White Horses

DRACO WOKE TO A WHOLE series of odd feelings: not only a smothering tightness in his chest to match his galloping pulse, but a prickling on the back of his neck. He opened his eyes a sliver and squinted blearily into the wintry sunlight. Something wasn't right. He gave a violent start when he realized that Harry was sitting silently next to his bed. The Gryffindor had dragged the same ebony chair over, and he spoke as if they were already in the middle of conversation while Draco lay there blinking at him.

"You see, the problem is that I really want to talk about what happened. But I don't have anyone to talk to, except for you."

Harry's statement was like an unasked for answer to a never thought of question. He didn't even acknowledge that it had been nearly two weeks since they were last here. Draco scrubbed at his eyes and pushed himself up on his elbows. His white hair stuck out about his head in a wispy nimbus as he raised sleep-dulled grey eyes to Harry. Not awake enough to care about anything, he jerked his head at the other boy - nodding him over - before he collapsed back onto the pillow with a moan of, "Come on, then. Tell me all about it."

Unable to completely swallow his smile, Harry moved to sit on the edge of the coverlet. He looked down at Draco, who had closed his eyes again. The boy's papery skin looked paler than usual and he had bruises under his eyes, despite it being well into the morning. Harry reached hesitantly for the blonde, but stopped just short of touching him. He asked, "Are you all right?"

Draco didn't open his eyes, but his voice was at least alive with sarcasm as he retorted, "I've seen better days."

The truth was that Draco hadn't slept more than two hours the night before. Although they had finished their exams, Draco had immediately found a new stressor in the form of a letter from his mother. He had burnt the elegantly penned parchment, but it didn't help matters, as he had the whole bloody thing committed to memory. It had been mercifully short:

Draco, mon étoile du matin--

Her fond nickname for him could be translated as 'Morning Star.' It was one of the epithets of Lucifer. He'd never been sure if she used it to imply that he could become second only to God - or to foretell his downfall.

I trust this letter finds you well and ready to return home. We all anticipate your visit and are eager to meet your new friend over the holidays - Cait is also coming for the festivities. Until then, au revoir.

Of course, Narcissa had finished her missive off with the family motto: "So shall thou feed on Death, that feeds on men, /And Death once dead, there's no more dying then." Way to be subtle, Mummy dearest.

Though the bit of Shakespeare wasn't really the family motto. The true motto was "Sans peur, sans mal, sans tache," but the rest of the family seemed to have forgotten that fact.

After receiving the letter, Draco had spent the night tossing in bed and agonizing over the obvious reminder of what was expected of him, and what would happen if he didn't trap Harry and deliver his 'new friend' to Voldemort. Happy Christmas to you, too. As if he had needed reminding.

Just last night everything had seemed perhaps hopeless. Yet here was Harry again - sitting on his bed and looking faintly worried with his hand outstretched, willingly jumping back into Draco's plots. Draco took that concerned look with him as he let his eyes slide shut again and continued, "I've got to say, though, this day does seem an immediate improvement." He sighed and hinted, "If only it could start a few hours later."

Harry laughed and crossed those last few inches to smooth a hand over Draco's rumpled hair. What he felt, though, was an unnatural cold, when his hand brushed that pale skin.

He frowned and quickly pressed the back of his hand to Draco's forehead, then to his cheek, before exclaiming, "Jesus, Malfoy! You're cold to the touch!" Those silvery eyes slid open to glare blearily at him and this time, Harry wasn't sure if it was playacting or not. He held the boy's face between his hands and asked seriously, "Draco, don't muck about with me: is there something wrong?"

Draco just stared at him, as if weighing his options. Finally, when Harry thought he wasn't going to answer, the blonde admitted softly, "Yes."

Harry reacted more strongly than Draco had even expected. The Gryffindor exclaimed, "Come on, I'll take you to Pomfrey," as he jerked back the duvet that had covered Draco.

The thin boy started shivering uncontrollably as soon as the chill morning air hit him. He snatched back the blanket and ground out through clenched teeth, "Now, Potter, I know you've wanted to kill me on any number of occasions, but, please, not like this." He was able to control his shaking once he was back under the weight of the blankets but he seemed to be breathing in short little pants and his parted lips were a bloodless white.

Staring in shock as Draco reached one white hand out of the warm bed to fumble at the bedside table, Harry didn't understand what the hell was going on. The shaky fingers that Draco had stretched out were stained a faint blue, and although Harry didn't recognize the cyanosis for what it was, it frightened him. He pushed Draco's hand back and said, "What do you need? I'll get it for you."

Draco slid his eyes over to the nightstand and said in a slightly thin voice, "There's a bottle of pills in there, if you could be so kind." Harry pulled open the drawer and didn't have time to wonder about the different trinkets and personal effects in that jumbled mess. He had found four different bottles of utterly Muggle-looking pills.

