Dinner at Eight

No matter how strong, I'm gonna take you down with one little stone

I'm gonna break you down and see what you're worth

What you're really worth to me

Dinner at eight was okay until the toast full of gleams

It was great until those old magazines got us started up again

Actually, it was probably me again

But why is it so that I've always been the one who must go?

That I've always been the one told to flee

When in fact you were the one long ago

In the drifting white snow

Who left me

So put up your fists and I'll put up mine

No running away from the scene of the crime

God's chosen a place somewhere near the end of the world

Somewhere near the end of our lives

But until then don't be surprised

If I wanna see the tears in your eyes

Then I'll know it had to be, long ago,

In the drifting while snow

You loved me

--Rufus Wainwright, "Dinner at Eight"

***

Scarface,

Things are fine here. A bit dull, but fine nonetheless. Moony delivered the Chocolate Frogs and Sugar Quills you sent from town yesterday. Thanks for those. I'd forgotten how much I missed town.

I hope everything is okay where you are. I heard about the big match between the lions and snakes, and I still say you lot got lucky! The cup has our name written all over it, if you ask me! You'd better watch out. Snakes bite, you know.

Some new developments with our work, as I'm sure you're already aware, but I won't go into too much detail in case you aren't the only one reading. We've got some interesting pieces of information from the other side. They are not happy with Yours Truly, I can tell you that much. No one likes a deserter, after all.

Well, Moony nearly has dinner ready, so I'd better be heading off. Give the Weasel a big fat kiss for me (On second thought, you'd better not lay a hand on him! I'm the only one you should be kissing!). I'm missing you like mad and can't wait till you come home. See you Saturday!

With Love,

White Ferret

I looked the letter over once and couldn't help feeling utterly proud of my self-restraint. Remus would be proud, too. Thus far, he'd forced me to rewrite every letter I'd written to Harry at least three times, insisting that the safety of the entire Order lay in my ability to be a bit more cryptic, lest the Death Eaters ever get hold of anything I'd written.

We'd started using code in our letters, and I had at last mastered the art. "Town" meant Hogsmeade, "lions" and "snakes" referred to Gryffindor and Slytherin houses, and "our work" meant the work we did as part of the Order of the Phoenix, the noble organization into which Harry and I had both been inducted only months before. Even the names we used were codes. Remus Lupin was "Moony," of course. Harry was fittingly referred to as "Scarface." And I, much to Harry's amusement and my chagrin, was to be known--in writing, at least--as "White Ferret."

I'd also managed to show self-restraint in that I hadn't been entirely obvious as to just how much I missed Harry, how anxious I was to see him again after four long months. Keeping me away from Hogwarts might have been crucial to my safety, but keeping me so long away from Harry was beginning to threaten my sanity.

In August, I'd traveled into Diagon Alley to seek refuge from Voldemort, who would have stamped me with the Dark Mark as soon as his Death Eaters laid hands on me. It was in Harry Potter that I'd found that refuge.

He shouldn't have trusted me when I said I need his help; I wouldn't have trusted me.

Little did I know Harry had been taking Occlumency lessons under Severus. Little did I know that during that time he'd inadvertently learned more than a little about the art of Legilimency as well and had, in fact, become more skilled and stealthy a legilimens than my beloved godfather and Potions Professor. Little did I know that he'd used that power, unbeknownst to me, to read from my mind all that had happened between the Death Eaters and myself.

They'd begun trying to recruit me upon completion of my fifth year at Hogwarts, not one month after my father had been captured by the Order of the Phoenix and sent to Azkaban Prison, the place I've more than once said he deserved to be. My mother had taken to me to the house of our cousins, the Lestranges, where only Bellatrix Lestrange resided since her husband had been duly returned to Azkaban. Bellatrix and my mother explained to me what it meant to be a Death Eater, and at first I thought this was what I wanted.

Then I saw death for the first time.

It was two, maybe three nights later. Bellatrix took me on her evening's mission, claiming she had something I would need to see before I made my decision to join the Death Eaters. We entered the home of a muggle man. He lived alone, by the look of things. One barely-touched meal sat on the table in his dark kitchen. The living room had only one cushioned chair for seating.

