Chapter Five: Truce

Draco came to a peculiar conclusion, when alone, quite often, he felt alright. He'd feel heavy, tired and lonely, but then he'd take a deep breath and realise that he wasn't in pain. He hadn't really thought about it the first couple of days, but then it sunk in. He was walking round the lake dressed in his thickest jacket and a warming spell when it hit home. He was able to walk without feeling tired. With a tinge of surprise, he listened to his stomach growling. He stopped in his tracks with a sigh. As he breathed in deeply, he felt the cool air sinking into his body, bringing a form of warmth and comfort that he'd been missing.

He paused. If he truly concentrated, he could feel the presence on his right, as if he'd been walking by his side, right from the beginning. He stopped and just felt it for a moment. He closed his eyes and basked in the radiance emitted next to him. He could have sworn that he felt a warm breath against his neck, heard a heartbeat ringing against his arm.

He wanted to turn and face it, confront all of this, but something stopped him. He wanted it – him, part of him acknowledged - to stay close and he also wanted to know. He felt alright during those moments and he desperately wanted it to remain. He stayed silent and let it pass.

It happened several times and a kind of unease settled between them. Draco looked at him during class, and sometimes he'd look back. Draco had a nagging feeling that Potter knew more than he should.

Finally, when he entered the library one afternoon, he could feel him there. His hands itched to reach for that sweet skin, but he still didn't want the git. He needed his proximity without wanting it. He saw Potter sitting at one of the back tables with Granger.

He took a deep breath and a decision. With a firm heart he walked over to him and said with determination, "Potter, a word." His heart skipped a beat when Golden Boy looked at him.

Potter excused himself to Granger and walked into an alley, sending a glance to Draco over his shoulder. The latter breathed in and followed him into the History section.

Without looking at him and without wasting a second he ordered, "I demand to know why you are following me."

Potter sighed and leaned against the books. "I'm not really sure, Malfoy," he started. "You seem different, it's odd."

Draco looked up, only to find him staring intensively. The piercing gaze was enough to make him look away.

"I mean look at you," he continued. "You glamour your face, and probably a hell of a lot more. You sneak out all the time. What are you trying to do? Starve yourself in the name of the Lord?"

Draco wanted to answer, snap at him, be mean, anything. In all fairness, he hadn't even thought of the Dark Lord and he wasn't at that time. He couldn't think of anything actually, only that he could feel Potter's power through their proximity in the tiny alley, and it felt amazing.

"This is what I mean!" the Golden boy interjected. "Here I am insulting you and you just stare. What the hell is up with you?"

Draco snapped out of his stupor and took a step back. "I still don't need a hero, Potter," he spat.

Potter got closer to him and leaned towards him in a whisper of, "Then will you stop looking like a fucking damsel in distress?"

Draco raised his hand without thinking and slapped it right against Potter's left cheek. The latter took a step back, bumping into the books. He balled his fists and started a dangerous motion, when Draco suddenly doubled over with a sharp outcry. His mark started burning so much, his entire side was on fire, his right arm felt numb and he collapsed forward. His head hit Potter's chest and he dug his nails into his arm.

"Fuck!" Potter caught him and without a shred of hesitation picked him up bridal style and ran to the hospital wing. Draco's last memory was looking up at his chin, stretching his hand to touch his skin. His mind had already gone, but he sensed the mark on his back glowing beneath the touch.

He didn't dare open his eyes after his beauty sleep. From the gnawing on the back of his neck, the fluttering in his fingers, the sweet pressure on his palm, he realised that Potter was still there. In the background, he heard Madam Pomfrey looking through her cupboard of Potions. He felt Potter's increased heartbeat, his own following the rhythm, triggering his flight or fight. He decided to fly. He took his hand back, mentioned nothing of it and sat up.

Potter observed. "Evening Princess," he then said.

Draco would have loved to hit him again, but having seen firsthand was it did to his system, he simply ignored him. "What time is it?" he asked.

To wit Potter easily answered, "Past dinner time."

Draco buried his head in his hands. "You can go, you know," he said sarcastically. "Potter saved the day again, thanks a lot and do call again."

Potter sighed and got up. "I'm tired of all this. Become normal real soon ok?" he said, avoiding all eye contact.

He disappeared before Draco could answer. He supposed it was the best get well he was going to get.

"It's him, isn't it?" Madam Pomfrey asked upon reaching his bed. "I noticed that you reach out for him in your sleep."

Oh how wonderful, Draco thought, I really am the fucking princess. He refused to answer and only politely let her do her duty, ticking her off when he considered her annoying.

Draco found that becoming normal again was going to be hard. He felt an itch beneath his skin and it was driving him mad. Emotions came over him and he felt certain they were not his own. Sadness when he'd find himself alone in bed, jealousy when seeing Potter with his Mudblood loving friends, the girls especially, excitement when he'd catch him looking; and a whole lot of others that he had no control over.

