CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Lord Lucius Malfoy didn't give a rat's ass about the wellbeing of the foreign princess – no, not really. He only cared that she survived long enough to be married and pump out a healthy baby or two that could succeed Draco. That, and binding the two powerful nations together, which would bring him to power faster – and you know how the saying goes: "the faster, the better." Afterwards, she could be assassinated, brought back to life, and assassinated again for all he cared.

Well, the first step to get what he wanted was to get her married to Draco, so it really shouldn't be very surprising when he declared that his son and foreign princess would be married the next day.

Draco wasn't caught off guard by this because they'd already discussed the marriage in the meeting. He wanted to push the date back a little bit further for some reason unknown to even himself, but his father securely and firmly stated that the wedding would be the next day, cueing to Lady Malfoy to begin planning for the quick yet marvelous event.

To say that he was in a daze was an overstatement. For a few hours after the meeting, he sat at his desk, oblivious to Harry's stare, gazing at his wall as if he were attempting to reach Nirvana. It was the conclusion of the plan he had worked on for so long. It was what would seal his future and keep him safe from becoming what he dreaded becoming.

Harry was just as overcome. Even though this was just a play – something that would be acted on a stage, and nothing more – he couldn't help but feel that it was slightly real. Don't get me wrong: he wasn't excited to prance around in a white wedding gown. If anything, he was anxious and dreaded the morning with all his being.

"I'm going for a walk," he suddenly said, standing up from the desk.

"Er – all right," Harry blinked as he swept across the room. "But – I thought Hermione was coming to prepare us – "

"I've seen enough royal weddings to know what happens," he dismissed the idea. "Basically, we walk down the aisle, listen to the priest yap for an hour, have sex in front of everyone – "

"What!"

"I'm joking, Harry," Draco smirked. "Royal weddings are just like common weddings." And surprisingly similar to traditional American weddings, too. "The only difference is that more money is wasted in the royal ones."

He was standing at the entrance. "I'll be back by the end of the evening." Harry nodded and watched as he left.

Several moments later, Hermione entered. "Where's Draco?" she looked around.

"He went for a walk."

She closed her eyes and sighed in such a way that suggested she was counting to build her patience. "All right, fine. When will he be back?"

"By the end of the evening," Harry muttered and flopped onto the bed.

"That man is absolutely ridiculous," she glared as she sat down next to him.

Harry shrugged. "I suppose he just needed to be by himself for a while."

"I suppose…" she paused before asking, "How is it here?" almost anxiously. She found that she had to come to terms with the fact that Harry would be staying with Draco at Lady and Lord Malfoy's requests. They thought that the foreign princess would be safer with their son, and Draco – "pretending" to care – eagerly agreed with them. Hermione apparently begged to differ.

"It's okay," Harry actually let his lips quiver into a smile. "When he isn't being arrogant and obnoxious, anyway." Of course, he didn't mention what Draco had said to him – both at the lake and a few moments ago.

"Well, I can't stay today," Hermione said, obviously upset with the fact. "I have to work with the other scholars. We're researching for the whole of today and will be off just in time to watch the wedding tomorrow morning."

"Who is supposed to help me prepare for the wedding?" Harry demanded. "I can't very well walk up an aisle tomorrow, not knowing what the hell I'm – "

"I had Blaise contacted," Hermione interrupted calmly. "He'll be on his way up shortly."

Harry, resigned that he would have to be left alone with the annoying, pompous fool that he thought – rather, hoped – he would never have to set his sights on again. After waving goodbye to Hermione, who left for the libraries, he flopped backwards to stare at the ceiling.

"Why couldn't Draco just help me?" he muttered to himself. "It's as he said: he's seen enough royal weddings." Besides, he preferred the bored drawl over the self-superior roll of the eyes any day.

Alone, he glanced at the desk where the golden journal was displayed. He had watched Draco write in it earlier, but he simply couldn't bring himself to read it. He felt like he was intruding on Draco's privacy now and felt guilty whenever he looked back on the fact that he read the journal almost whenever he had the chance. It was his only real means of spying, after all.

"But I'll find another way," Harry told himself.

Draco had been walking by the very garden and lake that he and Harry spent talking by after Harry was poisoned. He vaguely remembered how he and Harry had sat there; how he had promised Harry freedom.

"Freedom," he said with a smirk.

It was one thing that he and Harry shared in common, at least. They both craved it.

He sat on the rock that they had shared as their seats. He stared out at the scene, letting his thoughts and musings carry him away. When was the last time he sat like this by himself, as if he hadn't a care in the world?