"He's asleep," said Bellatrix. Her mane of ebony hair cascaded about her face as she turned down the unlit hallway.

The man was indeed sound asleep in his bed at the end of the hall. He was middle-aged, though his worried expression and frail frame gave him a more elderly look.

Bellatrix smiled maliciously.

"Mister Albany!" she cried out, and the man stirred. His eyes fluttered open and attempted to focus, then grew wide when he saw Bellatrix and myself standing in his bedroom door.

"You again!" he spat at Bellatrix, bolting upright in the bed. He then turned to me. "And who's this? Some beautiful little demon you've brought with you to torment me?"

My lips quavered violently, and I turned frightened eyes upon Bellatrix.

"You could say that," she answered with mock-sweetness.

"I told you!" the man hissed. "I'm not giving you those papers, and that's that!"

The smile faded from Bellatrix's face, and she produced her long willow wand from beneath her robes. "So be it--Crucio!"

At once, the man had fallen to the floor, writhing and crying out in pain. Bellatrix merely laughed, her wand extended in front of her. As for me, I was helpless to move or speak. I knew precisely what the man was feeling--my father had often used the Cruciatus Curse to punish me. It was hell, worse than death, I thought. And now, to see the curse performed on another human was a lesson in torture I'd have been happy to have never endured.

"Now," said Bellatrix, bringing her wand back down to her side. The man ceased to move, except for rapid breathing. "I can do much worse, Mister Albany. Have you, perhaps, changed your mind?"

"Never..." he managed to hiss between gasps.

Bellatrix paused for a moment, and then the smile returned to her face. The look in her eyes was impossibly dark and malevolent. She raised her wand in front of her once again and took a deep breath.

"Very well then," she hissed, nostrils flaring. "Avada Kedavra!"

There was a flash of green light and a burst of wind that blew me against the bedroom wall. I fell to the floor, then opened my eyes to see the man lying in precisely the same place he'd been only moments before. Only now, he wasn't breathing.

And neither was I.

I didn't say a word to Bellatrix during our journey back to Malfoy Manor. What could I have said? That man had been an innocent. I wasn't thrilled by muggles and mudbloods, but did I want to kill them? Did I want to watch them suffer like this? No matter how many times I'd threatened to do those very things to people like Granger and even Harry, I had never actually meant it.

But it didn't matter now, did it? I was safe, here at Headquarters under the watchful eye of the Order of the Phoenix. And in a matter of hours, after four long months of waiting, I'd have Harry here with me.

***

I thundered down the stairs the moment I heard the front door open on Saturday morning, the largest grin imaginable plastered on my face. I hadn't even bothered to change into something more appropriate than a T-shirt and a pair of cotton pajama pants.

"You're here--" I started to cry out, but I stopped short when I realized who was standing in the foyer.

"Wonderful to see you as well, Draco," drawled Severus Snape, scowling down at me with mock annoyance. He brushed one brutish hand through my tousled blonde hair, then turned me around by my shoulders for study. "You're looking rather pale and peaky."

I scoffed. "You've known me my entire life. Haven't I always been pale and peaky?"

Severus nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, but you're looking worse than usual. I hope Remus' lessons aren't taking too much out of you."

"No, sir," I replied. "They're a challenge, but it's nothing I can't handle."

"It's a shame he's such a dunce when it comes to Potions," said Severus, surveying the sitting room to our left. "You've really missed out this year, not having me for O.W.L. Potions. You'd have done exceptionally well."

I forced a weak smile. Was it necessary for Severus to remind me of just one more thing I was missing out on by remaining at Headquarters and not attending school at Hogwarts? It wasn't fair.

Severus reached into the pockets of his robes and produced a small booklet. "This might be of interest to you," he said, holding the booklet up in one hand before tossing it onto an antique end table in the foyer.

