Becoming

Author's Note: Many thanks to my lovely beta Laurel, who is standing in on this story until Robert can have a moment to breathe. Miss you Robert!

Chapter 6 June 5th, 1999

I was standing on the topmost platform of the Astronomy Tower looking out over the vast sapphire sky. I always loved the night just after twilight. It wasn't pitch black and impossible to see as it became when it reached closer to the witching hour, there was light enough, by the moon and the recently descended sun, to cast the whole sky into a navy blue vista dotted with what seemed to be brilliant precious jewels. The moon was low and bright, coating the landscape with its silvery light and I kept my eyes locked on the South, where I expected Harry's arrival.

In my robe pocket was the note that I wrote to Harry earlier that morning, his messy reply written at the bottom of it. I must have read the scrawl a hundred times since Artimus, my owl, brought it back to me, though it was short enough that I had it memorized and the repeated reading of it was quite unnecessary.

At first I thought Artimus had gotten lost, or couldn't find his charge because the note appeared to be exactly what I had sent out, but I should have known better. Not only was Artimus the best and most brilliant tracker, but I should have anticipated Harry's lack of couth in not even bothering to fetch a new sheet of parchment for his own note. After weeks of no word one would think that I was justified a new scrap of paper at the very least.

And the note, those two little words that left me more confused than I had been at sending the letter at the beginning. 'I shouldn't.' What did that mean? Did it mean he would meet me or not? Not, 'can't' or 'won't' or even 'not on your life, Malfoy' but 'shouldn't'. I supposed it wasn't an outright 'no', which should have heartened me, but it didn't.

Why could he not just be direct with me? I was certainly direct enough with him, I mean a kiss is a fairly direct way of saying 'I fancy you', or at least I had presumed so. And he kissed me back, so there had to be something, however small, that made him respond, even though it all went to hell shortly afterward. The promise to have a chat about it was obviously hollow, and there was no way I was going to stalk him in his office again, so I was left with this -a note asking him to meet me and a confusing response. Brilliant.

I was thinking about taking the note out of my pocket to look it over once more, as if the one hundred and second time would yield any new answers, when I heard the distinctive whoosh of air bearing down on me and I cursed my ignorance. Of course Harry was there already, probably laughing at me from afar as he waited to see how long I would linger there for him. But I was much cleverer than he gave me credit for, because I knew the sound of a broom as it neared me and I knew who the flyer would be.

With more swiftness than I had ever exerted trying to catch the Snitch I lunged for him, but still missed, the feel of soft fabric just barely grazing my fingertips as he flew out of range. I called after him but I already knew it was too late; I could hear his retreat and could feel the air all around me empty of his presence. I cursed the sky, screaming my solitude and frustration into the wind, and that was when I saw it.

The tiny haphazard box with the thin green ribbon; green like Slytherin, green like his eyes. My heart sped up as I reached to open it, wondering what was inside, curious about what Harry had bestowed upon me. With nimble fingers I tore off the ribbon, releasing it into the air and watched it float slowly to the ground and then I pulled off the box's lid.

"Draco," a soothing voice whispered. "Draco, my love."

"Hmm?" I asked, feeling suddenly sleepy and a bit disoriented. Where was I?

"Draco, sweetie. You're having a nightmare, wake up my angel," cooed the soft voice once more.

"Harry?" I asked groggily, trying to clear the sleep from my gaze.

"Oh dear, I thought you said you weren't having that dream anymore," my mother said, for I could now see her brilliant white hair falling in waves to the mattress. She was leaning over me and I was back in my room, no longer on the Astronomy Tower roof, no longer screaming for Harry to come back, no longer looking down at the ring he had returned to me.

Mother was right, I had said that I had stopped having that nightmare, but it wasn't the truth. I just didn't want to continually worry her with my troubles. I didn't even know why I kept letting that idiot Gryffindor get to me, but as I stared at the ring that once grazed his finger and now sat upon mine again, I knew I couldn't get over it so easily as just brushing it aside. I wore the band that I had given him as a token of my commitment to an oath.

