A/N: thank you for the reviews, they were amusing and they certainly helped motivate me :)

i've decided to either post a chronology chart so the passages are less confusing or to move everything around so it reads in chronological order. would you guys like that better? for now, here's the chart:

-- chapter 1 -- chapter 5.2 -- chapter 4.1 -- chapter 3.1 -- chapter 6.1 -- chapter 5.1 -- chapter 2 -- chapter 4.2 -- chapter 3.2 -- chapter 4.3 -- chapter 6.2 --

does that make things clearer? i hope so.

- February 10 - Sixth Year - 1997 -

Harry and I were walking back from Quidditch when he passed by and deliberately shoved into my shoulder. Our eyes met for a second and there was a flash of something unrecognizable in him that scared me. I would have shoved him back if it weren't for that look. I turned to hear Harry mutter some sort of insult at him, but I didn't catch it and was too busy thinking about what was wrong to listen to his spitting reply. I touched a hand to Harry's wrist to call him off and he continued down the hall with me with a scowl. "What's his problem? He couldn't just walk passed, he had to say something."

"He's Malfoy, it's in his blood."

"Doesn't change that fact that it's obnoxious."

"Pretty sure that's the point." He huffed but didn't respond. We fell into silence that remained until we entered the common room. Harry stayed down to talk to Hermione, but I went up to the dorm to change. I wanted to send Pig after Malfoy to find out what was wrong, even though I knew he probably wouldn't tell me. When I reached my bed, there was a box on my pillow wrapped in silver paper and I picked it up. Underneath was a bit of parchment that only read 'midnight'. Right, I wouldn't have to send Pig. I sat on the edge of my bed and opened the box to find a beautifully-carved white King chessman. He eyed me suspiciously, then folded his arms over his chest as I looked him over. He must have really done something wrong if he was giving me the King. It had only been pawns before then, two white and three black. I smiled to myself as I looked him over once more before tucking him in the box and putting it in the trunk under my dress robes to join the other boxes. I changed into pajamas bottoms and a t-shirt, grabbed a few books, and headed back down to feign homework.

My fingers played an invisible piano as I walked silently down the last hallway, eyes darting from corner to corner to make sure that Mrs. Norris would not see me and alert Filch to my whereabouts. Draco would be angry with me and the chess piece told me there was already something wrong. With one final dart of the eye, I slipped behind the ancient clothe and descended the stairs to wait for him. The fire was roaring and lit the room, a warm glow that made me feel comforted after walking through hallway after hallway of cold stone. I slid easily into my chair, pulled my feet up, and rested my chin on my knee so that I could watch the door.

He was earlier than usual, still late, but I did not have to wait nearly as long. His sneer was in place even as he looked at me, and I could see that the unrecognizable gleam had not left his eyes. I watched him cross to the table and take a strawberry. "Strip," he spat at me before biting into the fruit. I stared at him, but didn't move. His sneer deepened, "Are you deaf? I said strip."

I lifted my chin from my knee and studied him carefully, still not moving to stand. "What's wrong?"

The anger flared, "What? Shut up, I said strip, not talk! Do I have to do it for you?" He pulled me out of my chair by a fistful of hair and I had to clench my fist to keep from moaning in pain. He let go of my hair and glared at me in a look that told me if I did not do what he wanted, I would leave with a few broken bones along with the bruising. I sighed and pulled my sweater over my head along with my t-shirt, dropping them to the floor before pulling off my pants. He glanced me over with a studious eye before nodding to himself, "Good, very good." He offered me a bite of the strawberry and I took it cautiously, watching him as I chewed.

I had barely swallowed when I was wrapped up in him and fighting for purchase against his tongue. Once steadied against the onslaught, I began to tug at his clothing, wanting to feel his bare skin against mine. I went first for his sweater, but he growled into my mouth for me to leave it. Confused, I moved my hands down to his slacks and fumbled with the belt for a few moments before letting them slide down his hips and puddle at his feet. He stepped out of them and turned us around so that he could sit in the chair and pull me into his lap. We continued to kiss and I melted into him, lost in that feeling of ecstasy I always got when in his arms. Soon it wasn't enough and I slid down off of the chair to my knees in front of him. He watched me behind hooded lids and his fingers played in my hair as I took him in my mouth. I hardened him and coated him with my saliva, not wanting the soreness I had left our last encounter with. Before long he tugged on my hair and dragged me back into his lap, pulling my face down for a kiss as he slid into me. I groaned loudly and pressed down onto him, wanting more, so much more. I wanted to rip myself open so that he could crawl inside and be that much closer. I wanted to stay like that, bodies melded together, for the rest of our lives, never separating, constantly living with that feeling of being completely full of him. We moved together in rushed, frantic motions and he scratched at my back with his nails and I could feel the blood oozing from the wounds he'd left, but I didn't care. I held onto him and I was murmuring viciously, unspeakably naughty things in his ear amid groans and grunts and yells of passion. Wool scratched against my skin and I fought him to rip it off, finally succeeding when I hit a particularly sensitive spot and he leaned back in a moan of pleasure. My senses were heightened even more as our heated skin pressed together and I licked and nipped at his collar bone as he shoved harder into me. We writhed and moaned and screamed as one and soon liquid was everywhere, inside me, splayed across our stomachs, on our thighs.