I saw immediately what it was--Morsemordre, the monthly pamphlet circulated among the Death Eaters so that they might remain informed of all that was going on with the Dark Side. It wasn't the first time Severus had brought back a copy of Morsmordre, and surely this issue couldn't have said anything different from the last four. The Death Eaters were searching for me to no avail. Either Bellatrix or my mother had reported to Voldemort what had happened with me, and one, if not both, of them had no doubt been severely punished for allowing me to escape. The news hadn't changed--no one had the faintest idea where I had gone--and, if all with the Order was going as smoothly as it was supposed to have been, that news wouldn't be changing anytime soon.

I politely took my leave of my godfather and returned to my bedroom to prepare more efficiently for Harry's arrival. I discarded my nightclothes, unable to prevent myself from studying my naked body in the mirror before returning, pleased with what I'd seen, to my trunk of clothes.

To delve through my trunk now was to make a study of my lives old and new. On the left lay a stack of luxurious wizarding robes, purchased by my father in Diagon Alley from the finest tailors in the wizarding world. On the right, however, lay the heap of muggle clothes Remus had given me to wear this winter. In truth, I preferred the muggle clothes. They were far more comfortable than the stuffy wool wizarding robes.

My first selection was a pair of perfectly-pressed gray slacks and a handsome red cashmere turtleneck, but that wouldn't do. My pants were far too short--I had grown nearly three inches since arriving at Grimmauld Place--and the turtleneck seemed a bit bulky.

"Horrid," I muttered to my reflection, which nodded in agreement. Hastily, I stripped off the clothing and returned to the trunk for a new ensemble.

Next pick--a pair of soft khaki pants and a red button-down. This combination appealed a bit more to my aesthete's eye, but something still seemed wrong.

"Red," I sighed, rolling my eyes. Of course. That had to be it. What Slytherin in their right mind--for I was still a Slytherin at heart--would have been caught dead in the color red? No, that color was reserved for Gryffindors like Harry.

After peeling off the button-down, I moved once more to my trunk in search of a shirt in a more appropriate hue. Remus, it seemed, had purchased them in an assortment of colors--reds and blacks and violets and blues and whites--but where in the name of Merlin was my Slytherin green?

"Honestly," I huffed to myself, slinging clothes in all directions, "don't I have anything to wear?"

"I think you look absolutely splendid!" someone answered.

I spun around on my heels immediately. Leaning against the opened door, robes tossed casually over one shoulder, grinning as if he'd just broken every sinner out of hell, was Harry.

I wanted to say something to him, but what? In days long-past, I would have known precisely what to say--some snide comment about his scar or his friends or...well...anything I could have found to make fun of. But that was old Draco. That was young, stupid, Draco Malfoy. I wasn't going to be that person anymore. Hell, I didn't even want to claim that last name anymore. Malfoy.... In my mind it had become worse than any swearword could have possibly been. From here on out, I resolved in that instant, I would be Draco. Just Draco.

My mouth, which had fallen open in shock at Harry's sudden but all-too-welcome appearance, closed. It was awkward, this strange silence between us. It seemed to circle the room and then to weave its way right through us like an invisible poisonous thread. If it lasted for too long it might begin to eat away at us both.

Harry sighed, shut the door behind him, and moved languidly to where I stood. Even in pants, I still felt completely naked. I opened my mouth again to speak.

"It's good to see--"

"Hush," he whispered insistently, bringing the fingers of one hand to my lips. His other arm wove around my back as he attempted to close the gap between us more completely, as if such a thing were actually possible. Woolen robes against my bare skin.... I felt the breath catch in my throat as the sweetness of the sensation dawned on me.

Leering, I gave out a low growl and nudged Harry's hand away with a swift jerk of my head. "I missed you."

Harry bit hard into his bottom lip and nodded, either to convey that he knew already or that he'd missed me, too--perhaps both. I hoped both.

"You wanna...?"

I couldn't help but laugh. "The door doesn't lock," I told him.

"Who cares?" Intensity seemed to cause his brow to furrow. His hands latched onto my waist, and the two of us stumbled, he forward and I backward, toward my bed. "Nobody's here but Remus and Snape right now. Snape wouldn't bother to come up here, and Remus knows better."

My body hit the soft mattress, and Harry's followed suit in the next instant.

"This is true," I chuckled, scrambling awkwardly toward the headboard. "We can do...whatever we want...can't we?"