Tomorrow was the finale to what they had both stressed over for so long, together had worked on fervently, excessively, passionately. Harry seemed nervous – but of course he would be. That was completely understandable.

He didn't seem to think much of Draco's point: how he always got what he wanted it, when he wanted it, and he didn't need an explanation as for why. A part of Draco knew that he wasn't supposed to care, and that this would probably be a good time to begin planning a way to ambush Harry and get away with it without Hermione finding out (and it had to be quick, too, before Harry left after the wedding) – but he couldn't bring himself to.

"Maybe I'm catching something," he murmured to himself. The flu had been going around. Then again, maybe he was only losing his mind – that's something that Blaise would say. And hell, maybe he was right. Only Insane Draco would hesitate about making a move.

"He would go on to say I'm insane for wanting Harry. For even considering him attractive in the first place; thinking him worthy of my attention."

But Blaise was only jealous in that childish, immature manner of his. Of course he would think that Draco was insane.

I think I was at approximately this moment that Draco suddenly stiffened. His eyes narrowed as he thought about the possibility. And without a second to waste, he was off of the rock and rushing back towards where Harry was supposed to be.

Earlier, Harry was thanking the Gods that he could once again return to lounging around in men's clothes and that he could wear his glasses whenever he wanted. The only good thing about his tower being burned down was that he could be himself again in the privacy of Draco's chambers.

Spending the night with Draco was fun too, now that he thought of it. They stayed up half of the night together, talking about what they would do as soon as they left the castle, but not exactly sure when they would leave. Perhaps Harry would stay even longer after the wedding, being the next Lady Malfoy in line, living with Draco for a month or two before they both left. And even then, perhaps Harry could leave with Draco. They could travel together, pretend that they had been kidnapped from the castle walls, and live as they truly were: Harry, a man; Draco, a book analyst. Harry could convince the others that staying with Draco on his journeys would be another means of spying. Admittedly, this was a bit of a stretch, but…

Last night, neither spoke about the poisoning, the fire, or the conversation at the lake. He was avoiding those heavy thoughts that seemed to be haunting him lately – Ron's angry face, Hermione's analytical words, and Draco's utter straight-forwardness.

Yet those thoughts seemed to somehow seep in now and again, and he would find himself remembering Draco's serious face, those words that sent a jolt through him. He remembered his own declaration to Hermione: he could take care of himself. Was he wrong to begin to doubt himself?

The door opened. He glanced over, expecting to see Draco for a flitting moment. His face almost fell in disappointment as he saw Blaise standing at the entrance. The door closed and locked with a click.

"I haven't seen you in a while," Harry tried to begin amicably. There was no point in starting off a long afternoon with an argument, after all.

But Blaise didn't say anything. He merely stepped forward. A frown was on his face.

When Harry saw that Blaise wasn't going to say or do anything, he continued, "Yeah, I'm not exactly enthusiastic about this either." He sighed and stood up. "But we should probably just get this over with."

"Get what over with?"

Harry blanked. "Hermione said she was sending you up to prepare me for tomorrow. You know, the marriage ceremony?"

"I don't know much about it myself." His detached tone was beginning to annoy Harry.

"Then…" Harry frowned. "Well, how am I supposed to…?"

Blaise shrugged and sat down at Draco's desk.

"Is something the matter?" Harry asked in exasperation.

"Of course something's the matter," Blaise said abruptly with a near snarl.

Harry's eyebrow quirked up. He'd never seen Blaise lose his cool composure before. "What is it?"

"You didn't die." Blaise turned a glare to Harry.

"I… didn't – ?" But why was Harry so shocked? If anyone was hoping he'd be killed, of course it would be Blaise; Pansy was probably just as disappointed that her supposed plans didn't work.

"No. You didn't." The pout was heavy. "You just bloody wouldn't!"

Harry's frown grew heavy into a scowl. "I'm sorry for letting you down."

Sitting at Draco's desk, watching Harry sit on the bed, he was fingering the case of the knife that was attached to his belt. "You know, I've been wondering – how did you survive that fire? Did you jump out of the window and hide in the rafters?"

"No," he paused. "I left the room for a midnight snack."

"But I thought that the room was locked from both sides! How did you get out?"

"It was locked. I picked it."

"You picked it!" Blaise echoed. His eyes narrowed. "First the bloody tea, and then you had to – "

"How did you know about the tea?"

But of course, by this time Harry had half-figured it out. He was cautiously standing up from the bed.

Blaise was watching him intently. "Don't try to go anywhere; there's no point. This time, the door is locked and you don't have enough time to pick it."

