Rating:
R
House:
Schnoogle
Characters:
Draco Malfoy Harry Potter
Genres:
Romance Angst
Era:
Multiple Eras
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire
Stats:
Published: 07/04/2002
Updated: 08/24/2002
Words: 138,117
Chapters: 18
Hits: 119,499

Unthinkable Thoughts

Aidan Lynch

Story Summary:
When Harry and Draco first met in Madam Malkin's robe shop, neither ``of them could have anticipated how much loathing and mistrust would follow. But ``one day in their fifth year something happens which forces Harry and Draco to ``reconsider exactly what such abhorrence is founded on. Little by little, each ``of them is overwhelmed by Unthinkable Thoughts, and they begin the voyage that ``takes them from their safe harbours of deep suspicion well out into uncharted ``waters. And the more they discover, the more the realise that things can never ``be the same again!

Chapter 13

Chapter Summary:
When Harry and Draco first met in Madam Malkin?s robe shop, neither of them could have anticipated how much loathing and mistrust would follow. But one day in their fifth year something happens which forces Harry and Draco to reconsider exactly what such abhorrence is founded on. Little by little, each of them is overwhelmed by Unthinkable Thoughts, and they begin the voyage that takes them from their safe harbours of deep suspicion well out into uncharted waters. And the more they discover, the more they realise that things can never be the same again.
Posted:
07/20/2002
Hits:
4,457
Author's Note:
Unthinkable Thoughts is my first and only real fic written in any style. (Funny how HP in general and Draco in particular was the first thing in my life to inspire me to put pen to paper!) It is currently 16 chapters long and a further final two are also nearly complete, so although it's WIP it's also Work Nearly Finished. Over the eight months of writing of this fic, four wonderful women have been crucially involved in its beta-reading: Liz, Morphia, Plumeria and Penguin, and I must thank them all here and now for being so fantastically supportive.


CHAPTER THIRTEEN

~

HEART OF THE MATTER

'It's easy for me to forgive you, Malfoy. I don't know why you've got so worked up about this. You said it yourself: the intensity between us increased as hatred instead of as love, which we can look at now as a positive thing in two ways.'

'How can any of the things I did to you ever be considered positive, Potter?' asked Draco, still distressed. 'What do you mean, two ways?'

'Easy. First, say we hadn't had the complication of the refused handshake on the train. We would have been in love, at eleven years old. That's a gruesome thought. Neither of us would have been able to cope with it. We would never have understood it, but now, five years later, we can just about get our heads round it. In a way, Ron was not a complication; he was a flippin' saviour.'

'Yeah, I guess,' said Draco in reluctant agreement. 'What an awful thought. Yick, squick, horror.'

'How eloquent you are when you're worked up, Malfoy. Lose two points for lack of a decent vocabulary.'

Draco punched him half-heartedly, and they both smiled.

'Second,' continued Harry, 'because, as it was hatred, surely we should have expected crappy behavior from both of us. Funnily enough, hearing all your misdemeanors in one long list like that, I find it quite flattering. Each one is a little example of how strong the emotion was. Of how much you hated me.'

Draco blushed a little.

Harry grinned sideways. 'If we carry on this thinking, those POTTER STINKS badges might just as well have said Potter is sexy and I want to have his children, signed Draco Malfoy, oh and by the way, he's got dreamy eyes.'

'I have never once said anything about your eyes, Potter,' said Draco, unable to stop smiling. 'And besides, all that would never have fitted on a badge.'

'You would have found a way, Malfoy,' laughed Harry. 'You hated me that much.'

'But even so, Potter,' Draco protested. 'I don't understand how you are able to just sweep all the ill-feeling away with a few words. Aren't you even going to make me grovel? I am quite prepared to; I've been working up to it for days. Even got a few snazzy moves worked out, designed to have you weeping in forgiveness.'

'Really?' giggled Harry. 'I don't need to hear them, Malfoy. As I said, forgiving your crimes has been easy considering the Crimson Cloud. Although, if you want, I could have a look just to see if they would have been as effective as you think!'

'Er, I don't think I can perform on demand,' said Draco, embarrassed. 'It was going to be a...sort of spontaneous type thing.'

'Only you could have worked out your spontaneous moves in advance, Malfoy!'

They both laughed.

'Oh Potter,' said Draco with so much genuine warmth Harry felt slightly self-conscious. 'You're just so flippin' noble. You look at things and see the best in them. You could explain away the worst atrocities with some good old Gryffindor optimism. I will never be able to think like you.'

'That's just as well, I suppose,' said Harry. 'Anyway, I don't expect you to. I want you to be you, not something you're not.'

'Being a Slytherin is all about being something you're not, Potter. I'm trying to cast all that off, for you. And for me.'

'You don't have to change yourself for me, Malfoy. Just be you. Listen, we don't have to alter the past, or forgive and forget to forge a way forward. Despite all I've said, it's not really about forgiveness at all, because you've never done anything to me that can't be explained by our active denial of the Crimson Cloud. So I don't need to forgive you. And you don't need to change, because acknowledging the Crimson Cloud has already changed our perception of each other. It's just about looking at things in a new light.'

'Blimey, Potter. When did you get intelligent?'

'I don't know,' laughed Harry. 'It must be all those years of having Hermione as a friend. Some of it's rubbed off.'

'But...' Draco pondered, 'this all feels very one-sided. I thought we were in this together. Why didn't you ever do any unpleasant things to me?' Then he added, very quietly, 'didn't you hate me too?'

'Oh Malfoy, I loathed you! Despised you, in fact.'

'Phew! That is pleasing to hear.'