Determination was fixed in Harry's green eyes as he crawled on all fours toward me. "Draco," he whispered. "I've at school for four terrible, terrible months. The only thing I want is you."

How could I refuse?

***

"Draco! Harry! Eight o' clock, time for dinner!"

Remus' voice broke through our silent, serene communion like a shard of glass. On any other day, at any other time, I would have gladly welcomed it. But not today. Not now.

Harry groaned, making audible the annoyance and frustration that I myself didn't know how to properly express. He pressed his knee gently into my hip to get my attention. Sighing, I rolled onto my side to face him and couldn't help but smile at his peaceful post-waking expression.

"Do we have to?" he mumbled as he stretched one arm over his head. "Mmm...don't wanna get up...."

"Me either," I sighed, tossing one arm lazily across his chest. "But I'm starving, and I seriously doubt that Remus'll be willing to bring us dinner in bed."

Harry shrugged. "Well, it's worth a shot, isn't it? REM--"

Chuckling outright, I clamped one hand swiftly over his mouth. "Don't you even think about it!" I shouted between peals of laughter while Harry struggled with all his might against me, also laughing now. "C'mon, lazy! Let's get dressed."

We both grudgingly rolled out from beneath the covers and then, with a little more haste, pulled on whatever clothes were at hand. I settled finally on my khaki pants and a slate blue sweater that matched my eyes almost exactly--or, at least, that's what Harry said. Once the matter of clothing was taken care of, we headed together down the stairs and followed the scent of dinner.

As we approached the kitchen, Remus scurried through the door, holding one plate of food in his hand while using his wand to direct two more plates toward the dining room table, where a carafe of butterbeer sat waiting.

"When did you learn to cook?" Harry laughed.

"He's quite good, actually," I said, smiling at Remus. "Been cooking for me most every day since everybody left in September."

Harry shrugged. "Well, I guess with all the Weasleys gone to the Burrow for the holidays, we'll have to make due without Molly."

"Just until Christmas," offered Remus, tucking his wand away. "The whole Order's supposed to be here for Christmas dinner. Molly's cooking, thank Merlin!"

"What's the matter?" said Harry. " Can't handle an entire Christmas dinner on your own?"

Remus smirked as if to say Harry had hit the nail right on the head. "Well, you two are on your own tonight, which I'm sure neither of you will mind. Professor Snape and I have mission plans to review in the meeting room."

"Alright," said Harry as he took the seat in front of his plate. "Thanks, Remus."

Remus nodded. "See you boys later, then."

And with that, he smiled to each of us in turn and headed out of the dining room, leaving Harry and I to our dinners.

I ought to have taken advantage of this time alone with Harry, but an entire day spent anxiously anticipating his return hadn't afforded me much of a chance to eat. I was absolutely ravenous by this point. At once, I tucked into my pile of whipped potatoes, Remus' specialty, delighting in the warmth I felt as they passed down my throat. And the roast--that was nothing short of spectacular! And to think, Harry had doubted Remus' culinary skills! The man was definitely giving the Hogwarts house elves a run for their money.

"Merlin, they'll stop at nothing to find you!"

For the first time since taking a seat at the table, I looked up from my plate. Across from me, Harry perused the most recent edition of Morsmordre while shoveling a forkful of steaming potatoes into his mouth.

" 'Course," I muttered with a mouthful of roast. "Why do you think Dumbledore's keeping me here instead of at Hogwarts? I watched Bellatrix kill. Next to Pettigrew, Bellatrix Lestrange is the Ministry's most wanted Death Eater, and I know where she is. Or where she's been, at least. She's not so foolish as to stay put while I'm on the loose."

Harry smirked. "You know too much...." he said in the melodramatic voice of a Muggle actor in a mystery flick. Somehow, I wasn't all that amused.

"You've seen that woman kill, Harry," I said in the most blunt voice I could muster. "Not pretty, is it?"

The smile faded instantly from Harry's face. He tossed his fork onto the plate with his unfinished meal, took the plate in hand and stormed with it into the kitchen. Angry now, either with myself for being such a fool or with Harry for being so damned sensitive, I snatched up my plate and followed. I burst through the kitchen door to find no sign of Harry--he had headed out the back door.

