Sacrifice

Chapter 1 - Compassion

Nature's first green is gold,

Her hardest hue to hold.

Her early leaf's a flower;

But only so an hour.

Then leaf subsides to leaf.

So Eden sank to grief,

So dawn goes down to day.

Nothing gold can stay.

The letter did not sail through the air. It fell, like a stone, the moment it was released from the owl's claws, and landed in front of Draco Malfoy.

Draco looked at it and knew. He knew what he should have known all along. But it had been so easy to forget.

This year, his seventh at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, had been good. No, it had been more than good; it had been wonderful. But wonderful things were not supposed to happen to him. And if they did anyway... Well, wonderful always came with a price.

Draco knew this.

He had only forgotten.

Chosen to forget.

He quickly hid the letter in his robes, hoping that no one had seen. He didn't want to deal with the attention it would cause. But that hope was crushed when he looked up and met the worried eyes of Harry Potter. Harry didn't miss much where Draco was concerned, and there was no way he could have failed to notice a letter bearing the Malfoy Seal landing on the table.

"I'll read it later," Draco whispered.

Harry nodded and caught his hand under the table, giving it a gentle squeeze. "It'll be alright." The words were empty, of course. A letter from his family couldn't bring anything but trouble. They both realised this. Still, Harry's reassurance comforted Draco, but that was probably more because of the touch than the actual words.

He tried to concentrate on the conversation around him. Tried to pretend that everything was still normal.

"So Granger, did you ever find that de-dissolving spell?" he asked the young witch sitting on Harry's other side. He thought that getting Hermione to talk about school would be a smart move. That was probably as normal as things could get.

"No," she answered, creases appearing on her forehead. "It's really starting to bother me. I've been through all the spell books - some of them twice - it just isn't there. And the NEWTs are getting closer..."

"Well, if it isn't in the spell books, I don't think it'll come up in the tests," Ernie Macmillan, a seventh-year Hufflepuff, remarked.

"But you never know," Hermione insisted.

Macmillan just shrugged, and continued eating. He completely ignored the withering glares Hermione was directing at him.

"Maybe it doesn't even exist." Draco smirked at her.

"And maybe you should start studying a little harder." Hermione glared at him, and then she turned her stern looks at the rest of them. "That goes for all of you."

Ever since her famous break-up from Ron Weasley a few months ago, Hermione had absorbed herself in schoolwork, and with the NEWTs getting nearer every day, she only tore herself from the books to eat, sleep and nag at her friends. No one knew what had caused the relationship between the two Gryffindors to fall apart, but the fight had been spectacular. It had been all people could talk about for weeks afterwards.

"We do study, Hermione," Harry said gently. "Don't worry about us."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Oh, so that's what you two do when you disappear for hours? Study?" Another side effect of her break-up was that she had become bitter about everybody else's relationships. But this time a tiny smile accompanied the sarcastic remark, turning it into friendly teasing. Maybe she's starting to get over him, Draco thought. At least she doesn't look quite so tired anymore.

"Of course we study." Draco tried to look indignant, but then he glanced at Harry and could no longer keep a smile from breaking out. "Can we help it if we get a little distracted every now and then..."

He looked over at Harry, who was blushing. Undoubtedly he was thinking about last week, when they had solemnly promised that they wouldn't touch each other until they had finished their Charms homework. Draco had really intended to keep that promise, and he was sure Harry had too. Somehow, things hadn't turned out that way. The stern lecture and extra assignments they had gotten from Professor Flitwick the next day were totally worth it, though.

"Apparently you can't." Hermione's voice drew them back to the present. "Now, about the de-dissolution spell... I'm certain it exists." She threw Draco a challenging look. "And I'm going to find it."

"I can help you look for it," Lisa Turpin said. "I'm think I've read about it somewhere." Her statement made everyone jump in their seats, a reaction that seemed completely incongruent with her soft and melodious voice. The Ravenclaw was so quiet, it always came as a surprise when she spoke.

"Thanks, Lisa. And then maybe we could compare our Transfiguration notes. This week's lesson was fascinating, and I want to make sure I didn't miss anything." Hermione actually sounded excited about this. "You boys want to join us?"