Like him or not I still owed the man my life and that was a debt I would need to repay sooner rather than later.

Not for the first time I began wondering who I knew that was skilled enough to put Potter in serious danger to allow me the chance to save his life. My mother was being her normally intuitive self, however, and stopped my thoughts with a sharp shake of her head. "You know that won't work, Draco. It is ancient magic that binds you to him. It cannot be tricked so simply."

"I'd ask you how you always manage to do that, but I'm afraid of the answer," I told her bitterly. I knew she wasn't reading my mind because not even someone as soft and delicate as my mother could be gentle enough with the probing that I wouldn't feel it, but it was still spooky sometimes how well she knew me. But then, I suppose I am her son after all.

"Would you care for some breakfast now that you're up?" she asked with a warm smile but I shook my head. "Tea?"

"I think I can handle tea," I replied. My stomach was still churning after that nightmare and I didn't think piling food on top of it was the best idea.

As she got up, she paused for a moment and looked back down at me with a wide smile. "Oh, and one last thing. Happy birthday, Sweetheart," she whispered and placed a small package on the bed before quickly striding from the room.

Birthday. I'd nearly forgotten. Well, I would have recalled eventually I'm sure, but with the vivid dream of that night -now more than three months ago; I hadn't had a moment to think about what today actually was. Today I turned nineteen, not a big landmark for wizards, but the very fact that I lived to see it after everything I've been through was rather impressive on its own.

Unlike previous years I hadn't made any plans to celebrate. It would just be my mother and I, perhaps a bit of shopping and a nice dinner. Usually we threw a grand party and invited lots of prestigious witches and wizards that I didn't care about -or vice versa for that matter- and there would be food and wine and merriment to be had by all. However, given the circumstances of my father's recent passing and the fact that the whole of the wizarding world thought my mother and I were leeches on society, I thought it best to keep the event low key this year.

Never one to leave a present alone for too long, I tore into the gift she'd left and opened the thin red box underneath the glittering paper. An antique silver pocket watch was placed delicately inside soft white fabric and I gasped at its unmistakable opulence. It had been my father's and was inlayed with the Malfoy crest made from obsidian stones and rich glistening emeralds. The jewels reminded me of Harry's eyes but I tried to shove away the image of the messy haired boy as I opened the watch with a delicate creak.

A moving photo of my younger self with my parents smiling proudly behind me filled the space across from the whirring timepiece. The watch told time in every zone, automatically adjusting as one Apparated back and forth between them. On the face of the watch were more than a dozen arms, all of which had their own unique purpose and I would be entertained for hours trying to figure them all out. Some of them were stagnant, waiting for a spell that might bring them to life; others I knew were compass-like, ready to point me in the direction of what I needed, while there were the normal three used for the mundane task of timekeeping.

It was a handsome heirloom and the thought of it belonging to me now and not my father made my eyes well up with unshed tears. The painful memory of that day in the prison filled my mind once more, along with it came the unbidden recollection of how much Potter had helped me that morning, how he had held me in a tight embrace and kept my eyes from faltering toward my father's remains. Why did everything keep coming back to him? Why was everything so difficult; so conflicted? Why did Harry feel compelled to return my token in such an impersonal manner when everything else he'd done had been more personal and touching than I could have imagined possible?

I sighed and pulled myself abruptly from my state of despair. It was my birthday after all and I wasn't going to allow some Gryffindor git to ruin it from afar. After showering and quickly dressing, I made my way downstairs to the parlor where my mother was waiting with a cup of tea. I took a seat and poured my own cup; I was thankful that she allowed me to sip from it and relax before she lit in with a barrage of questions.

"So what would you like to do today, love?" she asked brightly. I knew she wanted to go shopping with me, but I wasn't sure if I was up to it today.

"I'm thinking lunch in the garden," I began.

"Oh, I love that restaurant," she cooed.