Outside, snow had already piled up nearly a foot deep on the ground, and it was still falling. On any other evening, I would have been thankful to Dumbledore for fixing the back yard with a Disillusionment Charm so that the Order might enjoy the outdoors without fear of being seen, but now I had no such thing on my mind. To my right, Harry was leaning broodingly against the fence, his head bowed. And, if I wasn't mistaken, he was weeping. Silently I cursed myself. I knew this was my fault. But half a year had passed since Sirius' death. Harry was strong. How could it still hurt this much to think on it?

"Sirius is off limits," he said flatly, not bothering to turn and face me. "Don't you ever mention him, do you hear?"

"Why?" I said, moving hurriedly toward him. "I'm suffering his same fate, locked up in this--"

"You don't know the first thing about Sirius Black!" Harry shouted. "How dare you compare yourself to him!"

"Oh, get off your bloody high horse, Harry!" I growled, overcome suddenly with a surge of vehemence. "You're not the only person who's suffered. You're not the only person who's lost somebody in this war!"

He turned his face sharply toward me and glowered. "And who've you lost, Draco? Your father? Fucking Lucius Malfoy?" He scoffed and shook his head. "Well, Merlin, what a horrible loss that must be!"

"Shut up," I hissed, wincing. I knew the buttons he was trying to press, and I didn't want to let him. I couldn't stop it, though, could I? I'd let him breach those places already, hadn't I? There was nothing to be done about it.

"You know I'm right," said Harry, still fixed in place against the fence. "I know what he did to you, Draco. He hit you. He molested you. He even went so far as to use the Cruciatus Curse on his own son. What a sick, bloody bastard! So don't you stand there and say you've lost anything by his capture. You know better, Draco!"

There were tears welling up in my eyes. It was so ironic. Here I was, free of the Death Eaters and Voldemort and my father, here with the one person I'd grown to love more than anyone else, and now I was crying. And it was his fault, Harry's fault, for being so bloody right.

"Fuck you, Harry," I sobbed. "You don't know what it's like, locked up here, unable to do anything at all to help the Order. I'm miserable!"

He glared at me again. "So you'd rather be a Death Eater?"

"Not for all the sodding galleons in Gringotts!" I shouted. "All I'm saying is that you've got no right to feel sorry for yourself, when you're the one out there saving the bloody day all the time, being everyone's hero!"

"Do not accuse me of things I've got no control over!"

I slammed one hand against the fence. "I'm not accusing you of anything! But can't you see that I'm in the same position Sirius was? Helpless!"

"Sirius was not helpless," Harry growled, "and neither are you! For the love of Merlin, Draco, you could be doing something instead of moping about like this!"

"Like what?"

He shrugged and shook his head. "I don't know. Since you're so big on comparing yourself to Sirius Black nowadays, why don't you take a leaf out of his fucking book?"

"What, and get myself killed?"

I didn't even have time to realize what a terrible bastard I was before Harry's fist came down hard against my jaw. I seemed to hear the crack of knuckles before even feeling the sting of pain.

"Shit!" I cried out.

His other hand swept fast across the right side of my face, knocking me flat on my back in the snow.

"I'm sorry, Harry!" I screamed as I scurried quickly up from the ground.

"Fuck you, Draco!"

He thrust his fist into my stomach. I took a moment to gasp for air, trying to find the strength to speak, but he struck again, this time hard against my right eye. I wished so badly that I could find the power to fight back, but I couldn't. I knew I deserved every bloody hit he took.

"Dammit, Harry!" I screamed. "Please, just stop it!"

And finally he did, because Remus and Severus had bolted through the back door and out into the snowy back yard.

"Stop it, Harry!" Remus bellowed, rushing toward him and pulling him away by the front of his shirt. "What on earth do you think you're doing?"

Harry didn't answer, just stood there panting for breaths that wouldn't come fast enough. I looked to Severus, whose face was twisted with fury as he glanced from Harry to me and then back to Harry again.

"I...." Harry began, but the scowl on his face faded and he began weeping again.