The statement was too true. Jumping from the room wasn't an option either. Like many other people who find themselves in Harry's situation, he decided to stall: "I know we never got along, but this – this is ridiculous! Why would you want to kill me?"

"You were confusing Draco!" Blaise shouted. He was on his feet. His hand was still on the knife's case. "You – you seduced him – "

"I what?" Harry would've laughed hadn't the situation been so serious. "It's not my fault that he's attracted to anything that moves!"

"But you're just a bloody slave! A royal shouldn't be attracted to a slave!"

"It's not my fault!"

"And after you showed up, the only thing he was concerned about was the bloody plan and you! Harry this, Harry that – he practically forgot about me – "

"But Blaise," Harry interrupted quietly. The best move would be to try to calm him down, he silently decided. "That's not my fault. I got sucked up into this! There's no point… He's – he's going to let me go – "

"Maybe not," he admitted. "No, you're right: there is no point. But I would feel better knowing that you're dead anyway." He was almost overdramatically passionate, crazed; and his motive, his drive for murdering Harry, was the same as a seven-year-old brother who jealously threw his one-year-old sister down a flight of stairs: he wasn't getting anymore attention. As he had that one boy beaten and raped – nearly to death – he was, in his logical eye, merely getting rid of what had taken Draco's attention away from him. Perhaps after Harry was dead, Draco would begin to take him on summer tours again and wouldn't abandon him to the Harems as he had so long ago.

He was moving towards Harry; the blade was pulled out. Harry was backing away, trying to think quickly about what his next move should be.

Because of his training, Harry could have easily gotten the knife away. He'd done it countless times with Remus already. However, during all of those moments he'd known that he was simply training. Now, in a real-life situation, he couldn't anticipate remembering the steps for disarming an enemy. Instead, he grabbed the thing nearest to him (in this case, a vase), and chucked it at Blaise, but it was barely dodged. The glass fell with a crash. Harry reached for anything else that was heavy and handy.

Now, what better time would there be for Draco to finally arrive? Red from running, he unlocked the door and slammed it open. He hesitated at the entrance, having not expected to find what was displayed before him. (Hermione hadn't told him about her change of plans and so he expected to see her there – not Blaise.) The words, "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" were out before he made the conscious connection that he ought to do something. Blaise turned to him. The blade was being clutched so tightly that his knuckles were stark white.

"Put it down," Draco demanded.

Harry was inching away while Blaise's gaze was focused away from him. He finally slipped away completely and ran towards Draco and the open door. Blaise glanced at Harry for only a second, but then turned his stare back to Draco.

"Go alert the guards," Draco told Harry, his eyes never leaving Blaise's. "Tell them to come here."

But before Harry could comply, Blaise rushed forward with a stabbing motion. Draco shoved Harry out of the way; he fell to the ground with a thud. Having missed the target, Blaise seemed keen on trying again, but Draco jumped in the way. Instead, he ran through the open doors and down the corridor. Draco ran after him, and Harry jumped to his feet.

"Draco, stop!"

But both of them were gone, Draco having just turned the corner. A servant was standing against the wall, pale and trembling. "He had a knife out!" she squealed at Harry as he ran by.

Down two corridors, up a staircase, around a corner – a lapse in confusion (where did they go? ah!) – and Blaise was thrown to the floor, the knife snatched from him and skating across the floor, a fist flying angrily into his face.

"Draco, stop it!" Harry grabbed Draco's shoulders and tugged him away, giving Blaise enough time to jump back up and attempt to get the knife once again; Harry was shoved away and Blaise tackled again. "Get the knife!" he yelled.

Harry was already picking it up when Draco said this. Staring backwards at the suppressed Blaise and Draco clutching him, he stood there in silence, listening to the hard breathing and the brash moments when Blaise would give way to struggling. He didn't know what else he could do.

"If you're done," Draco growled.

"He should be dead."

"Bring the knife," Draco said to Harry.

"No."

"Bring the bloody knife!"

"You can't kill him, Draco."

"And why the hell not!"

Blaise had begun to struggle furiously. "You would rather destroy me than him!"

"There's no point."

"He just tried to kill you! He's tried to several times." Draco dragged Blaise up into a standing position. "But perhaps you should be the one to kill anyway."

"He won't die at all."

"Especially not by his hand!" Blaise nearly got away that time, pushing both of them off balance and onto the ground again.

When he had the prisoner securely gripped, Draco said, "And what would you have me do? Release him, to allow him to have the freedom to murder you in your sleep?"

"Let him replace Pansy's empty chains!"

