"You wouldn't know anything about that kind of commitment would you?"

"You wouldn't understand what my bloodline commands from a single heir to a pure blood estate..."

My eyes flickered open. I was not in my own room at the Malfoy Manor.

Right. I was in Draco's.

The moonlight was streaming vividly in through the entire wall of glass panes, illuminating the room more than it had been late in the evening with only candle light. The curtains hung like unwanted rugs on either side, out of use. I wondered briefly why Draco was unlike the rest of his family who seemed to be allergic to Vitamin D.

It was still early in the morning, perhaps 3 or 4am. I was tied up in his warm body like we were two pieces to one pretzel. My head was on his chest and his light breathing was blowing ticklish threads of my hair across my nose. The dark blankets were up to my shoulders weighing us down. His arm was holding me tightly against his neck and my leg was between his. We had no clothes on but our underwear and there was so much bare skin on skin, but the whole thing felt quite innocent somehow. As though we were in it together, fighting through that horrible house and experience side by side.

But we weren't, I had to remind myself. True partners were always honest and supported each other. I wouldn't be going through any of that if he had allowed me to at least make my own choice. Maybe I would have told him we could get to know each other first before doing anything so serious, it's possible I would have understood his complex life.

Right then I would be home with my family, waking up in a few hours to see my brother and my friends for the holiday. The town would be buzzing with good wine, real Champagne, beautiful dinners and walks on the coastal beach. I would be coming back to Britain with a slight tan and a relaxed disposition.

What was my family thinking of me in my absence? What did they know?

I could feel pangs of hurt slither through my heart as I worried about the long-term damage the current situation might cause to my relationships with them. They must've been mortified to find out I was in a horrific life-threatening accident and was also suddenly betrothed. I thought of Astoria who had been in my shoes not long ago.

Had she also felt trapped like that?

How stupid I was to ever feel jealous of her. I had set that girl free while strapping the shackles to myself willingly.

There was overwhelming evidence that Draco's family's priorities were completely irrational and egocentric. I shuddered at the thought of Lucius' vile grin and icy stares. Yet he seemed to be mostly islanded in his beliefs and morals. Narcissa didn't make a show of being a very harmful or villainous person, and as much as I hated to admit it neither did Draco. I could now see that his behavior was highlighted by pain and suffering, by desperation. He predominantly used a cruel vocabulary to offend people around him and that was a meager effort at best. It would be a tortured life to grow up in a house with Lucius - I tried not to imagine how much worse he could have turned out, or could still turn out.

"You wouldn't understand what my bloodline commands from a single heir to a pure blood estate..."

His words from the first day of Quidditch practice crept into my subconscious again. Now I understood, now that he had made me the main character. And it made sense why he was so upset all the time, why he pushed people away or tried to gain control of everyone and everything around him at school. In reality, he rarely had any control over his personal life. Except one thing he had had control over, and that was choosing a victim to bring back to this pit of suffering and despair.

"What are you thinking about, Madeleine?" His dark voice brought my vision back to the black room around me. He was looking down at me with sleepy eyes but his tone suggested he'd been watching my face long enough, "Do you need to go back to your own bed?" There was an air of impatience in his tone.

I pulled back so I could face him properly and shook my head about wanting to leave the room. His arm around my neck retracted to let me rest my head on the other pillow. We scanned each other's faces for a while in the moonlight, both propped up on our elbows.

"Thinking, about you," I whispered. The heat from his body being so close swirled across all of my senses and I tried to banish it and focus. His lean, muscular arm was over the covers now inches from me and my eyes widened in aggravation from how unfair it was that he was practically naked in front of me for the conversation.

"Why?" He quirked an eyebrow at me and narrowed his eyes. He was studying my face for some sort of indication, his eyes darted back and forth. His blond hair was soft again, messy from sleep, framing his face.

I scrunched my face up trying to find the right words, "Tell me de truth. You uh, brought, me here, on purpose? Dis was not a mistake, was it?" My voice was soft and undiscriminating. I looked at him with openness, hoping he would simply talk to me. I had to understand why I had been dragged into this extreme new life by him.

His sigh was dramatic, and he closed his eyes. He avoided me for several miserable moments before he whispered in a faint voice, "I'm sorry."

