Chapter 17: Tough Decisions
They sat down on the bed, "What is it? What's wrong?" Seraphim could see worry etched on Draco's face. Something wasn't right.
"My father," he began in a strained voice, "he wrote me a letter. He's always known that I never fully inherited his…obsession…with helping the Dark Lord. He's let me have time; he's always thought that time would bring me over. That being enemies with Harry would automatically make me choose the side he wasn't on when it was time to decide."
"What are you talking about?" asked Seraphim. Draco was so obviously torn.
"He wrote to me…he originally told me I had until after seventh year to decide what I wanted to do but now, you read the other letter, he wants me initiated in March," Draco sighed heavily.
They were quiet for a long time, the seriousness of the situation sinking in. When it was just an unconfirmed warning, they were fine; now they knew it was the truth. "What are you going to do?"
Draco had a very hard time answering. "I don't want to. But…he's my father," he explained. "My grandfather was one of the Dark Lord's friends in school and he taught my father well. He expects the same of me and I would follow him…except I know it's wrong. My family has never had to fight against their friends, the ones they loved, before. We were always very careful to keep to our own circles."
"So what are you going to do?" Seraphim looked worriedly at him. Here, once again, was the Draco she had spoken with at the lake; unsure of himself, human.
"I don't know. It's not for the money that I would stay either. They would never disown me, they couldn't. There must always be a Malfoy heir and I'm an only child. My mother nearly died when I was born; my father would never allow another child, he loves her too much," Draco explained. "And in the strangest way, I know…I know he loves me too. So I can't leave them. I can't. I don't want to fight with them but I don't want to fight against them. They're my family, and even though they've been corrupted, I still love them." He looked up at Seraphim helplessly, "Is that wrong?"
"No," she said quickly, embracing him, "to love anyone is never wrong."
"I guess that if my rivalry with Potter had continued, I wouldn't mind fighting against him when the time came and it would be all right. But now I feel indebted to him and…I kind of like him. Even Weasley and Granger. They're not as bad as I thought they were. And if I had to, you know, I don't know if I could," Draco paused. "And you…"
"Me?" Seraphim looked up, her arms still secure around him.
"I could never fight you. I know you would support Potter, and I know I would have to fight you if you did," Draco looked away, slightly pink. "And I can't do it."
"If it makes you feel better, I probably wouldn't have to heart to hex you if it wasn't in fun either," Seraphim smiled.
Draco mock-glared at her. "I was being serious."
"So was I," Seraphim sat up on her knees and looked at him. "I know you don't want to become a Death Eater but that you love your parents. There is nothing wrong about that. And the decision, to be estranged from your parents and possibly fight them, that you're considering is a very difficult one." She grabbed both of Draco's shoulders firmly, "I can't make it for you. It seems we've both been making decisions lately and realizing they're not things other people can do for us. Of course, I wish I could tell you what to do for selfish reasons, but that's not the way it works. So I want you to know that whatever you decide to do, it won't affect my opinion of you. I respect you for your devotion."
"Seraphim," Draco sighed, "I…thank you."
"You're welcome."
"This isn't what I wanted," he said after a long pause. "This isn't the way it's supposed to be."
Seraphim thought back to her musings before he'd knocked on the window. "That's what everyone says."
"That's because it's true," Draco kissed the top of her head.
"What's going to happen to us?" asked Seraphim.
"What?" Draco looked down at her confusedly.
"Us. You and me. If we somehow survive all of this. What's going to happen?" Seraphim was looking at him with a sad sort of look in her eyes, as though she didn't really expect them to survive.
Draco thought a moment. "I suppose…we'd go on being us… Will you be coming back to teach next year?"
"I don't know. I've been thinking…" she bit her lip. "I've been thinking of becoming an Auror. Of course I'd have to train first, but they say that Mages are really good for undercover work and I'd like to- I don't know. Everything I say, everything I do, has some effect on what happens in the future." Seraphim looked around helplessly. "I'm scared of making a mistake."
"Everyone makes mistakes," Draco reasoned, pulling her closer.
"But these mistakes are the kind of mistakes that you can't fix. The choices we make at this point in our lives, especially with what's happening now, will affect us forever. I don't want that hanging over my head, that whatever choices I make will be with me." Seraphim looked pleadingly at Draco. "I can't handle making the wrong decisions. I like to be in charge, to know what's going on. To think that I could make a decision that would unintentionally hurt some I cared for is…unthinkable. It's not an option."
A look of intangible sadness crossed Draco's features. "I know what you mean." He sighed heavily before continuing, "We really aren't so different. We're both afraid to do things, certain things." He shut his eyes. "We'll figure something out."
