Marked for Life

title: marked for life 1/1

author: rotschopf

mail: rotschopf (at) rotschopf.org

pairing: draco malfoy / harry potter

rating: pg-13

warnings: angst, language, AML, major fluff

disclaimer: still not my slaves. no profit made, no harm intended. for entertainment purposes only

archive: tddm, my lj, the hex files, skyehawke, hp fandom, poisonsdarkfics only

beta: c dumbledore, thank you so much, luv *snugs*

feedback: yes, hit me! harder!

summary: draco has a mission.

as always, all my stories can be found at groups.yahoo.com/group/TDDM and community.livejournal.com/drowfic

~o0o~

Once again, Draco Malfoy asked himself what he was doing. It was close to one o'clock in the morning and he was standing across the street from a large, old-fashioned, redbrick department store called Purge & Dowse Ltd. The chipped dummies in the window displays looked eerily alive in the gloomy light of the street lamps, their wigs strangely askew and their clothes very out-of-date. He patted the phial he carried in his robe pocket to reassure himself that it was still there. And to remind himself why he was here in the first place.

One year. He had worked for one year to finally stand in front of the building, which hid St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries from the eyes of the Muggle world. He had been about to give up hope of finding what he had been looking for, but not a week ago, he had been successful. He had then studied the shift schedule of St. Mungo's very closely until he had found the perfect night to show up, and he knew it had to be tonight or never.

The clock of a nearby church struck one o'clock, which meant a shift change. Any minute now, the relieved guard would come through the window with a particularly ugly dummy in it. Draco pressed deeper into the alcove he was hiding in. It simply wouldn't do if he were discovered so close to accomplishing his goal.

Finally, the guard stepped through the window and onto the pavement. He lit a cigarette and started to walk down the street, whistling as he went. Draco waited until he was absolutely sure he would remain unseen before he hurried across the street towards the dummy. "I'm here to see Healer Bulstrode," he whispered, looking around anxiously to determine if anyone else was nearby. The dummy nodded her head and beckoned him to enter. He heaved an almost relieved sigh and stepped into the window to land in the reception area of St. Mungo's. Long rows of wooden folding chairs clogged up the area, and Draco was thankful that there were only three witches and wizards seated upon them. Two Healers were tending to them, making notes on clipboards and nodding their heads along with the statement of the patients.

Draco wrinkled his nose. He had never liked the smell of medical facilities, and St. Mungo's was no exception. Additionally, he always had the distinct feeling that he would soon be back here, but not as a visitor. He shook his head. The feeling was irrational, of course, and hardly becoming a Malfoy. He schooled his features into his trademark cold sneer and approached the Welcomewitch, a brusque-looking woman who was reading an outdated copy of the Daily Prophet over the rim of her glasses. "Hello," he said calmly. "I'm here to see Healer Bulstrode."

"Second floor," she said without looking up from her paper.

"Thank you." Draco turned and passed through the double doors that led into a corridor lined by portraits of various Healers. He climbed two flights of stairs to the second floor and smiled when he spotted Millicent to his left together with Gregory Goyle. They were talking to each other quietly, but looked into his direction as soon as they heard him. "Hello," said Draco simply.

"Well, hello to you, too," Millicent said, grinning. Gregory only nodded, but Draco spotted the smile that threatened to break over his face. "We were wondering if you'd show up after all."

Draco huffed. "I said I would be here tonight."

"Are you still planning on going through with it?" Gregory asked.

"Yes. I simply can't imagine my world without him in it to annoy me." He smirked. "Besides, it gives me some satisfaction that I'm his only chance."

"And what are you getting out of the deal aside from satisfaction?" Millicent asked with a sly grin.

Draco tried to suppress the blush, but he still felt his face heating up. "That is between him and me. - Is he awake?"

"Most likely," said Gregory. "He doesn't sleep much these days. He also doesn't have many visitors."

"Not even his two sidekicks," Millicent offered. "It's sad, really. It's as if the world has forgotten that he's even there."

Draco squared his shoulders. "Well, I don't want to keep him waiting for his only chance to live. If you'll excuse me..." He nodded to his friends and, without knocking, he entered the room.

"Draco!" A genuine smile crossed over Potter's haggard features. "I didn't expect you of all people to pay me a visit."

"Potter." Draco had to stop himself from flinching. Potter looked terrible. His small body seemed to only consist of bones, his almost translucent skin stretched tautly over them. His eyes were sunken in and looked horrifyingly green in his colourless face. He wore a headband, which was only partially covering his infamous scar, and his face looked strangely blank without eyebrows and lashes.