There came a bad day. Monday had always been the worst, a day in which he would neither cross nor see Potter. That specific Monday was even worse. He's always known he was attractive; with the added allure he was very popular indeed; but people had always stuck to just admiration. Look but don't touch, his mother had always said, but this morning a particular obnoxious Huffelpuff touched him, and it would seem it was the first falling domino, for very soon he found himself being caressed randomly. His mark was not enjoying the touches. After all that, he needed a break, a simple moment of reprieve and went to the Room of Requirements. When he arrived there he saw two people leaving it. They were holding hands and sending each other shy smiles. Draco thought he was going to die.

He ran to the nearest safe haven and came upon the girl's unused bathroom. His eyes were crying out and his entire body was shaking with sobs. He felt angry at himself, for accepting these foreign feelings; it only made him cry more. His mark was burning and he could feel it spreading over his ribs, close to his collarbone. He unbuttoned his shirt and looked at it. If he looked closely he could actually see it spreading round his back. He could feel it in his core, the madness settling in. Those foreign feelings were becoming his, even if he didn't understand it.

"Malfoy?" He heard from behind and he could have sworn he heard his mind fall to pieces right there and then.

He turned round and looked at his beautiful mate – because he was beautiful – and he felt so incredibly angry at him, angry for seeing him like this, angry that he was with Weasley, angry that he was his future. He started yelling at him, insulting him. He called him names, called his family names, told him to piss off, to go and freaking die already. Potter's temper got the better of him and soon they were throwing everything they had. Draco snapped and threw the first hex. It become a dual between lovers. They hid behind toilets, broke toilets, got Moaning Myrtle terrified; all the while breaking something from the inside.

Draco was so angry and so tired, so fed up with anything, that he completely lost himself. He raised his wand and the word was on the tip of his tongue, "Cru-" And then he got a blow.

He wasn't sure if it was his genes hating him for his actions, or something else. His wand dropped to the floor as he stumbled backwards. He touched his abdomen and a thin layer of blood poised itself onto his skin. He fell to his knees at the same time Potter threw himself to the floor to catch him.

"Oh Merlin, what have I done what have I done," he kept repeating, holding Draco almost tenderly, apologizing repeatedly.

Draco could not bring himself to hate him. He was past that, the madness was here and it had decided for him: Thou shalt not hate Harry Potter. And so he didn't.

Potter practiced every healing spell he knew but the bleeding continued. He grabbed a hold of Draco's face and searched his eyes. "Draco, Draco," he called. "Tell me what to do."

Draco tried his best to keep his eyes open but the pressure was making them fall shut. He was already so terribly weak that his body couldn't hold the blood loss much longer; but when he looked into the crying eyes of his mate, he found just enough strength to grab hold of Harry's wand and cast the strongest healing charm he possessed.

Potter then put an arm under his shoulders, the other under his knees and carried him. "Do you want to go to the hospital wing?" he asked.

Draco knew too damn well that if he was brought there, then Madam Pomfrey would know and she'd make sure that Harry was properly punished. A churning in his torso stopped him, instead he whispered, "Take me to the Room."

Neither needed explanations. Harry nodded and carried him without word. He didn't ask when Draco held onto his shirt tightly. It appeased him.

Harry laid Draco down on one of the chairs, now feeling unsure about the next step. He noticed the mark on Draco's body through his torn shirt and frowned. "What is really wrong with you?"

"Nothing," Draco replied quickly, sitting up best he could. "It's none of your business Potter. It's not even business."

"You haven't been purposely doing that, have you?" Harry added unsure.

"Even if I had Potter, it's still nothing to do with you; but I have not, no."

A silence settled between the two; a moment where Draco fidgeted and continued to perform some healing on his wounds. He found out that they had mostly healed through Harry's contact.

"Will you be okay?" The Gryffindor finally asked.

Draco nodded and looked at him. "There's no reason for you to stay. Hop off to your goody two shoes friends. Shoot dangerous hexes at them. Or is there anything you want?" he asked sarcastically.

Harry got up with a firm look in his eyes. "There is actually," he said determinedly. "I want to stop fighting. Clearly you're no longer up for it, and I've got better things to do. So..." He took two steps closer as the bold lion that he is and outstretched his hand for Draco. "What do you say?" he questioned tentatively. "Non violent truce?"

Draco stared at the hand for a while. On the one hand he wanted to take it, were it only to feel Potter's skin against his own once more; but on the other hand he had just been hexed. He was afraid it would be too much for his Veela to have the contact only to lose it. So all he did was reply:

"A truce is per definition non violent, Potter."

Potter rolled his eyes with an almost fond smile that made Draco's insides leap. "You never know with us," he replied and kept his hand firmly in place.

Draco waited a moment more and then nodded. "Truce then. But don't expect me to touch your hand, I don't know where you've been." He decided.

Harry shrugged at that. "Only in your blood," he answered with a slight blush.

Draco dropped his wand against his chest with a frown. "Too soon, Potter," he said. "Too soon, and also crude. Now go away before I throw more of my amazing blood on your disgusting face. You do not deserve the privilege."

Harry smiled an awkward grin. "Yeah I'm off. Will you be alright?" he asked before leaving.

In all fairness, Draco had forgotten about it and just nodded. With a flick of his hand he sent the Golden boy away. It was weird how things went, and Draco's 'animal side' had never been happier.

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*Edited