Chapter Eleven: Draco's Dilemma

Draco sat watching Harry sleep and attempted to process all the new information Harry had dumped on him. You don't find out every day that your boyfriend is fated to fight against the scariest bastard known to mankind. He tried to evaluate what he was feeling. He suspected he was still in shock. He felt angry—not with Harry, but with the world for dropping their burden onto a seventeen-year-old's shoulders. But most of all he was afraid. Afraid that he would lose Harry. Scared that he cared for someone who had a future as uncertain as his own.

And Harry loved him. Draco closed his eyes at the strong emotions that accompanied that thought. But, as Harry said, that put Draco in a lot of danger. He had worked very hard the last couple of years to keep himself alive. Was he really willing to put himself at such risk for the sake of a Gryffindor who had despised him for six years? He was a Malfoy; Malfoys thought about themselves first, right? Everything he had been taught his entire life went against continuing this relationship.

With a heavy sigh Draco reached out gentle fingers and tenderly brushed Harry's bangs out of his face, unintentionally revealing his lightning-shaped scar. Harry's hair had grown so long and shaggy it usually hid the famous mark. This physical reminder of Harry's dangerous life made Draco sigh again, feeling a worried tug at his heart. He leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to the marred skin, then buried his face in his hands. What the hell was he going to do, dammit? He cared about Harry—hell, maybe he even loved him—but this situation sucked all around. How could two people build a strong relationship knowing it was unlikely for either of them to live long enough to turn thirty? Could they really enjoy the time they had without always worrying whether tomorrow would come or not?

Draco's thoughts continued on this pessimistic path until, exhausted, he slipped into an uneasy sleep.

He hadn't been asleep for long when something pulled him abruptly awake. He listened, trying to figure out what had woken him, and heard a small whimper. He propped himself up on one elbow and looked at Harry, who was lying on his side, facing Draco. Looking closer in the dim light, Draco saw that he was still asleep, his hands clenched and silent tears pouring down his face. A nightmare. Draco's hopelessness about the future was instantly replaced with a new, even more potent despair at the knowledge that his boyfriend was suffering and there was nothing he could do about it. Draco pressed tightly against him, trying to mold every inch of his body to Harry's in hopes of comforting him. He buried his face in the bend of Harry's neck and their tears mingled. Harry had told Draco about his nightmares. They came every night and no matter what happened—whether he was reliving his parents' death or dreaming about Voldemort—they all ended the same way: Harry alone in the darkness, crying.

He knew at that moment that no matter what the consequences were, he couldn't just leave Harry alone. All of Harry's life had been filled with aloneness. When his parents were murdered, he had been left alone. He had been alone and friendless when he was growing up. He had made friends at Hogwarts, but almost every year he had been called upon to save the world again—and he always ended up facing the monster alone. He was alone when he faced Quirrel, when he defeated the basilisk, when he stood trying to keep dementors from giving his godfather the Kiss, when he had seen Voldemort regain his power.

Draco's childhood hadn't been so different. He hadn't felt loved as a boy; the only true friend he had ever had was Pansy. And now Harry.

Their pasts had been as messed up as their futures probably would be. Didn't it make more sense to ally himself with Harry then? Only Harry understood what loneliness was like. What it was like to be singled out, to be different, to have others' expectations pressed upon you.

As his tears poured down Harry's neck in a hot stream, he didn't even notice that the minute he had wrapped his arms around his boyfriend, Harry's tears had stopped. Emerald eyes blinked open and focused on the pale form huddled against him.

"Draco?" he whispered hoarsely. "What's wrong?"

Draco sniffed, not even bothering to be embarrassed about Harry catching him crying. It was Harry, after all. "I love you, too, Harry."

Harry laughed in joy and surprise and hugged Draco tightly against him. "Really? And is that why you're crying?"

"Yes, really. And I guess it's sort of why I'm crying. I just didn't like to see you so sad."

Harry looked confused. "What?" Draco reached up and touched Harry's cheek. Harry mimicked the gesture and grimaced when he felt tears drying there. "Oh, that. That's nothing to worry about."

"But I do worry about it. I love you," he repeated, surprised that the words came so easily from his mouth. He had never told anyone else he loved them before. It was a moment before he realized that he had probably been the first person to hear those words from Harry's mouth, too.

Harry hugged him again and kissed him softly on the top of the head. "You have no idea how wonderful it makes me feel to hear you say that."

"That's not nearly as wonderful as I can make you feel," he said with a rakish smile.

"Really, now?" Harry asked, feeling his skin heating up already. Draco's mouth met his passionately and Harry felt a vast amount of emotion wash over him.

Draco's tongue ravaged Harry's mouth and he put everything he had into that kiss. All his fears, his doubts, his lust, and his love poured over them both and he vowed that with that kiss they would put all of the negative feelings behind them and focus on making each day incredible.

Besides, someone smart had once said, "Love conquers all."

They would put it to the test.