He turned back to Draco, feeling even more unnerved. Why did Draco need all these pills? The Slytherin tapped on the correct bottle and said, "Two of that one." Harry hoped he was imagining the bluish tint to the Slytherin's lips and he wrestled with the child-safe cap for a moment, before shaking the pills into his hand. He took two out of the small pile and tipped the extras back into their clear orange bottle.

He held the pills out to the boy and asked unsurely, "Do you need some water?" Draco shook his head and downed the drugs like they were candy.

Harry didn't say anything for a moment, and he wasn't sure what reaction he might get when he asked, "Are you sure you don't need to go to the hospital wing?"

Draco shook his head and burrowed under the covers, murmuring, "Yes. But if you still feel the need to be helpful, you could come keep me warm." The Gryffindor hesitated. They hadn't yet talked about what had happened (or what was happening). Who knew what would happen once they did? But there was Draco, weak and ill, and so Harry pushed off his shoes to crawl onto the bed. He stretched out next to the blonde, the blankets still separating them. Slowly, he moved his arms around the cold boy and questioned him softly, "Malfoy, what's wrong with you? What're the pills for?"

Draco edged onto his side, trying to help alleviate the pain gnawing at his chest. It didn't really help, but hopefully the drugs would. "The pills," he said, his lips tingling with that curious numbness, "were just a... precaution. This has happened once before." When Harry asked what 'this' was, Draco took the boy's hand and laid it over his painfully tight chest.

Once Harry realized what he was feeling, he gasped. Draco's heart was pounding against his hand, but the beats weren't regular. Rather they stumbled over one another, at times lagging behind and at times fluttering feebly in a rapid staccato against his palm. He hissed into Draco's ear, "You have to explain this time, Malfoy. What is this? What's wrong with your heart?" The Slytherin would have like to have made a joke of that, but the suffocating pain leeched away his humour.

"Fine, Harry. But this is more than anyone else gets to know - and it's really making me uncomfortable that you know so many of my secrets. Even the Slytherins don't know that... that I have a heart condition." He sighed, but explained, "The irregular heartbeat is arrhythmia. It's not necessarily too serious on its own, but..."

Harry pulled the slight blonde closer and Draco could feel the breath of his words on the back of his neck, "But what? Why do you sound so spooked, Draco?"

He closed his eyes tiredly and willed his heart to pump properly, as if that had ever helped. He could feel his body struggling to keep itself alive. Harry was warm and normal behind him and Draco wanted to hate him for it - but he could only manage a weak hate for whatever fate kept putting him in these situations, with this faulty body and his weak will.

"I said this had happened once before. It's called Pinzmetal's agina - the pain, lightheadedness, fatigue, all brought on by nothing, just sleep or cold. It's... it's a bad sign. For people with congenital heart disease, it means you're getting worse - closer."

Harry didn't want to ask, but he had to with a lead-up like that, "Closer to what?"

Draco kept his eyes shut and felt a thrill of fear as his chest burned beneath Harry's hand. He said unemotionally, "Heart failure. One day, your heart just won't be able to struggle any longer."

He could feel the Gryffindor go still against his back. Harry's voice was dangerously soft as he said, "What are you saying, Malfoy? Are you saying that you're dying?"

It might have been wishful thinking, but Draco thought his heart rate was falling into a pattern. Not a normal person's pattern, but at least some sort of regularity. He let out a shaky laugh, "No, Potter. I'm no more dying than you are. I just'll have to be more careful. Hell, Blaise might've actually done me a favour by kicking me off the quidditch team."

Harry could only see the edge of Draco's face, from the way he was spooned again the Slytherin. Maybe it was easier to talk like this though - without actually having to see each other's reactions. Unable to deal with this new revelation, Harry started, "Draco, diverting as your impending heart attack is, it's really not what I came down here to talk to you about. Though it's probably good someone was here, you stupid prat."

Despite his calm statement, Harry kept his arms around the boy as he spoke, the one hand pressed against Draco's chest and the other linking one bony wrist to keep a feel on his pulse there.

"I've been thinking a lot. About what happened. And I'm not really sure what to do - but I do know I don't want to split up with you. I don't know that anything else is possible, but I think I need to at least try."

Draco sighed and reiterated, "So, we're trying?"

Harry spoke into his neck and agreed, "Yes, we're trying."

Draco smiled slightly and turned his head to press a soft kiss against Harry's lips. He turned back around and snuggled the boy around him, then said in a smug voice, "Well, all right then. That means we don't have to fight, and I can get some more sleep." Harry laughed and for the first time in more than a week, it wasn't tired or bitter or dark - it was just pure laughter. They lay there quietly, Draco dozing and Harry relishing the scary feeling of his irregular heartbeats, both willingly ignoring the reality outside of their secluded room.

