A/N: Annnd the third chapter! Thanks again for everyone's patience, reviews, favorites, story alerts and for generally being awesome. Hope this doesn't disappoint!
Christmas was a mere two weeks away. Draco supposed he should get his arse in gear and get Harry a present…except…Draco had no idea what Harry would possibly want.
After a week of finding nothing remotely appropriate in any store he found the time to look in, Draco was starting to get desperate-desperate enough to look inside his own house.
There was a few boxes of things from the old Malfoy manor that his mother had given to him, without his father's knowing, before they fled for Italy after the War. Draco had never bothered to look through them-too many memories he would rather stay buried…
Draco switched on the closet light, narrowing his eyes at the offending boxes. It was a travesty that he had allowed them, and the memories they contained, to haunt him for so long. It was an even worse travesty that his hunt for a present for Potter, of all people, was what made him realize this.
"Damn Scarhead," Draco grunted to himself as he tore into the first box.
It was full of Draco's old childhood things. It didn't take long for it to be obvious that there was nothing present worthy in, for though Draco might have found a toy dementor or troll amusing to receive (which he did, once upon a time) he seriously doubted that Harry would.
After a moment of looking at the two toys-he really did have a bizarre and dark childhood-he dropped them back into the box and shoved it aside.
The second box was full of his old school things-old textbooks, random bits of blank and written on parchment, a Slytherin Quidditch banner…he smiled slightly as he came upon a 'Potter stinks' badge. His own idea, and a great one at the time. He sighed as he put it back, sliding the box aside. He couldn't help but wonder what younger, fourth year Draco would make of present day adult Draco's current situation…
The third box was a surprise. It wasn't any of Draco's old things, but his grandfather's. Lucius had hated his own father, so Draco had only seen him once-one disastrous Christmas when he was eight years old. His grandfather had been a Slytherin, too, but at times it had seemed to even eight year old Draco that he have behaved more like a Gryffindor, which somehow made Lucius angry…and for some reason, which Draco was still not privy to today, Lucius had cut all ties with his father, just as he had with his son. But Draco's grandfather had taken an instant liking to his grandson that Christmas, and had started sending young Draco letters in secret.
As Draco dug through the box, he noticed that all those letters were here, crisp yellowed envelopes scattered among his grandfather's things…suddenly, his hand found something smooth and cold underneath a thick stack of letters. Curious, he pulled it out.
It was his grandfather's pocket watch, the last thing he had sent to Draco before the letters had stopped coming his third year. Though it had been his grandfather's the plain gold watch had never meant much to Draco-it didn't even work, no matter how many times he had cast Reparo on it, and the clasp was a bloody pain to open…but perhaps Potter would appreciate it as an antique, if nothing else. Perhaps he could even get it to work again…
With this in mind, Draco got up to hunt down a small box and some wrapping paper.
…
The next week flew by in a blink of an eye, and Draco soon found himself walking up the garden path to Harry's three story Georgian house. It was beautiful-the product of an overworked auror's salary-but it had the haunted feel of a mausoleum. No children played here, no wife puttered around cleaning up and scolding…the house's only resident was gone for long periods of time…Draco's heart ached as he recognized the glaring similarities to his own life.
He sniffled. "Damn Scarhead," he growled to himself before banging loudly on said Scarhead's front door.
It opened to Potter and his old, disgustingly perky grin. "Hey Draco. Come on in."
When Draco followed him in, he was instantly assaulted with twinkling lights. Potter had gone crazy with them-it literally looked like Father Christmas had vomited his holiday cheer all over the house. Lights, mistletoe, candy canes, Santas and elves were everywhere.
"How many did you say would be here?" Draco asked dubiously.
Harry's grin faltered. "Just us."
Draco shook his head to himself as Potter led him further into the house. He didn't know whether to say thank you for going through all the trouble, or to comment on how sad it was. In the end, he said nothing at all, thoughts of his own empty, decorationless house looming large in his mind.
Potter-Harry, Draco corrected himself-led him into the living room, where a small Christmas feast waited on a low table, in front of a roaring fireplace. A considerably large, fully decked out Christmas tree sat proudly in the corner, a few presents underneath it. It was actually rather…cozy. Draco found himself telling Harry so as they sat down to the small feast. Harry beamed happily in response.
