Author's Note:
To my vastly talented beta reader, Lady Lily Malfoy, I think you must be lost! No worry. Just send up a flair and I'll send a search party to find you.
To Mireille, my little future co-writer, where is chapter three of "Touch of the Fallen One"? I know you gave some bla bla excuse about it being delayed, but I want it! Smiles No pressure.
To GoldenPhoenix 12, so far, I'm loving your "Harry Potter and the Quest for Peace."
To Jonadark, it is always a joy to hear from you.
And to my lovely bride, I miss you! Come home safe and sound, and bring our bouncing baby with you. I still find your dislike for poor Draco a bit disconcerting. Really, now. HE'S NOT THAT BAD!
The poem is just a little something I wrote a while ago. I thought it fit well with this chapter.
Chapter Five
How can you believe in me,
When ugliness is all you see?
And how can you believe that I,
Can hold you as you gently lie,
And tell me things I want to hear,
From year to never-changing year?
If you are a martyr, be gone from me,
If you are a saint, then fly on broken wings,
Away from my not so perfect door,
I'll hear from you of my mistakes no more.
Forgive or forsake,
This is the choice you've left to make,
Believe or be gone,
The past is the past, I must move on.
Then
"Well," Potter said uncertainly "it's just that…"
"Just that what?" Draco wanted to know. He was furious! They had been getting on so nicely up till now!
"Well," Potter said again "Malfoy has always set me up to fail. It's nothing personal against you, I assure you. I respect that you like him and all that."
"Nothing against me?" Draco gave a dry and humorless laugh. "Potter Potter Potter, you would be surprised just how personal it really is."
"Look," Potter said in a reasonable, professor-like tone "we barely know each other, Drayia, and I hope we can know each other better. You seem like a really nice person, and though I respect you, I fail to see why I must like all the people you like. People can be friends, -- or more than friends without having to agree on everything, you know."
"Could you at least try to like him?" Draco asked.
"Nope," Potter said stubbornly.
"But you don't even know him!" Draco said indignantly. He could feel the hope draining away from his soul, leaving only emptiness behind. He had always loved Potter, and somewhere inside, he had hoped Potter could feel the same. Now, if Potter saw through his disguise, he would walk away and never look back. This frightened him, and Draco Malfoy hated fear. Fear always lead to a deep, all-consuming rage, and when the flames of rage died away, Draco was left with that yawning emptiness which then inspired fear.
"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea," Potter said, giving Draco a very strange look. "You're scaring me."
"I'm scaring you, am I Potter?" Draco asked silkily. "You don't respect me anymore? Don't want to be more than friends with me now because I'm a Malfoy, because you feel sorry for yourself, is that it?"
Slowly and deliberately, Draco was backing Potter into one of the dark corners at the back of the dance floor. He wished fervently for Father's staff topped with the familiar head of a silver Serpent. He wanted to strike Potter, beat him, crush him, demand his respect and attention by proving his superiority with physical force. Potter was scared of him? Good! Fear hurt, and Draco wanted Potter to hurt. Draco wanted Potter to hurt with fear because his rejection was only moments away, and that would cause Draco pain. Nobody hurt Draco without ending up hurt themselves. Tom had always called this Draco's pain for pain issue.
"I'm sorry," Harry said gently, his voice breaking through Draco's thoughts. "If I had known Malfoy was your brother, I would have agreed to try and like him at least a little. I know how important family is, believe me."
The sincerity in those emerald eyes melted Draco's hard shield of anger. He felt stupid for having wanted to beat Potter with Father's staff, and he wondered why that thought had even crossed his mind. He had sworn to himself never to be like Father, never to hurt just for the power of it, and yet, given the chance, Draco would have done that very thing just moments ago.
"Drayia?" Harry asked softly, wiping away a tear Draco hadn't known was there. "What is it? What are you thinking?"
"Nothing -- Harry," Draco said, smiling slightly. "Let's get out of here."
"That's fine with me," Harry said agreeably, guiding Draco off the dance floor with an arm about his waist. "Gay clubs freak me out. Your place or mine?"
For a moment, Draco tried to picture his Father's reaction if he came strolling through the gates of Malfoy Manor with Harry Potter. "Your place, if it's okay," Draco said with a laugh. "I'm a Malfoy, and as such, I don't think you'd be too welcome at mine."