Spent, I curled into him, not moving to let him out, and he wrapped his arms around me, rested his cheek in my forehead. We sat there for a while, both panting and fighting for calm. His fingertips lightly traced my spine and I shivered at the pleasurable contact. After a bit of relaxed silence, I remembered the chessman and lifted my head to look at him. The glint had disappeared during our passion, but it was back now, and I furrowed my brow as I ran fingers through his hair, "What's wrong? Something's different…"

He avoided my eyes, "Hand me a strawberry, will you?"

I reached for the table, not leaving his lap, and snatched the bowl up. He took one from it and lifted it to his mouth and I froze. I felt the color drain from my face and my body went into a cold sweat as I stumbled off of his lap and backed away a bit, starring at his arm in utter shock. He ignored me and ate the strawberry as though nothing were wrong, nothing black and putrid and evil were etched in raised, angry patterns on his forearm. "Draco…" The words escaped me as fear and panic descended upon me. He ate another strawberry and didn't look at me. I closed my eyes and tried to gather words enough to form a coherent sentence. This was wrong; this was not supposed to happen. He was mine, no matter how horrible he was to me. He was not his father's or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's, he was mine. And now he was marred and mangled in a way that spoke of his possession by another. I sneered in disgust, finally pulling words together in a harsh whisper, "How could you?"

He snorted, a sound I never thought I would hear come from his lips. "How could I not? Just because I'm fucking you, that doesn't mean that my priorities have changed. I'm a Malfoy and this has been planned and expected since my birth."

"But, Draco… what about us? What's he going to do to you when he finds out?" My heart sank at the thought of him being tortured and mutilated at the hands of that monster.

"What are you talking about? He won't find out. There isn't an 'us' to find out about." He still hadn't looked at me and I knew then that he had thought the same thing, but was not going to admit to me that he feared anything related to the Dark Lord.

I slid to my knees in front of him and made him look at me, "Relationship or not, we're still sleeping together, and He does not look kindly on homosexuals. You know that. He'll have you tortured and killed if he even has an inclination about this. How could you put yourself in danger like that?"

He glared at me, "And what do you think he would do if I refused loyalty to him? I've been anticipating this and training for this my entire life. You think it wouldn't be suspicious if I suddenly didn't go through with it?"

He was right, of course, but it didn't stop the sinking feeling in my stomach or the anger mulling about in my head. I lifted up so that I was eye level with him and gritted my teeth, "If you die because of this, I swear to Merlin after you're buried, I'll dig you up, piss on your corpse, and leave you out for the vultures to peck at."

He studied me for a long moment, eyes glistening with something that almost looked like tears, but then he leaned in and captured my lips, pulling me back up into his lap. The second time was different than any encounter I had ever had with him. He was slow, methodical, soothing. His kisses were like honey and his touch was gentle and massaging. He did not use his nails or nip at my skin, but licked and kissed and caressed, and our rhythm was languid and relaxed, not the harsh, frantic speed I was used to. This new experience, almost akin to love-making, was the most amazing sensation I had ever felt. Every inch of my body tingled and purred at his touch. Afterward, I fell against him and nuzzled his neck in sleepy affection as his arms wrapped around me to pull me in tight. He kissed a map along the side of my face, I felt his smile against my skin, and I leaned up to meet his kisses.

He broke away after a while, claiming that it was late and we needed to get some sleep. Not wanting to leave his embrace, I nuzzled into him and told him I would rather sleep where we were. He rubbed my back and kissed my temple and gently encouraged me to stand. Not wanting to anger him and ruin the sweetest moments of our time together, I did as was indicated without much fuss and we parted with a goodnight kiss that took my breath away. Lying in Harry's bed later, rubbing his back as he fought against sleep, I thought over what had happened and why he had treated me with such affection, and I understood. He did it in order to placate me, to calm me, because he knew that his action could cause me anger and fear enough to tell someone, someone of power, that he had joined their leagues. But then I thought back to the look in his eyes and that flicker of unshed tears, and I thought that maybe he did it not just because I needed it, but because after what he must have gone through to get that marred black Mark, he needed it as well.