Before they could start, however, there was another knock on the door. Harry gave Draco a curious look. The former Slytherin raised a pale eyebrow. "Don't look at me. I didn't invite anyone."
Harry actually rolled his eyes. "Obviously."
Draco glared back, but there was no real heat behind it. "Go to hell, Potter." Harry just laughed and went to go see who it was.
A few minutes later, and he came back, Weasley in tow. "Sorry, Harry," he was saying. "Hermione kicked me out."
Draco snorted, drawing Weasley's attention, which quickly became a glare. "What the bloody hell is the ferret doing here?"
Draco smirked, cocking his head slightly. "What's the matter, slugs? Jealous?"
Weasley started to lunge at him, but Harry grabbed his shoulder. "He's here because I invited him, Ron. Now can you two please not fight? Its Christmas."
Weasley had the decency to look ashamed. "Sure, Harry. Sorry."
Harry seemed to relax, his cheerfulness returning. "Don't worry about it. I'm glad you're here. Both of you." He shot Draco a challenging look as Weasley looked away. Draco made a face back but said nothing.
He may have been able to tolerate Weasley's presence, except for one thing, something that quickly became apparent as the day wore on into evening: alcohol loosened Weasley's tongue-and not a little bit. It wasn't long at all until he was regaling them with a more detailed explanation as to why he was here.
"I wanted to bring everybody over here to have Christmas with you, Harry, but Hermione said the kids needed to see the rest of the family so we had a big fight…but that wasn't the half of it…"
Draco tried to keep quiet, for the sake of being a good guest, but the Weasley family soap opera was just too much. "Good God, Weasley, enough already."
Weasley glared at him-or at least, Draco assumed Weasley was glaring at him; his drunken gaze was actually pointed somewhere over his shoulder. "Shove it, ferret. Nobody asked your opinion."
Draco glanced over at Harry, who was getting that pinched, pained look on his face again. "I can understand why Granger threw him out now."
Weasley lurched to his feet, hands balling into tight fists. "Well at least when its all said and done, I will still have a wife and kids to come home to, and a proper family. What have you got, Malfoy? Oh right, nothing! Your wife and kid left your miserable ass, and you ratted out the rest of your friends and family to the Ministry to save your own skin!"
That was not a good nerve for anyone, especially Weasley, to strike. Draco slammed his mug of after dinner coffee down hard enough on the table in front of him to make the thick glass crack. "Do you want to know the real reason why I 'ratted' them all out?" His voice was deadly quiet, his grey gaze hot enough to melt steel. "I'll tell you. They were all Death Eaters, gathering together to finish what the Dark Lord started with the War." Draco leaned closer to Weasley, his voice dropping another mesmerizing degree. "Want to know how they were going to do it, Weasley? First, they were going to destroy Hogwarts, wiping it and everyone in it completely from existence. Then they were going to systematically murder every one of the student's families, until they found you, Potter, Granger, and whatever remained of the Order of the Phoenix. When they found you, they were planning to torture each one of you, until killing you would be a greater mercy than letting you live. That, Weasley, is why I turned against my own flesh and blood, to save Hogwarts and every ungrateful ass within and without its walls, so do not make the mistake of insulting me by thinking you know me, you bloody Weasley bastard."
As Weasley stared at him in shock, mouth hanging open and skin ashen, Draco took a deep, calming breath and turned to Harry. From the look on his face, Draco's monologue had been news to him, too. Typical of the Ministry to keep such a truth hidden, even from its own aurors and their archives. "Thank you, Harry, inviting me, but its time for me to go now. Merry Christmas."
He was halfway down the garden path, when Harry burst out the house behind him. "Draco, wait."
Draco glanced behind him, but didn't stop. Harry caught up with him just as he reached the gate. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I seriously doubted that you would have believed me. And if the Auror Archives weren't so inadequate, you'd already know."
He smiled sheepishly as he gazed at Draco. "Now I feel like double-no triple an ass."
Somehow, the comment made Draco laugh. "I would say inviting me over for Christmas made up for it, but…"
Harry flinched. "Yeah, sorry. I love the guy, he's my best mate, but he can be a total bastard sometimes, especially when alcohol is involved…" He looked over at Draco again, suddenly shy. "I don't suppose walking you home would count as a good apology?"