Potter tried to sit up, and Draco rushed to his bedside to help him, stuffing cushions into his back to support him. "Go ahead, Draco. Say what you want to say."

Draco gaped, but quickly found his equilibrium again. He pulled over a chair and straddled it backwards, resting his forearms on the back of the chair. "Frankly? You look like something the cat brought home last night."

Potter chuckled, which transformed into a violent cough. "Frankly? I feel like something the cat brought home last night. But chemotherapy will do that to you."

"Why are you here in the first place? I mean, wouldn't a Muggle hospital know what to do rather than St. Mungo's?"

"I've been in three different Muggle hospitals. None was able to help me. I don't react too well to the chemo and they didn't find a compatible donator. Hermione and Ron thought it best if I gave the Wizarding world a shot. They can't help me either."

"How long?" Draco croaked, not sure, if he wanted to know the answer.

"They say I won't live to see Christmas," Potter answered flatly, seemingly unfazed by the prospect of dying within the next three weeks.

"You seem completely undisturbed by that," Draco offered, shifting on his chair to find a more comfortable position.

"I grew up with the belief that my parents died in a car crash. When I came to Hogwarts, I was finally told that Voldemort killed my parents and tried to kill me. In my first year, Quirrell tried to kill me. In my second year, I almost died killing a basilisk. In my third year, I was told that Sirius Black was out to kill me. In my fourth year, Voldemort came back and tried to kill me yet again and I had to watch Cedric die because he wasn't important. In my fifth year, I lost my godfather, survived Umbridge and a battle at the ministry. You get my drift, I think. My whole life, I've been surrounded by death. It doesn't matter to me anymore if I live or die. I'm not afraid."

Draco took a deep breath. "Well, it matters to me, Potter. That's why I'm here."

Potter frowned. "What are you saying?"

Draco stood up and began to pace. "I'm saying that I have worked very hard the past year to find a cure for your leukaemia. I had almost given up hope that I would be successful in tweaking an existing potion to the point where the side effects would be acceptable if it meant that you could live."

"Draco..." Potter shifted uncomfortably. "What kind of potion? What did it do?"

"After the Ministry signed the Manor over to me, I discovered a Potions' lab in the dungeons. You can imagine what kind of potions I found down there, together with the brewing instructions. It so happens that I found a potion named Sanguis Putus. Do you know what that means?"

"Pure blood," Potter said immediately.

"Exactly. It's a potion that was used in the early days of the Wizarding world to purify the bloodlines."

"What exactly does that mean?"

"For example, in the Malfoy family, there simply are no dark-haired people. We all have white-blond hair and grey eyes. In the early days of our family, whenever a dark-haired child was born, or a child that didn't match one or the other criteria, its genome was 'purified' and altered. If a couple couldn't have children of their own, they adopted and altered the child, binding it irrevocably to the family and marking it. I think you see where this is going, Potter."

Potter nodded, his expression blank. "It's a dark potion and it's blood magic."

"It's not a dark potion anymore. Well, at least I wouldn't classify it as such anymore. I tweaked it to a point where you won't be changed into a Malfoy. It will substitute your marrow with mine and make it compatible for your body. I also managed to remove the binding factor."

"But?"

Draco stopped and looked intently at Potter. "Who says there is a 'but'?"

"There always is in conversations like ours. You managed to remove the binding factor, but...?"

Draco sighed heavily and slumped into the chair. He reached into his robes and pulled out the phial, placing it carefully on Potter's nightstand. "You will still carry my mark," he admitted softly. "And there is absolutely no telling what it'll look like or what it'll do. I simply don't know."

Potter bit his bottom lip, looking as if he were deep in thought. Draco could tell that his offer was tempting the man, but he also understood the history Potter had with this kind of magic. The question was what Potter would do; if he wanted to live enough to disregard his principles.

Potter hadn't said a thing for the past ten minutes, and Draco was starting to get restless. He could easily admit, if only to himself, that he wanted Po-- Harry to live. "You don't have to decide now, Harry," he offered quietly. "If you want me to, I'll leave now."

Harry nodded. "Please. It's not as if I don't want to have you here. But I need to think this through, and I'm not the best company when I need to think."

"I understand," said Draco sincerely, and he meant it. He needed to be alone to think as well. "Well, I'll be on my way." He stood up and looked at Harry, not able stop himself from brushing his knuckles softly across Harry's cheek. "Sleep well."

"You too," Harry croaked. "Thank you. For everything." Draco inclined his head and turned to leave. "Draco?"

Draco halted, his hand already on the doorknob. "Yes?"