"We shouldn't have to grow up this fast, be unable to make mistakes," Seraphim added. "But I trust you."
"Come on," said Draco, shifting sideways and noticing the clock, "you should be getting to sleep. There's a class we both have to go to in the morning. The winter holiday has just ended."
"All right." Seraphim turned down the bed quickly. "Don't be late."
Draco chuckled. "I won't be. Good night," he said, kissing her forehead, nose, and then lips.
"Good night," she replied, getting into bed as he made his way to the window.
"Seraphim," Draco turned, his eyes greatly conflicted.
"Mmhmm?"
"I…nothing, nevermind. Good night," he said quickly, grabbing his broomstick and making for the window.
"Good night." Seraphim's eyes lingered on the window after it had shut, her mind filled with unease.
As Draco sped away on his broom, similar thoughts plagued him. Seraphim, though having some sly qualities that might endear her to a Slytherin such as himself, was quite a Hufflepuff and would, in all probability, stay to defend Potter and her friends and family if Draco was enlisted in the Death Eaters as per his father's wishes. Her undying loyalty and devotion to her loved ones was admirable, he had to admit it; but a small part of Draco wondered, if the event were to occur, if she would stand up for him against his foes as well.
He genuinely liked being around Seraphim. Of course, there were some people he genuinely liked, but they were friends he'd had his entire life. People like Blaise and Pansy who understood what he was going through, people who were going through the same thing. Their parents weren't as adamant about them joining the dark side, but his friends were being pressured. Crabbe and Goyle had been pulled out of school when their parents were found by the ministry smuggling information to certain other Death Eaters. They were on the run. It was only a matter of time before they would be initiated.
Draco landed in his deserted common room; all the other Slytherins had left for the holiday. They were to be with their parents, some for festive reasons, other to inquire as to which side they planned to be on when the war began. He got into his own bed and drew the green velvet curtains, brooding in the darkness. Seraphim. He wanted do as his father asked out of devotion to his parents; they were hard but he knew they loved him dearly. And he did love them; there were his parents. But Seraphim, a voice nagged in the back of his mind, what about Seraphim?
Draco was unsure where exactly his feelings for Seraphim stood. He obviously cared for her. Cared for her a great deal already to go against the grain and begin to court her. Something about her made him smile more. He was confused. Taking out the letter from his father, he smoothed the creases and traced the familiar signature.
"Father…"
The man who had protected him when he was a child was the man he was trying to run from, the destiny mapped out for him that he was trying to escape. The torn feeling was unfamiliar, unsettling. It was a decision he did not want to have to make.
Draco leaned back into his pillow; sleep was not forthcoming.
Seraphim also lay awake in the dark. So many decisions, choices, things to do. She didn't have time to do them all and time was the one thing she didn't have enough of. She wanted to be able to protect her loved ones; that meant her family and friends, didn't it? So where did Draco fall in the vast spectrum of things? He was certainly more than a friend. Being forced to grow up quickly meant making decisions one didn't usually make at such a young age, the decision Seraphim was toying with at the moment. Falling in love.
She certainly liked Draco Malfoy. When he put his mind to it, he really was a likable character. Always ready with a snarky comment, always with that devilish grin; he, like all the students at Hogwarts, taught her to be more carefree. Of course, she liked him for more than his wit and his looks. They had a certain understanding of each other, not a full understanding, but a good one.
Perhaps she would become a mediwitch if they were to be split up. Then she could be sure never to harm him. But she couldn't help protect her friends that way either. Everything was connected to whether or not they stayed together and that decision would be the hardest one to make. If she stayed with Draco, they could essentially be happy with each other and be uncertain about the rest of their lives. If they did not stay together, a heart or two might be broken. It was both a very simple and very difficult decision.
And what exactly was love? Respect, reverence? Caring? Was it undying devotion? Was it an emotional lust? And what exactly did she feel toward him? He was safety to her, calm, secure, someone to turn to and someone to support. He was a partner, a kindred spirit. She felt content in his presence, but surely love was more than that. She felt safe with her friends; she felt security there. So, pushing aside all carnal attraction, what was the distinction between friend and lover?
Was it a quickening of the heartbeat, a blush creeping over the cheeks? Did one's skin burn pleasantly when touching your soul mate? Or did a smile creep over one's face upon seeing the object of their affections? A wistful look came over Seraphim's features when she imagined how being young and in love might feel in a time other than her own, not filled with such uncertainty.
When sleep finally claimed her, Seraphim's dreams were filled with faceless strangers and fleeting embraces. Soft touches and gentle words she could not understand. And a whispered promise that carried her to the stars.
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