Draco shrugged. "A walk would be a nice start."
They started off, with no particular destination in mind, just walking side by side in the deepening evening.
Harry's house was at the end of a quiet lane, with a beautiful little park only a few blocks away. As they walked along the little cobblestone path that wound around the edge of the park, every bush, tree and flower in the miniature garden around them gilded in the warm glow of a sunset, Harry's hand brushed Draco's. When Draco didn't put any distance between them at the accidental touch, Harry's hand reached out again, this time deliberately, his long, slender fingers curling around Draco's, almost timidly. Draco stopped, turning to face him, opening his mouth to speak-to say what, he wasn't sure. But he never got the chance.
A bush exploded into ominous purple flame right next to them. They jumped apart, instantly drawing their wands.
"Expelliarmus!" snarled a voice from behind Harry. Harry's wand shot off, end over end, into the growing dark, and before either of them could act, two very familiar shapes-one large and bulky, the other tall and slim-Apparated in out of nowhere, grabbing Harry by both arms and forcing him to his knees.
"Draco!" Another slightly smaller form appeared, right next to Draco.
He stared in horror as the face materialized. Crabbe. Vincent bloody Crabbe, looking as if he'd just risen from the dead. The skin of his face was sallow, eyes bruised looking and sunken in-a face from Draco's worst nightmares, come back to haunt him. He started to back away, but Crabbe grabbed his arm.
It wasn't an aggressive or restraining move-in fact, Crabbe was beaming. "Draco! We came back for you, so we can finish His work. Together, like the old days."
Suddenly, Draco had trouble breathing. It was a long second before he could get enough air to speak. "But…I…?"
Crabbe smiled, and Draco could see pure madness glinting in those dark eyes. "Don't worry, Draco. We know you had no choice but to give us up. We forgive you."
"You can make it up to us." Goyle's voice issued from one of the hooded figures holding Harry, the one directly in front of Draco. "Kill Potter. Avenge our Master."
It sounded scripted-a rehearsed speech. In a sudden flare of dark humor, Draco was surprised Goyle even knew words like 'avenge'.
If it was scripted, Crabbe must not have gotten a copy, because his madness-tinged glee was completely genuine. "Yeah, Draco! Kill Potter!"
That was when it truly sunk into Draco's adrenaline-laced brain what was going on. A wild laugh threatened to claw its way out of his throat. Kill Potter? The Boy Who not only Lived, but destroyed the most feared and relentless killer known to wizard and Muggle alike?
But when Draco looked down at Harry, at the frozen look on his face, it wasn't that man that he saw. He didn't see that ridiculous scar. All he saw was Harry, and all the time they'd spent together over the months, every awkward, weirdly intimate second of it.
He couldn't do it. He couldn't kill Harry, not Harry, because…because…
Because he loved him.
The revelation came at such a horribly cliché moment, that even though he was surrounded by crazy homicidal wizards he once called his friends, Draco almost rolled his eyes at himself. Almost. Merlin's balls, Draco. One little tryst and you're turning into a damn girl.
Cliché as it was, it made his vision snap into the perfect focus Slytherins were known for. And just like the snake that adorned his former House's crest, he knew exactly how to strike at his former allies. A wicked Malfoy smile fourth year Draco would have been proud of pulled up the sides of his mouth.
"Let go of me, Crabbe," he said flatly, channeling his arrogant younger self. Crabbe let go, instantly backing away to give him room. Draco locked gazes with Harry, raising his wand.
"Decelerandio!" He shouted. Crabbe's smile slowly morphed into a look of surprise as time suddenly slowed to a crawl for him, Goyle, and the third man. "Accio Harry's wand!"
The second the smooth wood touched his palm, he brought both their wands to bear, shouting, "Stupefy!"
Crabbe and Goyle flew backward, Crabbe slamming into and knocking down the third man. As the newly freed Harry stared up at him in shock, he growled, "Don't just sit there, Potter! Run!" Harry jumped up-too quickly; he staggered. Draco grabbed his hand, taking off.