"I actually meant our garden," I corrected and she blushed.

"Of course dear, whatever you like," she replied but I could tell I had disappointed her slightly.

"Although, The Garden does make a delicious Yorkshire Pudding," I mused. "We could go there for lunch."

"Brilliant," she exclaimed. "I'll have Biddy make a reservation. Perhaps afterward we could go for a walk around Diagon Alley?" I smiled wearily and nodded. I would always indulge my mother even if I wasn't feeling up to the task myself. I couldn't very well sulk alone in my room all day.

"I loved the gift by the way," I offered, curious that she hadn't mentioned it.

"We'll pick you out something new while we're out today, but your Father would have given that to you this year so I thought it only appropriate," she whispered, clearly emotional and on the verge of crying. My mother was a strong woman and never liked crying in front of anyone, not even me -or perhaps especially not me- so I changed the subject.

"Maybe we could pop into Quality Quidditch and see if the new Orbital 2000 is in stock yet?" I suggested, knowing she wouldn't particularly care for that trip, but also knowing she would go along with the distraction.

"That sounds nice, Dear" she muttered with her best fake smile and got up. "I'll go get ready and meet you back down here in an hour."

"How about we meet at the restaurant?" I offered. "There's something I'd like to do quickly."

"Whatever you prefer, Sweetheart," she replied, kissing me lightly on the forehead. She studied me for a brief moment before gliding upstairs and I wasted no time before Apparating to my own destination.

Harry's flat had a bright and cheery exterior, warm stone dotted with flower boxes on every window and a spacious upper balcony with intricate wrought iron furniture. Two spiraling topiaries flanked the arched doorway and I just stood there, staring at the handle like a twat. I didn't know what I was doing there. Part of me hoped I might run into Potter on the sidewalk while my logical brain knew I was more likely to run into his other half since Harry would assuredly be at work.

I didn't want to admit how often I stood outside his flat just hoping for a glimpse of him through the window. I didn't want to talk to him -I was still far too angry over his blind dismissal to be able to form a coherent speech- I just wanted to see him. I'm not even sure at what point I had fallen in love with Harry Potter, but I had. Damn him to hell but the small fragment of genuine affection he bestowed upon me had me swooning like a twelve-year-old girl for the newest wizard boy band. It was both utterly humiliating and completely unavoidable since my mother had once wisely pointed out 'you can't choose who you love; love always chooses you'.

With a deep sigh and a shake of my head I Apparated to Diagon Alley and made my way to the restaurant. The Garden was new to the area and widely popular already. It specialized in magical organic meals and had every housewife lined up to try their healthy alternatives to the usual lunch or dinner. Personally I found it ghastly. Give me rich sauces and warm buttered bread any day; I could always work off the calories playing Quidditch, or preferably something more exciting, but ever since Potter looked my way I had been unable to see myself in another wizard's bed.

It was already turning out to be a dreadful birthday when I walked up to the hostess and gave her my name. She didn't even glance down at the reservation list before telling me there was nothing available.

"I think you'll find 'Malfoy party of two' on that list, we called it in this morning," I noted with a tinge of annoyance.

Her sneer was worse than even my father's but I remained unmoved until she pointed at the sign in front of her podium that read 'We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone'. The Malfoy's were blacklisted everywhere. I had already come across this situation so many times since our trial that I knew better than to argue, I simply turned around and walked back to the patio entrance.

I had never felt so defeated, not by the scrawny hostess with a chip on her shoulder, but the very thought of being rejected once again; a cherry to top off the wonderful year I'd been having so far. My life was riddled with failures now, too many to count, too few good deeds to balance them out. I just wanted to go home, but I couldn't let my mother experience the same treatment so I simply waited there by the low garden fence that surrounded the restaurant's patio.

Her white blonde hair could have been spotted miles away, but then I suppose mine could have been, too. She strolled right up to me but my gaze quickly left her when I saw who walked uncomfortably at her side.

