On the eve of Easter holiday, Draco climbed the clocktower to inhale the fresh air and look at the stars. It was dark up there, with no annoying lights to veil the sky. And it was quiet. He liked the solace. As he crossed the wooden balcony toward the railing, a breeze nipped at him and he stuffed his hands into his pockets. The days had steadily gotten warmer, but the evenings were still cool. That coupled with the wind was a chilling reminder that spring had not entirely arrived.
Draco stared up at the sky, at the bright moon surrounded by a speckle of stars. Tomorrow, he was going home just like everyone else. He was eager to see his mother, to hug her and know that she was all right. He was anxious, however, to come face-to-face with the Dark Lord once more. He would be there and wanting a full report, of course, which Draco would thankfully be able to give.
Without any other ideas to repair the cabinet, Draco had decided to try one of the sealing techniques he'd read about during his research. So he had written to Borgin a detailed account of what he planned to do and where he had gotten the idea, and then he began the process. Brewing the sealant turned out to be very time-consuming, and applying it even more-so. Draco had completely stopped attending to his prefect duties and hadn't set foot on a Quidditch pitch since before Christmas. He barely finished his homework, had even missed a second Transfiguration assignment, which had earned him detention…
But the results of his labor were astounding! Already, he could detect a shift in the magical energies imbuing the cabinet. It was too soon to run a test. The cabinet needed a full week to dry, hence his opportunity to return home.
Draco took a deep breath, inhaling the cool air to settle the nerves in his stomach. That's when he noticed the light footsteps on the metal stairs. He didn't look back, positive he knew who would appear on the landing.
"What are you doing up here?" Amaris asked and Draco almost smiled.
Without turning around, he replied, "I like the view. What do you want?"
"I came to see you," she answered easily, coming closer, "but I suppose now I'm quite interested in the view."
He scoffed, tilting his head away to hide his brief grin as she came up beside him.
"It is beautiful up here," she agreed. Draco hummed, a quick, curt sound. "Ready for the holiday?"
More than she knew, but he didn't enlighten her. Instead, he found something snarky to say. "I suppose you'll be visiting with the Goyles this year."
"So I've been told…"
"Good luck finding a suitable dance partner there. Goyle's got two left feet."
"And you? Any plans?"
To see his mother. To make sure they both survived. "What social pariahs do," he muttered bitterly. "Stay home."
"So you won't be dancing either." She cleared her throat and then suddenly a globe of light appeared between them. "So, I thought, perhaps you might want to—"
"What? Dance with you?" Draco scoffed. "You know the rules, Grey." He finally turned to look at her, more derisive words on his tongue, when the words stuck in his throat. Amaris was standing there in her Hogwarts uniform, but his eyes were fixed on her tie. It was silver and green. She was wearing a Slytherin tie. He met her gaze as a bolt of arousal ripped through him straight to his groin. His breathing instantly grew shallow.
She smiled nervously and lifted her hand to the tie. "I don't have my green dress with me, but," she began quietly, fingering the fabric, "this is actual Slytherin green, so…"
If the blood wasn't rushing out of his head to fuel other parts of his anatomy, Draco might think of this as nothing more than the innocent request of someone severely lacking in suitable dance partners. But right at that moment, he just kept thinking about what it meant that she had gone out of her way to coerce him into touching her. It's obvious she likes you. Theo's words echoed in his head. You know I hate using the L-word, but there it is.
When he didn't speak, she bit her lip. "Draco?"
"You're an incredibly sexy Slytherin, you know."
Her smile vanished. "What? No, it's just a tie," she sputtered. "I look like I always do."
"Are you saying you always look sexy?"
Her eyes widened. "No!"
Draco snorted a laugh, disarming her. You do, he wanted to tell her. You always look so fucking sexy that it drives me crazy. But he couldn't say that. He would lose the moment if he did. Instead, he withdrew a single hand from his pocket and held it out. She smiled and came to him like he wanted her to. Her delicate hand in his filled him with that same heady power it always did. He tugged her closer than was necessary, though she didn't seem to mind, and placed his other hand on her waist.
"Does that sound like friendship to you, Grey?" he asked, his voice pitched low with desire.
Her brow gently furrowed in a lovely display of confusion. "What do you mean?"
"Demanding you dress up for me, and you actually doing it?" Draco slid his hand onto her back, drawing her in another inch. "And for what? So, I'll dance with you? Please," he scoffed. "I'm mean to you, but you still choose to be nice to me. You hate me sometimes, but you don't mind me touching you. Does that sound like friendship?"
Her gaze dropped as her cheeks flushed pink. After a moment, she quietly answered, "No."