"C'mon," said Remus, directing Harry back inside the house. "Come with me and we'll get you cleaned up." He turned to Severus. "You want to take care of your godson?"

Severus bit into his bottom lip and nodded. "I'll fix him up as best I can, Lupin."

Remus gave me one final stern look before pushing Harry through the back door and slamming it shut behind him.

"Merlin, Draco!" hissed Severus, though there was a hint of amusement in his tone. "What on earth have you gotten yourself into now?"

If only I knew, I thought to myself.

***

By Christmas Eve the next week, Harry and I still hadn't spoken a word to one another. All the Weasleys had arrived--the youngest of them still seemed to bear some deep-seated animosity toward me--along with Dumbledore, McGonagall, Hermione Granger, Mad-Eye Moody, my cousin Nymphadora Tonks, and a number of other witches and wizards whose names I did not know. Harry had spent the past few days fraternizing with Ron, Ginny, and Hermione, who couldn't have cared less that, more often than not, I sat alone, brooding in a corner with a black eye and a bruised jaw.

That was precisely where I found myself following dinner that evening. All around me, the drawing room buzzed with the happy conversations of witches and wizards, several of whom would be leaving that night to spend Christmas Day with their families.

Harry sat across the room with Remus, Ginny and Hermione, not bothering to notice that my gaze hadn't left him all evening. How could I do it? How could I look in the mirror and see the injuries he'd done me and still manage to love him this much?

"Would you like some company, Mister Malfoy?"

I averted my gaze immediately from Harry and glanced upward. Severus stood over me, offering a weak smile.

"Be my guest, Professor."

"And stop it with that 'Professor' nonsense. We aren't at Hogwarts, boy. After all, weren't you saying 'Severus' before ever saying 'Mummy' or 'Daddy'?"

I nodded absently as Severus tumbled onto the sofa beside me.

"He's not that good-looking, you know?"

I snapped my head toward him and felt my eyes grow wide. "I don't know what--"

"Lupin's told me," he said, smirking. "I must say, I never would have expected something like this out of either of you."

I snorted and crossed my arms over my chest. "Me neither."

I turned my attention back to Harry, who was looking on as Ginny animatedly relayed some story about Merlin-know-what to Hermione. Beside me, I heard Severus chuckle, probably at my pathetic inability to tear my eyes away from Harry, but I didn't care anymore.

"So," said Severus, "just what sort of lovers' spat would land you with a black eye?"

The obvious condescension in his tone, however unintentional, caused me to grimace. "I said something...about Sirius."

Severus winced and sucked air through his lips. "Bad move," he said. "Merlin knows Sirius and I never got on well, but Harry...Harry looked up to Sirius, would've done anything for the man, practically loved him like a father."

"I know," I sighed. "I shouldn't have said the things I did. But he...." I broke off when I felt the sting of tears in my eyes. "He brought up Father, talked about the things...the things Father did to me.... Didn't have anything at all to do with the argument, did it? It wasn't fair. I didn't know what else to do!"

"Hush, Draco," Severus whispered, wrapping one arm firmly around my shoulders. "Don't cry, you silly boy. Don't cry."

I nodded and took a moment to wipe the tears from my face and recompose myself. Severus waited patiently for me to do so, fending off any curious onlookers with a furious scowl that he alone was capable of.

"Have you...have you seen him?" I asked in a weak voice.

Severus nodded. "Early last month," he said. "I went to Azkaban with Bellatrix." The woman's very name made me shudder.... "You know they've sentenced him to the Dementor's Kiss, don't you?"

"Yeah," I murmured, closing my eyes as I leaned into Severus' shoulder. "He deserves nothing less. I'll be glad when it's all over."

"Good Lord, Draco," Severus sighed. "Why did you never tell me what he was doing to you? I would've gotten you out of there. You know I would've taken care of everything."

"Forget it," I said instantly. "It's a moot point now. The Dementors'll take his bloody soul--as if it were anything worth taking--and as soon as the Ministry get hold of Mother and cart her off to Azkaban as well, you will be my legal guardian."

