Not Quite a Love Song, in Ten Scenes

Part 8: The Astronomy Tower (or: Meet Me at Midnight)

There was, Draco mused as he traipsed through the night-time corridors of Hogwarts, shivering a little in the silk pyjamas under his robe, a reason why Slytherins preferred snogging in the dungeons, apart from the omnipresence of kinky manacles. The Astronomy Tower was just too bloody far away!

And then he wasn't even sure if the Wizarding World's little robed avenger would show. It would be just like Potter to bear a grudge over that silly little duel Draco had forgot as a first year. He seemed to have memorised everything else Draco had ever done or said...

He had to fumble his way in the dark, since the recent increase of Voldemortish activity meant nightly staff patrols of the castle, and a Lumos would be a dead give-away.

Thankfully, the same applied to the patrollers, Draco thought as a stab of light appeared from behind the corner off the Arithmancy classroom. He dashed behind a suit of armour, banging against the frame of the adjacent portrait in the process. The sleeping wizard in the canvas opened a bleary eye, stared down at him from the back of his snoring Pegasus, and slurred, "What-?"

Loudly.

Draco cursed and pressed himself against the back of the armour as the light approached. Peering out from under a metal arm, he recognised Professor Generica, this year's Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.

"Is somebody there?"

With an imploring look at the portrait, Draco put a finger to his lips. A few more steps, and the old bat had to see him. If she couldn't sense him, anyway. Rumour had it that Lamia Generica had to have vampire blood. She looked like Snape's older sister, and statistically, it was more than likely. They'd had a werewolf, two Death Eaters, a fop and a bureaucrat since he'd entered Hogwarts - there just weren't all that many unused monsters left. Though of course rumour also claimed that Snape had vampire blood, which was rubbish. His godfather's most uncanny vice wasn't bloodsucking, but a tendency to parade the castle in women's clothing...

Just when the light had almost reached Draco's feet, an arm sneaked around his shoulder out of nowhere and a hand clamped over his mouth. At least it felt like a hand. He couldn't see a bloody thing! In panic, he tried to shake off the invisible assailant - had that oaf Hagrid acquired a Lethifold? - when a likewise invisible foot kicked his shin and a very familiar voice hissed into his ear.

"Stop it, will you!"

"Potter?" he mouthed against the palm that was muffling him, and then he was swung around against the castle wall while a warm body pressed against his and folds of something silvery and iridescent fell around the two of them.

Draco's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as Professor Generica rounded the suit of armour and her glowing wand filled the small nook they were pressed into with steady light. He made another attempt to squirm out from behind Potter's body - maybe he could escape while Generica had Potter for a midnight snack? The bloody Gryffindor just shoved him into the wall again.

To Draco's everlasting surprise, there was no outcry from Generica - bat or not, she couldn't be that blind, could she? Or that shocked, seeing her two most antagonistic sixth years locked in what must look to the uninformed observer like a passionate embrace.

"Would you mind turning off the wand, Madame?" the painted wizard next to Draco grouched. "Some of us are trying to sleep here."

Almost reluctantly, Generica lowered her wand. As she strode off, robes billowing Snapeishly behind her, Draco was ready to explode with rage.

"Potter, you bastard! You have a bloody Invisibility Cl-" Slender fingers clamped down over his lips again.

"And I'll have it confiscated and the two of us will be hauled off to detention for the rest of our natural lives if you don't pipe down!" Potter's near-Parselmouth hiss into Draco's ear made his hair stand on end.

Draco could feel Potter's heartbeat where their chests were crushed together. Potter's hair - surprisingly soft for all its wild tangles - tickled his face, and for a moment he had an overwhelming urge to bury his face in the crook of the Gryffindor's neck.

But then Potter let go and arranged the Invisibility Cloak around them with practised ease. Then he grabbed Draco's hand and pulled him along.

They had to make a quick dash for it right at the top of the Astronomy Tower staircase, where they were near-stampeded by a pair of Hugglepuffs, thoroughly flushed and with their robes misbuttoned. Behind them, Filch stormed out of the classroom amidst furious grumbling, Mrs Norris rubbing herself on his heels.

Draco held onto Potter in another frantic embrace as they wobbled against the railing, while Filch ranted to his cat. This time, Draco had to muffle his snickers against Potter's throat. The Gryffindor didn't seem to mind at all. He held him tightly, and moved his hand from Draco's waist to cup the back of his neck. A rough tongue slid over Draco's skin and began to give his bare ankle a thorough tongue washing that left him squirming. He collapsed in Potter's arms, fist stuffed in his mouth to keep from yelping.

As soon as Filch had disappeared down the first spiral, Draco delivered a sound kick at the infernal beast that sent it bouncing down behind the caretaker, claws skidding on the stone steps.

Potter dragged him inside the Astronomy classroom, charmed the door locked behind them, and said, in a voice still raspy with suppressed giggles,

"Now... what's so top secret that it took you two days and a trip to the school's most infamous snogging place?"