"If you hadn't found a cure, would you still have come to see me?" Harry asked, his voice barely audible, but thick with emotions.

"Yes," Draco said without hesitation. "Yes, I would've come." He smiled. "Good night, Harry."

"Good night."

Draco opened the door and stepped out into the now empty corridor. He took a deep breath. He had done what he had come to St. Mungo's for. Now, it was up to Harry.

~o0o~

Draco greeted Severus in the entrance hall of Malfoy Manor. It was one day before Christmas, and Severus had insisted on coming to see his godson. "Thank you for coming, Severus," Draco said almost affectionately.

Severus snorted. "You make it sound like I've followed an invitation."

Draco laughed. "You know that you're always welcome here. Come on. The house-elves have prepared brunch." They walked quietly into the dining room. As soon as they were seated at the table, the food appeared and they began to eat. "Still no word of Potter's whereabouts?" asked Draco cautiously.

"No. But you know him. If he doesn't want to be found, we won't find him. Dumbledore seems confident, though, that we'll find him in time."

"In time for what? For another course of chemotherapy? To watch him die?" Draco took a gulp of his orange juice. "No. I believe he knew what he was doing. If he chose to die alone, then it's no one's business to go searching for him just because the Wizarding world can't part from its hero. As a matter of fact, they chose to forget him when he was diagnosed with cancer."

"You surprise me, Draco. That sounded almost caring," said Severus teasingly, a smirk playing around his thin lips.

"It's a simple fact. If I were in his place, I wouldn't want to be surrounded by my friends and family to see me die." Draco took another sip, averting his eyes. It had been three weeks now since Draco had visited Harry in the hospital, and two weeks since Harry had decided to disappear over night. Neither Millicent nor Gregory had been able to tell if Harry had taken the potion or not. True to their word, they hadn't told anyone about Draco's visit. "In any case, there's not much we can do about it," Draco concluded when he was sure that he had his emotions under control again. "We will simply have to sit and wait."

"You do surprise me today, Draco. It almost seems as if you held feelings other than contempt for the Potter brat."

Draco put his napkin on the table. "Schoolboy rivalries die over time, Severus. I stopped despising Potter a long time ago."

"It's a pity you can't tell him that anymore. He would've appreciated the sentiment."

Severus finished his meal as well and they stood up to get comfortable in the sitting room to catch up with each other's lives. It was already dark when Draco accompanied Severus back to the fireplace in the entrance hall. "Are you sure you want to be alone for Christmas?" Severus asked, concern softening his otherwise gruff voice.

"I'm sure. Thank you for the offer nonetheless."

"It wouldn't be a bother for me. But I respect your wish to be alone."

"Thank you. Happy Christmas, Severus."

"Happy Christmas to you as well, Draco." Severus stepped into the fire, tossing the Floo Powder into the flames. "The Three Broomsticks!" he said loudly and clearly, and was gone a moment later.

~o0o~

Draco was roused by a very distressed house-elf. "Tipser is very sorry, Master Draco," he creature squeaked when Draco fixed it with a glare.

"What is it?" Draco asked sharply, the elf shrinking back from the bed.

"I is very sorry, but-- Master Draco's spouse is here."

Draco sat up abruptly. "What?" he asked, startling the elf. "Never mind. Would you kindly inform the kitchens to prepare breakfast for me and my spouse?" he added absentmindedly, already getting up. "I'll be with them in a minute."

"I is doing as you asks."

"Good." The elf vanished and Draco padded towards his bathroom. Most likely, it was Pansy Parkinson, who had thought it funny to come to the Manor on Christmas Eve and tell the house-elf she was Draco's wife. Draco snorted. Pansy had dreamt about marrying him since they had been at Hogwarts, and had been more than displeased when he had told her on no uncertain terms that he wasn't interested in spending the rest of his life with her. Not only was she annoying as hell, but she also was the wrong gender to make her even remotely interesting.

He sighed. Usually, he would take his time in the bathroom, but he also knew how Pansy could be. Thus, he took a quick shower and got dressed. Just as he was exiting his room, the house-elf named Tipser appeared again. "Breakfast is ready, Master Draco."

"Thank you." Draco composed himself to meet Pansy in the dining room. The sooner he dealt with her, the sooner he could get rid of her again. He pushed open the double doors and froze. It wasn't Pansy who was standing at the window, gazing out into the garden. "What are you doing here?" he asked incredulously.

"Hello to you too, Draco," Harry replied, chuckling softly and turning around.

Draco gulped. Though Harry didn't look quite as bad as he had looked three weeks ago, he was still visibly marked by the leukaemia. At least, his skin had taken on a healthier tone again and his eyes were sparkling with life. "You took the potion, then," Draco said matter-of-factly, walking across the room to stand next to Harry.