"What am I supposed to tell the prison guards? That he killed one of my dogs? They'll – everyone! – will want a reason why the Harem's royal servant has been locked away. And it'd better be a reason that parallels the truth if he ought to be in prison for the amount of time he deserves."

By this time, Blaise had slumped against Draco, pathetically and half-heartedly twitching away every other moment as he listened to his trial, his judgment. He'd given up – knew that he couldn't get away – but this didn't stop him from glaring coldly at Harry.

The hallway being far too open, Draco took Blaise back to his room, ordering Harry to interrupt Hermione at the scholar's meeting in the library. Harry had to get Draco's solemn promise that Blaise wouldn't mysteriously die while he was away.

The old men sitting about in robes all stared up in polite confusion while Hermione shut the door behind her. She turned on Harry in their privacy.

"What happened?" She was alarmed, for Harry was pale and trembling. In addition to this, she knew whatever was the matter had to be serious if Draco would interrupt a scholar's meeting by sending Harry as a messenger.

"It was Blaise," he whispered as they hurriedly walked through the halls.

"What about him?"

"It was him! He was the one that tried to kill me."

Hermione stopped; Harry halted as well and turned to look at her. A hand was covering her mouth. "My Gods, I hadn't the faintest – why would he ever? – and you left Draco alone with him?"

"I told him not to…"

Nevertheless, they hastily made way to the bedroom. Draco had to open the door, for he'd locked it; at first, Harry and Hermione thought that Blaise was freely reclining on the couch, but then they saw that a strip of cloth was tightly tied around one ankle and was connecting him to the leg of the sofa. His hands, sitting in his lap, were bound by the same material as well.

"Why?"

That's how the interview began (for Hermione suggested it necessary in order to see whether Blaise was permanently dangerous and therefore needed to stay in an asylum for the rest of his life or merely had a mental lapse and could be trusted once again.) But this is also how it nearly ended, for at first he refused to speak. Draco had to physically threaten to hit him on his already bruising cheek for him to pipe up:

"He already knows why." The cold stare he fired at Harry sent a chill up his spine.

Hermione had quickly gotten over the initial shock and was as cold to Blaise as he was to Harry: "If you make this hard for me, Blaise, I swear I'll recommend that Draco have you put to death – no matter what Harry wants."

Harry was the only of the three against Blaise in the private trial that didn't want him to suffer death. "Don't get me wrong," Harry scowled at Blaise. "He should be bloody punished. I could barely walk from that poisoning, and I'm lucky I got hungry else I would be scattered ashes right now."

It was just that death was the ultimate price to pay, reserved for only the worst of successful crimes. And… well, as Hermione would come to understand later from her private discussion with Harry, he also felt sorry for Blaise. Part of him realized that they had something in common: both had been used. But unlike Blaise, Harry didn't depend on his tormentor – at least, not so obsessively. This made him pity the other all the more, no matter what Blaise's crimes were.

Draco didn't feel flattered that Blaise would kill for him – not, not in the least. On the contrary, he wanted Blaise to pay with death and argued for a good length of time with Harry before he gave in and allowed Hermione to interview.

It took a good while before Blaise opened up and confessed to everything. Red jealousy was the single motive.

"He had this planned and knew what he was doing," Hermione explained to Draco and Harry near the desk, out of Blaise's earshot. "He needs to be imprisoned permanently." Case closed.

Except that Harry disagreed: "Why ruin a life?"

"He tried to ruin yours!"

Harry looked away.

"Harry, Draco has a point – "

"As do I! All of this won't matter – "

But Draco turned away in disgust.

"Just keep him in prison until tomorrow – until the marriage ceremony," Harry suggested to Hermione. He looked at Draco. "Everyone's expected to attend that."

"That might not be such a good idea," Hermione interrupted. "Watching you two marry will only infuriate him."

"So what? Pretty soon, I'll be gone anyway."

Draco's back seemed to be the only thing he would let Harry see at that point.

"Stop being so immature!" Hermione snapped. "Harry's made a good point."

He refused to say anything.

"Please, Draco," Harry rested a hand on Draco's shoulder. "This is the one thing I'm asking. I'll leave and everyone's lives will go back to normal."

"Oh really?" he turned to look at Harry, eyebrows raised. "You think it's as simple as that. You think that you'll leave and all will be forgotten?"

"Yes. There's no point in destroying Blaise's life – "

"Even though he tried to destroy yours."

After a pause, he nodded at Hermione; together they came to the agreement that Blaise went through the foreign princess's wardrobe without any permission. The royal guard was summoned while Harry was hiding out of sight and took the strangely quiet and submissive Blaise away.