He shockingly looked like he might cry and I assumed that's why his eyes were still shut. I reached up my free hand and brushed hair away from his vision, tracing his face softly, "Draco, I must understand dis, please."

His hand grabbed my wrist hard and he was dragging me towards him in the bed so that our noses touched and his eyes flung open, "I don't need your sympathy. Believe me when I say I don't deserve it," He was suddenly drilling his blue eyes into me, the darkness awarded them additional intimidation by bringing the bright color down several tones. His breath was hot and short against my lips.

To my horror I felt a tear run down my face as my voice trembled with grievance, "Just...tell me, why you did dis to me? Why me? You said dis was not a thoughtless commitment. You made de decision as it 'appened. You wanted me, here, stuck, admit it." I was inches away from sobbing and it was obvious. He eased up on his grip on my wrist which was wedged between our chests. Both of our breathing was rapid in the small space between our faces but this time it was different. The air was heightened with fear and anticipation.

"Fine. I did it on purpose. Are you happy?" He snarled through gritted teeth, never breaking eye contact. I could tell his reaction was parallel to a cornered animal. He didn't want the conversation. The light-hearted boy I had fallen asleep with was slipping away, back into the abyss.

"Why?" My voice was so tiny from my throat tightening, it came out as a squeak.

"Because you fit the description. I was under pressure from my family to secure a marriage, and I couldn't let that happen with Astoria. You just kept offering yourself to me, what did you expect?" His voice had softened somewhat and he was focusing on the space between my eyes now.

Another soft tear ran down my cheek, dripping onto his hand around my wrist. His eyes darted down to sight of the impact. My lip quivered but I stayed put, "I do not believe you. It's more dan dat."

"There you go again, being a stupid little girl." His voice had definitely softened that time, traces of guilt starting to seep in through the cracks. He sighed in defeat, letting go of my wrist finally. I knew then that he was not going to admit he had feelings for me.

It seemed that his defensive anger had expired. I leaned back from the closeness of our faces to lay my head on the pillow near his elbow and stared up at the canopy above. Small tears slid silently down my cheeks and pooled in my ears. I could see his face still hovering over mine in my peripheral vision. He had a pained look on his face as he watched me cry without a sound.

Shockingly his hand slipped under the covers around my waist pulling me towards him, "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice was strained now, "I don't know how to...I don't trust...anyone, with my..." he trailed off, gasping, burying his head in his bent up elbow. His strong fingers squeezed my waist over and over and he began to cry in a light voice.

I turned my head in awe, wiping away my most recent tears. I couldn't believe Draco Malfoy was actually crying in front of me, in front of anyone. On Christmas morning for an added twist.

He cowardly whimpered from where his face was safely hidden away, "You made me feel like this whole thing...like it could be something real instead."

"Draco..." I soothed, turning on my side to face him again and pulling his chin up, "Thank you for telling me. Dat was very strong of you." He wiped his eyes, wincing at me and the entire room as if the furniture was judging him for his vulnerability. He stopped on an arm chair looking like he might start a fight with it.

"None of it matters." His voice was hoarse and he looked dead inside.

I gave him a weak smile, moving my hand behind his neck and pulling him down to kiss me. He seemed surprised but didn't fight it. I felt his wet, soft mouth meet mine with sensitivity. His face was still moist from the tears and the kiss was salty and soft. His fingers rose up along my side to my ribs and dipped behind my back to grasp desperately at my bra latch. He fumbled for a moment while the kissing grew hotter and more desperate. The passionate energy between our bodies was building in a familiar eroticism.

I traveled my hands down his hard body to tug at his black boxers as he rolled onto me and between my legs. My bra finally gave up the battle with his fingers and my breasts sprung free from the lacy confinement. He broke away from my face to stare at my bare chest for the first time and cup them with his free hand. The look of sweet disbelief on his face was all I needed to know that was his first time experiencing that with a woman. He whispered Fuck so lightly I almost missed it, and leaned down to kiss me again, one arm bent next to my face to support himself with the other hand feeling me up aggressively.

I couldn't take it anymore. I lifted my toe up and caught it in his boxers, pulling them down careful not to scratch him. He looked at me with incredulity at the swift and unusual motion. I could feel his impressive bare hardness now rubbing against my panties, "Take dem off, I need you now." I whispered against his lips.