"Yes. That's why I'm here."

"How did you get past the wards without my realising it? I mean, they don't repel anyone anymore, except for people with ill intentions. But I'm usually notified when someone who doesn't belong to the family crosses the border."

"Well, that's the point, isn't it?" Harry smiled.

Draco sighed. "You're not very forthcoming with information, Harry. Why don't we sit down and have breakfast while you're answering my questions in more than cryptic sentences?"

Harry laughed, and Draco noticed the pleasant tingle that shot down his spine as Harry's laughter rolled over him. "All right. Breakfast."

Draco noticed that the elves had sat up the table quite differently for Harry and him than they had yesterday when Severus had been visiting him. It looked a lot more-- intimate. Draco grinned wryly. Of course it looked more intimate since the house-elves believed Harry to be his spouse. "Have a seat." He waited patiently until Harry had helped himself to some toast and a coffee. "So, let's start. Where have you been?"

"On my way here. The Knight Bus dropped me off in the middle of nowhere since I didn't exactly know where the Manor is."

"And you couldn't just have sent me an owl or Floo-called me," Draco commented cynically. "I was worried about you. I didn't know if you took the potion or not."

"I did. And that's the reason why I came here. One, I wanted to thank you. You saved my life though you hadn't had to do it. Two, how did you manage to get your hands on my blood to make the potion?"

To his chagrin, Draco felt himself blushing. "Millicent Bulstrode works as a Healer at St. Mungo's. She gave me access to your blood and marrow samples."

Harry arched his brows, worrying his lips between his teeth. "She knew?"

"Yes. I wouldn't have been able to do it without her and Greg's help. They were both on duty the night I came to bring you the potion."

"Okay." A contemplative look crossed his face. "Still, how did you do it? I know that you were excellent in Potions. But this potion still seemed to be more in Snape's league."

Draco should have felt offended at Harry's implication, but when he looked at him to say something sharp in return, he recognised the unadulterated curiosity in Harry's eyes. "I know. But when Severus told me you were diagnosed with AML, I had to do something."

A look of understanding crossed Harry's face. "That explains the mark, then."

"In what way?" Harry stood up, unbuttoning his shirt. "What are you doing?" Draco squawked.

"Showing you the mark." He pulled the shirt away from his left shoulder and turned around.

Draco gasped. It looked more like a tattoo than a mark. Harry bore the Malfoy family crest in the Malfoy colours. Two letters were etched into Harry's skin below the crest. "By Merlin." He reached out and traced the letters softly, delighting in the slight shiver that rippled through Harry's body. "No wonder the wards thought you're a part of the family, because you are."

"You told me you removed the binding factor," Harry said stiffly, re-buttoning the shirt.

"I did. I thought you'd have 'DM' somewhere etched into your skin, but this is totally unexpected."

"Draco..."

"I'm not lying, Harry."

"I know you're not. But I know enough about marks like that to know that they always reflect the intentions of the one who gives the mark." He took a deep breath. "Why did you help me?"

"I already told you--"

"Are you in love with me?" Harry said softly, interrupting Draco. "Because if you're not, I really don't have a clue why I have 'HM' and the Malfoy coat of arms etched into my shoulder instead of just your initials somewhere on my body."

Draco stared at Harry. Being in love with Harry wasn't a possibility he had contemplated yet. But looking back at the fourteen years of history they shared, he had to take this into consideration. It had always been about the two of them. They had fought with a passion; they had been obsessed with each other. Draco's whole life so far had revolved around Harry Potter, occupying his thoughts, his dreams, his fantasies. "I guess I am," Draco finally said, astonished that he was able to admit something he hadn't been aware of himself until now so freely.

"You guess." It was not a question.

"I haven't been aware of it until now. But yes. I'm in love--"

Draco fell silent when he felt a pair of chapped lips pressed to his mouth. The kiss was bittersweet in its innocence and Draco couldn't help the small sigh that escaped him. "You marked me as yours, Draco. Are you planning on following through with it?"

Draco gulped. He couldn't believe what Harry was offering him on a silver plate. "That's not my decision alone. What about you? Why are you offering me this?"

"Believe me when I say that I'm not doing it because I feel indebted to you. That's why I asked if you would have come as well if you hadn't found the cure. I wanted to know if you were doing it because you thought it was your duty. But that's not why you did it. And because of that, I had to come here. Especially after I saw the mark."

"What are you saying, Harry?"

