Undefined

Chapter 36

Secrets Within

Thankfully, Harry didn't bother with questions when Draco emerged from Snape's office flustered and unable to articulate words. He walked with purpose, footsteps ricocheting off of the cold stone that encased the dungeons. Everywhere felt oppressive; Draco could not fathom being anywhere but outside where no walls or obstructions could cloud his thoughts. Harry followed, never once asking where they were going or what they were doing. Lucius and Narcissa had long departed when Draco swept outside, the cool night air stinging his face. Somewhere, the scent of burning wood wafted through the air, and it made Draco feel oddly safe. He wandered toward the source of the titillating scent, finding himself just outside the Gamekeeper's hut.

"Hagrid must be back," Harry said faintly.

Draco had no interest in the comings and going of the resident grounds keeper and found a soft patch of grass near a thicket of trees located on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He sat, his knees pressed against his chest, and pulled on stray bits of grass. Harry took a seat beside him, crossing his legs in front of him and resting his head against the trunk.

"Feels nice out," Harry said.

Draco nodded slightly, still thinking of the assailable viciousness of his mother's wrath. She refused to listen to reason. She refused to see past her own absolute prejudice and listen to what he had to say. His father, as usual, was a different story. His stony silence and rigid demeanor did not hint to any sort of acceptance, but instead indicated a fury the likes of which Draco had never known. He realized it'd always been this easy to fall out of his parent's favor; their love had never been unconditional or absolute. So long as he followed the prescribed statutes that enveloped the essence of the Malfoys, Draco could never be anything less than exquisite.

"Say I'm not like them," Draco said, more to himself.

"You're not like them," Harry said.

"Say it's not true!"

"It's not true."

Draco covered his face with his hands, and leant on his knees. It was as though a mirror had been placed in front of him, and if that was what he would become, if that was what he was meant to be, he wanted no part of it. He would sever that part that bred all that insanity and cruelty and blind rage and cast it away. No, he would do more than cast it away--he would squash it and burn it and then bury the ashes to the deepest depth no human could reach. Ever. He felt Harry's arm circle his shoulders but shrank away.

"How can you touch me?" Draco said, appalled.

"It's simple," Harry said, scooting closer.

"Don't!" Draco said, half-pushing Harry away. "I'm disgusting."

"No, you aren't," Harry said, resting his chin on Draco's shoulder.

"I am! I'm just like them!"

"No, you're NOT!"

"Yes, I am! All this time I thought I'd changed, but I haven't."

"'Course you haven't," Harry said sarcastically. "That's why I want to spend all my time with you and don't give a fuck what everyone thinks about us."

Harry's words made Draco realize the complex and tantamount change he'd undergone over the duration of the term. He'd given up his entire façade (albeit a bit stubbornly) just so he could have this. Just so he could have Harry.

"You reckon?" Draco said, putting his arm around Harry and holding him close.

"Yeah," Harry said, scratching his forehead. "I do."

"You know they're sending me off to St. Mungo's tomorrow?" Draco said, laughing slightly. Harry looked at Draco. "Well, they think they are at any rate. But I'd like to see those barmy orderlies they send along try and touch me."

"Where will you go?" Harry asked.

"Dunno. I'll sort it out with Dumbledore when he gets back," Draco said, rubbing his eyes.

He was glad Harry didn't press for details, or sound panic-stricken at the thought of the future. But then, Draco reasoned, Harry had more than enough experience facing an unknown, unpleasant future through the years. Whatever happened happened. There was no prediction, no aged all-knowing seer to guide the path and point them in the right direction. All they could do was cling to one another and hope for the best.

Draco kissed Harry on the forehead and pulled him closer, whereupon Harry assaulted Draco's mouth with his own, clinging to him. And through that kiss under the stars, Draco knew Harry was saying, indeed screaming, don't leave, and I need you, and every other unvoiced feeling he could never promise to fulfill. All Draco could do was pull Harry into a deeper kiss, one full of fervent despair and needing, of never wanting to let go, never wanting to trek back up to the castle and face tomorrow, but knowing, as Draco always knew, facing the inevitable proved facing an unknown beast with undefined and unrelenting features.

***

Morning. Not sunny and inviting, but cloudy, dark, and foreboding. Draco snaked out of bed, trying not to wake Harry in the process, and stood by the window. He checked to make sure his wand was nearby so as not to be caught unawares.

"Come back to bed," Harry said groggily.

