Sacrifice

Chapter 5 - Love

Sweetest love, I do not go,

For weariness of thee,

Nor in hope the world can show

A fitter love for me;

But since that I

Must die at last, 'tis best,

To use myself in jest

Thus by fained deaths to die.

***

Draco tumbled to the ground. For a moment he felt slightly disoriented, but then he managed to take in his surroundings. He was outside Hogwarts - right where Voldemort had promised the Portkey would take him. The Portkey! It was no longer in his hand. He couldn't have lost it. He just couldn't. He would need it later. But after a brief moment of frantic searching he found the necklace - a simple silver chain - that Voldemort had turned into a Portkey for him.

He pushed himself off the ground, straightened his robes and slid the Portkey into a pocket. Nervously he looked at the castle. It seemed friendly and familiar, almost as if it was wishing him welcome home. Which was not the way it should be. Not at all. It would have been more appropriate if Hogwarts had greeted him with indifference, or even hostility. He deserved no welcome. Not here. Not anywhere.

He bowed his head, feeling that even looking upon the place where he had been so happy for the past few years was a sacrilege. Instead his eyes fell on a wooden box beside his feet. The box that Voldemort had pushed into his hands just a minute earlier, while laughing maniacally. The box containing Hedwig's limp body. Feeling bone tired, Draco picked it up and started walking towards the castle.

He suddenly felt very much alone. With Voldemort and Lucius leering at him it had been possible, no, it had been necessary to keep up some kind of facade, to pretend that he'd be able to do what they demanded of him. It had been easy to think that for Harry he could go through anything. But now he started to doubt himself. Some things were impossible, after all.

The lake, just a short distance away, was calm and blue, and it sparkled in the early morning sunlight. There was no sign of the Giant Squid. The lake looked almost warm, but Draco knew otherwise. It was never warm. And yet it looked that way now - warm and comforting. He could imagine sinking into that soft blue depth. Sinking and sinking and never coming up again.

Draco turned his back to the lake and kept on walking.

When he reached the castle, he opened the large front doors and stepped inside warily. Surely Hogwarts would feel the change in him, and he would be thrown out, or an alarm would sound. Surely Dumbledore would have put up some ingenious wards that could sense a traitor...

But nothing happened. Entering through those doors felt no different than all the times before. Except that now everything was different.

The entrance hall was empty; everyone was probably still at breakfast. For the briefest of moments, Draco allowed himself to hesitate. To his right was the corridor leading to the Great Hall, to his left, the stairs to the dungeons. The Potions classroom was in the dungeons, and, more importantly, so was the Potions storeroom. He knew of at least seven poisons in there that he could easily get his hands on. Seven poisons that would kill quickly and painlessly.

He turned right.

Dying would be taking the easy way out, and he couldn't do that. Wouldn't. If he killed himself, his deal with Voldemort would be broken. And then Harry would die too.

No, death was not an option.

The deal had been simple. Voldemort would not use his Death Bond spell against Harry, if, in return, Draco severed all his ties and became a Death Eater. Of course Draco had tried to bargain, tried to get Voldemort to promise more. He had pleaded and threatened, done everything he could think of to make Voldemort promise not to hurt Harry at all. But nothing had worked. Draco didn't have anything to offer - except himself - and too much to lose. Voldemort had just laughed at him and refused to include anything but the Death Bond spell into his side of the deal.

That cruel laughter... Draco could still hear it resonating through his head.

And Voldemort had laughed a lot. Laughed while he performed the spell that sealed their deal and made Lucius their Promise Keeper, laughed while his most trusted supporter screamed in pain from the spell. Draco had felt nothing. After everything that had happened, seeing Lucius writhing in agony should have brought on at least some satisfaction. But all he had felt was emptiness.

And then Voldemort's laughter had become even colder as he explained how the Promise Keeper spell worked. As long as Lucius was alive and Draco kept his part of the deal, it would be impossible for Voldemort to use the Death Bond spell. There had been a challenging look in the Dark Lord's eyes, almost as if he was daring Draco to do something rash, something that would break the deal. Draco had stared back defiantly. He wasn't that stupid.