His hand reached down and yanked my remaining undergarments off with impatient force. And then with hardly any hesitation he was pushing against my entrance, sinking into me slowly. His eyes were squeezed shut and he was kissing me forcefully, moaning and shaking. I had to remind myself that this was only his second time as I tangled my legs around him, pulling him in faster and harder. I let out loud moans and half screams as the pounding sped up and my climax began building. He was now forceful with me, groaning loudly. Instinctively he pushed back on my leg to open me up wider, staring down at our bodies merging, biting his lower lip. He opened his mouth in disbelief and I reveled in his wonderment.

Keeping hold of my leg he leaned forward again to kiss me and the pulsing deepened to a new, slower speed. It seemed that our bodies had aligned their rhythms and suddenly it was something different. My hands were up in his hair, arms around his back. He kissed me slowly and with passion, heat from our breath on each other's faces. His tongue was deep in my mouth. The sudden change from sex to love making pushed me over the edge and I screamed out loud into the orgasm, digging my nails into him expressively. He buried his head in my neck and released with me, shuddering and gasping.

Then he was off of me, turning away. After banishing the mess I realized he had completely faced his back to me and pulled the covers right up to his ears without a word. I didn't push him to cuddle me, just turned my back to his and watched as the moon illuminated the hundreds of books and odd scientific artifacts on his shelves, slowly drifting back to sleep in the warmth of his presence.

Music. Music was playing, soft and lively. I opened my eye to the blinding brightness streaming in through the wall of windows. The glare from the glittering snow outside was accentuating the radiant mid-day sunlight. It was Christmas morning and somewhere in the house someone was playing classical music on a piano.

I rolled over and groaned from a few ribs that still felt somehow sore. I was smack in the center of the bed, naked and alone. An overwhelming feeling of embarrassment struck me as I realized Draco had woken up and abandoned me in that state in his bed. I felt good though, healed enough to leave. Maybe it would not be too late to go home to Antibes, on Christmas, and resolve matters with my family.

I gripped the obsidian covers over my chest as I sat up and tried to consider how I was going to get back to my room without new clothing, where my wand was waiting. It would be risky to snoop around Draco's room for his clothing and I also wasn't sure if he would be angry at me for borrowing anything. The only thing I had of my own was the dark blue gown that I couldn't zip up independently, still laying in a rumpled heap off the side of the bed from my battle with it the night before. The result would be me running down four floors of the Malfoy manor with my backside open for all the world to see. I cringed at the absoluteness that Lucius was somewhere in the manor, possibly drifting around the halls with his cane looking for something to inflict pain and suffering on. It would be grisly enough if he were to catch me wandering about aimlessly with my dress undone, but it would even more punishable if I wasn't allowed to be sleeping in Draco's room to begin with.

I would have no explanation for myself, but then again, what choice did I have but to risk the trek? I slipped my toes off of the bed slowly, as if afraid that the floor itself would electrocute me. I grinned sheepishly as I recalled the debauchery of last night. It had been good, possibly some of the best sex I'd ever had. And I was far from virginal, maybe even a bit of floozy. Draco was a natural that was for certain.

He had also opened up to me finally. His tears had been such a heartbreaking sight, and I had realized just how abused and damaged he was. He was so lonely and scared of connection. Perhaps it was why he had turned his back on me after the sensual love making.

I decided to stand naked after checking once again that there were no paintings or other people in the vast room. This was from experience, given that Kreacher had appeared from thin air while I was trying frantically to zip up the ball gown before dinner. It had been awful knowing he'd had the satisfaction of seeing one of my butt cheeks.

Ignoring the searing pain of the crest on my neck that just seemed to be deepening every day, my feet hit the floor and I stood, stretching boldly. It was then that I realized there was a dusty blue dress on the desk by the window. I walked over to it curiously, shivering in the biting atmosphere of the manor. The vivid pastel popped out in the raven room like a star in the sky. There was one small note in expensive looking parchment. The writing was silver and familiar,

"Madelyn.

-D"

I picked up the dress with approval. It was pure silk and the fabric was fabulously glossy. I wondered briefly when he had found the time to leave the manor and get it for me. I had of course slept very late into the day. Beside the dress was a silver ribbon of similar material for a hair tie, and a plate of expensive exotic looking breakfast food. I recognized grapes, so I shoved a few into my mouth hungrily before slipping the dress over my head.