Draco's fingers closed around the little box in his pocket, and he glared.

"You threw mud at me under a bloody Invisibility Cloak, that day in Hogsmeade!"

"True," Potter confessed blithely. "You were a right git then."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "And I'm not now?"

Potter mirrored his expression with frightful accuracy.

"That depends on whether we're here for a reason, or whether you're just trying to avoid going to Dumbledore because you've changed your mind."

Oh believe me, I'm here for a reason, Potter, Draco thought.

"I had to owl the Manor for something you should have before I break with my family and lose it for good," he said. His eagle owl, Perfidia, had done a speedy flight to deliver the little package that was currently burning a hole in his pocket.

"Something I should have?" Potter inquired suspiciously.

Draco reached for the box in his pocket and shook his head as Potter went for his wand.

"For someone who swore me his undying love, you trust me very little."

"That was before you tried to kill me." A bit of that flat tone returned to Potter's voice as he said that, and Draco discovered that he really, really didn't like it.

So he just shrugged and opened the box to reveal a small silver locket on a silver chain gleaming against the black velvet lining. Potter stared.

"It's the Black Locket," Draco explained as he lifted out the ornate silver piece. "And I guess it would be yours by right now. The family protection of the House of Black."

At this, Potter frowned. "But I'm not-"

"Handed down from heir to heir," Draco continued. "That blood-, um, Sirius Black had no son, and his younger brother's dead too, but you're his godson, which is a connection as magically binding as blood. When there was no heir left from the main line, it went to my mother's family, and since her older sister was another bl-, um, disinherited, it came down to my mother, and then to me." Draco paused. "But you... you have a right to it."

Though there was still suspicion in Potter's eyes, Gryffindor curiosity won out.

"What does it do?"

Draco smirked and picked out a piece of wizarding paper from under the velvet. A touch to the locket's mechanism, and lid snapped open. He slid the paper inside, where it stuck to the bottom by the magic of the medallion, and snapped it shut again.

"You put a photograph of the Black to protect inside, and it'll shield him from most enchantments that generations of Black sorcerers could find counter-curses to. A portable defensive ward, if you like. Oh, it won't fend off an Unforgivable, or really powerful Dark Magic, but it will deal with a lot of what my father's friends will throw at you."

As if hypnotised, Potter lifted his hand to the shimmering piece of jewellery, and then pulled back again. His eyes rose to meet Draco's, wide green and vulnerable.

"Why would you give me something so valuable?"

"Well, if I'm to side with your lot, and you're the one supposed to vanquish You-Know-Who, you'd better be as well-protected as possible. In my own best interest." He had meant it to come out flippantly, but somehow failed. Suddenly awkward, Draco bit his lip. "The Dark Lord... he said that he could read your mind, your feelings. Intelligency, or something..."

"Legilimency," Potter corrected, his mouth quirking up.

"Whatever." Draco squirmed. "He said... he said that you loved me..."

His voice trailed off into embarrassment at the end, and he felt his face grow hot. Which just wasn't done! You didn't blush in Slytherin.

A thin, cynical line tugged at Potter's mouth.

"You mean it took Voldemort's confirmation for you to believe me? What did you think I meant?" he snapped.

"To drive me crazy," Draco sighed. "To prank me. Something evil, Gryffindor-like."

Potter sneered, a frightfully Malfoyesque expression.

"And now?"

Draco reached up to smooth the line at the corner of Potter's mouth, realising that no, he did not like that at all either.

"Now," he said softly as Potter's eyes went dark, "I want you to be safe."

He put the silver chain around Potter's neck, but instead of letting the locket fall free, he twisted the chain once around his hand until it sat snugly around Potter's throat, and pulled him in by his impromptu leash.

And kissed him.

Despite it being Potter, it wasn't quite as unpleasant as expected. Oh, there was a distinct lack of taste of vanilla, cinnamon, or whatever was en vogue in those Witch Weekly articles that dealt with sex instead of slander. Instead, Potter smelled of standard issue Hogwarts soap and nervous sweat, and tasted predominantly of lamb chops and gravy from dinner. Which was all right. Draco liked lamb chops.

Potter was the first to pull back, lips slightly puffy.

"You don't have to do that," he whispered, a raw tone to his voice. "I'll help you even-"

Firmly, Draco put his fingertips over the protesting lips.

"But I want to," he said before replacing his fingers with his mouth a second time, loosening the chain about Potter's throat a little as he did.

It was the very least he owed Potter, after all.

They were both flushed and breathing heavily when they came up for air. Draco let go of the chain at last, and pressed the locket into Potter's hand.

"Now, open it," he commanded.

Potter's fingers fumbled with the mechanism for a moment, and then the lid snapped open. A Sickle-sized picture of Potter, cut out from one of Draco's treasured Rita Skeeter articles, scowled up at the real Potter. Who blinked.

And vanished with a muffled *pop*.

Draco shook his head, fished his own Portkey out of his robe, and followed.

~ tbc. ~
Next: Family (or: All's Fair in Love and War)