"Can't," Macmillan said triumphantly. "Quidditch practice." He was captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team.

Hermione looked at Harry and Draco. "Well, what about you?"

Harry glanced worriedly at Draco and shook his head. "No, I don't think so." He was probably thinking about the letter.

"Suit yourselves. But you should know that I have talked to all our teachers and they assured me that this year's NEWTs will be especially difficult..."

Draco stopped listening to her words and just let her voice wash over him.

Yes, this year had been good, Draco reflected and let his gaze sweep over the Great Hall, marvelling over how much they had accomplished. The four long tables were gone. Instead, the Hall was filled with smaller tables, and students from the different houses were eating and laughing together.

The previous year Draco had surprised everyone, and most of all himself, by volunteering to lead a small group of students speaking up against the rivalry between the Houses. They had realised that the suspicion that was growing between members of different Houses was going to tear Hogwarts apart and leave them an easy bait for the Death Eaters. Their only chance for survival lay in uniting and learning to trust each other.

It hadn't been easy, but they had come very far. Looking over the Great Hall, Draco couldn't find a single table with students from only one House. He knew he had done a good job. And if he sometimes forgot it, and started doubting himself again, the look of pride in Harry's eyes would remind him.

Of course, outside Hogwarts the darkness was getting thicker. People disappeared without a trace. There seemed to be Death Eaters everywhere. Even the Ministry could no longer pretend that war wasn't coming.

But at least Hogwarts was still safe, he thought. At least here, there was still laughter and caring, and things had been getting better every day.

And then that bloody letter had to come and destroy everything.

Suddenly he couldn't stand it anymore. Everything around him was... It was too normal. He mumbled something that he hoped sounded like an excuse, and fled.

He found an empty classroom and sat down at a desk, hesitantly taking the letter from his pocket.

A few seconds later Harry joined him and closed the door silently.

Draco didn't look up. His eyes felt like they were glued to the letter. The envelope was made of a thick, expensive parchment; it was so smooth and white that it seemed to repel any dirt that might want to settle on it. On the front, there were three words written in midnight blue ink: Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts. His mother's handwriting. And on the back, the Malfoy Seal.

"I wish I could burn it!"

Harry didn't answer. He just sat down next to Draco and took him in his arms.

After a few minutes Draco reluctantly withdrew from the embrace and broke the seal.

The letter inside bore no resemblance to the ones that his mother used to send him almost every week during his first five years at Hogwarts. Those letters had been filled with mellifluous phrases containing just the correct amount of motherly love. His mother's handwriting had been elegant but neat. This letter was covered in a barely legible scrawl. Many words had been crossed out with broad scratches of ink. The parchment was crumpled and torn.

He took a deep breath and began to read.

Draco,

My son, my precious child,

(several words were crossed over with an excessive amount of ink) Or am I allowed to call you that? Your father would say I'm not, but he (again a lot of missing words) But can't a mother tell her son how much she (one short word - maybe loves? - crossed out) misses him? I think that's a mother's privilege, but then again, I've been wrong about so much. (the following three lines were covered in so much ink that Draco was surprised it hadn't bled out over the rest of the letter)

Anyway, I must get to the point

(the rest of the sentence had been crossed over, but he could still read it) before I lose what little strength I have left.

(then came a large empty space, as if the following words would look less horrible further down on the page)

I'm dying, Draco.

(the rest of the line was impossible to read; after that nothing more had been crossed out, but the end of the letter was a muddle of words and half finished sentences, only bits of it possible to understand) I miss... If your father knew... writing to you... kill me! ... has been gone for months... mustn't know... I'm so lonely... I wish... see your face... one more time before...sorry... no right to ask... just want to know... happy? ... miss you... lonely... dying...so sorry... Draco! ...

Love you, always,

Narcissa

Draco silently handed the letter to Harry and walked over to one of the large windows. He leaned his forehead against the cool glass, trying to think. To feel. He wanted to rage and scream and hurt. Anything would be better than the coldness inside him that had swallowed all his emotions and was chasing thoughts around in his frozen mind. Mother. Dying. Wants me to go back to Malfoy Manor. Back home? No. And what if... No! It can't be.