It fit quite well; the waist and full arms were very tight, but the dress was bouffont in nature without a doubt, spilling outwards like an umbrella from where the bow tied at the back. A traditional French dress developed in the mid-19th century and often worn in upper class French families, sometimes with a crinoline for added sculpture. I had seen paintings of my ancestral family members in them around my house looking like dazzling princesses at Venetian tea parties.

I went to the mirror which was partially covered by a sheet and tore it down. I spun around in front of it feeling more myself than ever. Using the ribbon I tied a matching bow into the top of my long hair, pulling some of it a back from my face. I smiled widely and wished I had a matching umbrella that I could bounce about with. Draco would never allow that though knowing full well that I would be destructive with it or poke him into a state of fury.

I experimentally picked at the food feeling insecure about precisely what it was. I was chewing on an item I thought to be toast spread with something sweet when I decided to probe around the room and scrutinize Draco's personal life. The books were of such a variety it seemed he was interested in almost anything to do with dark magic, dark arts, potions, science, even some on muggle culture and discoveries were sprinkled in. He had gone to the agonizing effort of sorting them by category and alphabetically by author and I toyed with the idea of moving them around to see just how livid it would make him. I jumped when I noticed that a large owl was caged in the corner of the room, leering an exhausted eye at me. It was completely silent as if very well tamed, and it occurred to me that he had likely cast a silencing charm on its cage. On his desk was a floating planet, spinning slowly in place. It was an exact, live replica of planet earth. Areas of it were dark with large matrixes of city lights and the smell of the ocean and dirt wafted within it's proximity. Miniature planes and satellites rotated around the surface. I watched it spin until I had finished as much of the odd assortment of food I dared to.

When I had plucked up enough courage to open the doorway to the hall I was greeted by the piano music again. It was trilling from somewhere on the lower levels. I had to make it back down to my own wing anyways so I started running as fast I could in my bare feet towards the central staircase. My feet smacked against the freezing stone stairs down two levels until I came to an abrupt halt. There in the foyer of that level was the unforgiving figure of Lucius, back to me with his black cloaks hovering over someone else. I spread myself back against the staircase wall wishing I could morph into it. The classical music on that particular level was very loud, it had to be coming from an adjacent room of the second floor.

"Kindly tell me why my jest of a son has decided to incinerate the peace and quiet of my home while my presence is known to be on the property? Did I not make it clear that this utility was to be banned unless I am away on business?" Lucius' voiced was ripping through the air like daggers. I could feel my heart beating very fast. If he decided to come back upstairs towards his rooms then I would be discovered lurking there eavesdropping. Although it was not my intentions to stalk him in his own home - he was simply blocking my way back down to my room in the abandoned first floor wing.

"I can't be certain why he decided to unwisely play this morning. Perhaps it is the girl in there." Narcissa said in a very quiet, stale voice.

"Perhaps he will remain unpunished this time for the sake of relations. She may be new now, but when they are wed she belongs to the Malfoy Manor. There will be no sympathy for juvenile, featherbrained instances!" He was shouting now, the scintillation in his voice made me wince. I heard shuffling and heavy footsteps approaching. I inhaled and shut my eyes, prepared to be impaled by the cane. Then I realized they were veering towards the downstairs flight on the other side of the wall.

After standing there for what seemed like hours dreading the notion of belonging to the Malfoy Manor I finally opened my eyes when I heard a deep gurgling near my hand. I looked down to see Kreacher glaring at me obtrusively, "Mistress Malfoy is not dressed appropriately. It burns Kreacher's eyes."

I rolled my eyes at the attack. "Well maybe you should pluck dem out den," I spat venomously down at him.

He shook a pointed, damaged finger at me, his tiny frail arm wobbling from the effort, "Errrrr the master has chosen a heathen, he has. Disgusting. It burns Kreacher to look at Mistress Malfoy's clothing. Disgrace upon this establishment. Disgrace upon the masters."

"I'd hardly say dat I am de cause of disgrace upon dis establishment," I leered and left him to sit muddling in the stairwell.

