Anna Fugazzi

Story Summary:
It seems 95% of H/D writers feel compelled to write a "Harry And Draco Are Forced To Be Together By Something Beyond Their Control And Then Unlikely Stuff Happens That Leads To Twoo Wuv" story. Count me among the 95% ;)

It seems 95% of H/D writers feel compelled to write a "Harry And Draco Are Forced To Be Together By Something Beyond Their Control And Then Unlikely Stuff Happens That Leads To Twoo Wuv" story.

Words: 8,319
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"Marriage is supposed to be something more than a stupid curse that ties you to a loathsome toad you'd rather kill in his sleep. It's supposed to be about love and commitment - it's supposed to be a good thing."

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He was supposed to be thinking of NEWTs and the ascension of the Dark Lord, not worrying about whether his head would split open in agony if he didn't cuddle up to his family's - and, incidentally, the Dark Lord's - mortal enemy like a bloody teddy bear.

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"Yes, thank you for extensively researching what you would know without needing to ask if you'd been brought up in a wizarding family, Granger. Did you read that in 'The Muggle-born's Guide to Wizarding Customs' or 'How To Hide Your Mudbloodedness'?"

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"I almost hexed you into next year a few hours ago. We weren't going to do anything like a Giggle Spell or turn each other green; we were both going to do serious damage. You're miserable, and so am I. How could having sex be worse than all of this?"

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Harry drew in his breath sharply. He had no idea what this was supposed to prove or accomplish in terms of building trust or a relationship or anything like that, but in terms of tweaking Harry's libido, it was working admirably.

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"Pansy!" Malfoy called out, delighted, as Pansy Parkinson rounded the corner. "Look, Potter, 'sa Prefect Convention!" Harry looked, then buried his face in Malfoy's shoulder, muffling his giggles.

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"Oh for god's sake," Malfoy snapped, "we won't jump on each other in the time it takes you to contact the Healer. Look, Potter'll keep his troll-man hands to himself on that bed, and I'll sit here on my tuffet eating curds and whey and stay far away from the big scary Gryffindor."

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This was wonderful. And so much fun, playing the games, figuring out who was doing what, who wanted or needed what, competing for power and status. Also a little scary, seeing just how out of the loop he was.

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Harry watched the slow rise and fall of Malfoy's chest and wondered if they were ever going to speak to each other again. He decided it didn't really matter.

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"You must decide, Lucius," Snape broke in brusquely. "It is literally your son or your Lord. And you are running out of time."

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"Sometimes we can be human too, Miss Granger. Try to remember that. And take care of them - both of them. I've a feeling they're going to need all the friends they can get."

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Ignorant gits thought they were doing him a favour, including him in their social circle. Feeling sorry for him for what Slytherin was doing. Welcoming him with open arms, with a large helping of smug See How Noble We Are and a nauseating dash of Aren't You Grateful To Us For Befriending You In Your Time Of Need. It made him want to hex them all into oblivion.

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"Darling, it must have reached your notice that the Dark Lord is not exactly a shoo-in for Cleverest Wizard of the Year. He's been overpowered or outwitted by Potter three times so far, that we know of - and one of those times Potter was still wearing nappies."

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Free to go where he wanted. Free to play Quidditch, spend time with his own friends, think of becoming an Auror, get a flat with Ron without worrying about what Malfoy would think of it. Free to be single and seventeen years old again.

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"From bachelor to married man and back again, before age eighteen. It's certainly been an eventful year for Harry Potter, and judging from the amount of mail about him coming in to the Prophet, there is no shortage of young witches - and some young wizards - who would like to meet the young man, who has already proven to be excellent marrying material."

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"...brief marriage ... appears to have actually been abusive ... spouse was twice treated for serious physical injuries suffered at the hands of Mr. Potter ... school nurse was so concerned with his safety that she contacted a Healer from St. Mungo's..."

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"The Prophet would absolutely kill – no, well, it would be a little tawdry for the Prophet, but the Quibbler or the Inquisitor would kill for an exclusive on this."

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"I know. It's just... after seeing what his dad's like, can you blame him for not wanting to even think anything different from what his father wants him to? His father disowned him for dating the wrong person. What would he do if he believed the wrong things?"

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"Draco... this is for the best." He stared at her. "Love, I know you... care for him," his mother said hesitantly. "But please don't forget who he is. He's... his death will be unfortunate, but it's necessary."

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"I am sorry, Draco," Lucius said, his tone imminently reasonable, almost kind. "You are right, you were too young for all of this. But you did not have a choice about what happened then, and you do not have a choice now. Potter will die, and that is unfortunate, and your mother and I will do what we can to make this easier for you, but there is nothing we can do to prevent it."

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And here they were. Come full circle and playing a Seeker's Game.

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