HARRY DID FINALLY DRAG THE boy out of bed. By noon they had stumbled up to the Great Hall for lunch. They caught up with Ginny and the threesome soon headed out to play in the new snow. They certainly weren't the only ones at it. With everyone forced to stay at Hogwarts for the hols, and exams done with, all the students were glad to get out and enjoy the rare freedom with their classmates.

The three of them traipsed through the knee-high snow down to the edge of the lake, and Harry watched as Draco and Ginny tried to break the thick edge of ice that had grown on the muddy bank. It quickly devolved into a race of who could break the most of the ice floes, which then turned into who could throw the most broken ice chunks into the other person's territory. They were dripping with frigid ice water and laughing breathlessly when Ron and Hermione came upon them.

Hermione frowned and quickly cast a drying charm on both Draco and Ginny, scolding them with, "What are you two thinking? Getting wet and cold in weather like this! You'll catch your deaths."

Draco looked surprised that the Gryffindor prefect had included him in her scolding and charms, but he rose to the occasion - and quickly placed the blame on Ginny. "You're right, Granger. I just told Ginevra the same thing. But you know how hot-headed these Weasleys can be."

Hermione retorted dryly, "Somehow I doubt that, Malfoy, although you do have the Weasleys pegged about right - these two, at least." Ron made an outraged choking noise and there was a decidedly hot-headed glint in his eye as he scooped up a large handful of snow.

Draco watched gleefully as Hermione was forced to back away from Ron - that is, until Ginny shoved a snowball down the back of his shirt underneath his cloak. He turned to glare furiously, with his most arrogant Malfoy look in place, and was rewarded with a face full of wet snow. Wiping the dripping mess from his face, he addressed the grey heavens above: "Sod it, then." With that, he tackled Ginny and they went tumbling in a deep snowbank.

Harry was just watching and laughing as he watched the two Weasleys take on their opponents. Hermione was shrieking like a girl, but even as she did, she was hitting Ron far more often with her well-aimed snowballs than he was getting her with the lumps of snow he was wildly flinging about with shovel-like hands. He saw Ginny spluttering on the ground, caked bits of snow clinging to her clothes. But then, where was Draco?

As soon as he thought it, he felt a pair of cold lips pressed against the back of his neck. Shivering at the feeling, he turned with a questioning look to his boyfriend. Draco smiled sweetly and pressed a chaste kiss against his forehead. Harry's eyes slid shut and before he could think of the ramifications of everyone seeing them like this, he was brought back to reality by the handful of snow that Draco had shoved down the front of his shirt. The blonde dashed away, laughing maniacally, while Harry shrieked and tried to pull the wet cold away from his skin. Tugging his shirt out to dislodge the snow, he sprinted after Draco, jumping on the other boy and sending them both rolling across the ground. Draco was dazed for a moment and Harry took the opportunity to sit on top of him and stuff snow down his shirt in return.

The others paused in their own trials to watch the infamous Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry flare back into life. Then Draco threw Harry off himself and crawled feebly away. He held one hand out to stave Harry off and the other was grasping at his chest. Harry felt instantly sorry and hurried over to the Slytherin to ask seriously, "Draco, are you all right?"

"Harry..."

Draco looked up at him with wide grey eyes.

"You are so gullible."

And he shoved a snowball right into the Gryffindor's face.

Harry looked pissed. Yelping, Draco scrambled to his feet and ran around behind Hermione. He tried to hide behind the girl but she wouldn't have it. He whined plaintively, "He's your friend, Granger!"

To which she replied darkly, "And he's your boyfriend, Malfoy."

Draco raised one icy eyebrow at that and said appreciatively, "You may have a point." He stepped in front of her, directly in the path of Harry's angry stalk. Draco held his arms wide and declared, "Harry, darling, baby. Can't we talk this-" He didn't get any further when the black haired boy threw himself at Draco and knocked them both to the ground, forcing the air out of the blonde. Draco wheezed in Hermione's general direction, "Brill idea, Granger. Doesn't seem to be working though."

Ginny tripped over to them and peered concernedly down at Draco, from over Harry's shoulder. "I think you may have broken him, Harry."

Draco managed (barely) to smile suggestively and ask, "Are you offering to 'fix' me, ma petite rouge?"

Harry shoved snow in his mouth. While the blonde choked, the Gryffindor accused him, "That was low, Malfoy."

Draco spit out the snow and said, "Yeah, Slytherin," making a stilted gesture toward himself as if that explained everything - which it probably did.

Harry crawled off him, but still asked, "Are you all right?"

The truth was that Draco had felt a flash of pain, but he wasn't going to tell Harry that. Pretty soon the boy would be walking on eggshells. He just shrugged, and Harry's expression became more worried. He had begun to notice that whenever Draco refused to answer a question like that, it meant that he didn't want to lie outright to Harry, but that he knew the truth wasn't going to reassure the Gryffindor. So he probably had been in real pain.