"And that's why we were never friends," he said. As he had told her over the summer, he had never intended to be her friend. He had been too attracted to her for something platonic. No matter how he had explained away his compliments, he had meant them. No matter how he had excused his touches, he had wanted them. Draco shook his head, unable to stop the sneer that formed. "Do you honestly think I would kiss someone just to mock them?"
Her blush darkened and she visibly swallowed, the answer spoken in her eyes. No. She hadn't believed his kiss was just revenge, which meant she knew it had been about desire and still chose to be there with him.
Draco's hand moved up her spine, pulling her against him. There was no music, but he didn't need any. He swept her into a dance to the rhythm in his head and she followed his lead as though she could hear it, too. It was blissful, dancing with Amaris, gazing into those eyes that stared back into his, completely trusting. He had never felt this way with someone. Why hadn't he realized it sooner? And now he was lost, so lost, on the verge of losing everyone he cared about, and dancing with her was like an anchor to something good. If he could just hold onto it…
Draco pulled her flush against him, his head lowering toward hers. He wanted so badly to let her anchor him, to believe that things could be different.
But they couldn't be. Because if he kissed her, he would cross a line that would lead her to his Dark Mark. Because if she saw it, she would reject him. Because his mother was a prisoner of the Dark Lord's. Because his father was trapped in Azkaban. Because everyone loved Saint Potter, but he was just the disgraced son of a Death Eater. No one would help him. No one could help him…
Draco lowered his forehead to her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her as their feet came to a standstill. He couldn't be with her like he wanted to, but he needed to hold her for just a moment, to chase away the shadows encroaching on his mind. He sighed in contentment when he felt her hand that was on his shoulder move to cradle the back of his neck, her other hand pressing into his spine. She held him, this wisp of a girl, and he felt something inside of him crack. He immediately tangled his fingers in her hair and tightened his desperate hold, silently praying that he wouldn't cry in front of her.
"Draco," she whispered, her voice sharp with fear. "I'm worried about you. I'm… I'm really, really worried." She pressed closer, just a fraction. "Please, talk to me. Tell me what's wrong—"
"There's nothing wrong," he rasped against her shoulder. He couldn't have this conversation with her, not when he was already feeling so raw.
"There has to be," she whimpered. "You don't play Quidditch anymore!" She sucked in a sharp breath full of emotion and his fingers clawed her uniform. "You miss assignments," she continued. "You don't attend Prefect duties. You barely eat—"
"Amaris—" he warned, pulling away from her. He saw the concern on her face just before he turned away.
"We don't talk about it. About the war. About the Dark Lord returning—"
"Because of my father?" he hissed. Fear bubbled up in his gut, fear that she would discover the truth.
"—I know it has to be hard for you. You idolized your fa—"
"So, what?" he snapped, advancing on her. "What are you saying, exactly? Are you asking me if I'm one of them? If I'm a Death Eater like my father?"
"Of course not!"
"Half the school thinks I am—"
"No one thinks that, not really. It's just prejudice making them say stupid things."
"I wouldn't be so sure of that."
"Draco, your father—"
"I don't want to talk about my father."
She made a frustrated grunt, quickly looking around as though she could find an angle to breach his walls. "Draco, you've changed—"
"I don't want to talk about it, Grey!"
"Why didn't you go home for Christmas?"
Draco's jaw clenched and he leveled her with an icy stare. "How about we discuss something you don't want to talk about, then? How about your parents. Tell me, how exactly did they die?"
Pain flashed in her eyes, brows bending with grief. She swallowed, staring at him in stunned silence. She took a shaky breath, opening her mouth, but nothing came out.
"I didn't think so," he said and started to go.
"It happened when we were traveling in India," she whispered, stopping him in his tracks. "They kept asking me what happened—police, the Ministry, relatives, healers. I told them all I didn't remember…"
Draco looked at her. She was standing ramrod straight and staring at the ground, her delicate hands balled into fists at her side. Did she really not remember what happened?
"They said I must have blocked it out, that the memory was too painful." A muscle in her jaw feathered before she said, "I wish it were true. That I blocked it out. But I remember." She lifted her gaze and met his eyes, her face a picture of terror mixed with determination. Draco put his hands in his pockets and waited. "We were visiting this little town, touring around on a rickshaw, enjoying the sights. There was some kind of street event going on because the crowd was so large and colorful decorations were strung up." She frowned. "Something happened in the crowd… First, there was shouting. Then people began fighting and running. The man pulling our rickshaw bolted, leaving us in the middle of the riot. Dad tried to get us to safety, but the crowd… We got separated." Her lower lip curled, her voice cracking. "I screamed and screamed for them, but…it was so loud. There were so many people, shoving and kicking and shouting. I crawled under the rickshaw and hid until the police came. When I finally found my parents, they were lying in the street…"
Bumps sprouted along his arms and the hair on the back of his neck stood up in horror.
