Author's Note: Just a quick word because I received some messages about potential grammar errors and I just want to state that I don't have a beta and don't always have time to proof read.
However, one of the comments I got was about quotation marks in speech being placed wrongly. I'm writing from a British English perspective, not a US one, and as a result quotation marks can go either inside or outside punctuation.
Therefore, both "Draco!" and "Draco"! are correct.
Thank you!
Fool!
How could you be so stupid?
You idiot, two years and it could all be for nothing because you let your temper get the best of you!
You should be able to control yourself by now, what the hell was that?
You think she'll work it out?
Of course she will, Christ what have you done?!
She might not though; she might think it's cryptic.
But you have opened yourself up to that risk, you idiot!
Draco railed inwardly while clutching his whiskey tumbler in one hand and his crystal decanter in the other, pouring himself more each time he downed the previous. The whiskey burned his throat but failed to rid him of his feeling of failure and downright stupidity.
Vanity and anger had caused him to lash out and in doing so he may just have undone everything he had struggled to build over the past two years. He had torn it all down in a matter of seconds with a few choice words and for what? So that she could know he was more than the person she had painted him to be?
She would go to the mausoleum and she would wonder that this unnamed contact knew about the plaque that Draco had erected and there was a chance she would put two and two together. The plaque hadn't been signed; obviously, he wasn't that stupid although his recent actions said otherwise. But it had referred to their time at school and her unwavering loyalty to him and someone as astute as Granger might understand the reference. If she worked it out, it would mean catastrophe for their working relationship.
She needed a contact and while he would need an out in the future, he wasn't ready to give up just yet. He was still trying to work out a way to kill Voldemort himself but it was getting harder and harder.
The creature, since you could no longer call him a man, didn't take food nor drink anything that had been prepared by anybody. Indeed, Draco had no idea what Voldemort lived off and he found he didn't want to know.
No weapons, no wand and no way of poisoning him meant that coming up with ideas on how to kill him had to come down to wandless magic, which was volatile when trying to duel an opponent who possessed their wand.
He hadn't even figured out where Voldemort went when he was not at the Manor yet. In truth, Voldemort's hideout was still a frustrating mystery to the man who was deemed intelligent by many.
He had searched the usual haunts, the places mentioned by his parents as to where Voldemort had been when he was still not fully formed. He had gone back to the Riddle mansion, the graveyard where Voldemort's parents were buried and even the old Gaunt house. Nothing.
He felt that if he could find Voldemort's hiding place, he had a better chance of taking his Master by surprise.
It would end the war, it would end all of the bloodshed and Draco's eagerness for that was now taking over his desire for anything else.
Well, almost anything else. His twisted desire for her had got the best of him tonight and he had reacted in a way that had surprised even him; he had thought that his tendency to lash out without thinking had long since gone.
He was weary of being viewed as a monster when she had once thought there had been more to him. He knew she may never get to see the man he had become and tonight, hearing her say those things about him and knowing she thought about that night in the astronomy tower had made him overwhelmingly angry of the fact.
He closed his eyes and remembered what it had felt like to grab her shoulders and push her into the astronomy wall and crush his lips against hers. He could still hear gasp and her mouth open as he rolled his hips into hers. Then her hands had moved to his hair and pressed him closer to her, her leg coming up to hook against his hip with his hand moving to cup her bottom and balance her at the same time. It had been fevered, frenzied and the most devastating kiss he had ever had.
Then he had pulled away almost in shock and they had stood panting at each other for several moments before she had whispered; "Do this and you will lose everything".
He couldn't remember their words prior to the kiss but she had made him angry and that was the only thing of which he was certain. Fury caused him to act out, much as it had done tonight.
He opened his eyes and finally raised himself from his winged armchair, setting the decanter and tumbler down on the side table and walking over to the fireplace. The fire was roaring and he stared deep into it, almost wishing he could fall in. The fireplace was incredibly large and ornate but it was just another reminder of how much he hated Malfoy Manor and everything it represented. Every room reminded him of his parents and of what he had done and each polished mahogany table and every crystal chandelier served as a flashing neon sign of his family's innate need to display wealth. His mother's scarf still clung to the beams outside from which he had allowed their bodies to hang.