- January 10 - 1998 - Seventh Year -

Harry had been eyeing me all day with this peculiar gleam in his eye that told me he was up to something. After sitting through History of Magic balancing his glances and Malfoy's suggestive facial expressions; almost being attacked by a disgruntled Pourmer Dure sapling in Herbology because of Harry's inattentiveness of the task at hand, only avoiding the plant thanks to Justin Finch-Fletchly's quick hand; and spending an entire lunch listening to Hermione lecture about being responsible with my brothers' samples while Harry only watched me with an impish grin, I had had it.

"What have you been gawping at me all day about, Harry? You're going to make me nutters if you don't stop with that smirk."

He grinned and then tried to play as though he hadn't, shoving a slice of bread in his mouth. "I haven't been gawping at you all day. You're imagining things."

"Am not. Now out with it. What are you scheming?"

"Now, honestly, Ron, what would give you the idea that your best friend was scheming against you?"

"You've got that glint in your eye. Now out with it."

He surveyed me for a moment before sighing and grinning again, "Oh all right. I found out something last night that I think you might be interested to know."

"And that is?"

"According to a very reliable Irishman," He flashed a look at Seamus, "who heard it from a Ravenclaw who heard it from a Hufflepuff who happens to be the person's best friend, there's a Hufflepuff seventh-year that fancies you." His grin widened as he eyed my reaction over his pumpkin juice.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, "Someone fancies Ron? Who then?"

I nodded in agreement with her and turned back to Harry, "Yes, who then?"

Harry only bit back his ever-widening grin, "I promised I'd keep mum, but there's no harm in guessing."

He received twin glares from Hermione and I. "Hannah Abbot?" Hermione asked and my eyes pleaded with Harry for her to have the wrong gender. He winked back and shook his head.

"Nope, not a girl."

"Not a girl? Why are you so giddy then? Ron doesn't fancy boys."

I heard a snort down the table from Dean and Seamus spit out his pumpkin juice before trying to hide his snickers from her. Harry and I exchanged a look, "Um… 'Mione… Remember that talk we had a couple weeks ago?"

She looked at me blankly for a minute then her eyes went wide and she started smacking me, "That's why you didn't fancy me?! Because you fancy boys?! Why didn't you tell me before?! Could have saved me a lot of stress! Silly prat!"

I tried to fend her off as best I could, "I'm sorry, I thought you understood when I said I was more attracted to someone like Frank! Relax, Merlin, stop smacking me!"

"I thought you meant Francine Milton! How was I supposed to know you meant a boy? It's not like it's a natural conclusion to make when your best friend is telling you he can't date you because he's more attracted to someone else that that someone else is his gender!"

"'Mione, please, you're going to make a scene. Relax, I'm sorry, I thought you'd get it. I didn't even know Francine Milton goes by Frank and she's a Slytherin anyway!"

"How was I supposed to know that?"

I sighed and rubbed my temples, "I don't know, Hermione. I'm not exactly used to telling people I'm gay and especially not you. Forgive me for a being a bit awkward about it."

She looked a bit put out, but relaxed finally and settled back to eating, "It's fine, just be a bit more clear next time."

I eyed her and bit my lip, "Are you ok with it, though?"

She sighed and then gave me a half-smile, "Yes, of course. I suspected a little bit, but I wasn't sure."

"You suspected? I'm obvious?"

"No, you just look at boys a little more than a normal bloke would, not noticeable if you aren't looking."

"Oh."

"Right, if Hermione doesn't have anymore objections, back to the subject at hand." I had almost forgotten what we'd been talking about in the stress of thinking Hermione might not accept me. Harry was impatiently tapping his fork on his plate.

"Right then, back to the Hufflepuff. He's a seventh year? Is he in herbology?" I began glancing down the line of Hufflepuffs , trying to determine who it could be.

"Yes, he's most definitely in herbology."

"Zacharias?" Harry looked affronted. "Thomas?" Denied. "Frederick?" Denied. "Alexis?" Denied. I looked over the Hufflepuff table once more and my eyes fell on Justin Finch-Fletchly, the boy who saved me from the vicious thrashing by the Pourmer Dure earlier that day. He was talking to a few other people, but then our eyes met and a small smile curled onto his lips. I smiled back and turned to Harry, "Justin." It wasn't a question because I knew before his eyes changed to that shade of green just shy of the grass after a rainstorm.

"Justin Finch-Fletchly fancies Ron? But he's not even gay! Is he?"

"Apparently, and not only that, but very smitten. Seamus heard he talks about you all the time."

"Really?" I snuck another glance at the Hufflepuff table and Justin was laughing again. Something fluttered inside me, not the same as the hoard of snitches I got when looking at Malfoy, but it was something. He was attractive and sweet, and his nose crinkled when he laughed. And he fancied me. Hmm.