"Happy Birthday, Malfoy," Harry offered softly, extending his hand for me to shake.

All I could do was look at it; more importantly the finger that my ring used to grace and eventually he let it fall back to his side. My mother's cross look wasn't lost on me, but I didn't care. I was still too hurt to speak to him.

"Mother, they don't have our reservation and are too full to seat us. I think we should go down to Madame Duvall's," I suggested, knowing the owner was a Slytherin and a friend of the family and we wouldn't be turned away there.

"Nonsense. Biddy assured me the reservation was made. Perhaps they just noted it wrong," she replied as she glided passed me to the hostess podium.

"Shit," I cursed and chased after her, sensing Harry follow. "Really Mother, it's quite alright. I'd rather have-" I began, but Harry cut me off.

"I should have a reservation," he announced. "I'd like to add them to mine."

The hostess' eyes went wide at the sudden appearance of Harry Potter and she scrambled to grab three menus. "Of course, right away, Sir," she replied with an adoring smile and waved for us to follow her to the back.

The building resembled a giant greenhouse, massive windows with metal moldings coated in a thick sage patina. The tables were all birdbaths, while the seats resembled overturned flowerpots and a glimmering fountain sent water showering into a glass tiled pool in the center of the room. The hostess set up right next to the fountain and I sighed at the obvious way she was trying to impress Potter, even flirting with him as she left the menu.

"This was really unnecessary, Potter," I told him, still hoping to somehow squirm out of having to eat lunch with him.

"Stop being ungrateful, Draco," my mother chastised. "I'm off to the ladies room to wash my hands. Be nice," she warned quietly in my ear. I hadn't told her everything; simply that Harry had given me the ring back. She had no idea that he just took off without a word after he was supposed to meet me so that we could discuss things -things like his impending marriage and our kiss.

"Why did you do that?" I asked, rounding on him the moment my mother was out of earshot.

"Do what?" he asked feigning innocence.

"I don't know, pick one," I hissed. "Showing up outside, getting us this table, giving me back my ring," I spat, brandishing the silver band on my finger.

He swallowed thickly and shook his head. "I ran into your mother at Gringotts and she told me it was your birthday and that she was on her way to meet you and insisted I tag along," he admitted.

"Brilliant," I muttered. "So my mother drags you down here kicking and screaming as a birthday present for me I suppose?"

"Look, Draco-" he started but I shook my head.

"Enough. Please leave me alone, Potter," I told him firmly.

"I thought I was helping, I could tell that woman wasn't going to give you a table and I could also tell that you didn't want your mum to be turned away, I didn't think-"

"No!" I shouted, drawing far too much attention. "You never do. I don't need your charity, Potter and I don't need you," I barked and shoved my chair away from the table so that I could get up and leave. I felt the warmth of his hand on mine, asking me without words not to storm away, but I shook him off. "You made your decision when you returned this ring without any explanation," I whispered deeply before exiting the restaurant. All eyes were on the exchange, but I didn't care. Let the hounds gossip, let them say whatever they like. No doubt it would do little to tarnish Potter's dazzling reputation and mine couldn't get too much worse.

As I walked the streets of Diagon Alley I wondered to myself why I had even bothered. How could I get myself so worked up over a nearly married man? My father's passing must have had even more of an effect on my mental state than I had suspected. A few gallant acts from a man who is known for his savior complex, a connective spark between us that I'm sure at least a dozen other people-including his fiancé- share with him, and a kiss that I initiated; all that doesn't create a relationship. It creates an obsession, I wasn't falling in love with Potter I was continuing my unhealthy obsession with him, only in a twisted new way.

I needed to calm down and reevaluate my life's direction. Perhaps I had been so afraid of losing my last tether to my old life that I clung to something that didn't exist. Potter loved the Weasel-ette, that much was clear by his refusal and the returning of my ring, but I still had a debt to pay and that meant I couldn't cut him out of my life completely - and loath as I was to admit it, I didn't want to.

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