I had meant to go downstairs to my room but instead felt myself drawn to the doorway of the musical room. It was a large double doorway, silver and ornately carved with images of trees with golden leaves shuttering down to the ground. The piano played beyond with grace and confidence. I pushed the door with hesitation to find a ballroom that was absolutely massive. The walls were covered in shiny silver and green wall paper, hints of pink daring to glitter here and there. There were hundreds of decorative wingback chairs scattered around the boundaries of the room, leaving the center vast and open save for the pillars that held up the arched ceiling. It smelled vaguely dusty, and even though it was the middle of the day, candles were lit due to all of the curtains being drawn. The sadness of the music drawled towards me, bringing my eyes to the massive white piano in the farther corner.

I emerged and carefully closed the monstrous door. On the tips of my toes I approached him, watching his long fingers creating the classical ambiance filling the manor. He was concentrated, his eyebrows were pushed together and his mouth was a thin line. He was dressed in a similar type of suit as the prior day.

I stood a mere few feet from him watching him play with burning regard. He was so much more human than I had ever expected.

Suddenly his back straightened and the beautiful, tortured melody came to a crash as his hands flattened and he spun to glare at me, "Madeleine, didn't your guardians ever teach you it was rude to spy?" His face was twisted in annoyance, but then it blanked as he took in the dress on my figure, "Has my father seen you in that?"

I shook my head no and he looked relieved, "Good - you should stay hidden until we can leave tomorrow. I'm not going to walk you to your room, you can find it yourself."

I pouted, "It is Christmas," I said in a small voice, watching him for a reaction. I didn't want to go back to the far forgotten wing of the house that smelled like mold and was inhabited by cruel ancestral paintings. He just stared at the ballroom floor with frustration. His eyes looked like they were somewhere else.

Finally he broke the silence, "What do you want me to do about that?" He was cold and impatient, like he was hoping I would melt into the floor and leave him be.

My face curled into a deep frown and he sighed loudly, probably fearing I would start blubbering on the spot, "You can't go today. You have to go back on the train with me tomorrow. My father...," his face suddenly looked anguished, "...my father made it clear I was not to let you out of my sight. He was supposed to leave today for Ministry business and doesn't want any...fuss, while he's gone."

My heart shattered as the last remaining hope of leaving that day wisped away. Instead of making a bad thing worse I sighed and decided to just accept it. I cautiously approached him and put my tiny hand on the piano corner. He watched me with suspicion.

"You can play," I stated, gesturing at the grand piano.

"Oh really? What would ever give you that impression?" He looked at me with dry sarcasm.

I reached out and poked at the keys with no sophistication whatsoever, "Look, I can play too!" I bit my lip with a playful smile on my face.

He snorted, "Oh yeah, really putting Mozart to shame."

I sat on the bench next to him and he instantly looked agitated at the intrusion of his personal space. I felt him shuffle over several inches. "Why do you play?" I asked gleefully.

He pushed at a key with his pointer finger, "I played for the balls, when we had them." His voice was bored, but the memory seemed unhappy as his face was suddenly sullen. He seemed very unhappy that day, something obviously weighing heavily on him.

"Balls, ah, c'est magnifique. Den you can dance too?" I knew I was asking too many questions, and he was likely to explode at any moment, but I couldn't help the feeling of being drawn to him. The feeling of trying to draw him out of his shell. It was always like that - a cat and mouse game between us. He made me chase him for absolutely everything, and I was hooked on the toxicity.

He raised his face and looked at me, smirking, "Sure, yeah."

I brushed my long hair back over my shoulder and put my hand out, "Dance wit' me, Draco."

His blue eyes slid down and looked at my hand like it was a malicious viper, waiting to sink it's fangs into his hand if he accepted. Then he shook his head, "No."

I stood up abruptly and he grabbed the end of the bench to avoid being thrown off. I pranced to the center of the room in my beautiful lustrous dress and spun, pushing up onto the tips of my toes. My arms carved and I swung, the muscle memory of having done ballet for years came soaring back. Dance of the sugar plum fairy, for Christmas, I thought as I stepped and swirled, taking light little jumps. I reveled in the elegance. I could hear the music from my home, I could smell the candles and hear the laughter of the holiday. In my mind and in my dance I was home with my loved ones.

In reality, I was in a colossal dark pink ballroom at the Malfoy Manor surrounded by ghosts and dust, darkness and malevolence. My hair swirled around me like a golden river and I reached up towards the ceiling in one of my moves, smiling and laughing. It was then that I got a glance of Draco frozen at the piano; he was watching awestruck.