Firstly, I want to give a great big thumbs up, hugs and kisses to go2sleep! Thank you so much for your review. I don't receive many and yours was very touching, so really thank you for that. I do try to be somewhat quick in my posts. If my inspiration stays (which it usually doesn't) then there should be no problem!

Chapter Ten: Hide and Found.

There was a loud pop on the grounds of Hogwarts and two figures appeared in the confines of the forbidden forest. Draco had always hated apparition, and especially when carrying a trunk and an owl with him. He turned to his mother and froze; she was on the floor, groaning and holding onto her arm.

Draco ran to her and kneeled by her side. "What is it?" he asked, searching for spliced bones.

She showed her arm, where engraved in black and red, the dark mark was burning up, hot against her skin. She whispered through gritted teeth, "It's him. He knows we left, he's calling us back." She managed to get up, holding onto her mark and breathing deeply. She paused and looked up at Draco with a frown. "Don't you feel it?"

Draco rolled up his sleeve; the mark was there, but there was no reaction. He simply felt a slight sting from the freshness of the wound.

His mother heaved a sigh of relief, emitted a low hum at her own discomfort. "You know what this means, don't you?" she said. "The connection has not been made! Your genes must have pushed it away."

Draco observed the mark closely for a moment. He had it, it meant he was a death-eater, but he wasn't bonded to Voldemort, so to speak. He was still free. Free until he dies from a different bond. He tried helping his mother move around her pain, but he burned at every touch. He carried both their trunks.

"What will we do, Mother?" he asked as they walked their way up to the castle. He already felt better; his body knew and could feel that Harry was close by.

His mother shrugged. "It's hard to tell. Hogwarts is our safest corner but I would be lying if I said we're completely safe here. Lucius has authorisation to come here after all. I don't know. For now we will both stay here, you will remain here till the end of the year and I will probably go to Evelyn in France. For now this is good enough, Dumbledore has given us his protection, there's just not enough proof for him to forbid Lucius from coming," she explained.

Draco reacted on instinct upon hearing his headmaster's name. He remembered all too well his father berating him on the subject and Harry's backstabber story; but he wouldn't contradict his mother.

She smiled at him. "Hogwarts' magic works on me too," she said. "The mark hardly hurts anymore. The wards are stopping it."

Professor Dumbledore met them inside the castle, explaining the next steps. They were to stay in Draco's quarters and the house elves would see to their every need. Draco had the choice, if he so wished it, to make his presence known; but he did not wish it. The least people know of it, the better. So they moved onto the room, taking deserted hallways and avoiding every one. Part of Draco was hoping that Harry was sneaking round in his invisibility cloak, if only to make him feel again; but there was no one there.

The living space had been accommodated for two people, offering them the option of having their own room. They each went their separate ways into their private corner, too proud to talk. Draco undressed himself completely and stood in front of his mirror. It had spread, he knew it had. He had felt it growing during his torture, spreading to cover his body in one big tattoo. He gasped when he saw himself. Part of him knew that it must've grown, but not by so much. He had only been away from Harry three days; and as he saw it, he could feel it. Madness. His hands started shaking, his breathing became heavy.

The mark had taken over his entire left leg, circling round his flesh like a light blue python round his prey. It had started to damage the skin on his left arm as well as carving delicate shapes into his shoulder blades. Right there, the mark thickened and cut deeper into his skin, creating thick bands into his flesh, splitting into many thinner ones. Draco felt like we was slowly becoming a freak, an animal. He was losing his common sense when away from Harry, he was losing everything. He felt mad, the itch beneath his skin turning him into beast, craving a way out of this outer-body. He put his clothes back on slowly, reprocessing the image in his mind, turning it over and over.

He was going to die. His genes told him to irrationally chase after Harry, but his mind kept him on track and warned him that he would not make it. He held on to that bit of life with a desperate grip. He would continue to keep him as close as possible.

With that thought in mind, he took a parchment and quill from his desk and wrote.

Potter,

I am not surprised your ginger Weasel does not talk to you. After six years, I'd be tired of your company too. It's only been six weeks and I'm done with you as well.

Do stop going Gryffindor on me, it doesn't work. I'll never be the type to invite you over, you know?