Harry, having finished with the letter, came up to him and put his arms around him. Draco turned from the window and rested his cheek against his lover's shoulder.

"I'm so sorry," Harry said.

"Just hold me." Draco felt Harry's arms tighten around him. Harry was warm and Draco could feel the terrible coldness subsiding. For a moment, he imagined that if they stood like this, without moving, long enough, the rest of the world would disappear and just leave them alone. And then everything would be good again.

But eventually they had to move. Draco raised his head and caught the look in Harry's eyes. It was a look of pain and anxiety. A wave of anger coursed through Draco. He gently caressed Harry's face, wanting to smooth away the lines of worry. It wasn't fair. It was his mother. His pain. Why did his pain have to hurt Harry too?

Draco looked away before Harry could guess what he was thinking. He knew that Harry actually wanted to share his pain. He claimed that sharing it would make it hurt less, that he didn't mind taking on Draco's problems. Even now, after all this time, Draco was amazed that someone could care that much for him.

"Will you be okay?" Harry asked.

To anyone else it might have sounded like a trivial question, but Draco could hear everything that was behind it. There was genuine concern; a subtle speculation about what Draco would do; an offer to listen if he wanted to talk about it, but also a promise not to pry; and a firm reassurance that Harry would always be there for him.

"Yeah, I guess I will be."

Draco pulled away from Harry and started pacing back and forth between the wall and the desks.

Harry leaned against the wall, giving an appearance of waiting patiently. But Draco could see he was fidgeting. It went completely against Harry's nature to stand back, even for a minute, and let Draco suffer alone. But he had learnt, from the many fights this had caused, that he couldn't push Draco into talking about his problems. And slowly Draco had learnt to let Harry help him.

This time it took him fourteen turns, back and forth, to decide to take Harry up on his unspoken offer. He sat down on the desk closest to where Harry was standing.

"We've never been exactly close in my family," he began. "But now... This... It's just that..." He didn't know how to continue and looked helplessly at Harry.

"...that even after everything that has happened, she's still your mother," Harry finished for him.

Draco frowned. The subject of parents was one that he and Harry would probably never see eye to eye on. Harry had never had any. Draco had come to wish he didn't have any. But the way Harry said the word mother brought up feelings Draco thought he had lost long ago. There were memories... Not all of it had been bad. He remembered the smile on her face at his first successful spell. And he remembered her delighted laughter, just a few years ago, when he had tried to summon his cloak from the garden and got it wrong, covering them both in roses instead. She had still been laughing as she went out to check the damage he had done to her rose bushes.

"Yes, she's my mother," he agreed. And for a short moment that was all that mattered.

Harry sat next to him and took one of Draco's hands in both of his. "Want to tell me about her?"

Draco thought about it for a few seconds, then he started, a little hesitantly at first. "She's very beautiful... But you already know that. You've seen her."

He could feel Harry nodding beside him. "Yes, she is."

"But it's all on the outside. The beauty. The... On the outside, she's perfect. She's the perfect wife, the perfect hostess, the perfect mother... Did you know that she only touched me in public? Never when we were alone. Never. Only when there were people around who could admire her for being such a wonderful, loving mother." He ran a hand through his hair, trying to compose himself. "She's not, though. I don't think she ever really cared for me. Not as a person. I was a... possession to her, just another symbol of her success."

He turned his head and gave Harry a hard look, warning him not to feel sorry for him. But there was no pity in Harry's eyes, only compassion.

"She's not a nice person," he continued. "I always tried to make her happy when I was a child. I used to bring her pretty things. But I almost never got through to her. And the few times I did... It didn't last long, and it only made the disappointment so much worse the next time I failed." He tried to shake the memories away, but they wouldn't leave. "No, I couldn't make her happy. The only thing she really enjoys is hurting people. She would arrange huge parties, invite all her so called friends, and spend the evening reducing them to pale shadows of themselves. She always knew which insult would hurt them most. I think everyone was terrified of her parties, but they were even more afraid of what would happen if they refused to come."

Draco took a deep breath. The memories were so strong. "You can't imagine what she looked like at these affairs. It was almost as is she was shrouded in some unearthly light that made everyone notice her. And the look on her face - it was... exquisite... ecstatic. You could see this was what she was living for. I've never seen anything remotely like it."