"Go back to sleep," Draco said. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's cold without you."

"Use another blanket," Draco said, wrapping his arms around his bare chest.

"No."

"For God's sake, Harry," Draco said, sliding beneath the covers once again.

Harry nestled against Draco, and feeling Harry's soft breath on his chest, Draco groaned in frustration at his morning arousal. He looked to Harry, who had fallen back asleep, and thought of waking him up, but decided against it. Draco closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but his thoughts strayed to the boy sleeping on him. Draco shifted and in the process felt Harry's hand lightly graze his stomach. Oh, fuck, Draco thought, opening his eyes and noticing he now had a full-fledged hard on.

Harry shifted, his soft breath falling like feathers on Draco's neck. He hated, hated, to wake Harry just yet. He was, after all sleeping so peacefully. Draco cleared his throat, and shifted a bit hoping it would awaken Harry, but he remained fast asleep.

"Harry?" he whispered.

Nothing.

"Harry?" Louder.

Still nothing.

Draco sighed heavily and shifted again, moaning slightly from the feel of the sheet rubbing lightly against his throbbing length. Oh, that's wonderful, he thought. A ruddy sheet is getting me all hot and bothered. If only Harry would wake up and put it in his mouth...Draco bit his lip at the thought and then decided to take matters into his own hands. He slid his hand under the sheets and grasped his erection and began pumping lightly. It was quite erotic, he admitted, to do this with Harry so near, his soft breath falling lightly. Draco looked over at the sleeping boy, his face passive and lax, his mouth positioned perfectly for a kiss. Groaning under his own hand, Draco leant in and kissed him, unable to stop himself, causing Harry's eyes to open.

"Wha's wrong?" he asked, suddenly awake.

"Nothing's...wrong..." Draco panted and smiled.

"You should've woken me up," Harry said, smacking Draco's hand away and taking over.

Draco nearly cried out at Harry's touch, but felt his warm mouth cover his own, and his tongue lightly probe his. Just as gently, Harry shifted on top of Draco, still looking extremely tired and not properly woken up. Then, after a few moments of fundamentals, Harry lowered himself onto Draco, moaning in the process. There was something to be said about shagging Harry in the morning like this, Draco decided as he began to thrust slightly. He lay still, allowing Harry to fully avail himself to the penetration, but could not hold back his thrusts any longer when Harry leant down and placed his hands on Draco's chest and bit his lip. Hard. Slow, the logical part of his brain said, while his instinctual part screamed to pound into Harry at top speed. Draco squirmed when he felt Harry's own thrusts increase, meeting his pace, and placed his hand around Harry's now full hard on.

"Shit," Harry hissed, still biting his lip.

Harry thrust wildly into Draco's hand, as Draco slid his free hand up Harry's chest, over his shoulder and into his hair. He tugged, and thrust harder, nearly there. So damn close.

"Faster," Harry breathed.

"There?" Draco said, bucking his hips harder, "or there?" he pumped his hand impossibly fast, causing Harry to cry out.

Harry raised himself up, and ground against Draco, looking down at him through half opened eyes. It was enough. Draco grabbed Harry by the arms and bucked hard one last time, feeling his climax take hold. Draco was so intoxicated by his own orgasm he was only faintly aware of Harry's vice-like grip on his arm and his cry of pleasure. Harry leant down and looked at Draco, his chest heaving, his eyes looking very tired.

"Morning," Draco said lightly, as Harry shifted and collapsed on the bed.

"Yeah," Harry said. "Morning."

Draco pulled a pillow under his head and closed his eyes, only meaning to allow his breathing to return to normal but must have dozed off because the sound of Montague rummaging through his drawers while whistling made Draco jump.

"Shut it, Montague!" Draco yelled through the curtains.

"It's after eight," Montague said calmly.

"And it's Saturday," Draco said pointedly.

"So?"

"So, I wanted to lie-in today!"

"I did too, until I heard you two shagging."

"It's my prerogative!" Draco said.

"Whatever, mate; it's your business. I'm just stating a fact. I'm off to breakfast," Montague said, whistling as he closed the door.

Draco was quite hungry, but made no move to leave the bed, not wanting to go anywhere for the rest of the day.

"'Spose we should go and eat?" Harry asked, finally awake.

"No," Draco said.

"Yeah, me neither. I am hungry though."

"Shut it," Draco said. "I'm hungry too, but if you don't talk about it I won't think about it."