Can I ask you something? It is somewhat less amusing. Supposing, and really supposing, that I really am a Death-Eater, would you still come to me with your boredom things? I am trying to find ways to get rid of you, you understand.

Once this question answered, you may never mention it again or you will become the ferret, pothead. Go on talk of your life, you seem quite fond of it.

Cordially,

Draco Malfoy.

Ps: Send your answer with my owl; he passes the Malfoy Wards a lot easier. His name is Arturo.

He sent it off, his heart thumping against his chest, trying to flee. He was scared, deep inside him he knew he was, scared that Harry's response was negative. He was especially scared that his genes would perceive this as a rejection and that he would spontaneously die, as irrational as it may appear.

He waited for his mother to sleep and snuck out to the Room of Requirements. He never felt Harry on the way. He sat in front of the mirror, his usual mirror, and he saw Harry sitting by his side. He saw him leaning closer and putting his head on his shoulder. The reflexions whispered and smiled to each other, Draco thought they held hands but it was out of the frame. He looked away, hoping the beating of his heart would calm down. He could not start wanting this for real, he shouldn't. He glanced back at the reflexion and they were just there, huddled up and talking like they were happy, like everything was normal. It was not normal.

When he returned to his room, Arturo had already come back with the reply. He gave him a sweet and opened the folded note.

Draco,

Oh don't worry, I know you'll never invite me. You're the girl and I'm the guy, that's the way etiquette works.

Right, that's an interesting and unexpected question. Scared, Malfoy?

I don't really know, okay. On the one hand I'd love to say that I can be friends with anyone, but I don't want to get close to someone, if there's a chance I have to fight that person in the end. I honestly don't know. You are a friend I guess, so too late for that, and I'd have a tough time fighting you somewhere that is not on a chess board. On the other hand, if you are a Death-Eater then either we'd stop our boredom things now or I'd have to convert you.

I have a very bad memory, as you know, so I have forgotten all about it (Maybe my subconscious remembers, who knows). So my life... I'd read the Gazette if I were you, apparently they know my life better than me. Though, I do have one scoop for you: I'm single. Well it hadn't been going all that well for a while and yesterday she was yelling at me, as usual, so I just broke it off. It just wasn't worth it anymore.

Well that's about it.

I'm glad you talk to me, actually.

Harry.

Draco breathed in. He wasn't sure if he was happy or disappointed by the answer. He felt certain that if he explained the situation – the Death-Eater business, not the Veela thing – that Harry would accept him as a friend. Friends... The only friend he had was Blaise. He sighed. He knew he didn't want him as a friend. He'd take him, of course he would, but it wouldn't be enough. It would probably never be enough. He fell to sleep with a heavy heart but a safe conscious.

Draco was all ready to leave for breakfast the next morning, but when he entered the living room in his quarters, breakfast was already on the table. He was reminded of their isolation. He sat down and waited for his mother to descend.

She came dressed in her midnight blue gown and sat by his side. "Draco," she said. "Before we continue, there is an important matter we need to discuss."

Draco put his toast down and listened.

"I shan't be staying here," she added. "No, please let me finish. The Dark Lord can't track you through your mark, but he will likely assume that you are with me. Our best solution is that you stay here, and that I apparate somewhere else before apparating directly in Evelyn's house, it has a Fidelius Charm. That way we'll both be safe. I will talk to Dumbledore, asking him to put a ban on Lucius."

Draco remained silent. He knew this was the best option, in a sense, but he resented the separation. He wanted to live, but he also wanted his mother safe; preferably within Hogwarts' strong wards. He was a realist however, and he knew that she couldn't stay.

So he simply asked, "When will you go?"

She laid a hand on his shoulder – which she quickly removed when he hissed – and replied, "As soon as possible. This afternoon."

His father had been banned, his mother had left and he was all alone. All he had was Potter's letter and his text books – he cursed himself for having already read those. He sat down at the window, wanting to be outside in the snow. He looked at the people out there, and saw a figure dressed warmly. He recognized the walk and immediately grabbed his wand to transfigure a cushion into some binoculars. It was him. Harry was huddled up in bundles of clothes, shivering and blowing on his hands. Draco's chest thumped upon seeing him. It all seemed different now. He had been away from him; he had taken the Cruciatus curse for him. It meant something now. He bit his lip and grabbed his wand. He whispered a warming charm in his direction, saw his surprised reaction and quickly hid. He sat back down with the letter in front of him. He would answer but he didn't trust himself not to get soppy. He could accept begging the Dark Lord, sobbing in front of Merlin knows who, but he would not get soppy.