Ginny flopped down on the ground as well, and she and Harry sat to either side of the prone Slytherin, the snow soaking into their trousers. She absently poured handfuls of snow onto Draco as they listened to the distant shrieks of Ron and Hermione, who were still going at it. Eventually those stopped as well and Harry glanced over in their direction, where the two of them seemed to be discussing something serious. (Truth was, they were discussing him.)

"Well, looks like that's finished at least."

Hermione looked at Ron and asked him, "What's finished?"

He waved a hand at the kids sitting in the snow and explained, "Whatever was getting to Harry. Looks like he and Malfoy have made up." Hermione made a noncommittal noise, still not comfortable with the role she might have played in Harry's patching things up with his boyfriend. Then Ron grabbed her mittened hand and asked her, "Don't you think it's time we made up as well?"

Hermione blinked at his hand holding hers, the two pairs of matching Gryffindor gloves intertwined. "Just what are you asking, Ron?"

The redheaded boy grinned cheekily and told her, even as he flushed red, "I-I'm asking you to be my girlfriend, Hermione Granger."

She peered up at him from the foot in height difference and said critically, "Well, in that case, Ronald Weasley... I guess I'll have to accept." Ron squeezed her hand happily and then pulled her along with a huge grin as they rejoined the others.

Harry and Ginny shared a gloating smile when they saw the new couple and Draco peered up at them from the ground. He spoke neutrally, "Well, it seems congrats are in order, Weasel. You've finally grown a pair of balls." His eyes slid to Hermione and he smiled sharply, "Unless Granger finally got fed up and asked you herself."

Ron glared at him and muttered, "Fuck you, Malfoy."

Draco's smile was laced with disappointment when he replied, "If only Harry would oblige." Harry turned a flaming red, Ron turned a sickly green, and Draco used the ensuing silence as his segue.

"So now that everyone is present and accounted for, there's something I need to tell you all." Harry's face was still hot enough to melt the snow, but he reached out and grabbed Draco's sleeve just above the Mark, fingers digging into the skin they both knew was stained black. Draco shook his head at him - no, he wasn't going to tell them that. He was still looking at Harry when he said, "A bit of info regarding the Dark Lord's plans that your little Light Brigade might want to know, though this isn't the time or place to speak of Him."

DRACO HAD JUST GOTTEN DRESSED when Ron Weasley walked into the prefects' bathroom. As soon as their eyes met, they both turned away. There was an uncomfortable silence as Draco turned back to the mirror and Ron wondered whether he dare draw a bath while Harry's boyfriend was there. But if he didn't, he'd be late and Hermione would have something to say about it. He turned on the spigot for the icy white foam - it would at least cover him completely, if it came to that.

Draco was washing his face at the sink (mostly just looking for an excuse not to look at Weasley) as he said, "So, finally snagged Granger, did you? Good luck keeping that one happy."

Ron turned to look at him suspiciously but all he could see was the back of that blonde head. He asked sharply, "What do you mean by that, Malfoy? Just because you can't keep a woman happy doesn't mean I can't."

The look that Malfoy threw at him was amused and he said, "I could keep a woman ecstatic, Weasel - I'm with Potter by choice, not necessity. And what I meant was that that woman is high-maintenance."

Ron looked into those silvery-grey eyes, which still seemed unnaturally blank to him, although for Harry they might have worlds of unspoken sentiments in them. He was tempted - sorely tempted - to take Malfoy's statement as an insult. But with an effort, he reacted to the comment as he would have if it had been a Gryffindor who said it. He laughed in surprise and said grudgingly, "When you're right, you're right. I don't honestly expect she'll put up with me for more than a week."

Malfoy had turned back around, but his voice was wistful as he said to himself, "Yeah, I thought the same thing when..."

Ron watched the foam edge up the swimming pool-sized bath, and wanted to kick himself when he asked, "How long have you two been together?" Feeling stupid for asking such a thing of Malfoy, he quickly added, "I mean, not like I'm interested or anything. Harry's just never told us anything."

Malfoy's hand had paused as he brushed through his hair. He said in an unemotional voice, "Just about two months. Sounds kind of long - most the term."

"You know," Ron laughed nervously, "Harry told me once how you were the first person he met from Hogwarts. At Madame Malkins. Said that you damn near scared him to death, all perfect and well-dressed, and talking about houses and quidditch - there he was looking scruffy in his cousin's tatty old clothes!"

Draco had never heard this and stared at his own reflection in the mirror, the light fragmenting in his silver eyes, as he whispered, "Really?"

The redhead said almost teasingly, as he would have to any of the Gryffindor boys if they had a girlfriend, "So, is Harry 'high maintenance'?"