Her voice was so small when she said, "There was so much blood."
Draco swallowed the thick lump in his throat. He regretted asking. He didn't know what he expected to hear, but it certainly wasn't something so graphic, so barbaric.
"Where were their wands?" he asked, and it wasn't what he meant to say—he meant to say he was sorry, for what happened, for asking—but it was what popped out.
Her small shoulders lifted in a shrug. "I don't know why they—" She took another shaky breath. "I just don't know."
For a moment, they stared at one another while Amaris slowly breathed until the grief in her eyes had receded.
"It was a long time ago," she finally said, trailing off, and he understood the unspoken part—that remembering was never easy. "Now you know. So, please… Talk to me?"
Draco grimaced. After she had confessed her most painful memory, he owed it to her to reciprocate. "Of course, it bothers me that my father is in Azkaban," he spat. "It was a shock when I heard what he—" His jaw snapped shut. It was hard to talk about his father. Harder to tell her how he felt. "They once respected my father. Now, they treat the Malfoy name like its dirt. Do you know how much money my father has donated to the Ministry and this school? He was a good husband, a good father. But to them, none of it matters. He's just a Death Eater now. And the whole family must be rotten, too."
"Oh, Draco… I'm so sorry," she said softly. "It isn't fair. They have no right to judge you by your father's choices."
"Or maybe," he murmured, leaning toward her, "I'm just like my father."
"You are like your father," she agreed and he stiffened. "In all of the good ways, and…some of the not-so-good ones, too." She made an effort to smile and added, "No one is perfect." Her smile vanished and she took a step closer to him. "But being a Death Eater isn't a trait. It's a choice. One I don't think you would ever make, regardless of what your father chose or what anyone says about you."
Draco wished she was right, but the Dark Mark on his forearm was irrefutable proof that she was wrong. He would have showed it to her just to shut her up if the very idea hadn't made him want to vomit. Never mind that he had to take it. It was on him now. That's all anyone would ever see. It wouldn't matter how or why, just that it was there. Just like his father.
"Think you can make it all better with a few pretty words, Grey?" he sneered. "Think you can just fix everything, do you?"
"No…" She sounded so defeated to his ears. "I just…wanted to cheer you up, if I could." Her hand went to her neck, to the tie, and he realized she had come asking him to dance in an effort to lift his spirits. "I wish I could do something to help you."
Draco took a step toward her. "You want to help?" he asked and she nodded. He took another step, bringing them only inches apart. "How about a little revenge?"
She looked up in surprise, her eyes bouncing between his. He kept his expression as hard as stone, waiting. She did not step away, only lowered her gaze, and Draco took that as surrender.
He reached up with one hand and cupped her neck, drawing her closer as he angled her jaw upward. He bent down as if to kiss her, but he stopped just shy of her mouth. Draco's thumb traced her jaw, his fingers sliding along her neck until they hooked into her tie and loosened it. Her gaze snapped up to his, blush instantly spreading on her cheeks.
"I'll return this to Hayden," he murmured, slipping the tie from around her neck. There came that delicate display of confusion, this time accompanied by her blush, and he breathed out hard as he leaned back, fighting the urge to kiss her.
But he never had any intention of doing so. Not after their conversation—her parents' death and his father's incarceration, his family's disgrace. He just wanted to know if she was willing to go that far for him. And she was, but what it meant, he still had no clue. That she cared about him romantically? Or just enough as friends that she would do it because he told her it would help? Or maybe she was just a gullible fool.
Like him.
Draco clutched the tie in his fist and left her there. He didn't look back and she didn't come after him, and neither said a single word in goodbye. When Draco made it back to the Slytherin common room, he went straight to the girls' dorm and knocked on Hayden's door. Her sleepy gaze started awake when he held up her tie. She immediately snatched it out of his hand, face warping with concern.
"Why do you have this?" Hayden blurted.
"You didn't let her borrow it?" he asked.
"Of course, I did," she answered. "But why do you have it?"
Instantly, Draco realized Hayden thought the worst: that he had violated her precious friend.
"Why not?" Draco drawled. "Letting her wear a Slytherin tie? You practically sent her to seduce me."
Hayden bristled, guilt flashing in her eyes. Draco smirked at her and walked away, letting her writhe in the possibility that whatever had happened to Amaris was her fault. And then he went to his room, locked himself inside, and dropped onto his bed without bothering to change.
The moment he was completely alone with his thoughts, misery washed over him.
Author's Note: I am not sure how much Muggle-on-Magical violence really exists in the canon, but I imagine there must be some even if it is rare.
