Lucius said sarcastically.
"If you'll excuse me, dear. I'll go see about dinner."
"Of course, *darling*." The word cut like glass, the term of endearment being twisted into a sign of bondage. She smiled weakly and swept out gracefully, shutting the door gently. She broke into a run immediately.
***
So...what's behind the fireplace? Will Draco get over the Dark Mark? Is Voldemort just going to let them go back to their slashy lives? I don't know, darlings. Comments and suggestions eaten for breakfast with marmalade and toast. Review and let me know what I should update next!
Love,
J. Silver
Thank you Sherlock 2K, sinead, ashley, Mandy Evens, cosmciwolf12887, HPMystery, AstriAnya Tvaira, Silent Stalker, nobody, V-star, twilights death, Tria, orcando, Mystica, BballStardust41, Violet Rose, kit cloudkicker, Spirit, Zoe, harrypotterroxmysox, Princess of Insanity, Minna, Joe, RandomThought,Alice, Nuriko no Tenshi Redhawk, Cassie, AnelicPyro, Silverfox, Myst, MiniMe, Pepperjack Candy, Fleur, Rehanna, and ClarKeRaVen. Thank you sooo much to everyone who continues to review F & I and L & D. I'm sorry to anyone whom I forgot. I love you too!
***
Draco snuggled closer to Harry in the crimson warmth of Harry's bed. No matter what he did, he couldn't get comfortable in the other bed. But here...He pushed back a stray lock of hair back from Harry's brow, noting absently that he still smelled of Padma. Vaguely he wondered if she had left her perfume on him as well. He sighed. Life just seemed too normal since Voldemort. He could hide the Dark Mark, but it was still there, contaminating everything with ugliness. Including himself. If it hadn't have been for Harry- if he didn't love him so much, weirdo that he was, would he have resisted Voldemort? Or would he have been first in line? He didn't know. It bothered him that he didn't know. He should know. If Harry wasn't there, would he have become another spineless, gutless death eater?
As it was, he felt more like Snape. Is that how he was going to end up- alone, greasy, living on the edge of acceptable society and- horror of horrors- teaching a new generation of Weasels? He shuddered. Then he was angry. Why did he have to live like this- hiding from his former dorm mates, wondering who his father had spying on him now, shagging one of the hottest guys on the planet? Okay, that part of his life was good. Everything else sucked.
He thought about his mother. She cared. He never knew that she cared. She had never read him books or hugged him close when he was scared or said "I love you." She nitpicked and she fussed, but fussing was what Narcissa did: "Your hair wants trimming." "You didn't eat your dinner." "Your dress robes are an inch too short." "Don't they feed you at that school?" "There's dust on my table. Sack the house elf." "The diamond in this ring too small. How am I supposed to give this to my son?"
Yes, he thought his mother only fussed at him until he got her letter.
"Dear Draco,
Dumbledore told me where I could find you. You had me so worried. You were acting so strangely before you left. I've never seen you so melancholy or gloomy. What's wrong, darling? I want to help you. Please tell me what's wrong. I hate seeing you like this. I love you. Narcissa."
//She wants to know what's wrong?// For years and year she didn't want to see. She had pretended. She had pretended that Lucius was a decent man. She had pretended that her son was a normal child. She had pretended that everything was just peachy and now she had the nerve to ask him what the hell was wrong? He would let her know what was wrong. He would tell her what had been going on right under her nose for years and she never knew because she didn't want to know. He had sent a reply that morning.
Narcissa opened the letter with trembling hands, expecting a polite, yet cold brush off. What she got were instructions. "Tap the mantle above my fireplace. The password is confessions. Don't let father know."
"What's that?" Lucius inquired. Narcissa crumpled the letter.
"Nothing. I sent an inquiry to Madam Milkin about my new set of dress robes. She says they'll be ready next week," she lied calmly.
"How nice," Lucius said sarcastically.
"If you'll excuse me, dear. I'll go see about dinner."
"Of course, *darling*." The word cut like glass, the term of endearment being twisted into a sign of bondage. She smiled weakly and swept out gracefully, shutting the door gently. She broke into a run immediately.
***
So...what's behind the fireplace? Will Draco get over the Dark Mark? Is Voldemort just going to let them go back to their slashy lives? I don't know, darlings. Comments and suggestions eaten for breakfast with marmalade and toast. Review and let me know what I should update next!
Love,
J. Silver