Of course in this instance, Malfoy wasn't a friend from Gryffindor; he had a boyfriend, not a girlfriend; and that boyfriend was Ron's own best mate, Harry. How were you supposed to react in a situation like that? Well, seeing as that it was for Harry's sake, he would try his best to play nice with Malfoy.

He caught a glimpse of the Slytherin's face in the mirror and saw for the first time a recognizable emotion on the boy's face, unbelievable as it was: Malfoy looked happy. "Oh, no. Potter's all about the little things. Listen to him prattle about his day, let him make a fool of himself or simple hang out together as you work, and he's thrilled. He just wants to be Harry, and it makes him so happy when he can be. Oh, that and being touched." Ron blanched and Malfoy snickered at his expression, "Good god, Weasel. I know that you're a sixteen year-old boy, but must you make everything sexual?

"Everyone needs to be touched, though not many people will admit to it. But Potter..." Malfoy's voice had grown serious and he seemed to have forgotten about Ron, the Gryffindor turning off the bathwater as the pool was finally full. "He seems to hunger for touch. Probably because those disgusting Muggle relatives of his, or because of his celebrity and alienation in the Wizarding world. For some reason, Potter is one of the loneliest people I've ever met."

Before Ron, as Harry's best mate and boon companion, could take offence to that, Malfoy seemed to realize uncomfortably just how much male-bonding was going on here. "Well, enjoy your bath, Weasel, and watch out for Moaning Myrtle."

He strode to the door and had pulled it open by the time Ron found his voice and called after him, "Malfoy! ...Is this for real? What you're doing with Harry?"

Draco didn't turn around as he replied, "As real as anything can be." And with that unsatisfactory answer, he hurried out of the bathroom.

RON WAS THE LAST TO arrive in the prefect's lounge. This was the school-wide lounge, not one of the smaller versions that each house held. There was signboard on the front of the door, so that prefects could reserve the room if they needed to resolve inter-house conflicts. Hermione's neat, round handwriting had exed out the rest of the evening with an underlined notice, "Private Conference - PLEASE KNOCK. -Hermione Granger." Even through he was a part of the 'private conference,' he knocked on the door and waited until Hermione pulled it open.

She smiled brightly up at him and ushered him in, locking the door behind them. Ginny was sitting in an armchair with a tall mug of hot cocoa held between her hands. She smirked at her closest brother and hailed the two of them over. Harry and Malfoy seemed to whispering urgently over in a corner, but Ron couldn't hear what they were saying.

Harry hissed at his boyfriend, "Then what are you doing? Are you going to tell them?"

They both knew what he was referring to and Draco shook his head vehemently, "Gods, no. You don't think they'd kill me on sight? I'm already freaked out by how many more people know about us, without divulging further secrets!"

Harry asked seriously, "Then why are you acting like this?"

Narrowing his eyes, Draco repeated questioningly, "'Like this'?"

An ineffective gesture and Harry continued, "Yes, like this. Why are you acting all normal and likable with my friends? Why are you acting like Draco, and not like Malfoy?"

Now the Slytherin's voice was coloured with anger as well. "Why are you acting like Potter, and not like Harry? For fuck's sake, I'm trying to play nice because I know that you'll never trust me if your precious friends don't trust me!"

Harry's brow wrinkled in confusion as he asked, "But you don't trust them, right?"

Draco's hands curled into tight fists, and he said, "No, I don't trust them. I don't trust most people. But you trust them, and I do trust you." With that assurance, the anger between them appeared to dissipate as easily as it had come rushing unexpectedly to the surface.

It seemed that at last they were ready to start the meeting, and Harry looked sheepish when they sat down on a couch across from Ron and Hermione. Draco rucked up that black hair and muttered in Harry's ear, "It'll be okay." Ron noticed the way Harry seemed to turn in towards Draco's touch and wondered if perhaps the Slytherin might have been right. They were all waiting for Draco to speak and so he began. "I'm sorry to make such a big fuss of this, but it really isn't appropriate talk for out on the grounds. You see, Voldemort is calling a Cait Sith, at Christmas."

Hermione exclaimed immediately, "What! But why?" Christmas was in four days, not much time to prepare for anything.

Draco told Hermione, "He'll presumably call the beast to help him with a summoning. I only found out yesterday."

Hermione knew without looking that Ron had no idea what was going on. Honestly, Harry and Ginny were little better off, and so she explained, "The Cait Sith is a horrid beast. It's as dangerous as a dragon, but is not natural to this world. A Sith must be called into being - either to be set loose on a rampage or, due to it's existence as pure magic, to be used as a sacrifice in a summoning."