"I could go and fetch something," Harry said, starting to sit up but Draco immediately pulled him back down on top of him.

"No."

"Just a bit of toast," Harry added.

"No."

"Some tea?"

"No." Draco pulled him into a kiss. "And you know I prefer coffee."

Harry nodded as Draco pulled him close, reluctant to let go, driven by an insane fear of never touching him again.

"Montague's gone," Draco whispered in Harry's ear, running his tongue along the underside.

"I know."

"It's Saturday." Surprisingly, Draco found he was ready for yet another morning shag.

"Yes," Harry breathed, rolling his head about to allow Draco's tongue to continue to work wonders on his ear.

Draco placed his lips to Harry's and then--then it was soft and warm and nearly too familiar to be tangible. They continued to kiss and run their hands over one another's bodies, which were now so familiar and so right that Draco nearly burst into tears. Why this particular sensation chose to hit him at that moment he didn't know. He heard the wind pick up outside and rain beat against the windows. Harry's moans were soft and lovely, and his body felt warm and open. Draco gently crawled on top, holding onto the kiss, to any and every part of Harry that he could reach. When he felt Harry whisper that he wanted Draco inside, Draco complied, but felt this time was different.

This time, it wasn't about holding onto the moment to make his orgasm as potent as possible, or taking the time to tease his lover and make him scream. This time, it was about touching and feeling and holding on; about never wanting to let go or think about the horrible truth that was their future. It was about being as connected to Harry as he possibly could, holding onto that to for as long as possible, and screaming for him to never, ever leave him, no matter what. When Draco came, he felt light-headed and dizzy and so happy he wanted to scream for allowing himself to love someone so pure and innocent yet fleeting. When Draco collapsed beside Harry, he felt a few tears slip gently down his cheeks.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

"Nothing," Draco said, placing his hand on Harry's cheek.

***

Draco headed to Dumbledore's office after he'd finally convinced himself it would not do to remain in bed for the duration of the day. He went to knock on the door but heard voices on the other side.

"I cannot allow you to collect any student, no matter what the pre-arranged circumstances may be," Dumbledore said.

"We have orders!" a rather nasally voice responded, and Draco imagined the owner resembled Cornelius Fudge.

"I understand, but the term is not yet over. And while the students reside under my supervision, I have the final say in all matters."

"You're out of line, Dumbledore," a much deeper voice said.

"Some may think, but I have nothing but the best interests of my students in mind," Dumbledore said sternly.

The nasally voice mumbled something Draco could not understand.

"That is not the point!" Dumbledore said loudly. "I suppose you also understand the nature of these accusations! When Mr. Malfoy returns under his parents' supervision during the summer holidays, I will have no say. But as his surrogate guardian, as it were, I will not allow you to manhandle any of my students!"

"Lucius will be informed," the deeper voice responded.

"By all means," Dumbledore said, and Draco realized why he was not a man to cross. "Now I must bid you good day."

Draco heard the scuffle of footsteps and a few seconds later the door swung open. Two men, one rather short and portly, the other quite tall and thick, strode past. Neither looked anything remotely like Fudge.

"Draco," Dumbledore said, waving an arm. "Please."

Draco walked in, turning one last time to watch the two men descend the staircase.

"Would you like some tea?" Dumbledore asked.

"No, sir. Thank you," Draco added.

"Then you won't mind if I avail myself of the newest brew?" Draco shook his head. Dumbledore filled a cup half-way before bringing it to his nose and inhaling deeply. "Ah, blackberry! Excellent!" He took a drink. "Yes, excellent!"

"Sir, you look terrible," Draco said bluntly.

Dumbledore laughed slightly. "I have seen better days."

The aged wizard did look more pallid and tired than ever, and seemed to have a distinct limp Draco didn't remember.

"I must apologize for canceling our lesson, Draco," Dumbledore said, settling into his seat. "But now that I have taken care of the matter, we can begin now if you'd like."

"Yes, sir," Draco said, taking a seat.

"Excellent." Dumbledore closed his eyes momentarily.

If he hadn't kept taking sips from his cup, Draco would have thought the old man had fallen asleep.

"You wish to understand the power that you, as a pure-blood, possess, am I correct?" Draco nodded. "I am afraid I can add little to what you already have acquired during your tutelage at this school. Namely, that it is a derivative of Ancient Magic, but it may very well go farther back than that. I take it you have already mastered the arts of Occlumency and Legilimency?" Again, Draco nodded. "Then you have already mastered the fundamentals. The only added element that you need, in order to reap the full benefits of this power, you already possess."