They both laughed loudly, looking at each other.

'Shhhhh!' said Draco, still chuckling. 'We'll get into trouble!'

'I don't care,' said Harry. 'I really don't.'

'Oooh,' said Draco. 'Such disrespect for authority, and from a Gryffindor too...'

'Malfoy, I don't rate too highly on the respect for authority scale, not for a Gryffindor - in fact I've broken about a thousand school rules since I have been here. It's just that you only know about a few of them. And I'm afraid I am not innocent of plots against you, either.'

'Really?' Draco whispered, mystified. 'What have you done?'

'Well...' said Harry. Now that it came down to it, he was actually rather embarrassed to own up, even though Draco had just shamelessly itemized a succession of his own appalling crimes. 'Well...oh yes, when "Moody" turned you into a ferret, we called you ferret boy.'

'Is that it?' said Draco. 'Is that the best you can come up with? Oh blimey, that is going to be extremely difficult to forgive. Give me about a week to get over that one, would you, Potter? Come on, I know that's not what you were going to say.'

'OK, ferret boy,' said Harry. 'But this is difficult. Really difficult, so bear with me. You remember in our second year when people were getting petrified, including Hermione?'

'Yes...?'

'Well, there was all that about the Chamber of Secrets being opened again, and that only the Heir of Slytherin could have opened the door to the Chamber.'

'Yes...?'

'Well, I thought you were the Heir of Slytherin, but I had no way of proving it.'

Draco was silent.

'So I needed to find out somehow. I genuinely feared that lives were at risk, Hermione's especially.'

'I wasn't the Heir of Slytherin, Potter. The only shameful part I played in that episode was feeling disappointed when I realized someone else was the Heir.'

'I know you weren't the Heir,' said Harry. 'I met the real Heir and, well, there's no need to talk about that. But the point is, I thought it was you. So, to try to prove it...'

'Yes...?'

'To try to prove it, oh God, you're going to hate me! Ron and I used Polyjuice Potion to disguise ourselves as Crabbe and Goyle. We got into the Slytherin Common Room and had a chat with you. During which chat you proved to be utterly insufferable, but not, ultimately, the Heir of Slytherin.'

'Blimey. Did you really? Polyjuice Potion? But that's an extraordinarily complex potion to brew, Potter. Forgive me for being rude, but there's no way your Potion skills would have been up to it.'

'They weren't then and they're not now. But Hermione's were.'

'Ah...La Granger foils me once more.'

'Why aren't you upset?'

'Because, Potter old boy...I forgive you. Or rather, to put it in Gryffindor-speak, I have now re-interpreted that episode in the light of informed hindsight. You hated me, remember?'

They smiled.

'Quite a brilliant scheme, I have to admit,' said Draco. 'Far more daring and clever than anything I ever thought up. Just compare that plan with one of mine: I put on a black robe and went 'wooo' in a scary voice. And what did you do? You produced a flippin' Patronus, the strength of which has probably never been matched by any student at Hogwarts. That put me well and truly in my place, Potter.'

'That - that was not aimed at you, Malfoy. I thought you were a Dementor, remember? Professor Lupin taught me how to conjure a Patronus because...because, well, the effect Dementors have on me is just truly unthinkable.'

'What...what happens to you, Potter?'

There was an almost imperceptible shift in the prevailing mood.

Harry looked at him. 'You really want to know? Why?'

'Because...I want to know you better, Potter. I don't know even five percent of what you're all about. And here we are...in the Crimson Cloud, and I don't really know you.'

'And I don't know you, Malfoy.'

'No indeed. But believe me, you don't want to know me. It's not nice stuff, getting to know me. Maybe that's why I've never let anyone get close, because I don't want to have to own up to what I really am.'

'What you were, Malfoy. You're utterly unrecognizable as the Malfoy of a few weeks ago, at least as far as I'm concerned.'

'Rubbish, Potter, I'm just the same; that's why I want to change, like I said earlier. You just see me differently. I still have a thousand shameful secrets. What the Crimson Cloud's done, among other things, is make me want to be worthy of you. And it's made me want to get to know you properly. And when I know you properly, I want to know you better than anyone else. So I'm sorry, I wasn't prying, but if the Dementors are too distressing to talk about, then I accept that. But the reason I want to know is because I want to be able to help you.'

Harry thought long and hard.

Then he said, 'But this has got to be a two-way thing. I want to know, I need to know you as well as you know me. And if that means we have to tackle some very difficult shit, then we have to be prepared for it. I guess I just thought that if I told you about the Dementors, then it would open the door to some conversations that are more than just personally painful. We could both get hurt.'

'I know where this conversation is going, Potter. And I am scared of it. But that doesn't mean I am not willing to go there. We've got to go there, in fact. Otherwise what we have, what we might have in the future, it will be founded on quicksand. We will never truly feel that we can trust each other.'

Harry reached for Draco's hand and held it tightly. He began to speak, very slowly.

'We're at the beginning of something, right? It might last for the rest of our lives. We have to be able to trust each other, or our lives will be a hell of insecurity and suspicion. Whatever there is to tell, it's got to be said before we become any...closer. Or it could become destructive.'

'OK,' said Draco, squeezing Harry's hand. 'I'm man enough if you are.'

Harry gulped. 'When I get close to a Dementor, I hear my mother, screaming, just as she is being murdered by Voldemort. Then there's a flash of green light, caused by the death curse that killed her. After that, there's nothing. It's not the Dementors that cause me to faint, Malfoy, it's the power and the terror of the memory they trigger in me.'

Draco felt tears welling in his eyes. He put his arm round Harry and held him close.