She turned back to Malfoy and he met her blazing eyes without flinching. He addressed her again, since she was the only one who seemed half-way competent out of the lot, "Yes, I believe he's planning to use the sacrifice to summon an Apocalypse Beast - but he'll probably let the damned thing loose to run around and slaughter first. The more blood and magic it's bloated on, the more effectively it will serve as an offering." Hermione stared at him in abject horror and he finished wryly, "So, I hope that Dumbledore has some tricks up his sleeves, for all your sakes."

Harry piped up for the first time and said, "Well, there are the enclaves..."

Hermione snapped at him quickly, "Harry, do shut up!" He looked a bit offended, but she had already turned back to Draco. "Malfoy, why are you telling us this? You aren't planning to fight against Voldemort, are you?"

Draco shook his head without any trace of embarrassment and said, "No, I'm not that stupid. I'm telling you this for the same reason I helped with the Imperious at your little club."

He didn't say anything more and so Hermione had to prompt him, "And that reason is?"

Malfoy smiled wickedly and said, "I just love to piss the Dark Lord off."

Hermione blinked at him and Harry picked up his thread, "So, we do have the enclaves, though I'm not sure if there are enough yet..."

"Harry!"

Hermione's scandalized voice cut him off and he placated her, "Relax, Hermione. It's not as if he could do anything with the information, not with the Secret Keepers in place." Hermione groaned in frustration as he let out practically every bit of valuable information they held, but he ignored her. "And we don't know who the Secret Keepers are, so it's not like the information could really help anyone."

Draco held up a hand and asked them, 'Wait, wait. Can someone explain to me simply and clearly just what these enclaves are?" It turned out to be Ron who told him about Dumbledore's plans and the more that Draco heard, the more disturbed he looked. Hermione asked him caustically why he was frowning and he looked at the Gryffindors seriously, asking, "Doesn't this idea of Dumbledore's bother any of you? Do you really think your life is worth giving up your freedom? What kind of life is that?"

Harry looked at the Slytherin askance, since Draco had pretty much given up his freedom to save his own life when he had become a Death Eater. But that was precisely why the idea was so repulsive to him.

Hermione bit her lip and then said softly, "I know that it isn't a perfect solution, or even a very good solution. But if we can't depend on Dumbledore, who do we depend on?"

She looked to Harry, but Draco recaptured her attention by saying sharply, "You shouldn't depend on Potter. You shouldn't depend on anyone but yourself."

"But you just said you trusted me," Harry reminded him quietly, the eyes he turned on Draco looking hurt.

Draco softened slightly toward the boy and explained himself, "Yes, I do trust you. But I'm not going to depend on you to save me, nor should everyone else. I'll only depend on myself to get me out of trouble."

Their earlier anger hadn't truly been resolved and it surged back to life in Harry, as he said sarcastically, "Oh, and that's working real well, now, isn't it?"

Draco became very still and his voice was dangerous as he ground out, "Harry, this is not the time for us to have this argument."

"Then when, Malfoy? After you get yourself killed by Voldemort? Or after I have to kill you because you're just another face behind a mask?" The two girls gasped and all three spectators watched, mostly forgotten by the boys, as they fought fiercely and painfully.

"Dammit, Harry, that's not fair-"

The Gryffindor's voice was leaden with bitterness as he retorted, "No, none of this is fair."

Draco glared at him in the same way he had glared at the Boy Who Lived for five years. "Harry, we've discussed this: I already told you that I had no alternate choice-" But Harry cut him off again.

"Yeah, right. You just threw away the rest of your life, Draco, without even thinking of-"

Draco's silver eyes were flashing as he snarled at Harry, "You have no idea what I'm doing with my life."

It was the first time he'd raised his voice, and Harry's volume rose even higher as he exclaimed, "Neither do you!"

Draco was breathing heavily as he resisted the urge to hit something, and Harry's hand shot out with that same speed he used to catch the snitch. He grabbed Draco's wrist and it took the blonde a moment to realize that Harry was watching his pulse.

He jerked away and hissed at his boyfriend, "Salazar's shame, Potter! I'm not going to drop dead just because you're pissing me off. I would have kicked the cauldron years ago if that'd been the case." He stood up and backed away, feeling lightheaded despite his protestations to Harry. He heard himself ask angrily, "What, then, Harry? If that's it, then why did you come back this morning? If we can't get past this, what am I doing here?"

Harry's voice was disbelieving as he said, "Get past this? God, Draco, this isn't some petty argument over you leaving the toilet seat up or something. You're a Death Eater, how are we supposed to get past that?"

"What?!"

Ron jumped up but Hermione was even faster. She threw herself at the blonde and Ginny had to hold the struggling girl back as she ranted, "I knew it! I knew you hadn't changed, Malfoy! You're going to betray us all!"

Draco was still standing over Harry and so the dark haired boy was probably the only one to hear him whisper, "I don't know, Harry. I don't know how we can get past it." The Slytherin started for the door, his face a picture of sick horror mirrored by Harry's, but he was stopped by a large hand on his shoulder.

