Chapter nineteen: Too weak to continue
It had been a horrid existence if your name was Draco Malfoy. He had a life he wouldn't wish upon his worst enemy, which was precisely why he would not tell Potter (yes, it was Potter now. Draco was far too pissed to even think about calling him Harry. It doesn't make much sense but you try telling him that. I like living thankyouverymuch) about it. Why couldn't the nosey git, mind his own and leave Draco be?
It was for his own good. Despite what he had just learned about the Boy-Who-Lived and what he had previously learned about his life didn't compare with the horrors of his past. Horrors that he had painstakingly buried and would very much like to keep them that way.
Why didn't he see that it hurt Draco to talk about it? If he cared so damned much as he claimed then why couldn't he leave well enough alone? Draco wasn't hurting anybody. He hadn't even known that Potter had known and what does the bloody bastard do? Run and tell Granger.
He had violated Draco's privacy. Draco was sure that Granger was busting a gut with Weasley over this. Granger: 'Haha, lil Malfoy has to cut himself to feel', Weasley: 'he's so pathetic, stupid git.' Just the mere thought of it was enough to make Draco want to bust a few heads.
It felt horrible to know that someone knew your deepest darkest secret and told someone else. And he didn't even talk to Draco about it first. But what bothered him the most was Potter's reaction to the news. He hadn't told Draco, he hadn't tried to find out why, hadn't done anything. Instead the bloody ponce ran off and avoided him.
He treated him like he was…sick or something. Draco would've preferred any thing to that. He wasn't sick; nor was he in a position to be pitied. It hurt more than he would ever admit to have Har- Potter, treat him like that. Like he was a leper.
Y'know, Draco, had seriously been considering tell him about everything. To fully trust him and all that rot. With the idea of talking to his housemates about switching sides than it would probably come as less of a shock if he were to be buddy-buddy with Potter.
But that was impossible now. Draco wasn't speaking to him anymore. They continued to train together but said little or nothing to each other. The only conversation they had was directly related to their exercise or potion.
When they weren't training or brewing a potion than Draco would avoid Potter like the plague and hide out most often in his library. Where he spent hours reading, writing or sleeping, anything to keep his mind busy and off of Potter where it constantly strayed. Bloody traitor.
Draco was slowly losing his mind. He wasn't use to such intense tension. Though he and Potter had hardly been what you called friends, there wasn't ever a time where he felt such tension between them. It was suffocating to be around him.
Not to mention, though he would never say so, not even to himself, he missed the air of ambiance that the other boy had about him. He liked being in his presence and able to sit in comfortable silence. He missed the ease they had, had.
Draco grew tired of the constant act he had to play, and with Potter he felt he could be himself, even if he hadn't told him everything. He had been able to do things with Potter that he hadn't done with anyone before.
He desperately missed that. He missed the childish antics the two had thrived from. The tickle fights, the jokes, the silly innuendos, all of it had left Draco yearning for more. Even as a child he hadn't been able to exhibit such abandon. Yet he had with Potter.
Which also brought about something else that Draco had never experienced before, regret. Draco had never regretted anything before. Sure he wished things were different, that he hadn't been born into the family he had, that his father hadn't been who he had been. But he had no choice in the matter and felt it was useless to waste his energy regretting the hand he was dealt.
But now he found himself spending a lot of time and energy on regrets. He was running scenario after scenario through his head and it all came down to one thing. Leaving the Dursleys'.
That's when it had all went wrong. He and Harry (who was he kidding, he didn't want it to go back to Malfoy and Potter,) had been happy there. They had gotten along and hadn't fought too much after the first few weeks. Draco couldn't help but think that this would've happened if they hadn't left
But seeing as he was a Malfoy he sure wasn't going to blame himself for their departure and he didn't want to add anymore fuel to his traitorous mind's fire about Harry Potter so he couldn't blame him. That left only one option; blame the Dursleys.
This was a perfect idea. Not only was it enabling Draco to lay the blame on someone else but it was on those horrible muggles. So in the end, it made it easy for him to believe that it was all their fault.
The first reason to enter his mind was obviously their disgusting spawn who had attempted to rape him. If it wasn't for that…thing, Harry wouldn't have been on edge. Then of course was the fact that they were bastards to Harry so he was miserable which made Draco feel something for him other than animosity which led to Draco's discovery (and perpetual denial) of his feelings toward him. Not to mention, Draco wouldn't have gotten upset about Harry living in a cupboard for eleven bloody years if they hadn't made him live in a bloody cupboard for eleven years. If that hadn't happened than Draco wouldn't have gotten pissed and Harry's uncle wouldn't have said what he did and Harry wouldn't have gotten upset and they wouldn't have had to leave
So really, it was quite plausible to blame it all on the Dursleys. Stupid wankers.