'I can't stop the memories, Potter,' he said. 'But I promise you will always have someone to hold.'

Harry shivered, tensing slightly.

'Oh my God,' Draco whispered slowly. 'That's it, isn't it? You're not sure, despite how close we've become, despite the fact that we've seen each other naked, and slept in the same bed, and kissed, you're not sure that you want it to be me that holds you...'

'No! I do want it to be you! But...'

'But...earlier you said that I've never done anything to you that can't be explained by the Crimson Cloud. Me. Not anyone else. But you cannot divorce the father from the son,' concluded Draco, sadly. 'And why on earth should I expect you to?' he sighed.

Harry said nothing.

'That's why you didn't want to tell me about the Dementors, isn't it? Because that wasn't anything do to with me, but perhaps loads to do with my father. Or in case I might actually give away a weakness of yours to him. I've been so stupid. Your anxiety isn't about forgiving each other our past crimes. It's about who we are, and where we come from. And you will never be able to forgive and forget that I am the son of a Death Eater, because no matter how you look at it, you can't re-interpret that fact in the light of the Crimson Cloud.'

'Malfoy...I, er...'

'Shhh, Potter, and let me speak. You need to hear this, and I need to say it. I cannot imagine the things you have been through. I met the real Heir, you said casually earlier. I'll bet that was a terrifying experience, but you play these things down, as is your style. I know you've met the Dark Lord, and you've even dueled with him. The thought horrifies me. But it doesn't horrify me because I can empathize with the danger; I can't. It horrifies me because of the thought of what might have happened to you.'

Every word Draco spoke rang in Harry's head. The rose garden ceased to exist. There was just the two of them, and the most important conversation they would ever have. Draco continued.

'I can no longer imagine living without you. If it comes down to it, and it almost certainly will, I will choose you, not my father. That decision would have been unimaginable a few weeks ago; my father has always been the single most dominant force in my life. But that was until I realized what you were to me, Potter. You've simply got to trust me on this point. Until I can find a way to prove it to you, I am begging you to believe me that you can trust me.'

Draco was starting to weep quietly. But he struggled on, staring at the ground.

'You know what it's like for me. You've seen it. I can't bear to be more than three feet away from you. I have nothing to gain from betraying you, and everything to lose. You've become part of me, Potter. Hurting you would be like hurting myself. Bringing about your downfall would be like committing suicide. Worse. Because I would have to live without you. And...that would be unthinkable.'

Harry lifted his own arm and put it round Draco.

'I believe you,' he said softly. 'I do. But...that wasn't my only worry.'

'What is it then?' Draco asked, looking worried. 'Tell me, I need to know!'

'It's not just your father. It's me. I might not be good for you.'

'What do you mean? You're overflowing with good. How could you possibly not be good for me? You've already made me feel better than I have ever felt!'

'Because, danger and tragedy surround me constantly.' Harry's voice was cold, distant. 'I have no parents, Malfoy, because someone wanted them dead. Someone wanted me dead too, and they still do. Three times already I have come into direct contact with the Dark Lord, and there have been attempts on my life even here at Hogwarts. My magic is not powerful enough to resist for ever.'

Harry took a deep breath.

'I...can't bring you into all that. What if something happened to you, that was my fault? If Voldemort ever finds out about this, think of the danger you would be in! He might think to use you as a way to me. I would never forgive myself if something happened to you, not now, not after what we've discovered. You are safer, far safer, with your father, not with me.'

Draco was agitated.

'My safety is irrelevant! Do you think this is news to me, Potter? Do you think I haven't had all these thoughts already? Why is it, do you think, that I haven't told my parents that I have been in the hospital wing for a week? Your flippin' concern for me, is deeply touching. But it's my risk to take, Potter. If I want to be with you, it's my decision. I want to be the person who holds you when you hear your mother scream, I need to be that person. Because...'

Harry's arm was still around Draco. He knew what Draco was going to say, he could feel it in his head, but his heart was in his mouth all the same.

'Because I love you, Harry.'

***

'They sleep in the same bed?'

'Ron,' said Hermione, 'things have moved on.'

They were still under the covers of Harry's bed, but neither of them was uncomfortable with the intimacy. That did not mean however that Ron was not uncomfortable with other things.

'This bed?'

'Yes.'

'Oh God. We are in Harry's love pit.'

'Ron, I don't think it's a love pit. I think they just sleep here.'

'Even so. You told me yourself it was getting sweaty in here.'

'Yes, but that was only because...'

'Because what?'

'Oh Ron, I'm sorry I haven't told you. But I wasn't allowed to. I'm still probably not allowed to, but it seems so silly, your not knowing. Harry...'

'Yes?'

'Harry has been in a sort of coma for five days. He only woke up yesterday.'

'He what?'

'Asleep. Five days. In this bed. Malfoy slept alongside him. Hence sweaty.'

'He's been in a coma and you didn't tell me?'

'I wasn't allowed to!'

'I can't believe you! You know I care about Harry as much as you do. What did you think I was going to do?'

'Ron! I'm sorry! Don't take it personally!'

'And Malfoy slept with him?'

'Malfoy feels the pull of the crimson cloud differently from Harry. Or maybe not, I'm not sure; Harry has hardly been available to talk to. But Malfoy can't bear not to be within a few feet of him. He gets all panicky. You saw how he was when he thought Harry was going out without him just now. He nearly cried.'

'Blimey. Malfoy has a weakness.'

'So it seems. But don't you dare think about exploiting it, Ron. For all we know Harry may feel the same. And, the closer they get, the more Harry is going to get upset if he sees Malfoy getting hurt.'

'This is all very difficult to get used to.'