He went to the Room of Requirements instead. As soon as he arrived, he directly laid a cover over the mirror, avoiding every inch of it. He went further to the back, looking in the storage for a half decent book or anything else. He pushed his way against piles of useless junk, letting it all fall to the floor – it was nothing important anyway.

"Who's there?" a voice called from the door and Draco stiffened.

As if he needed help identifying that voice, every syllable travelled through his spine. He could pretend he wasn't there, could pretend so many things; but that stupid irrational side of him wanted so badly to stop hurting and to be with him.

He answered with a sigh, "Me." He came out from under his pile of stuff, ducking his eyes behind his bangs.

Harry frowned upon seeing him. "Draco. What the hell are you doing here?" he asked.

Draco grabbed a book and replied, "I came to look for some form of occupation."

"Yeah, right. Malfoy Manor has no decent books so you came back here?"

"Yeah that's about it."

Harry crossed his arms and observed him closely. Draco would have blushed, had he still had enough of a blood circulation. He simply continued looking through the piles to avoid his eyes.

"You're escaping, aren't you?" Harry finally said.

Draco sighed and put the book down. "What? You're a psychic now?" He sat down in one of the chairs.

Harry took the seat in front of him. "No," he replied. "But you don't need to be a genius to work it out."

"Explain yourself."

Harry arched an eye brow and said, "I'm not allowed to mention it, remember?"

Draco turned his head away, inwardly cursing his weakness of the night. He felt stupid."Oh that," was his only reply.

Harry got up and closed in the two steps gap between them. He stopped in front of him and waited for a moment. He kneeled by him and touched his arm. An electric choc was shot into Draco's arm and he pulled back in fright. They looked each other in the eyes for a moment. Draco was breathing loudly; the simple touch had shaken him to the core. Harry frowned, as if looking for something in his gaze. He then bent back down and took Draco's arm between his hands, unbuttoning the sleeve slowly and rolling it up to his elbow. Draco wanted to look away, if only to stop the heat growing in his body but the insistent reminder that he was being touched and that it didn't hurt felt great. The mark was exposed; it was dark and gleaming against his blemished features. Harry just looked at it, kneeling by his unknown mate. Draco stared at him from above, observing his eyes, his nose, his forehead, everything, from close up. His heartbeat was so fast that he thought it might snap. Perhaps it did. Harry looked up and met his gaze; it was so intense that Draco forgot to breathe.

"Did you want it?" Harry whispered.

Draco let out the air he was holding. "No," he answered in a murmur. He didn't want to say it, but in that moment in time he was not present enough to say. A pulse of power ran through his body, following the lines the mark had carved in his skin, making him shiver.

"Does it hurt?" Harry asked.

Draco shook his head, "The connection failed, so I don't feel much of it."

Harry nodded and gently brought Draco's sleeve back down, buttoning just one of the cufflinks. He held Draco's gaze once more and said seriously, "Its fine, okay? You didn't want it; you fled from him. I can help you now; protect you if you need it."

And boy did he need it. Part of Draco wanted so badly to accept, this was Harry bringing them closer and dammit he wanted in; but it wasn't right. Deep down inside of him, he knew this wasn't right.

"I don't need protection," he replied with little or no conviction in his voice.

Harry sent him a small smile. "No you don't," he added kindly. "But I'm damn well going to do it anyway."

Draco flashed him a corner smile, hidden somewhere beneath his facade. He pouffed but answered fondly, "Ever the hero, Potter."

"Harry," the Gryffindor requested. "Call me Harry."

Draco smirked and crossed his arms, looking down upon the man. "First, you ask for authorisation."

Harry chuckled and bowed on the floor. "May I call you Draco, oh great Lord of Snobishness?" he asked with an exaggerated tone.

Draco nodded and simply looked at him. "May I call you by your given name then?"

Harry smiled at him. "Yes," he answered. "You know, if you insist."

*Edited