"No," Harry said, waving goodbye to his friends "I suppose not. Harry's friends waved back, doubled over with laughter, and Draco wondered what was so funny. Granted, they were an odd pair, but even this wouldn't warrant such mirth, would it?
"Have fun, Dray Dray!" Pansy called, waving happily.
"Bye Pans," Draco said, smiling and waving back.
"Are you ready?" Harry asked once they were out in the open air. Draco nodded, and Harry grabbed his hand, disapperating.
Once at their destination, Draco looked around. They were in the center of a small, neatly-kept livingroom. A long leather sofa sat against one wall, underneath an open window. Across from it, an overstuffed rocking chair crouched next to an end table. Nothing matched, and yet, everything seemed to go together.
"Well," Harry said with a smile "it's not exactly Malfoy Manor, but here we are."
"I like it," Draco said sincerely, smiling back. "It's a nice change.
Harry swung Draco up into his arms, carried him to the sofa, and gently set him down on it before taking a seat beside him. "I can walk, you know," Draco told him, laughing.
"I know," Harry said, encircling Draco's shoulders with a well-muscled arm "but you're a lady. You shouldn't have to all the time."
"I'm a what?" Draco asked, confused. "Oh yeah. Listen, Harry. About that, I didn't mean to deceive you but…"
But now Harry's lips were on his, and Draco forgot everything but the soft, all-consuming warmth that was Harry's kiss. Draco's arms wound about Harry's neck of their own volition as the kiss deepened, as emerald met blue-gray in an unbreakable gaze. Harry broke the kiss at last, pulling Draco effortlessly up onto his lap and holding him close.
"Look Malfoy," he said, resting his cheek against Draco's hair "I don't care who you are, I don't care who your parents are, and I don't care that you looked like you could have killed me back there. There we were, you and I against the world with all those gay people everywhere, and I knew."
And he knew! Draco let Harry's last three words sink in. He knew everything! It had taken him a long, long time, but now Harry knew and loved him anyway! Draco was relieved. Three hours had passed, and he could feel the voice modification spell wearing off. He had been afraid it would wear off before he had a chance to tell Harry the truth, but now, it didn't matter.
Believe it or not," Draco said, his voice suddenly back at its original depth "I've always loved you, Harry."
"You-you what?" Harry stared, goggle-eyed. "You're a, -- I mean, -- you're, --Malfoy?"
"Of course I am," Draco said, confused. "You just said you knew."
"Right," Harry said, color rising in his cheeks "I said I knew! I meant that I knew you were the girl for me, but you're not a girl at all!" Forcefully shoving Draco away, Harry jumped to his feet and ran for the door.
"Harry, wait," Draco said pleadingly. "Listen to me. I didn't mean to trick you. Well, not for long anyway. I was just, …"
But Harry had opened the door and fled. Draco stood to go after him, but Tom put a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Let him go, Draco," Tom said with gruff gentleness.
"No!" Draco protested, wheeling around in their shared mind so that he and Tom were face to face. "I have to go after him! I need to explain!"
"Don't make me take power from you, boy," Tom threatened. "If you go after Potter now, you'll only make things worse. He lives here, remember? Let him come to you when he's cooled down. Then you can explain."
"Why are you helping me, Tom?" Draco asked, suspiciously.
Tom sighed, brushing the question away with a dismissive jesture. "It gets ruddy boring living in the back of your pathetic mind. A man's gotta have some entertainment, you know."
"And I'm entertaining?" Draco asked.
"Not very," was Tom's response "but the Draco and Potter show is at least something to watch while I wait to rule the world."
This earned Tom a sad smile. "Tom, you know you'll never rule the world."
"You're right," he said smugly "but together, we will."
"But Tom," Draco said logically "I'll never rule the world either, and you know it."
"I know no such thing!" Tom said vehemently. "Why in Merlin's name do you deme yourself incapable of doing something as simple as ruling the world?"
"Simple?" Draco was increduless. "Ruling the wourld would be anything but simple. Besides, I'm not the one to do it. I can't even rule Harry's world."