'But you will get used to it, Ron. And so will I.'

'Herm, do you think that one day, don't know when, Malfoy will sort of be...one of us?'

'Only if we let him, Ron. And if we don't, Harry might drift away from us.'

'No he wouldn't. You underestimate what we've all been through. Malfoy doesn't share any of those memories.'

'No, he doesn't. But very soon he and Harry will have memories that we are not part of. They may already have. What do you think they're doing right now for example?'

'Er...having a walk?'

'Possibly.'

'Or a talk?'

'Yes, maybe. The point is we don't know. And we may never know, because already lots of what goes on between them is simply none of our business.'

'This is definitely going to be difficult to get used to.'

'No it isn't. We don't own the monopoly on Harry's life. Just like...he doesn't know everything about ours.'

Ron blushed, and even under the covers of Harry's bed in the dark room, Hermione could tell.

***

Oh God. Had Malfoy really said that?

Of course he had.

He had said, 'I love you, Harry.'

Why had the world suddenly stopped turning?

He had already known Malfoy loved him. It had been tangible; as obvious as the color of his hair. But to hear it voiced aloud - that was extraordinary. And beautiful.

And there was something else, something which occurred to him for the first time at the exact moment he heard Malfoy's words: he was the first person he could recall saying those precise words to him. Not from his mother as a child, not from any other family member, not even from a friend in half-jest. The first person ever to say 'I love you' was...Draco Malfoy.

Was Malfoy waiting for a response?

There was no expectation in Malfoy's head. There was just - hope.

What was he hoping for? That he hoped to hear the same in return? Or that he hoped that saying those words would not change anything? Or did he hope that his almost omnipresent father could begin to be less of a threat to them?

Of course he had already known that Malfoy loved him. And he knew that he loved Malfoy. But had he ever thought he would tell him?

If he did, would something alter irreversibly, for ever?

If he didn't, would he regret missing this moment? Would they both regret it?

He had said, 'I love you, Harry.'

Malfoy was not the first to say Harry to him, though. Harry, Harry, Harry. Everyone said it. Ron yelled it, whispered it, shouted it, chuckled it; he seemed to own the right to the name as much as Harry himself. Hermione squealed it. Seamus hollered it. Ginny purred it. Aunt Petunia bawled it. But nobody had ever spoken it in such a way that made Harry's heart leap in his chest.

Had Malfoy deliberately chosen this location, this conversation, this moment, with those very words, as the perfect time to utter Harry's name for the first time? Or had it crept out unchecked? Or had they simply become so close that not to use it now seemed churlish? Or had it seemed so natural that he hadn't even noticed?

Still he could feel hope in Malfoy's head.

How much time had passed since those words had hung in the air, melting the snow around them with their warmth? Two minutes? Ten? Was it too late to say anything in response?

There was only one thing to do. Only one thing to say. And his body ached in the need he felt to say it. But now, it would seem that he was only saying it because Malfoy had said it first. Wouldn't it?

He looked into his companion's eyes, and all Harry could see there was the same hope he could already feel. But Harry didn't need to see anything because he could feel more now. The level of perception between them seemed to be focusing into something sharper even as they sat there. Malfoy was saying to him, somehow in his head, that it was OK, he didn't have to be scared, that he could say what he wanted, that he didn't have to feel pressured into saying it, that if he didn't say it Malfoy wouldn't love him any less, that it was OK to own up to saying it, because nothing would ever come between them, not even his father, especially not his father.

Harry made a slight noise in his throat, and squeezed the hand he held tightly.

'I...'

He felt the pressure on his own hand returned. It was supportive, caring, adoring.

And eventually the words came, as easily and as naturally as anything he had ever said.

'And I love you...Draco.'

***

'But that's our business, Herm,' said Ron. 'Harry's not part of that at all.'

'Er, hello, Weasley? Is anyone at home? Isn't that what I've just been saying? Now there's a part of Harry's life that we have no part of.'

'But that's the bit I don't like. We are never actively going to exclude Harry from anything. But him and Malfoy, well, they're just going to disappear off into the sunset and we won't ever see him again.'

'Ron, you are the most melodramatic person I know, and considering I know Parvati, that is really saying something. It needn't be like that at all. Harry's not going to forget you overnight, you moron. Look how pleased he was to see you just before they went out. It's just that you're going to have to accept that you're no longer the most important person in his life. And if you can do that, you'll find that he comes back to us happy and buoyant and just as dippy and unperceptive as he's always been.'

'Hermione, sometimes you speak so much sense it's like listening to my mother. It's a habit I hope you grow out of...'

'Ron, be quiet,' she said gently. 'Why must we always speak of other people? First Harry, now your mother - haven't we got things to talk about of our own?'

'Yeah,' chuckled Ron, 'I guess we have...'

***

There was a long, uncomplicated silence.

After a while the stars and the snow and the perfect icy stillness of the garden seemed to slide back into being. Their fingers were entwined in natural intimacy, kind of loosely and tightly at the same time. Harry could feel the softness of Draco's skin as Draco gently stroked his fingers with his own.

'Is it possible to know it so surely after such a short time?' asked Harry quietly.

'Yes, I think so. At least, I know I'm sure. I've been pretty sure for a while now, and absolutely certain since that time we sat together by the lake.'

Harry looked at him in wonder. 'Really? Wow. I feel - honoured. I've been sure since I heard you call me Harry.'

They both laughed.

'But I think I've known for longer than that. To be honest, it's happened so quickly, I haven't had time to think about it.'

'Well, I've had a bit longer to think I suppose. Five days longer to be exact.'

