Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
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"Attention Passengers—we are about to approach our destination. At this time, please fasten your seatbelts. Thank you for flying British Airways." I jerked awake, still latched onto Draco's chest. The quiet plane was slowly coming back to life, lights were coming on and people were scurrying about, getting their things together.
Of course Draco was still sleeping. He looked so peaceful—I almost didn't have the heart to wake him.
"Draco Darling," I cooed, "Wake up." Like last time, he only pulled me tighter—like I was only real in his dreams, or something. I tried again, "Draco. You need to wake up—we're about to land."
He stirred, mumbling nonsense. I was finally able to wake him up a little bit, and detach myself from him. He kept my hand nestled in his, clung to my fingers like he needed them to sustain life. I didn't mind. It felt nice to feel so needed.
"Well, that hardly seemed like the torture I imagined it to be." I laughed lightly as the flight helper once again alerted us that we would be descending soon.
"Why did you think it was going to be torture?" He asked sleepily.
I laughed, feeling a desire to tell the truth, "Because I'd be stuck with you." I teased.
"Oh, thanks." He replied sarcastically.
"Well you know what I mean," I commented, continuing with, "We're doing quite well, aren't we?"
"Aside from earlier, yeah." He finished laughing.
The airport in California was the same as the one in England. Only the people were dressed differently, and they talked differently. Other than that it was the same as what I had seen previously. I was too tired to pay too much attention to the airport.
There was a stout, balding man in a suit waiting for us with a sign that read simply, "MALFOY PARTY." Draco led the way, keeping a firm grip on my hand, and hiding me slightly behind him.
"I'm Mister Malfoy," His face was instantly back to normal. He looked so intimidating—and not a force that you would want to go against. But at the same time, his face was lined with darkness. He looked so angry, so upset, so…depressed.
And that's when I remembered what my mother had told me—how I had forgotten, I couldn't begin to know.
He killed Dumbledore.
"Yes, Mister and Misses Malfoy, come with me and I'll take you to the inn." He replied with a bow.
I didn't take in much of the ride to the inn—and thankfully it was a short one. It felt so early in the morning, but here the night was still so young. It was strange, to put it simply. My mind was swimming with how I was going to talk to Draco. And for him to be here, right next to me—and remembering that; I couldn't let it go.
I needed to know what had happened. I needed to know that he was going to be okay, because from the looks of it—I didn't think he was.
"Stop staring at me like that," He asked, pushing my bangs out of my face.
"Like what?"
"We're here!" The chauffeur cheerfully announced. The inn resembled the leaky cauldron from the outside, but the inside was much classier, less rustic. Everything in the decor was clean lines, and neutral colors. It was nicer than the cabin feel of the leaky cauldron.
The chauffeur brought our suitcases inside, to only have changed hands to one of the servants working the inn, we quickly checked in and headed for our room.
It was still a shock to see the single bed, even though I was prepared for it. The room looked so romantic, with dim lighting and light gauzy fabrics everywhere. As soon as the servant had sat our things down, I turned to Draco.
"We need to talk," I said quietly, trying to gauge his reaction.
"If you want me to sleep in the floor, that's fine." He said running his fingers through his hair.
"No." I said quietly, walking towards him and taking his hands into my own. He turned his head to look at me, he had to look down—and the gap between our height made me giggle a little bit. Remembering what I needed to talk to him about killed any happiness that I'd just gained, "It's about something my mother said the other day. Something she said that you did."
"What is that precisely? If she said that I sleep with half the girls at Hogwarts, then she's wrong—I don't know why that deception has been spread around so freely." Once again, I could help but giggle. I knew well those rumors weren't true from what I'd heard from Pansy.
"That's not it, stop changing the subject. She said that any mission I was assigned with you was going to be dangerous." His face fell, "Because of what you did last." I continued, watching him with weary eyes, "She said that you killed Dumbledore."
He took a deep breath, looking away from me.
"Draco, look at me. I don't care if it's true or not—I don't. I just want you to be honest with me about it."
"Yes."
"Yes what?" I asked, scrunching my brows up.
"I was assigned to kill Dumbledore." He said, "I was supposed to stage an attack on the whole school. Seeing Potter frantic was more than enough to make me try for that. My Dad had been arrested, and sent to Azkaban. He failed to obtain a prophecy for the Dark Lord. Naturally, he was furious—so he assigned a task to me last summer." I felt silent tears fall from my eyes, "I had to see it through—I had too. I couldn't let my mother down. She begged me to take back the task, but how could I?"
"You did what you had to do for your family, Draco. No one can be upset with you for that."
"I couldn't do it, though." He replied quietly, staring over my shoulder, out the window into the darkness.
"What do you mean? Everyone says that you did."
"Snape killed him." He looked me directly in the eyes. "No one else was there—no one else saw. And he told me to keep it that way." I felt myself breathe a sigh of relief. I let his hands go and hugged him tightly to my chest, "What is that for?"
"You don't get hugged enough, I don't think." I tried to smile, but it was mostly lost. He laughed lightly, but his voice was still strained, "Are you okay?"