"All the time I was lying in hospital, I wanted to see exactly one person one last time again, and that was you. There was so much I wanted to tell you. So much, I needed you to know. I've been handed a second chance. You gave me a second chance. And I won't let this moment pass, Draco. If you want to have me, I'm yours. Just-- give me some time before you plan any strenuous activities."

Draco couldn't help but chuckle. He pulled Harry down into his lap. "You amaze me, Harry. You truly amaze me."

"In what way?" Harry reached for his coffee and shifted to get more comfortable in Draco's lap.

"You don't do things by half. You needn't have told me about the true form of the mark. You needn't have come here and offer me to take you as my husband for real. Merlin, I don't even know if you're inclined that way!" Draco added gruffly, eliciting a laugh from Harry.

"The fact that I'm perched in your lap should tell you enough about my sexual inclinations, Mr Malfoy," said Harry lightly, cupping Draco's face in his palms.

Draco sighed theatrically, but smiled. "I guess it should." He pecked Harry on the lips. "Do you think you're up for going to Diagon Alley today?"

Harry tensed, narrowing his eyes. "Why?"

"Because, frankly, you need new clothes. And I'm going to buy them for you," he added firmly, putting a finger to Harry's lips to stave off any protest. "Let me do that for you, Harry, alright?"

"I can buy my own clothes," Harry said petulantly.

"I know. But it's Christmas. I want to buy you something for Christmas. And you needing new clothes doesn't give me a headache while I'm pondering what I could possibly get you," Draco replied smugly, pulling Harry tighter against his body.

"Are you always this sappy?" Harry grumbled good-naturedly, cuddling closer into Draco's arms.

"No. I'm a Malfoy. We don't do sappy," Draco huffed, but the truth was that he felt rather sappy at the moment. "Eat up, Harry. You need to regain your strength, and I suppose you haven't eaten enough the past three weeks, have you?"

Harry blushed, hiding his face in Draco's neck. "I wanted to get to you as fast as possible. There wasn't any time for something as trivial as eating."

Draco laughed. "If you say so."

~o0o~

Draco spooned behind Harry, nuzzling his face into the downy hair that was growing back in Harry's nape. He couldn't wait for the thick und practically untameable mop to grow back. Just as he couldn't wait for his-- husband to regain his weight.

Husband. Draco would need to get used to that. Not even in his wildest dreams, would he have thought that he would be married to Harry Potter at any point in his life. He smiled. Having Harry as his husband would prove to be-- interesting.

"What are you thinking about?" Harry murmured, snuggling back against Draco's chest.

"About us," Draco admitted, surprised again that he had no qualms with talking about those things with Harry. "I need to get used to having you in my bed."

Harry snorted, covering Draco's fingers on his stomach. "I know what you mean. It came as a complete surprise to both of us."

"Yes. But it wasn't an unpleasant surprise." What did surprise Draco was the reaction of his body to Harry's nearness. He would've thought that his body needed to catch up with their married status as much as his mind did. "I never believed in fate before," he said, flexing his hips to let Harry know what having him in his arms did to Draco.

"Didn't we talk about staying away from strenuous actions for a while?" Harry said teasingly, though he answered Draco's push by squirming against his groin.

"I didn't say we have to do anything, Harry," Draco whispered, letting his fingers slide upwards to Harry's chest. "I just wanted to let you know what you do to me."

"Even in the state I'm in?" Harry's softly spoken question was full of self-deprecation, making Draco tighten his arms around him.

"This state is temporary. And as clichéd as it might sound... Wanting you has nothing to do with what you look like at the moment. It's the way you feel in my arms."

Harry turned around to face Draco, making Draco moan as he realised that Harry was just as hard as he was. "How do I feel?"

"Good. You belong here. That's all that matters to me," Draco croaked before he covered Harry's mouth with his lips, dipping his tongue into the crevice and sighing when Harry allowed him to explore. He had to consciously break the kiss when he realised just how fast he would be overwhelmed by the need for the man in his arms. "We have time. I'm not going away, Harry. Not in this lifetime."

Harry sniffled, smiling crookedly before his hid his face in Draco's shoulder. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For giving me a place I can call home," Harry answered, his voice carrying more emotions than Draco could bear. How had Harry managed to break through his walls so fast? But then, Draco realised that there hadn't been any walls for Harry to break down. There never had been any walls between them.

He clutched Harry tighter to him, afraid he would vanish if Draco let go. "You will always have a home here, Harry," he muttered, his own voice thick with a feeling Draco couldn't describe. "Always." When Harry didn't answer, Draco felt a pang of fear lancing through him, until he realised that Harry had fallen asleep. Draco smiled. "Always."

~o0o~

the end