'But...it's impossible isn't it? I mean, your father and everything? How can we ever be...together, like we both want? What's going to happen when everybody finds out?'

'Hey, Harry, so many questions. I don't know the answer to any of them. And come on, we just shared a special moment. Let's not bring my father into it.'

'How can we not? He's present in every factor. We can't do anything at all without considering him. Draco, listen, I'm as elated as I know how to be over this thing between you and me, but unless we address this, that's all it's going to be: a special moment. Don't you want more than that? You just said you can't bear to be more than three feet away from me. How are we going to get through the holidays, let alone the rest of our lives, if we don't work out the issue of your father first?'

'Oh Lord. I thought I was going to be the sensible one in this conversation. You're beginning to sound like my mother.'

Harry was quiet.

'What did I say?' said Draco, concerned.

'Exactly that. I don't know how you can treat this matter so lightly.'

'Harry, you've lost me.'

'It comes down to parents, Draco. You've got them; I haven't. Aren't they worth hanging on to? Whatever your father is like, whatever he has done, isn't he still your father? You've no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say that you would choose me over him. And I believe you. But it saddens me too. I don't know how you could give him up just like that. All my life it's what I've wanted more than anything. Parents. And you've got them, and you're willing to risk estrangement, or things much worse than we can imagine, because of me? Just like that?'

'That is about it, yes. You are that important to me, Harry. And I know there will never be a time when that is not the case.'

'But I don't want to be responsible for driving a wedge between a father and a son! I've always believed that bond to be the strongest, and I envy you so much for having it, whoever the father concerned is! And now, you just cast it off, as if it's nothing!'

'Harry! Do you really think that my father and I have a typical father-and-son relationship? Do you think we went fishing together, and he taught me how to milk cows and tie useful knots? Do you think he's proud of anything I do? If you want to make this easier for yourself, don't imagine that my father is anything like yours would have been.'

Harry shuddered. 'We will never know what my father would have been like.'

'No, we won't. And that is a grave and terrible injustice.' Draco pulled Harry closer to him. 'But I bet we both know that he would not have made you choose between him and someone you love.'

Harry fell silent again.

'Let me tell you about my father, Harry. The great Lucius Malfoy. The last significant chat we had he instructed me to publicly lose my virginity this year, and he didn't care who it was with; any pureblood Slytherin girl would do. Malfoys must have a certain image, he said. The rake, the cad; be the irresistible bounder with a black heart. Make a conquest and move on. In short, be the bastard. Above petty friendships and alliances. Just create an aura of respect, and if you can't do that, one of fear. They come to the same thing anyway.'

Draco was becoming agitated and Harry was concerned, but he let Draco talk it out.

'And you. Do know how often he taunts me with your successes? You can't have a Firebolt until you've beaten him at Quidditch is one of his favourites. I swear he doesn't actually care whether I beat you or not, it's the control he likes. If I ever did beat you, he wouldn't be proud, he would just set another challenge.'

'You might. You're a good Quidditch player,' said Harry.

Draco ignored this kindness.

'Do you know what I am to him, Harry? Not a son. I am his duty. Proof that he has done his bit, seen that there will be another Malfoy in the Manor to continue the line. Someone with the Malfoy genes to bear the name, inherit the millions, maintain the power, engender the fear and respect that go with it. That is all. Beyond that I am a kind of inconvenience in his life, the full horror of which I am sure you have more idea of than me.'

'Well, what about that? Isn't that worth hanging onto? Would you give up your right to the Manor and all the money, for me? Even if you don't think your father is worth hanging on to, surely that is?'

Draco snorted. 'It is nothing. I would give it up in an instant. I would rather live with you in the Shrieking Shack than without you at the Manor.'

'It won't come to that, Draco. I have money. Lots, I think. Not a fraction of your family fortune, but enough for both of us to be OK for years.'

'That is just beautiful of you, Harry; that you would share your parents' money with me. But you're right; it won't come to that. It doesn't matter what I do, there is no way on earth that my father would disinherit me.'

'But...'

'You're forgetting snobbery, which is the driving force in my father's life, even more so than pursuit of the Dark Arts or a craving for power. Snobbery drives my parents like you wouldn't believe. It defines their existence. They must have, and be seen to have, the best of everything, no matter what the cost. And they have a conscious and deliberate anti-Muggle viewpoint, regardless of whether they ever actually liked any or not. Which they wouldn't, but only because they would never allow themselves to meet any. And above all, there is the supremacy of the Malfoy line.'

'Er, I don't quite understand...?'

'It is everything. My father treats the name like a precious object. It must be preserved at all costs. Disinheriting me would mean he had failed. It would hurt him like an arrow in the heart to let the house or the money go to cousins, of which there are many, all constantly eyeing the Manor, looking for a weakness. Running away with you would be desperately harmful to him in the short term, but as an event in the hundreds of years of the family's existence, it would hardly rate as a blip. There have been murders, massacres, assassinations and all kinds of carnage to wrest control of the fortune over the centuries. No way would my father risk losing face because his son has an unsuitable choice of lover.'

'An unsuitable choice of lover? Is that all I am?'

'Not to me, you tit. To him.'

'I meant to him, you cretin. Privileged though I feel to have been given this insight into the thinking of the aristocracy, aren't you overlooking one crucial thing?'

'What?'

'That because of the Crimson Cloud, our magic is bonding. Say the combined pool of our innate magic tips the balance of power? Say that, because of your abilities added to my own, I become stronger and more likely to be a match for Voldemort? Is your father really likely to stand for that? That his own son has not only run off with an unsuitable choice of lover, as you so charmingly put it, but actively mutinied against what your father stands for? How ironic would it be if I were only capable of facing Voldemort because the only son of a faithful follower had made me stronger? The danger that would place you in is too awful to consider. That's what I meant when I said I might not be good for you.'