They were just bodies, his parents were gone by then so it hadn't mattered to him but her scarf was stuck there and he couldn't quite bring himself to pull it down. He needed constant reminding of the cruel person he had become but why it was necessary to survive.
He would risk not going to Dachau tonight. Since giving her the information, he knew the Order couldn't afford to wait long before attacking and they would do it between now and the next seven days before he met her again but she never acted rashly on the information he gave her. Attacks always came a few days afterwards because the Order liked to be fully prepared.
From tomorrow, he would go there every night so that he could be there when the raid came. Draco had found in the past that being present at the raids he recommended to the Order allowed suspicions to remain firmly away from him. He had murdered several Order members over the year, often being seen by Shacklebolt, but knowing that he had little choice in the matter. In those situations, it was kill or be killed.
He decided though that sleep would allow him to clear his foggy mind and hopefully assuage some of the guilt he felt in allowing his emotions to overcome his rationality.
He climbed the stairs to his parent's room with heavy footsteps wondering if he should have brought the whiskey decanter with him but knowing it was better that he hadn't. He had taken the Master bedroom to avoid questions as to why he would not automatically want the main room of the house.
He hated it, it was uninviting and devoid of anything that reminded him of his parents. He had removed all of the pictures from the wall and they were currently stacked against the door leading to the walk in wardrobe which still contained his mother's clothes.
He glanced at them as he walked to the bed, a painting of Nurmengard to the fore and he grimaced as he hit his foot off the bedpost because he hadn't taken his eyes off the picture.
"Grunt!" He screamed at the top of his voice before his ancient house elf appeared with a pop before him.
"Master", he bowed lowly and for once Draco ignored the sarcasm behind it. Grunt hated him and the feeling was mutual.
"Have you been moving paintings around?" Draco pointed and watched Grunt sneer at him, "I don't remember seeing this one in this room before?"
"Grunt has not touched anything. This painting was part of your mother's private collection and was located in the attic but Grunt did not move it into this room. Perhaps Master should get all the facts first".
"No need for the tone Grunt, don't make me take my anger out on you", warned Draco. "Remember what happened before?"
Grunt took a step back and narrowed his eyes before bowing again, "Grunt never forgets but Grunt still did not touch Miss Cissy's paintings". His eyes glazed over in reverence as he thought of Draco's mother.
"Get out then", Draco replied quickly deciding that it didn't matter before moving to kick his hideous elf but Grunt scuttled out of the way first.
"As Master wishes", he said walking to the door before muttering, "Killed Miss Cissy, deserves everything he gets".
"I can still hear you, you filthy cretin. Get out" said Draco, climbing into bed wearily all the fight leaving him.
He heard the door shut but he stared the painting for a long time before falling asleep, who had moved it in here and why was it unsettling him?
His eyes began to close and he watched as the fire that heated his room slowly died down.
"You don't have to do this", her whispers were frantic as she crossed the tower to stand in front of him.
"Have you been waiting on the stairs this whole time to come and speak to me?"
"I'm serious Draco, please, don't do this. I can help you, I want to help you". She grabbed his arm gently and moved her hand lower until she was clasping his hand. "We could be together".
"You don't really want me", he replied intertwining his fingers with hers and moving her hand up to his lips, pressing gently.
"I do, I love you. Don't do this, come with me, switch sides. Don't let the death eaters in and we can actually be together".
He lifted his hand and rubbed a thumb along her jawline, listening to her moan catch in her throat.
"This is a dream", he whispered and it took everything he had to say those words. "A good one all the same but still…just a dream".
"No, Draco. I'm not a dream, I'm real and I love you. Don't do this", she leaned into him then and pushed her lips against his allowing him to taste her again as he so longed to do. He sighed heavily into her before pulling away.
"It's still a dream", he whispered pressing his forehead against hers. "But let's imagine I said yes".
Draco twisted in his sleep and let out a small whimper of frustration but he didn't wake. His dreams plagued him constantly and it killed him that even in sleep he was permitted no relief. He felt punished even during the hours when he should have been allowed to escape the horror of his situation. Instead, he stepped into every dream knowing that that's exactly what they were.
Dreams.