But none of that really mattered much now. Draco was mad at Harry. At least, he wanted to be. Oh Merlin how he wanted to be angry at the black-haired boy. How he wanted to hate him. And sometimes he would get angry at the other boy but he couldn't stay that way. He couldn't hate him. Not after all that they have been through together, Draco didn't know if things could ever go back to the way they were between the pair.
Shortly after he had stormed out of the room, Draco's anger fizzed out and left him feeling weak and tired.
Draco had sought refuge in the library. Amidst the large, leather bound books he felt safe. The library was fairly large and it would take more time than his father was generally willing to spend on finding him among its vast span of floor-to-ceiling shelves.
Draco had huddled in a corner which he had spent many hours in. While there he let his mind wander. As he sat there in the dusty corner, surrounded by the oddly comforting smells of the old, decaying books, Draco's anger gave away to hurt.
A deep, resonating hurt that wracked through his body. And for the first time in a long time, he didn't feel the need to cut. In fact, just thinking about it made him sick. Draco supposed that it made sense, seeing as it lead to his current situation.
Draco sat in the corner of the library for hours before he headed back to his room. It was empty and he lay on his bed and feel asleep begging himself not to cry.
The next week was painful. The pair settled into a new routine. Harry would wake and eat breakfast every morning before Draco, awoke. They would train, eat lunch on the field then go to Draco's lab and work on potions. After that they would go their separate ways. Both eating dinner in different parts of the house and spending their evenings alone and Harry going to bed long after Draco had fallen asleep. Both were using the Dreamless Sleep Potion.
Draco found that though the arrangement might be for the best, it left him with a permit sick feeling. He could barely choke down his food at meal times and he was losing weight rapidly. His pale skin had taken on a grey pallor due to his limited time in the sun. Though, during normal times, he spent a lot of time outdoors, swimming in the lagoon, or riding through the forest. But all those things were now forever tainted. They all reminded him of Harry. Instead, Draco kept to his rooms. He read, did homework or just stared at the ceiling dejectedly trying to see Harry's face etched into to stone.
The worst, though, was the time he had to spend in Harry's company. For all Draco's ill feelings, it seemed Harry was completely unaffected. The black-haired boy's face was permanently set in a stony mask, his eyes as cold as emeralds and his mouth in a tight grim line.
It nearly drove Draco crazy to be so close to him, to even touch him at times during training and yet be met with warm stone. Harry was hard and unyielding and his harsh attitude peaked Draco's anger every time.
No matter how much Draco would want to talk to the boy when he woke up or during the last moments before the potion-induced sleep overtook him, one look at the cold face and Draco found himself wanting nothing more than to kick him and see if he shattered like the ice he appeared to be.
It was the day before they were to leave for the Leaky Cauldron, when Draco finally snapped. He just couldn't take it anymore. He tried to be strong, to keep his anger fueled. He knew it would be for the best in the long run. But in the end, Draco was simply too weak to continue. He couldn't continue with the animosity and anger. It was just taking too much out of him.
Draco decided he would have to talk to Harry. He complained that Harry simply didn't understand, but how could he expect him to? The boy didn't know anything. So Draco would have to tell him. That's all there was to it.
Merlin, help me, He thought miserably and wished that he had a god to pray to. He needed all the help he could get, because Draco Lucius Malfoy was going to open up, to Harry Potter no less.
Draco decided that he'd have to wait until they took their break after potions before he could talk to Harry. He would be unable to talk during training or while trying to concentrate on a potion and he didn't know if he and Harry would be continuing the lessons once school started so he had to fit in as much as possible in case they didn't.
Unfortunately, Harry was out of the door as soon as Draco announced the potion as finished. Draco tried to keep his anger in check, as he had been doing all day but it was getting difficult.
Draco sighed heavily and sat down wearily for a few moments. Draco took several deep breaths before he felt he was calm enough to begin to look for the other boy. Malfoy Manor was huge and in the previous two weeks Draco had never stumbled upon Harry so he knew it would take sometime to find him now.
In fact, it took Draco an hour to find the other boy. Actually, Draco found him by accident. The blond had given up his search and needed a break. He decided to go to his favorite spot, the bench that overlooked the garden. And lo and behold, there was his quarry.
Draco stopped dead in his tracks and his breath hitched as he caught sight of the Gryffindor.
Harry was sitting hunched over on the bench. His forearms were resting on his knees and his hands were hanging limply in between them. His head was bowed and his silky raven locks hid his face from view.
Draco was confused. Harry looked so…sad. The question was why? Why was he out here? Why did he look so dejected? Why, why, why?