'No! You're more than good for me; you're everything! As I said, I choose you over my father. Whatever the danger, for that very reason. Because if our combined magic can make a difference, I am bound to let our magic continue bonding to make you safer. And anything I can do to protect you I'm going to do whether you like it or not. And anyway you're overestimating this. The snob in my father is as great as the Dark Wizard. He sees the Dark Arts as the ultimate snobbery, the one area that is not just inaccessible to Muggles, but to a lot of magical folk too. It's like the most elite club he can join. But it's snobbery nonetheless.'

'So then...?' ventured Harry, hopefully.

'Yes! If the Malfoy fortune looked like moving somewhere he didn't like, it would hurt him, sure; but not as much as seeing it go to anyone other than me. True, he could place some sticky conditions on my birthright, like forcing me to produce an heir before I inherit. Or he could try to leave me penniless by fathering another heir, but he himself would see any such action as a compromise, and therefore a weakness. And anyway, it's only money; remember it's the name that matters most to him, and he can't take that away from me, whatever I do.'

'Blimey. Who would have thought money could be so complicated?'

Despite the tension of the moment, Draco laughed lightly. 'Besides, the family haven't always been dark. It's see-sawed back and forth over the centuries. Some Malfoys have been utter shits, and some have been philanthropists and benefactors and general good guys, like any family I guess. As heir to the fortune myself, the choice, between Light and Dark - philanthropist and shit, if you like - is mine alone to take.'

'But which will it be?' Harry asked cautiously. 'Why wait till you inherit? Can't you decide now?'

'That's the point, Harry. I am making that decision now. But Light or Dark, that's not the real heart of the matter: I will be wherever you are, not where my father isn't.'

'But, that's not enough, Draco. I need you to think exactly the same as me on this point, or I can't let it happen, whatever the consequences of our not being together. The way my parents died is more than just an ache in my side; it's the whole bloody deal. You've got to be anti-Dark Arts and anti-Death Eaters, or I'll never know if I can trust you or not. And as I said earlier, I don't have a right to expect that from anyone.'

'Harry,' said Draco, very softly. 'I think I'm saying more than that. When I said I love you earlier, that's exactly what I meant. The key words there are love and you. Not hate and my father. Now, I say again: let's leave my father out of this special moment. He is not a factor in my loving you. You can trust me totally, Harry, I promise you. I love you, Harry, and wherever you go, whatever you think, whichever battles you fight, I will be next to you. I will be the one holding you when you hear your mother scream. Light and Dark are irrelevant. My father is irrelevant. It's you that I'm pledging myself to, and everything that comes with it. And if that means siding against my father on some unthinkable day of judgment, it is of no consequence.'

Harry stared into Draco's face for some time.

'Draco, you've no idea how happy your words make me feel,' said Harry, slightly choked.

'Yes I do,' laughed Draco. 'It's obvious to me. It's all over your face, and all in your head. And besides, I feel it too.'

Draco felt Harry's relief sweep over both of them, and the hope they dared have at that moment, hope for a future that they would be able to share, was infectious in both of them. The foundations are laid, thought Draco. Now we can build on them. The prospect was delicious and exciting and priceless.

The gravity of their conversation faded gradually, until once more they were just two young lovers sharing a special moment in a moonlit rose garden. Inevitably they shifted even closer to each other. There were no barriers, no stresses, no pressures. There was just love, alive between them, like a living, beating force that bound them together, that defined them.

They looked at each other at the same moment. Draco gently reached to Harry's face and delicately removed Harry's glasses. Harry pulled Draco closer to him, his arm under Draco's thick cloak and around his back. They were practically nose to nose, breathing as one. Draco's lips touched Harry's cheek and nose and, like a butterfly unable to settle, he began to plant a hundred slow delicate kisses over Harry's face. Harry moaned at the profane beauty of Draco's actions. Harry's lips sought to catch Draco's to lure him into the deeper kiss they both wanted and needed. Inexorably they were drawn together, and now that they both acknowledged and accepted and understood the longing that burned between them, they gave into it totally. When the full contact they both craved became irresistible, they fell into a fiery, desperate kiss that seemed to fuel their inner selves, so long deprived of sleep and happiness. Eyes fluttering, bodies trembling, minds alive with desire, they sank into each other's souls, breathless, drowning, but neither wanting to be saved.

***

It was the most powerful moment, the most wonderful kiss that either of them had ever experienced, and when they eventually parted, they were both lost for words.

A new understanding had been reached. But it still seemed so private. After weeks of difficulty and despair, coupled with support and flirtation, it seemed that neither could now ignore what had just happened.

The power of speech returned slowly.

'Wow.'

'Wow? Is that it? Is that all I get after committing myself so blatantly?'

'Blimey. I don't know what to say! It must be this bed. It's giving off love-vibes.'

'Ron!' squealed Hermione. 'It had nothing to do with this bed! Don't ruin it. It happened because we both wanted it to, not because we're in Harry's bed!'

'Yeah, I guess,' giggled Ron. 'Good job they didn't come back though, eh?'

'Maybe. But neither of them would have minded, Ron. I suspect they are far too much in love themselves to deny anybody else a little intimacy.'

'I'm beginning to like the idea of Harry being in love. If it feels for him anything like that just felt for me, I reckon he should just get stuck in and go for it.'

'That is the least romantic thing you have ever said, Ron Weasley, and believe me there are a lot to choose from.'

They both laughed.

