Undefined

Chapter 28

The Promise

Over the next few days, Draco alternated between feeling completely duped and immensely relieved following his conversation with the Headmaster. Relief soon overcame any sense of deception he may have felt, as he realized his life no longer hinged on a secret vow he'd made to a covert organization that was not what it seemed. Draco felt as though a huge weight had been lifted, and this feeling spread from his chest to feet so that he felt a definite lightness in his step that he'd never felt before.

As soon as he could arrange it, he met with Harry, Hermione, and Ron to discuss everything that had occurred. The four of them snuck away to the Shrieking Shack one cool night, through the tunnel that caused Draco's back and legs to ache, up the stairs and into the small room he and Harry used during their many nighttime trysts. They sat around on broken stools and chairs, Draco recounting every detail from his meeting with Dumbledore. Hermione seemed particularly thunderstruck by the turn of events as did Ron who kept saying 'blimey' at random intervals. Harry, however, seemed quite pleased and could not wipe the grin from his face.

"Wow!" Hermione said, as though she'd just learnt up was down. "I never imagined...wow!"

"Blimey!" said Ron predictably.

"I can tell you're pleased," said Draco, turning to Harry.

"Yes," Harry said, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Well I told you two so," Hermione said, sounding in control once again.

Draco looked at her inquiringly.

"These two have accused Snape of working for You-Know-Who for as far back as I can remember," she explained.

"I never knew who Snape worked for," Draco said. "I always reckoned he was loyal to himself."

"He's still a disgusting git," Ron said lowly.

"I shouldn't have been so surprised I suppose," Hermione said, more to herself. "After all, Dumbledore is the most powerful wizard in the world."

Draco nodded in agreement, realizing he was contradicting a lifelong unspoken allegiance he couldn't remember pledging to the Dark Lord. For as far back as he could remember, Draco'd never questioned the superiority of Voldemort within the wizarding world, having never been given the opportunity to formulate his own judgments.

It was the mystique surrounding the Dark Lord that fueled this unyielding and blind support, because even to speak his name was a sign of intense bravery and nerve uttered only by those who'd faced him. To defy his unquestioned and unchallenged authority was unfathomable to those most pledged to his cause, and Draco had grown up with an intense fear of seeing him face to face. Now that he was older, he was no longer afraid of meeting this phantom especially after hearing his father's report that the Dark Lord was now more subhuman than anything following his resurrection the year before.

While this slightly lessened Draco's fear of the Dark Lord, it solidified his mystique to outsiders. Always lurking in the shadows, emerging only at times of extreme necessity, and having a group of individuals fanatically devoted to his cause acting on his behalf, left Voldemort the half-man shrouded in darkness, his terror even more palpable than if he operated in the open.

Draco decided this was not real power, but simply cowardice laced with indolence. He then realized that the only person he knew who had any inkling of Voldemort as anything but a notion was sitting in that very room, his mouth still drawn into a small smile. As much as they talked, Harry never chose to divulge the details regarding his numerous encounters with the Dark Lord, but Draco did not find this surprising; he doubted very much Ron or Hermione knew any more than he did.

"And besides that," Hermione continued, snapping Draco out of his thoughts, "a war's already begun right under everyone's nose; Dumbledore needs all the opposition to Voldemort he can muster."

"Are you going to analyze this all night or are we going to get to the point?" Ron said, sounding very tired.

"Which is?" she snapped.

Ron turned to Draco. "Are you or are you not working with us now?"

"No," Draco said quickly, noticing Harry's smile falter. "No, I'm done with all that; no more meetings, no more secrecy, nothing. I'll meet with Dumbledore and Dumbledore alone. I won't traipse off into any more trouble. If my father knew--"

"Oh he mustn't!" Hermione said, her eyes very wide. "He mustn't! You can't say a word otherwise--"

"I know the repercussions," Draco said quickly, "and I won't say anything."

His tone was convincing enough for her to let the matter drop. They continued to talk for a while until Ron and Hermione decided to head back to the castle.

"You can stay here," Draco offered. "There's another room across the hall."

Ron raised his eyebrows at the suggestion and looked to Hermione, who had turned very pink about the cheeks.