He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. "Truthfully?" I nodded, moving for him to continue, "I don't know. If Snape hadn't killed him—and stepped in at the last minute, I—" He took a deep breath, and looked at the carpet, "I don't think I could have. Sure, at that moment I was furious with Snape for stepping in. At that moment, I was so sure that if he had not interfered I would have finished him off. That's just it though—I hesitated. Dumbledore pathetically tried to reason with me. He tried to tell me that I didn't have to do that, and he could protect my family."
He laughed bitterly, "But no one is safe."
I felt the tears falling harder now, and couldn't help but hug him again. I was overwhelmed by all of these feelings that I had for Draco—feelings that, dare I say it? Reminded me an awful lot of love.
"It's okay, Draco," I tried to sympathize, but I knew that I was going to do a bad job at it. I had never almost killed someone, "It really is."
"No it's not. I failed, Hayley. I couldn't kill him. That's all I was supposed to do—kill him. His health has been going downhill, he was already ill. He barely gave a fight. And I couldn't do it."
"Shhh," I murmured, brushing the hair back from his forehead, "That doesn't mean that you failed. It truly doesn't. It just means that you weren't ready for something like that."
"We're on the brink of war, Hayley. We have to be ready for that."
I didn't say anything, the shock of his words overcame me and I just stood there, staring at my hands.
We were on the brink of a war. We were both going to have to kill people—we both might even die in war. It was at that moment I realized the full burden of the mark on my arm.
"I don't want to talk about this anymore," He yawned, "I'm getting tired—I'm going to go change into my pajama's."
And at that, the conversation was over. Usually when he ubruptly ended a conversation by walking out of the room, I was infuriated. Tonight—I was relieved. I mechanically changed into a pair of cotton shorts and an oversized t-shirt. And then, I sunk into bed, completely incapable of thought.
I stared at the ceiling, and for the first time in my life questioned if the side I had chosen was really what I believed in.
Draco and I should stay here in America. We should start over, be together, change our names, our appearances, and escape from that world—free of whatever strife, terror and outcome may result.
I knew that was completely unrealistic. We couldn't run now.
But the other part—the part about being together, now that…that wasn't entirely unrealistic. If it was all a part of the façade, we couldn't be blamed for playing the parts we'd been given.
I suddenly felt the weight on the bed shift, and turned to face Draco. In the darkness, his eyes glittered strangely. I could barely see the blue.
"So I was honest with you," He began, "Now I want you to be honest with me."
"Okay." I vowed.
"Why did you stay away?"
"Mum and Dad left for Isle Elladora—Blair and I went to France instead to stay with Grandmum. After what Emma did, we all needed to get away. From all of the whispers, all of the horrible looks that everyone else was giving us. The plan originally was for us to all return back home after the summer was over—a week before the start of term at Hogwarts.
"I came home with them—as did Grandmummy, and during that week Emma visited. She brought Charlie with her. Not actually with her, but he was staying at an inn a few miles away." There were only two people I had ever talked to about this with—my sister, Blair, and my grandmother. "She was so sure that my parents, after seeing her happiness at her elopement, that they would accept him with open arms the way that his parents had so freely accepted her. Only they didn't. My Mother told Emma that she was dead to her, the least of the nasty things. She threatened to do awful things to her if she didn't leave. And that she never wanted to see—or hear from her again. That's when I realized that my mother was a monster. And that's when I decided to go back to France, and stay away from her as long as I possibly could."
"Why didn't you tell me that then?" He brushed my hair out of my face, pulling it back onto my pillow, "I would have understood—I would have helped."
"It's not that big of a deal, Draco."
"Yes it is. I was your best friend, you should have felt that you could tell me."
"I didn't think you'd want to talk to me."
"You mean after our fight?" He asked quietly. I hadn't thought of that fight in years. It was right after Mum and Dad had discovered that Emma was in love with Weasley. I had gone to Draco, startled and upset for some kind of comfort—something to help ease the situation. He had laughed, and told me that what she was doing was against our ways. That she was rubbish. And I had punched him in the face. His voice was pleading as he continued, "I told you a million times that I was sorry. And I am."
"I know, and I forgive you—I do. I'm also sorry for punching you. But I didn't think you'd want to talk to me—and if I had, at the time you would have said I told you so."
"No, I wouldn't have." He defended himself.
"Yes, you would have. But that's alright." I took a deep breath, "It's that you're not saying it now that counts."
"I'm glad you finally shared that with me." I was glad, too, "I guess it's goodnight then?"
"One more thing—" I began, afraid I'd lose my nerve if I didn't say it now, "Remember what you asked me earlier?"
"I asked you a lot of things earlier." He laughed lightly.
"About the next two weeks." I hinted.
"Oh," He looked embarrassed, even in the darkness.
"I've been thinking," I took a deep breath, "And let's do this. Let's drop everything, and not fight it."
"What about if I fall in love with you? Or if you fall in love with me?"
"I don't think that's an issue."
"Why not?"
"Because, regardless of what our parents wish, and regardless of the situation at home—it's already true."
"Are you saying that you love me? What happened to Flint is the perfect person for me?"
"I'll be happy with him," I answered, "But this is our only shot. For the next two weeks, I want to be happy with you."
He didn't say anything. He didn't make any comments about how we were going to get in over our heads—because Merlin knows it was already too late to say that.
He kissed me. With so much passion, and intensity that it felt like he'd been saving up that kiss for the last seven years.