He stopped abruptly, realising where he had seen a look that was exactly like hers. It had been there so often when he looked in the mirror. On his own face. The Triwizard Tournament suddenly leaped out in his mind. The Daily Prophet publishing all those embarrassing articles about Harry. That same maliciously exhilarated look must have been on his face every single time...

"Harry, I'm... She... I was just like that..." The words deserted him and he cursed them for it. He wanted so desperately to confess everything, to beg Harry for forgiveness, to explain what he was only now beginning to understand.

"Shhh." Harry silenced him with a finger softly pressed against his lips. "I know." He gave Draco a quick hug that said more clearly than any words that he understood and that it was okay. "I love you, Draco."

For what must have been the millionth time, Draco reflected that he really didn't deserve someone like Harry. Then he forced his thoughts back to his mother.

"But the cruelty, and all that - it's on the outside too. Inside, there is nothing. She's empty. Dead." He was whispering now. "Empty and cold, just like I was..." He looked at Harry and knew that he didn't have to finish the sentence. Harry knew what he meant anyway. But he felt a sudden need to say it. "Just like I was until you taught me how to love."

Harry kissed him then. It was a kiss full of love and warmth and emotions too beautiful to have names. Harry's lips were gentle, as always, but also insistent. Surrendering, and at the same time demanding everything. Draco gave it willingly. He gave his memories and his hopes, his past and his future, his soul - everything. And he received everything in return.

It was a kiss that made the world go away.

After their lips parted they gazed into each other's eyes, too caught up in the moment to move, to speak, to think.

It was Harry, who finally broke the silence. "So, your mother? How do you feel about her now?"

"There's a part of me that says I can't blame her for what she is, that she can't help it; and I almost feel sorry for her. I mean, how could she be anything else, being married to... that." He almost spat the last word out. "And then there's this other part... I'm furious with her. She's a cold-hearted snob. It isn't just that she didn't love me enough, she let me believe that there was no such thing as love. She let me turn into something so very much like her."

They were silent again for a while. Then Harry said: "It could be a trick, you know."

"I know." The thought had crossed his mind already while he was reading the letter. That it could be an attempt to lure him away from Hogwarts. And into a trap. It would be just like Lucius to come up with such a twisted scheme. But it wasn't Lucius, who had written the letter. It was Narcissa, and although she could be quite devious in her own right, this just didn't seem like something she would do.

"You have the letter?" Draco asked and Harry gave it to him.

He studied it carefully. Even with the distorted handwriting, there was no doubt in his mind that it was his mother who had written the letter. The wording was far from her usual style. But that was to be expected if she was sick. The tone of the letter was desperate and sincere. Like she really meant every word of it. There was no way Lucius could have dictated it. He wouldn't recognise sincerity even if it was pointed out to him in a dictionary. No, Narcissa had definitely written the letter herself, without any influence from her husband. He can't have forced her to do it. Or could he...?

He pushed the thought away, and told Harry how he had reasoned.

"That rules out the Imperius curse, as well, doesn't it?" Harry mused. "If she were under Imperius, she'd only be able to write exactly what she was told."

Draco nodded.

"Well, can you think of any other spell that would force her to write the letter, but still allow her own personality to shine through."

"No, I don't think those kinds of spells work like that. But there might be some Dark ones that do, although I don't think it's very likely."

"So if Lucius forced her, he didn't use magic to do it. Right?"

"Right." Draco couldn't help staring at Harry. He suddenly seemed much more confident. This is what he needs. To feel that he's doing something. That he's helping. Draco smiled and though about telling Harry that just his presence was help enough. But he didn't say anything. Harry would never admit it, but he enjoyed solving problems.

"Draco." Harry's voice was suddenly tender. "What if he didn't have to..."

"Maybe he blackmailed her," Draco interrupted, not wanting to hear Harry's next words. "Or threatened her."

"Do you think she would have written like that under threat?"

Draco sighed. "No. But maybe someone else..." He stopped. Who did he think he was fooling? "No," he said again, finally voicing that harsh truth he didn't even want to think about. "No, either my mother is really dying, or she's betraying me of her own free will."