Draco stared at the boy for a few more moments before a plan formulated in his mind. Draco walked around the small hill and came up behind Harry. Draco took a deep, silent breath to try and calm his nerves and took a seat.
Harry didn't even flinch. Draco took that as encouragement. He looked out over the garden. It was truly a sight to see. A sea of fragmented colours, all individual but able to blend together to create a beautiful image. Draco sighed wistfully in his mind at his thoughts before turning them to the serious matter at hand.
"Me," Draco said after a few minutes of thick silence. Harry cocked his head slightly. Draco nervously licked his suddenly dry lips and swallowed. "It was me. I wasn't enough. I never have been." He had Harry's full attention now. Draco could feel the emerald green eyes on him like a heat lap.
Draco forced himself to keep looking forward and speak.
"I wasn't enough for my father, or the Dark Lord. And I fear I am not enough for the Order …or you." Draco said. He could feel the confusion radiating from the other boy. Draco risked a glance and was nearly thrown back at the sheer intensity of Harry's stare.
Draco turned away quickly and cleared his throat and began to tell his story. He started from the beginning.
"I was born eight weeks too early. I suppose my mother's womb was just unable to sustain life. It was as cold and lifeless as everything else in her life was. They had tried for years for a child, an heir. I was the only one to survive." He said, his voice going soft as he reminisced.
He told Harry of being placed in the Intensive Care Unit of St. Mungo's. His little lungs were underdeveloped and he could not breathe on his own. Also his small heart had an abnormally fast heart beat.
"They hooked me up to all sorts of machines. Magic is much too risky to be used on an infant. Especially, one who is as unstable as I was. When my father saw me hooked into all those machines he saw me as weak. And he has only seen the weakness in me since."
Draco paused for a breath before continuing.
"I was in that hospital for two months and my father never visited after that first day. My mother told me all this, mind you."
"Why are you telling me this?" Harry interrupted tersely. Draco narrowed his eyes and looked at the other boy.
"Because, you asked me to trust you, so I am." Draco responded. Harry's cold mask cracked a bit.
"You don't have to. I don't deserve it." He said miserably. Draco looked at him.
"Maybe not, but I need to do this. I have to trust someone."
"But it shouldn't be me. Haven't I already shown you that I can't be trusted? It was horrible of me to do what I did after I found out about…y'know." Harry responded glumly.
"Yes it was. But I figure you just don't understand. And that is my fault. So I am helping you understand. Now be quiet and listen." Draco cleared his throat and went back to telling his story. "My parents tried again for a nother child but my mother was a good as barren. I was all my father had and he hated me for it. And nothing I could ever do could erase that." Draco looked sad as he continued.
He told Harry of his brief childhood. Until he was six years of age, he was in the charge of a nanny. An old, ugly woman that smelled like sausage. She was cold, unfeeling and horrible. The perfect person to teach a Malfoy how to behave during those formable years.
"But I guess it never took. I was never able to be cold enough, or unfeeling enough. Not good enough." Draco said with no small amount of bitterness. "After I was six I graduated from a nanny to a governess. She too was a strict, uptight woman who had no time for childish nonsense. When I wasn't with her I was with my tutors. My mother made sure I had the best education. I was tutored in languages, arithmetic, penmanship and calligraphy, literature, music, art and dance."
"Dance?" Harry cut in. Draco nearly fell off the bench from surprise. He had forgotten the other boy was there. He was lost in his memories for a while.
"Oh yes, Dance is essential in the lives of an aristocrat. With all the parties, balls and other social events and all." He said sourly. "There is the Halloween Party, the Christmas Ball, The New Years Party, and the midsummer's ball. Aristocrats use any excuse to get together for schmoozing, and drinking. But they are spectacular events. At the last Halloween Party there were acrobats and fire eaters. Anyway, I was actually good at dance, and enjoyed it too. But one can only dance with one's mother or their male teacher who smells of pipe tobacco and whiskey, for so long before it seeps in and tainted dancing forever."
"Anyway, around that time my father began training me. Though the Dark Lord was gone my father thought it was best if I was still trained in the Death Eater ways. He felt that there might be a future for the Dark Arts."
Draco told Harry about the lessons. At the young age of six Draco was given a practice wand and taught basic spells. When they weren't doing practical lessons there were the numerous hours of studying spells from the books in his father's library.
"Mother hated it though. She said she didn't like my father filling my head with such darkness. So she too assigned me reading. Mostly muggle books. She had me read one and we'd discuss it. I quickly fell in love with books. They were so uncomplicated and provided an escape to somewhere better.
Often after a training session with father, especially the ones where he was teaching me how to withstand torture, I would curl up into a corner of my library with a book and just let myself get lost in its pages. Let the words, and the world they created, take me away."