"Might as well be, anyway," Severus muttered, smirking. He patted me twice on the shoulder, then removed his arm and started to rise from the sofa. "Listen, you. I've got to go find Dumbledore. I want you to either settle this thing with Mister Potter, Draco, or forget him altogether. No godson of mine is going to mope about with his heart broken."

I forced a weak smile up at him. "I'll see what I can do."

"That's a good boy," he said, patting my head in that way he'd always had of making me feel like a small child. "Happy Christmas, Draco."

"Happy Christmas, Severus."

But even as he walked away, I had the distinct impression that the potential happiness of this Christmas was no longer salvageable.

***

I was half asleep, eyelids fluttering, already dreaming about inventing a lamp that shined every color of the rainbow and my father laughing at the absurdity of it while he noticed that he looked remarkably more like me then I'd ever thought possible, when there came a sharp rapping at my bedroom door.

"It's open," I mumbled, turning onto my back so that I might be able to properly see whoever entered the room.

The dim light coming from the hallway was enough for me to make out Harry's distinctive silhouette. His hands rested against either side of the doorframe, and his emerald eyes seemed to glow in the half-darkness that surrounded us.

"Ha...happy Christmas," he said softly as his eyes turned downward.

"Yeah, right," I scoffed.

Harry sighed. "Draco, I--"

" 'S alright," I said, smiling bitterly up at him. "Not like it's the first time I've had to nurse a black eye from you."

The silence between us was awkward bordering on troubling. Half of me wanted to sob out an apology for everything I'd said that day. I knew I'd been in the wrong; I had usually always been when it came to altercations between Harry and me. But I had never been one for admitting my wrongs, had I?

No matter, though. It was Harry who broke the silence with his own words of apology.

"Listen," he said, moving hesitantly toward the bed. "I had no right to do what I did to you...I mean, after everything your father--"

"Please leave him out of this!" I hissed, causing Harry to stop dead in his tracks.

"Sorry," he huffed quickly. "I'm sorry! God, I just...I wish I could take it all back. I didn't...."

Harry's voice trailed off, and his feet resumed their movement toward the bed, not stopping until he stood directly beside it. Slowly, I wrapped the covers around my naked body and rose to my knees to face him. Shrouded in shadow, his face looked somehow softer, more sorrowful. I wanted so badly to reach up to stroke it. But just like with the apology, Harry beat me to it.

"Draco," he whispered as his fingers trailed over my lips. "Let's make a promise."

I furrowed my brow but tried to make the expression on my face not seem so cruel. "What kind of promise?"

Harry smiled suddenly. I knew he'd seen my defenses crumble. "To put the past behind us," he said. "You and I...we've both seen our share of pain and cruelty, haven't we? But all that's over, done with. And while we can't predict the future, we also can't change the past."

I closed my eyes, nodded and, letting the covers slip from around my body, pulled Harry into a firm embrace. Even through his thin cotton T-shirt, I could feel the warmth of his chest as it rose and fell with every bated breath he took.

"We're together now," he whispered in my ear. "I don't want that to change. When you said what you said...about being like Sirius...do you know why it upset me?"

I shook my head against his jaw, and he pulled away enough to gaze into my eyes with the gravest expression I'd ever seen him don.

"I knew it was true," he said. "They are treating you just the same as they treated Sirius. When Sirius died, I'd never known pain like that. And it still hurts like hell. And I thought, what would happen if I lost you, just like I lost Sirius?"

"No," I whispered, running both hands through his unruly black hair. "You aren't going to lose me, Harry. I'm in this thing for the long haul."

Harry smiled and sunk on his knees onto the bed in front of me. His fingers danced along the hem of his T-shirt before he pulled it over his head and tossed it onto the floor. He reached for the blankets then wrapped them around us both.

"Harry," I sighed as we fell together onto the pillows. "Can you do something for me?"

His hands traveled up my back and caressed my naked arms. I couldn't stop myself from wrenching my eyes shut and moaning hotly against his ear.

"Anything," he whispered, pressing his lips to my jaw.

I forced myself to hold him at a distance, just for a moment, long enough to convey how desperately I needed him with a single glance.

"Please," I said softly, "make this a truly happy Christmas."

Harry smiled sweetly and pressed his lips to mine.

"I can do that...."

THE END