"Draco." Harry tried to embrace him, but he drew away with a bitter laugh.

"I don't know which is worse."

"Draco," Harry tried again, and this time Draco let himself be swept up in his comforting arms.

"What am I going to do?" he mumbled against Harry's neck.

"I don't know."

"If she's really sick," It was so frustrating not to know. "does Lucius know about it? And why isn't he with her?" Draco looked at Harry, but for once, he couldn't find an answer in those green eyes.

"I don't know," Harry said again.

There was a loud knock on the door, and a few seconds later Ron Weasley entered.

"There you are," he said, mild accusation in his voice. "You just disappeared from the Great Hall before I could catch you."

For a moment Harry looked bewildered. Then he smacked his forehead. "Divination! I forgot. I'm so sorry, Ron."

"'S okay." Weasley shrugged. But he shot Draco a brief glare that clearly said he blamed him for making Harry forget. "But we need to get started soon," Weasley continued. "We have to get those dream charts done by tomorrow."

"Why the sudden interest in homework?" Draco asked. He was about to add that it must be because Weasley's grades were suffering now that he couldn't copy Hermione's homework anymore, but he changed his mind. Harry wouldn't like it.

"Professor Trelawney predicted we wouldn't get them done by tomorrow," Harry said. "So we have to prove her wrong."

Draco couldn't help laughing. I needed this, he realised. A good laugh. "Maybe the old fraud is smarter than people give her credit for," he managed to get out between fits of laughter. "You do know she's manipulating you, don't you?"

Harry laughed too, but Weasley looked annoyed. "Of course we know that," he said in an unfriendly tone.

Draco had tried to get along with Weasley. He really had. Hell, he would have tried to find Flobberworms interesting, if he thought that would make Harry happy. But sometimes he thought the Flobberworms would be easier to like than Harry's friends. Hermione was not so bad. In fact, once he had learnt to see past the fact that she was a Mudbl... a Muggle-born, he had found that she was rather nice to hang around. Well, when she wasn't nagging about rules or homework, anyway.

But Weasley was a different matter. They had seen how much their constant fighting hurt Harry and decided to settle their differences. To the other boy's credit, Draco had to admit that Weasley had tried, too. They had managed, well almost managed, to set aside family feuds and earlier fights, only to discover that they really disliked each other.

At least it was nice to know that Weasley's hatred for him was personal and not another difficulty the Malfoy name had caused him.

"We have to do it anyway." It took Draco a moment to realise that Harry was talking about Divination homework. "So why not get it done on time. And we really want to avoid that smug look Trelawney gets whenever her predictions come true."

"Go and do it then." Draco smiled.

"You sure?" Harry asked. The anxious look was back on his face.

"Yes. I'll be fine."

Weasley obviously caught the tension. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing I can't handle." Draco fought the urge to sneer at him. It was nice of Weasley to ask after all.

Nothing he couldn't handle? Yeah, right. He had no idea about what to do. Well, I could handle it, if I only knew... If he only knew what? What Lucius was doing? Where he was?

"Of course!" It was so obvious Draco was ashamed he hadn't thought of it earlier.

Both Harry and Weasley were giving him strange looks.

"You go and take care of your creative writing, or whatever you do for Divination homework." He kissed Harry on the cheek and started walking towards the door. "I have to talk to the Slytherins."

"Draco?"

Already halfway through the door, he turned to face Harry. "Quite a few of my housemates are children of Death Eaters. And even Death Eaters gossip. There must be some little Slytherin, who knows something. If I could just find out where Lucius is..." He shrugged.

"Do you think your father is up to something... well - evil." Weasley looked worried.

A sudden need to hit the stupid Weasel surged through Draco. "He's the bastard who got my mother pregnant," he snarled. "Don't ever call him my father!" But then he sighed. Weasley didn't understand. Couldn't understand. Draco continued in a much more controlled voice, "And he's always up to something evil."

When he started to walk away, Weasley grabbed his sleeve. "Just be careful, alright, Malfoy."

Draco nodded, and Weasley let go of his arm.

But as he made his way towards the dungeons, he felt a new wave of worries wash over him. Talking to the Slytherins was not going to be as easy as he had pretended in front of Harry and Weasley.