'Sorry. I'll try harder next time.'

'Oh? So you're confident there will be a next time, then?' said Hermione, airily.

'Yeah. I was thinking of kind of about now, actually.'

'Oh! Were you? What if I were busy?'

'Shit. Problem. Are you busy? You got to be anywhere else in the next half hour?'

'Er, no. It seems I am available.'

They both laughed again.

***

'Shit,' said Harry. 'I promised Hermione we wouldn't be hours. And look, it's nearly dawn, and you know how early Pomfrey comes in.'

They had eventually torn themselves apart and gone for a walk, which, Harry had reminded Draco, was the original reason for going out that night at all. On a tour round the Quidditch pitch and a circuit of the lake, they had chatted like neither of them had ever chatted before. They had told of their pasts, and their dreams, and their favourites. They had stopped frequently to snog without shame every time they reached a new location. And they had strolled and jogged and skipped without ever losing hold of the other's hand.

And then, as first light was showing on the eastern horizon, they found themselves at Hagrid's hut, and Harry could tell that Hagrid was awake because he could see smoke from the chimney and hear the man lumbering around inside.

'Well, we should get back then,' decided Draco. 'She and Weasley have been cooped up there all night.'

'Yeah,' sniggered Harry. 'But I bet they will have found some way to amuse themselves.'

'Eurghh! Do you really think so?'

'Yes. It's been on the cards for ages.'

'Gosh. The Brain and The Weasel. What a pair.'

'Don't mock them, Draco. They're probably saying the same thing about us. The Scar and The Ferret, no doubt.'

'That's not fair. How come you get to be something sexy like a scar, and I get to be a rodent?'

Harry laughed. 'How about because I'm sexy and you're a rodent?'

Draco punched him half-heartedly, and they kissed again.

'Now then, gentlemen,' boomed a huge voice behind them just after they separated. 'Bit early to be out on a stroll in't it?'

'Hagrid!' cried Harry. 'How are you? You're up early too!'

'Well, I got a bit of a meeting with Dumbledore first thing. Good lord, Harry, you look better. Can't tell you how worried ah've been. Fancy a cup o' tea, you two?'

'Well,' said Harry cautiously, 'we're not really supposed to be out, and Ron and Hermione are kind of stuck in our places in the hospital wing till we get back, so...'

'No problem. I understand. Best get yerselves back then. But mind you come down to see me soon, Harry. It's been far too long, but I'm not goin' to lecture yeh. You're welcome too, Malfoy, if you'd like.'

'Thank you, Hagrid. I would love to meet you properly at last.'

'Hagrid, you wouldn't, er, say anything about seeing us would you?'

'Course not, Harry. Mum's the word. Hurry along now, it'll be fully light very soon.'

They headed back to the castle. As they donned the invisibility cloak just in front of the main school door, Draco said, 'Is Hagrid always that nice?'

'Yes. He's great, and totally loyal. But, when he says mum's the word, be very scared. He'd never give anyone away consciously, but he has a habit of letting things slip out. And if he's going to Dumbledore before breakfast, the chances are we'll have some explaining to do before long.'

They couldn't help giggling under the cloak as they turned corners and hurried down corridors on their way back to the hospital wing, where the patients on the main ward were thankfully still asleep. Once back in the room however, there was a strange stillness; Ron and Hermione weren't there.

'Strange,' said Harry. 'I wonder why they decided to leave without the cloak?'

'They didn't leave,' said Draco. 'Look!'

He pointed at their bed. A two-body lump was just evident under the covers in the gloom of the room.

'Who's been sleeping in my bed?!!' laughed Harry as he pulled back the covers.

'Eh? Wha?' came the voice of a sleepy Ron. 'Hey! Harry! Herm, wake up!'

'What on earth are you two doing in there?' grinned Harry.

'Well, sleeping, mainly,' said Hermione, and Ron giggled. She sat up and straightened her hair. 'Gosh! It's dawn! How long have you two been out?'

'Hours, sorry,' apologized Draco. 'We just lost track of time. Any problems?'

'I'll say', said Ron. 'Pomfrey came in to check on you two!'

'What happened?!'

'Hermione saved the day,' said Ron.

'Doesn't she always?' laughed Harry. 'What did you do?'

'Hid your pyjamas and jumped in here and pretended to be you,' said Hermione, laughing. 'The problem was trying to convince Ron in under three seconds that you two slept in the same bed! I practically had to haul in him in here.'

'Oooh, Weasley,' grinned Draco. 'Bet you enjoyed that!'

'Er, I've had worse nights, certainly,' Ron said, blushing.

All four of them laughed.

'Ron,' said Harry, shyly, 'I am sorry you had to find out like that.'

'No worries, Harry. I was more concerned to hear about your coma than your sleeping arrangements. Are you alright now?'

Harry looked at Draco, glowing. 'I've never been better, Ron.'

'I think,' pondered Hermione, gently breaking the tender moment, 'that we need a swift change of position. Ron, get up, and you two should get back into bed before Madam Pomfrey comes back in.'

'Good thinking,' said Draco. 'She usually comes in early. And we know Dumbledore is up too. He can call at any time.'

'Turn your backs, you two!' laughed Harry. He and Draco shed their clothes and struggled back into their pyjamas. Ron poked his head out the door.

'Shit! She's already up!'

Harry and Draco jumped into bed and arranged themselves to look like they had been there for ages. Ron was astonished at the signs of intimacy between them, they giggled and hugged and entwined their arms and legs like they had been together for years. He stood just watching them, almost staring, and Hermione nudged him sharply.

'Ron,' she hissed. 'Let's go, quick.'