Behind them, four more Death Eaters appeared. New followers? Crabbe and Goyle couldn't have gathered them all on their own. They had been duller than a box of rocks back in school; he seriously doubted that had changed with five years of maturity…
A new voice rang out as Draco grabbed Harry and yanked him behind a large oak. "He's chosen his allegiance, Crabbe! Kill him along with Potter!" Zabini. It made sense now. It also meant that they were now in worse trouble than Draco had originally thought.
"Harry," Draco shoved Harry's wand into his hand. "call some aurors down now, or we're dead."
He nodded, raising his wand. Draco flinched as bright red sparks shot into the air, forming the outline of a phoenix before disappearing.
"Dammit, Potter-"
"Sorry, but there was no other way," he whispered apologetically.
"How long?"
"There's a few auror families nearby. If they saw it…ten minutes, at most."
Draco let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Harry squeezed his hand. "Come on. We need to move."
Pursuit had started after them, and if Draco knew Blaise, he would have them paired and spread out, marching forward to flush them out into the open street beyond the park.
Harry pulled on his hand. "This way."
They darted off, around the edge of the park, dodging in between the ornamental trees and bushes. Harry was leading them back toward his house. Good idea-if they could barricade themselves inside, they could hold out until Harry's fellow aurors arrived.
They never reached it.
It was so close, that open street behind Zabini's line, but as he had been wont to do when he played chess with Draco at school, Zabini cheated.
Draco had been right-Zabini had formed his men into pairs and a line, but Zabini himself was stationed where he could see them if they managed to escape through the rear. Draco saw him just as Harry stepped off the curb.
"Harry!" Draco growled in warning, turning.
Before Draco could bring his wand up in defense, Zabini was already slashing violently with his wand. "Sectumsempra!"
A force slammed into Draco's chest, making him stagger back against Harry. He dully heard Harry shout out a counter, but all he could see was red, leaking out of a long, jagged cut across his chest.
"Draco!" He didn't even realize he was sinking until Harry grabbed him, wrapping his arm around Draco's waist and pulling Draco's arm around his shoulders. "Come on, they're coming!"
It wasn't until they started running that the pain came, blurring his vision. Every breath sent ripple of excruciating fire radiating across his chest. He gritted his teeth, pushing through the pain. He'd be a thrice-damned Mudblood Muggle lover if he were the one to slow them down.
But even Draco's formidable will paled in the face of blood loss. By the second block he felt himself slipping…
"Draco!" The rough shake and the sheer panic in Harry's voice jolted him back. "Hang on, okay? We're almost there."
But when they turned the corner onto Harry's street, Harry jerked to a stop. As Draco sagged a little, Harry pulled him closer, his wand hand coming up to cup Draco's head against his chest.
A cold trickle of dread slithered down Draco's spine as he felt the frantic, fluttering beats of Harry's heart against his cheek. As the atmosphere around them suddenly turned bone chillingly cold, Draco's heart threatened to stop beating altogether.
No. Draco turned his head, peeking around Harry's shielding hand. Dementors, five of them, glided toward them. As they drifted closer, Draco pushed away from Harry. He flinched as another wave of deathly cold washed over them. Harry stiffened beneath Draco's hands, eyes going wide as he stared at the lead dementor…no, not at; through. They were affecting him quicker and more violently than Draco.
Draco grabbed his face. "Harry, look at me. Look at me, dammit!" He smacked him, hard enough to sting. Harry's gaze met his, and recognition flickered, but it disappeared just as quickly into a look of sheer horror as the dementors started to close in on all sides.
"Harry, come on." Draco frantically patted himself down, looking for his wand, but it wasn't there. He must have dropped it when he almost passed out.
For a moment, the dementor-inspired fear and hopelessness crashed in on him, racking his body with uncontrollable shivering. But then he shook his head hard, wrapping his hand over Harry's on the handle of his wand. He managed to pull it out of Harry's fear tightened grip, and point it at the dementor in front of them. His free hand found Harry's, his gaze never leaving his face.
"Expecto Patronum!" He yelled with all his might. There was a flash of white in his dark-tinged peripheral vision-and then that darkness swallowed him whole.
A/N: SUSPENSE! *gasps* (Okay, you can smack me through the computer for that one). Reviews are sugar and spice and everything nice to me =)