"Ah, Potter again." Tom yawned. "All right, Draco. First, we'll get you ruling Potter's world, as you so tritely put it. Then, we'll rule the real world! How about that?"
"But-but how?" Draco asked, fighting back the tears that threatened so ominously.
The tears fell anyway, and rather than laughing at Draco's weakness as he usually would, Tom wiped them while at the same time pretending not to see. "I'm assuming you aren't thinking of your political interests and asking me how we will rule the world, correct?"
"I don't care about the world!" Draco said angrily. "I don't care about anything! Maybe I should just leave."
"Leave?" Tom asked impatiently. "You want to leave and give up your precious Potter? Leave and give him the easy way out?" Tom grabbed Draco by the sholders and yanked him closer. "You listen to me, you insipid, pathetic little pessimist! The boy who lived to screw you over was in a gay club! He was sober, and by the looks of him, he was under no imperious curse, and believe me, I know my imperious curses. When he walked in to that club, he, like everyone else in the universe, knew that in a gay club, no actual woman would give a man the time of day. If someone in a dress comes to dance with you and you're a man, you know damn well that he is no more female than you! Potter likes you a whole hell of a lot if he voluntarily took you to his house, but as always, he has to play the innocent little victim. Aww poor Harry, tricked in to bed by his arch rival! Well you know what Draco, it's not going to work this time! You are going to park your arss right there on that couch and wait for Potter to come home. Then the two of you, or him and I, are going to have a long, long talk about the way he's behaved!"
Draco stared. Never before had he seen Tom speak so much to him, so angrily, and so on his behalf. "But tom," he said after a minute "I lied to him. He thought I was my own sister, and I did nothing to…"
"Draco Lucius Malfoy!" Tom broke in. "Are you listening to yourself? Harry thought you were your own sister? Everyone in the wizarding world knows you don't have a sister! Potter was just pretending to think you might have a sister so he wouldn't have to admit to himself that he is, Merlin forbid, gay!"
"It's hopeless, Tom." Draco sighed, turning away and laying his head in his hands. It was a jesture he would never assume physically, but here in the dark sanctuary of his mind, nobody could see him. … Nobody, that is, except Tom. Draco felt himself being lifted from behind and swung around.
"I have two questions for you, little boy,"" Tom said, holding Draco off the ground "and if you answer them to my satisfaction, I will leave you to your self-pitying thoughts. Deal?"
"Fine," Draco said flatly.
"First," Tom said, beginning to spin around and around "what is your name?"
"It's Draco," Draco said, looking at Tom as though he had suddenly gone mad. "You know that."
"Ah," Tom said indulgently "but Draco what?.
"Malfoy," Draco answered, wondering where Tom was going with this.
"And what are Malfoys?" Tom asked, still spinning.
"Invinsible." Draco knew that answer without even thinking. It was one his Father had drilled in to him at an early age, dancing about the gardens while he did so, … and then it clicked. Tom was dancing him around now as Father had done then, asking the same question and looking for the same answer.
"What's your name?"
"Malfoy."
"And what are Malfoys?"
"Invinsible."
Faster and faster they spun. The mind now looked like the gardens of home, and Tom leapt over small plants, twirling Draco above his head, throwing and catching him as he asked the same question until Draco again believed it.
"What's your name?"
"Malfoy."
"And what are Malfoys?"
"Invinsible."
"What's your name!"
"Malfoy!"
"And what are Malfoys!"
"Invinsible!"
After a long, long time, Tom stopped, flopping down on the newly-imagined, perfectly manicured grass. "I'm getting entirely too old for this," he said, setting Draco down in front of him.
"I thought you said you were immortal," Draco said with a grin. "Not that that's true, you know. You're a part of me, so when I die, you die."
"Perhaps you are right," Tom said, thinking fondly of Miss Pansy Parkinson, his life, his mortality, his undoing. Unsuccessfully, he tried to imagine a world where she lay dead and buried. "But you can bet your ass I'm still as invinsible as you."
Draco lay back on the grass, closing his eyes. The long fringe of lashes against his cheeks made him look so young, so fragile, Tom mused. "Tom?" he said sleepily.
"Hmm?" Tom answered, preparing to sit watch while the boy slept.
"Thank you."