'No,' said Ron, firmly. 'It's too risky. She's already on the main ward. We could hide in the bathroom, or under the cloak in here. Or...'

'Or what?' said Draco, intrigued.

'Or, well, it's Sunday now isn't it? We're allowed to visit. Why don't we just look like we called by for breakfast? Then we don't have to sneak back to the Tower.'

'Ron,' said Hermione. 'That is the first sensible idea you've had for ages. How do we make it look like we just got here?'

'Straighten your clothes and hair and pull the armchairs up to the bed,' said Draco instantly. 'Lay your cloaks neatly on the other bed. Don't look overly comfortable, and start with the usual how-are-you?s.'

The other three all looked at him, startled at his level of detail.

'Master of deception, I guess,' said Draco, almost proudly.

'OK,' agreed Hermione, enjoying herself. 'All set. Begin normal level of conversation...NOW!'

'Hey', began Draco, in a slightly louder voice than they had been using. 'What happened in the Slytherin v Ravenclaw match?'

'Ah,' said Ron. 'You lost, I'm afraid.'

'You're afraid? Aren't you delighted?'

'Well, a bit I guess, yeah, sure,' grinned Ron, 'but it was the right result. The truth is that with you two not having played in the last two matches, the results have been skewed. Gryffindor should have beaten Hufflepuff, and you should have beaten Ravenclaw, so when you two get back to playing, it'll be a fair contest again. With you losing yesterday, and provided we each win our next games, the contest should go to the final match, Gryffindor v Slytherin. Which is just as it should be. We are the two best teams, after all.'

'Blimey. I'm learning a thing or two about the Gryffindor sense of honour, that's for sure.' Draco looked at Harry, and they smiled at each other. 'Who did we use as Seeker?'

'Ah. Therein lies the Slytherin tactical error, I reckon,' smiled Ron.

'Come on, who was it?'

'Parkinson.'

'Pansy Parkinson? Please, please, Weasley, tell me this is some unfunny Gryffindor joke?'

Hermione and Harry were laughing.

'Quiet, Harry, this is serious,' said Draco, trying his best to mean it.

'Malfoy,' Hermione asked, intrigued, 'did you just call him Harry?'

'Yes, Hermione, he did,' said Harry simply.

'Wow. There have been a lot of developments in the last few hours, it seems,' said Ron.

All four looked at each other in enigmatic smiles, which became more laughs.

'Although not as many developments as there seem to have been on the Slytherin team in my absence. Pansy Parkinson played Seeker on the House team?'

'Yes. And she was awful. Bad luck, Malfoy.'

'Why on earth did they choose Pansy?'

'Well, Malfoy, it seems that she just begged for the chance to follow in your footsteps. Apparently you are something of a hero to her. And nobody's quite sure how it happened, but Snape chose her above all those who took a trial.'

Harry and Hermione caught each other's eyes at this obviously hostility-free conversation between Ron and Draco.

'Oh God! Tell me the worst! What was she like? What was the score?' Draco, with a hint of genuine distress.

'She just messed around at the edge and attempted a Wronski Feint at about five miles an hour. She even had time to adjust her hair as she pulled out of the dive, if you could call it a dive. But, Malfoy, honestly, it was one of the most entertaining matches ever. And you didn't lose too badly, only 170-90. Your beaters were quite good in fact, if you like watching grossly dirty tactics.'

'The only way to play, of course,' smiled Draco. 'I expect Pansy's performance was some amazingly subtle ploy to side-track the opposition.'

'Malfoy, if it pleases you to think that, by all means go ahead.'

They all laughed, including Draco.

'And what on earth is going on in here?' came Madam Pomfrey's voice from the doorway.

'Er, we've got some visitors for breakfast, if that's OK,' said Harry.

'Harry owled us and said you always give them breakfast early, so we thought, as this is the first day we're allowed to visit, we'd stop by and see how they were,' Hermione added, with supreme confidence.

Ron and Harry caught each other's eyes, and grinned. Draco sat closely to Harry in the little bed.

'Well. Indeed.' Madam Pomfrey seemed stumped, but couldn't put her finger on any actual wrong-doing. 'Well, in that case, Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, if you really want your breakfast at -' she glanced suspiciously at her watch - 'shortly before seven, then you can help prepare it. We can't expect the Elves to be at work at this time on a Sunday and I am not running room service here.'

Later, as they all tucked into eggs and toast - well, rather Ron tucked into eggs, Hermione and Draco had one each and Harry picked absently at half a piece of toast - they all sensed that a new chapter had been opened. Each watched the others in a state of high interest as breakfast continued. Both Draco and Hermione could tell that Harry and Ron were so glad to be something like back to normal that their level of chatter seemed to get louder and louder. Ron himself noticed that Draco's attention to Harry was almost adoring. When Draco thought that nobody could hear in a particularly loud moment of talk, Ron was moved to hear him whisper 'Harry, please eat something more than this'. Hermione herself saw that the body language between Harry and Draco was incredibly intimate, and absolutely trusting. Even Harry, usually so slow at picking up other's emotions, could sense that Ron and Hermione had been doing more than sleeping in their bed. Funny, he thought. What a significant part this bed has played in the last week, for all four of us.

And all too soon, one of the most important nights of their lives was over, and Madam Pomfrey was overseeing the clearing away of both breakfast and visitors, and urging Harry and Draco to take some more sleeping draught. Shortly afterwards they were all four asleep, Harry and Draco tangled together in enchanted slumber, Ron snoring in his own bed as he caught up on hours missed the night before, and Hermione, dozing quietly in the girls' dormitory, serenely happy for all of them.