He looked up at Weasley, and though the ginger boy's expression didn't change, his voice almost sounded apologetic when he said, "Sorry, Malfoy. But I can't just let you leave like this."

Draco waved him off but didn't fight. He held a slightly shaking hand up to his face and walked stiffly to one of the tables across the room. Dropping heavily into a chair, he rested his elbows on the table and buried his face in his hands. Ginny was still holding onto Hermione and staring at that abject figure. Beautiful Draco Malfoy, with his white hair and his silver eyes, wearing a pair of faded Muggle jeans that clung to him like something indecent, who was usually so poised and elegant. A Death Eater? A real monster, and not just the son of one?

Harry had recovered as quickly as usual from his sudden rage and was staring at Malfoy, realizing belatedly what he had done. He stumbled over to the boy and dropped to the ground next to the hunched Slytherin, falling to his knees. "Draco..." he spoke hesitantly, "Draco, I'm so sorry. It wasn't my secret to tell. Malfoy, please..." He leaned his forehead against the narrow shoulders in that long-sleeved white shirt, and spoke softly to the Slytherin, ignoring his friends. Draco seemed to be responding, even though he refused to raise his face, and the only thing to be heard in the still room was the soft murmur of their voices.

Glancing at his friends, they all heard Harry say quietly, "Let me talk to them." He got up from the floor and walked over to the Gryffindors. Ron had replaced Ginny and was holding Hermione by the shoulders.

Ginny approached Harry and laid her hand on his arm, even as she looked past him, "Is he all right?"

The Boy Who Lived shook his head weakly and said, "No, he's pissed. I think it's best if we call this meeting over."

Hermione at least sounded reasonable as she told him, "Harry, I don't think you should be alone-"

"No," he cut her off brusquely, "It's his right to be angry. I had no right to tell you guys about... this."

Ron slid his grip on Hermione's shoulders down to cup her elbows in his large hands and started, "But, Harry, mate - if he really is a Death Eater..."

Harry was shaking his head and so Ron allowed his friend to speak, "I know what you're all thinking, but you don't know the whole story. Even I don't know everything. But just think of what would have happened if we had killed Sirius all those years ago, because we thought he was evil and working for Voldemort. Think of all we would have missed. Maybe..."

He glanced back at Draco's huddled figure and finished softly, "Maybe things aren't as simple as we want them to be."

Hermione still wasn't willing to let go, despite Harry's 'explanations.' She said, "Some things can be simple. He's a Death Eater, and so he shouldn't be running around free. You see how simple it is?"

Harry's voice was dark when he replied, "Whether Malfoy and I can get past this, this secret would have stayed between us. And I will not allow him to get caught just because I was stupid enough to think my friends would respect my decisions - even if I have to obliviate you myself."

Hermione just didn't know when enough was enough. She said hastily, "I know Malfoy's been a bad influence on you, but even so, you wouldn't possibly-"

She was caught off guard as the room suddenly grew heavy with magic. Without moving a muscle or saying a word, Harry had managed to pour enough power onto them to strike all three Gryffindors immobile. Draco finally looked up when he felt the heavy wash of power. His eyes were red and wide as he stared at his boyfriend. He pushed out of his chair so quickly that he upset it, sending it clattering to the ground.

"Harry, stop it!" He had to focus past the pain in his head and the pain in his chest, but he managed to catch onto the other boy. "Salazar's pity, Harry - stop it!"

He sagged to the floor and Harry caught him. He cradled the blonde in his arms, unconsciously releasing his friends from his hold. Draco felt disgusted with himself for his weakness, and pushed out of Harry's arms, though the boy still held him up by one arm. He struggled to get a hold of himself, something that was becoming increasingly difficult the more he was around his Gryffindor boyfriend. It had, at first, felt so free to be himself, but now he needed his masks to hide behind.

He stood in front of Harry and faced down the other shocked Gryffindors. Despite his red eyes and the fact that he had to be supported by Harry, it was the regular, cool Malfoy who told them, "Please, there is no need to worry about Potter. I'll take care of him."

Ron was impressed (though not necessarily pleased) to see the Slytherin back to normal and he had taken note of the boys seemed able to pull themselves together for each other. Still, he said to Malfoy, "I think that's what we might be worried about."

Draco felt his eyes go cold and the glare he shot at Ron was just like the good old days. "Oh, shove it, Weasel. If I was going to hurt him, do you think I would've waited all these months, just until all you nitwits knew my dirty little secret? You may think I'm evil, but I'm not stupid."

Hermione asked suspiciously, "Then why do you two need to be alone?"

The smile he threw her was full of promise and he said, "A man doesn't kiss and tell, Granger." It was sign of how far gone Harry was that he didn't even rise to that comment.