"Which is?" Draco said, needing to prompt Dumbledore.

"Love."

"Love?" Draco said. "That's it?"

"Yes."

"But how will that help me?"

"The mind is a very intricate organ, Draco. It creates everything around it; it influences our actions, our reactions, and thus our abilities. When faced with Voldemort, incontestably a very powerful wizard, knowledge and powers will limit your success. He is very strong, very fast, and very knowledgeable. However, he lacks many of the necessary qualities which he often overlooks, those of which are the most powerful. Namely: patience, compassion, loyalty, which in short--"

"Comprise love," Draco finished.

"Exactly," Dumbledore said, beaming.

"Which is why Harry has to do it," Draco said "He's the perfect antithesis."

"Ultimately, yes." Dumbledore said. "Voldemort was very unwise to mark Harry as his equal. When he did that, he failed to see the error in his ways: he created the only person capable of negating his own existence."

Draco felt a very large, abnormal knot form in his throat. "Sir, does that mean...Harry will..."

"Not necessarily," Dumbledore said. "Such matters are never black and white. I cannot foresee what the future holds."

Draco nodded, knot still firmly placed in his throat.

"What you must do, Draco," Dumbledore continued, "is fill yourself to the very core with this emotion, even when you think all hope is lost. Especially when you think all hope is lost. Then, I daresay, you will amaze even yourself."

"That's it?" Draco couldn't help asking.

Dumbledore nodded. "What we expect to be the most complicated often turns out to be the simplest."

Just then, a small fire erupted near Dumbledore's desk and a slip of parchment floated through the air. Dumbledore grabbed it mid-air. He read it quickly, and even more quickly stood, causing Draco to jump from his seat.

"I must go," Dumbledore said gravely. "Immediately. Go to your dormitory, Draco, and do not move until I send word."

"Wh--"

But Dumbledore had left the room before Draco could ask. He quickly left, feeling tension from Dumbledore's hasty exit and made his way quickly to his dormitory.

He found a group of Slytherins clustered near the door. In the middle, Nott stood pale and ashen-faced.

"What happened?" Draco asked, pushing his way into the crowd.

"His father's been murdered," a tall, fourth-year boy whispered.

"What?"

"Along with a few others."

"Who?" Draco asked.

"Death Eaters," another voice whispered behind Draco.

"Avery?" Draco asked.

There were silent nods of confirmation.

"MacNair?" More nods. "Shit!"

Draco pushed his way to the center of the small crowd and pulled Nott into the common room. Everyone followed, but Draco didn't bother to shoo them away.

"What happened?" he asked Nott.

"What do you think?" Nott said, looking as though he were about to be sick.

"How did the Dark Lord find out?"

"Who knows," Nott said.

"He'll be coming for us," Draco said.

"I have to go," Nott said, as though he were acting through the will of another. "I've got to get to my mum before they do."

Draco nodded and watched Nott's defeated figure rush out of the room. Against Dumbledore's advice, Draco headed towards the exit, intent on finding Harry.

"He's gone," Hermione said, looking just as ashen-faced as Nott.

"Gone?!" Draco said, as clumps of students passed them in the corridor outside the Gryffindor common room.

The atmosphere in the castle was tense and somber as the news, and as always, reached everyone within moments. The air felt heavy and oppressive, and everyone's expression made Draco feel as though he were attending a very large funeral.

"Dumbledore sent for him," Hermione said, her eyes red. "And he...he..."

Ron pulled her into a hug, looking very grim and statuesque.

"He can't have gone!" Draco said, nearly hysterical.

"He did," Ron said lowly.

"Fuck!" Draco said, kicking the wall.

"He said he'd be back," Hermione said feebly.

"Sure," Draco said. "Come on."

"Where're we going?" Ron asked.

"Snape," Draco said, feeling as though it would prove fruitless.

As he expected, Snape's office door was locked. After several loud knocks and kicks with no answer, Ron and Hermione looked at one another crestfallen.

"FINE! We'll go to my dorm. That's where Dumbledore sent me to begin with," Draco said.

Ron and Hermione followed closely, their presence unnoticed by the clumps of Slytherins who sat talking with bowed heads.

"Here," Draco said, clearing his bed. "You can sit."

Hermione collapsed against Ron as soon as they sat down, leaving Draco alone to pace the room. All they could do now was wait.