"You can lock the door if you'd like," Draco continued.

"Yeah, all right," Ron said, with a note of finality in his voice as he cast Hermione a sidelong glance.

"Well, it would save the trouble of sneaking through the castle at this late hour," she said, a bit apprehensive but determined nonetheless.

Draco guessed it must have been very late, although he hadn't thought about time since they began talking, and the boarded windows cut them off from the outside world completely.

"That and you have the privilege of a completely private night time shag," Draco added.

Ron smiled broadly and Hermione blushed visibly as he took her hand and led her out the door. Once the door across the hall clicked shut, Draco advanced on Harry, pinning him against the wall.

"Why'd you do that?" Harry said, sounding very cross.

"What?" Draco said, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Have them stay right across the hall."

"Because," Draco said, moving his lips centimeters from Harry's, "you like the thought of Ron so close when we shag."

"I do not!" Harry said hotly, his face flushing slightly.

"Oh really?" Draco said, moving to Harry's ear. "That's not what you said the other night."

"That doesn't count."

"Doesn't it?" Draco said, his lips grazing Harry's neck, and he shifted slightly.

"No," Harry said defiantly, though Draco knew his resolve was crumbling with every breath and movement made.

"That's too bad," Draco said, running his hand smoothly down Harry's shirt, stopping to feel each individual button before finally reaching the waistband of his trousers and running his finger the length of it. "I did have something planned, but seeing as you're too squeamish I suppose"--he kissed Harry's neck, stopping to suck hard and causing him to press against Draco's hand, which was much too high--"I'll just have to make you suffer."

He continued to rub his rapidly inflating erection against Harry's thigh, still kissing his neck, his other hand pulling at great tufts of dark hair. As he fought off his climax, determined to stay in control, to not give in to the release the delicious friction beckoned, he felt Harry's hand quickly unfasten his trousers and find its way inside.

"Stop," he breathed, not wanting to let go just then, but Harry didn't stop; he grabbed Draco and slid his hand along the shaft, creating a friction that now demanded release.

"Don't," Draco groaned, pushing closer towards the edge of the precipice.

He tried to pull away and regain control, but Harry pulled him close with his free arm, his hand causing Draco to spread his legs farther apart and thrust brutally. He swore loudly, pulling on the collar of Harry's shirt and when he felt lips and teeth nibble and suck on his neck he lost it; he tugged harshly on Harry's hair and moaned loudly (loud enough, he knew, for Ron and Hermione to hear) as his orgasm filled his trousers.

"Shit!" he said, gasping for breath and looking at Harry. "You weren't supposed to do that!"

"I know," Harry said, smiling rather arrogantly, "but that's how I like it."

Still basking in his orgasm, Draco smiled slightly, pulling away and leading Harry to the bed, fully understanding his fascination with Ron being so close by--it was Draco Harry wanted Ron to hear. They undressed one another, Draco easily pushing Harry over the edge with his mouth and they lay side by side, listening to the house creak and sway. A few moments later, when their conversation reached a lull, they heard the bed across the hall squeak loudly.

"I bet she's on top," Draco said lazily.

"I don't need that imagery," Harry said.

"You've never thought of Hermione that way?"

"No."

"Never?"

"Never."

"What about Ron?"

Harry said nothing, and traced his finger over Draco's Dark Mark.

"What about Ron?" Draco asked again, nudging Harry with his shoulder.

"Maybe," Harry said, shrugging. "But only for a moment."

"Recently?"

"No," Harry said. "Do you?"

"No."

"What about Hermione?"

"No," Draco said. "She's pretty, but no."

"Good," Harry said, settling his head on Draco's shoulder. "What's it like to shag a girl?"

"Different," Draco said, rubbing his eyes.

"Different how?" Harry asked, sounding deeply curious.

"Just different. Their bodies are different: softer, rounder in spots. They smell and taste different; intercourse is different."

"Better?"

"No, just different."

"How?"

"I don't know," Draco said, and shrugged. "It's warmer, wetter, softer; it's hard to describe if you've never done it before."

"Use that against me," Harry said, in mock hurt.