After such a day, Harry only wanted to sleep. Hermione, however, took the opportunity to sit both of them down and have them practice the motions of the ceremony until Draco got fed up and left, dragging Harry along with him.

"I've never been more annoyed with a person," he declared. They both knew that he wasn't speaking about Hermione or even Blaise.

Harry smirked.

"Wipe that look off of your face!" he glared at Harry. "I'm serious!"

When Harry only relented slightly, he thrust his hand against the other's shoulder. "Something has to be wrong with you. What's wrong with you? You were nearly killed just a few hours ago! If I hadn't come and stopped that bastard, you would be dead – as he should be right now."

This was enough to make Harry frown. "I don't understand why you're so bloodthirsty."

"Because he tried to kill you, that's why. If anything had happened to you…"

The frankness was enough to make Harry stand up out of his chair and stare at the rows of books on the shelves. They were in Draco's bathroom; the door was still locked, even though Hermione had long ago given up shaking, knocking, and rattling, and had returned to her scholar's meeting. Everything was marble, including the large circular tub in the center of the room. It had been Draco's sanctuary after admitting the others into his room, but now he allowed Harry to stay inside of it with him. Harry picked up a copy of Draco's favorite book, the one he'd read at Draco's request, and flipped through the pages before settling it back down on the shelf. He turned to look at him.

"I really could've died a few hours ago, couldn't I have?"

Draco stared icily at him. The angry look reminded Harry of Ron. He was right; he should've left when he had the opportunity. He didn't stay because he wanted to spy at all, and the childish attachment had nearly gotten himself killed.

"I… After the marriage tomorrow, can I leave?" Harry looked away. "I… I have too many responsibilities to take care of. I have to get back home."

Draco's eyes lowered and he didn't seem to have anything to say until he nodded. "I'll leave after you. You'll continue your old life and I'll begin my new one."

They were oddly silent for a moment, neither able to think of anything to say, until Draco began to twist the knobs. Hot water began to pour into the tub. Harry glanced over at the sound and raised an eyebrow as Draco began to strip off his clothes.

"You're going to take a bath? Now?"

"What other better time is there?" He tossed his shirt onto the floor. "It's usually what I do whenever I've had a particularly stressful day."

"But in front of me?"

"I don't have anything you haven't seen before," he smirked, but Harry, nevertheless, turned away as his pants dropped to the floor. "You can leave, if you really feel than uncomfortable." Harry began to edge towards the door, but stopped when Draco continued, "Though I really was hoping you'd join me."

The look on Harry's face was priceless. Draco began to laugh/borderline cackle as he climbed up the steps and sat in the tub. "I won't try to pull anything – honestly, Harry."

"Why else would you – ?"

"Can't two friends bathe together?"

"If they're under the age of ten, sure!"

Draco shrugged. "Suit yourself." He leaned back with closed eyes and sighed in relaxation. "Just remember when you get back home that you passed on the one in a lifetime opportunity to bathe with Draco Malfoy. Oh, and pass that soap bottle there – the one to your left."

Harry handed it over to Draco who grasped it, screwed off the top, and let the gel pour into the water. Instantaneously, soap began to fizz.

"This is the soap I use whenever I'm alone. That soap, the one over there, is the one I use whenever Blaise or someone else from the Harems is with me. The scent is supposed to seduce romantics. I wouldn't quite know; it never worked for me. For the others, though…"

"Haven't you ever been in love, Draco?"

"Weren't you supposed to be leaving, then?"

Harry sneered. "You can't avoid the question."

"I feel like you've already asked me it before."

"Maybe I have."

"Malfoy's don't fall in love," he said simply after a moment's thought. "We have… infatuations." He looked at Harry. "Lust. But never love."

"That's sad," Harry leaned against the marble wall of the tub.

"Why?"

"Because you read about love all of the time in your novels, but you're never able to experience it yourself."

Draco shrugged. "I never thought of it that way. Then again, it might be because I'm a man and men usually aren't as hopeless as you are." Harry merely rolled his eyes in response. And then, after another short moment of silence, he asked, "Are you sure you don't want to join me?"

"Quite sure."

Instead, Harry leaned against the tub, back facing Draco, as they spoke – even long after the suds had all died and made the water misty.

AN: I hope you liked this chapter! Tell me what you think, please. I tried to justify Blaise's motives again as well as I could because I realized too late that I didn't concentrate on his jealousy well enough through out all of the chapters for his intent to make much sense to anyone but me. I tried, though. Really, I did. And I've been working hard to get these chapters out as quickly as I can!