But his smile faded and Draco said in disgust, "I'm taking the piss - truth is, some conversations don't need an audience." He resisted the urge to glance at Harry and said, "They're difficult enough on their own." When the rest of the group continued to hesitate, he sighed but didn't show any more of his exasperation, "Will you all at least give us some space, then?" When they didn't argue with that, Draco dragged Harry over to the table furthest in the corner.

The other three Gryffindors remained standing as they were, left speechless by everything that had happened in the last half-hour. Finally, Ginny sank back into her armchair and the other two followed suit. Too uncomfortable to talk about what they had just learned about Malfoy (at least, not while he was still in the room), they unenthusiastically discussed what he had revealed earlier about the Cait Sith, and Hermione made sure the two Weasleys were both well informed of what that meant. But it was clear that it wasn't the Sith that was occupying all their minds.

Harry and Draco had also faced an awkward silence when they sat down in the corner, until Draco hissed, "Harry, what were thinking, using magic like that on your friends?"

The black haired boy shot him an angry look, "What? You would've preferred they rat you out to Dumbledore and his ilk?"

Draco let his frustration out in front of Harry as he hadn't dared to in front of the others. He pulled at his hair and said, still using a low voice, "You are his ilk, for Salazar's sake! My gods, I guess we need to have a long talk about what happened and how you feel about it..."

Harry asked him, "Why?"

With a jolt, Draco realized that he was serious. If this had been a real, permanent relationship, Draco would have been a bit put off by Harry's utter lack of communication skills. But he was almost to the end of the play and so managed not to sound too patronizing as he said, "Because you are obviously still upset and not dealing with it!"

They had begun to lean over the table, barely a foot between their faces as they spoke quietly and angrily. Draco suddenly thought of just how long it had been since he had truly been able to hold Harry, or kiss him properly - back before all this had happened. As soon as he thought of it, of course, he wanted to bash his own head in for the strange illogical thoughts and urges that were plaguing him. He noticed that Harry was talking.

"Well, excuse me if I don't really know how to deal with it. Did you expect that I would just shrug and move on, that nothing would change once I found out?"

Draco tugged his long fingers through his hair again, saying tiredly, "I honestly didn't expect you to find out. You weren't supposed to - it wasn't part of the plan!"

Harry looked away and sat back in his chair. He started uncertainly, "'The plan'...? Do you have a plan? Because the thing I can't figure out, Draco, is just where we're supposed to go from here. I think I could have maybe dealt with the fact that you were a Death Eater, but what are we supposed to do now, when you are a Death Eater? The war is still going on. Am I supposed to just sit by when you might get called away to hurt and murder people? Do we sleep together and then wake up the next morning to plot against each other? No one knows how long this is going to last; how long can we keep up being on opposite sides? How long until we have to kill each other?"

Draco grabbed the small hands that Harry had left on the table. He pulled the boy back toward him again and spoke fiercely, "Dammit, Harry... I can't tell you anything, I shouldn't even say this, but..." He took a deep breath and said, "I won't be serving Voldemort much longer."

Harry's head shot around to stare into his eyes as he demanded, "What?"

The Slytherin looked straight back at him and said firmly, "By New Year, I won't be serving him - one way or the other."

Harry watched that unreadable face and asked, "Are you saying that you're planning-"

Draco cut him off quickly, "I am not saying anything. I can't be."

Harry couldn't believe what he'd heard. Unless he was seriously misinterpreting the blonde's words, Draco had all but admitted that he was going to defy Voldemort, or he was going to escape his servitude by some other means - hopefully, not death. Draco saw the first signs of hope in Harry's open face and knew that his machinations were safe again.

They had fallen silent and the other Gryffindors noticed, glancing over at the boys. They were still staring wordlessly at one another. In the momentary hush of the room, they could all hear Draco's earnest statement, "I promise you, Harry. One way or another, this will all be over by New Year." Harry searched his boyfriend's face, but Draco had no qualms with letting the truth of his promise show. It would be over. The ruse would finally be up, even if it wasn't necessarily true that both he and Harry would still be alive to see it.

Truth was, Draco would be glad for everything to end. He wasn't even sure any longer if he wanted to be around to see it. The thought almost made him laugh; he had done all this to save his own life, and now he was getting suicidal tendencies? But what was waiting for him? Harry? Presuming they both lived to the New Year, Draco did enjoy being with the Gryffindor - but that was precisely what frightened him. This relationship was messing with his priorities and his emotions. He wasn't at all certain if it was worth it. He wasn't certain he wanted to be a nicer, gentler Draco Malfoy once this farce was over.

Harry still looked uncertain, but he held onto Draco's hand and told him, "all right, Draco. Until New Year." The Slytherin looked into those green eyes and knew it wouldn't even be that long. He thought to himself, I have until Christmas. Just four more days.