"What do you mean 'how to withstand torture'?" Harry asked quietly.
Draco told Harry of his many visits to the dungeon and the all-nighters there. He told him of the many times of being put under the torture curse. He told him how often he was punished by some means if he did not get a spell right or quick enough. He told of how often he was beaten because Hermione had gotten better marks than he did.
"I soon was able to lock myself deep in my mind and block out the torture and the pain." Draco said softly. "When I started school I was so excited. For months my father had been telling me about how I would be treated like a prince, because of the powerful Malfoy name. Don't think that I was pushed into anything. I willing took to my father's side. I let myself be wooed by childish aspirations for greatness. I knew no better."
"And now you do?" Harry asked. Draco looked over at him and gave him a small half-smile.
"And now I do," He responded. Draco quickly glossed over his school years. They were all the same. He'd try to make his father proud and never being able to and in the end he would be punished.
"After my father went to prison I was very angry, mostly at you. But the more and more time I spent without my father watching my every move, the more and more I began to think differently. I began to get angry at the Dark Lord. It was because of him that my father was in prison. It was because of that madman that my father was the way he was.
And for all the loyalty my father showed him, the Dark Lord didn't even try to get him out of Azkaban. Not once. I knew at that moment that I didn't want to spend my life serving that man. I had decided that I would go to France with my mother and wait out the war there."
"Really?" Harry cut in, his eyes wide. Draco nodded solemnly.
"Yes, really. I am not a Gryffindor, Harry. I am a Slytherin. We look out for ourselves. It was in my best interest to hide in France." Draco said.
"But…then why are you here now? Why aren't you in France?" Harry asked.
"About eight months ago I got a visit from my Godfather. He told me of his loyalties to Dumbledore and his occupation as a spy for the Order." Draco said.
"Ah, I see. And then you saw followed Snape like a lost puppy?" Harry interrupted.
"Actually, no. I yelled at him. Called him a traitor and kicked him out." Draco responded. Harry's eyes went wide.
"B-but he's your Godfather. You said he was always there for you." Harry said in disbelief.
"Yes, I know." Draco said tersely.
"So you're still a Death Eater, than?" He asked.
"No."
"But, then…what?" Harry asked confused.
"If you would stop interrupting and let me finish…" Draco left off and glared at the Gryffindor who had the sense to look embarrassed. "Thank-you. Anyway, it wasn't until two months later that I decided to be a spy.
Those were the worse two months of my life. I was confused and hurt. It felt like Severus betrayed me. Then my mother comes out and tells me that she knew all along about his loyalties and she had been the one who had sent for him.
She said she hoped that I would listen. She said she never wanted this life for me. I was so angry with her. I thought she had lost her mind, or it was the liquor talking. But I had never seen her so sober or somber in my life.
I began to think about it. More and more. And in those two months I cut more then I had in such a short time period. I was so pale from blood loss but I didn't care. But as I did it, I thought about it. I never did that before. Thought about what I was doing and why.
That led to the realization that though I thought my father no longer had control over me, he really did, and I was giving it to him. I was letting him control me. He wasn't around to hurt me anymore so I hurt myself. Punished myself for not being enough."
"I don't understand." Harry said with a frown.
"Look, I have only ever been a Malfoy in two aspects. My looks and my name. When I cut myself, I mutilated that body. All those times my father hurt me he always cleaned up after himself, healed me. Never left any marks on the flawless Malfoy body. "Draco said disgustedly.
"And that's why you swore off Healing charms?" Harry asked.
"Yes," Draco nodded. "I wanted to have reminders of the pain that body caused. Of the pain that name caused. I didn't want my body to be perfect and flawless when I was so horrible broken and an utter mess on the inside. I stopped after I realized that and haven't done it until recently, after the whole 'nearly raped by a pig masquerading as a boy' thing. Then I took the first real step to fully breaking my father's control over me. I went to Dumbledore."
"And you became a spy?" Harry asked trying to keep the hopefulness out of his voice.
"Yes." Draco agreed. "And I knew that the Death Eaters would come looking for me and if I refused to get the mark they would kill me. Dumbledore said he'd take me to a safe location and obviously he thought your muggles' home was safe.
The two sat in silence for a few moments and watched the sun go down.
"Thank-you," Harry said quietly, those two words meaning more to the other than either boy could ever know. They sat like that, in complete silence, for a long time before the both got up and went in for dinner. Neither speaking of what had just happened between them but both fundamentally changed by it.
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(An: Ok, I took the ideas for Draco's childhood from that of typical aristocrat from the fifteenth, sixteenth century, minus of course the knighthood training and the living with someone else from seven until adulthood.)