"I'm not..." Draco said, but Harry slid on top of him, kissing and running his hands over his body, moving lower and using his hands and mouth in ways Draco never dreamed possible, until his moans and yells reverberated throughout the room and he wanted nothing more than the rip the wood from the walls as he came again and again and again, his throat sore and his voice hoarse the following morning.

***

Draco found a note from his mother waiting on his bedside table when he returned to his dormitory before breakfast. He tore it open and sat down on his bed, his heart beating very fast.

Dearest Draco,

I received your letter and I understand why you are so very angry with me, but please know that I have barely been at home these past few days and have met with every solicitor and trusted friend I can in order to sort this out. It's such a dreadful situation that I can barely eat or sleep, and at night all I can do is sit alone in this dreadful house and cry. I wish you would come home to me as I need you now more than ever. Severus thinks this may take a few more weeks to clear up, but I don't know if I can stand it that much longer. I know you can't feasibly leave school for the rest of the term, but perhaps you could at least come home to me on the weekends. I feel so lost that I don't know what to do. Remember what you promised me.

Love always,

Mum

Draco re-read his mother's letter several times before re-folding it and placing it in a drawer. He felt conflicted and torn, his promise to his mother making his head pound dully. He stopped at the bureau and examined his face in the mirror, noticing the dark circles and frown lines, realizing how much worse his mother must look and then set off for the Snape's office, determined to arrange a visit home that very weekend.

***

"I thought I saw someone just before I reached the door but I couldn't make him out," Lucius whispered through the bars of his cell.

It was nighttime when Draco sat on a dirty bench inside Azkaban with his mother, seeing his father for the first time since his arrest. He looked thinner and shabbier, but regal and elegant nevertheless in his prison garb.

"It was a he?" Draco said, leaning closer.

"Stocky build, definitely a he," Lucius said, running his hand through his hair. "But I can't remember any details."

"It was Avery," Draco said, through gritted teeth.

"It could have been anyone, it could have been no one, I don't remember!"

"I know it was that filthy son of a--" Draco began, but his mother placed her hand on his arm to silence him.

"We don't know anything yet," she said, looking deathly pale.

"Don't dismiss me like that, Mother," Draco said darkly. "I'm not some stupid child."

"Watch your mouth," Lucius snapped. "We don't know anything yet."

"Perhaps I should arrange a meeting with him," Draco said. "I have many things I'd like to discuss with him."

"You will do no such thing!" Narcissa shrieked. "You will stay put and keep me company at home. That house is much too big for me to stay in alone."

"Take care of your mother, Draco," Lucius said, his eyes growing wary and his demeanor shifting as the Dementors approached, indicating visiting hours were over. "I'm depending on you."

Draco stood and nodded, placing his hand on his mother's elbow and ushering her out, his mind still set on cornering Avery and exacting the truth one way or another.

***

They arrived home well past midnight, Draco walking immediately to his room and changing for bed.

"Who gave you those marks?" his mother asked from his doorway, her eyes on his bare torso.

His face burned lightly as he realized his neck and shoulders must be covered with marks Harry'd left from their latest tryst.

"Some girl," Draco said, sliding into a shirt. "I can't remember her name."

"You need to stop doing that, Draco, or you'll never settle down."

"Who says I'm thinking of settling down?" he said, sitting on the edge of his bed.

"You're father and I think it's time you begin to look for a suitable mate," Narcissa said, crossing the room and sitting beside him.

"Good God, Mother," he muttered, throwing his blankets aside. "I'm far too young for all that!"

"Aren't you at least curious about how it feels to love someone?" she said, gazing out his window, as though she could see her husband.

"No," Draco lied.

"You will," she said, turning to him, "and when you do, you won't know what to do."

"If you say so," he shrugged, and crawled into bed.

Narcissa stood and extinguished the light, pulling the covers around his shoulders and kissing his forehead before lying next to him.

"You don't mind if mum sleeps here tonight do you, darling?" she asked, her voice sounding on the verge of tears.

"No, Mother," Draco sighed, remembering times past when she would sneak into his room following a shouting match with his father and crawl into bed with him.

"I'm so afraid," she said, finally dissolving into tears.

Draco slept little that night and as a result returned to classes feeling no more rested than if he'd stayed awake for the entire weekend.