"It doesn't matter what you do," Voldemort had told him. "I win either way. You just have to decide how you want to lose." And later, when he pushed the Portkey into Draco's hand, he had whispered, "You will soon discover what it means to be a Death Eater. I have a feeling you won't like it very much. Especially not being a Death Eater who has displeased me." The thought of those words, of the excited look on Voldemort's face as he had said them, made Draco shiver.

Yes, he thought, Voldemort would win. Had already won, perhaps. But at least this way Harry would have a chance.

Much too soon, he reached the doors to the Great Hall. The sound of laughter and conversation from hundreds of students drifted out towards him. He carefully placed Hedwig's box on the floor, and then he stood for a moment, listening to the familiar noise of breakfast at Hogwarts, and pretended that he could go inside and join the rest of the students, that he still belonged...

He would walk through the Hall and people would call out to him; friendly voices asking where he had been, how he was feeling. Harry would notice him and smile at him from across the room, and Draco would feel the warmth and love radiating from that smile. It would pull him towards Harry, and he would sit down in the empty chair next to his boyfriend - surely there would be an empty chair, saved just for him - and Harry would kiss him gently, not caring that everyone was looking at them.

"I've missed you," Harry would say.

"I'll never leave you again," Draco would answer.

Draco shook his head, trying to rid himself of the pleasant images. Daydreaming like this would only make everything so much more difficult. He swallowed convulsively and stared at the double doors that separated him from the Great Hall. This was it. He would have to open them and go inside and...

Suddenly he couldn't breathe. It was as if all the air had been sucked out of the room while he was indulging in forbidden fantasies. Or maybe the air had just decided that lungs belonging to someone like him didn't deserve its presence.

He knew he had to pull himself together. If someone saw him like this - trembling and struggling for breath - all would be lost. They would never believe someone this weak was capable of betraying them.

After what seemed like hours, he finally managed to force some air down his lungs, but it felt thick and sweet and almost fluid. He leaned against the door, no longer trusting his legs to carry him, and carefully attempted taking another breath. It didn't feel quite as nauseating this time, but it was still not exactly pleasant.

Damn, I'm pathetic! A small spark of anger came with the thought, and he latched on to it. Voldemort would love seeing me like this. Well, he wouldn't give the monster that satisfaction! He might not be able to do much anymore, but he would fight Voldemort in every little way he could. And Lucius... Lucius would raise an eyebrow in that condescending way and say that he really wasn't surprised at all. Draco felt the fear slowly turning into fury. It always came back to Lucius, everything bad in his life.

He pushed the doors open with so much force that they slammed into the wall. Everyone turned to look at him. Even though there were hundreds of students in the Great Hall, Draco's eyes immediately found Harry. He was sitting together with Ron Weasley and Hannah Abbott and some fifth-year Ravenclaws that Draco didn't know very well.

There was no empty chair.

When Draco stepped into the Great Hall, Harry rose from his seat, looking like he was about to run towards him.

"Don't!" Draco snarled, giving Harry his most vicious Malfoy-glare.

Harry looked bewildered, but sat down again.

Draco felt lost and lonely. He had no idea what to say or how to act, how to make them believe the horrible lies he had to tell them. In the expectant silence he could hear the soft gurgling sound of a can filling itself with pumpkin juice. Or rather, the house-elves in the kitchen below filling it. An image of Lucius inspecting his staff of house-elves suddenly popped into Draco's mind. He imitated that posture, brutally elegant and contemptuous. He was disgusted at how easily it came to him.

"I came here to..." he began, but then his voice faltered. That was not the way to start. It sounded too weak. Too nice. He hesitated for a few seconds. Then he decided to take the direct route. To get it over with as soon as possible. "I'm leaving," he said flatly.

There was a surprised murmur among the students.

"Leaving?" someone asked.

"That's right," Draco sneered. "Leaving. Going. Getting the hell out of this place. Or are those words too difficult for you to understand?"

Shocked gasps were coming from all over the Great Hall. The reaction was so clichéd, so obvious that Draco found his anger becoming even more intense. Can they get more pathetic than this? a sarcastic voice inside Draco's head remarked. It was an irritating and unpleasantly familiar voice - it had been him a few years ago. Had he really sounded that annoying and... mean... back then? He shuddered, but grabbed hold of that little piece of his mind that still remembered what he used to be like. He hated it, but now he needed his old self back more than ever.

"You didn't really think I would stay here and play nice forever, did you?"

He couldn't help himself; he glanced at Harry. There was a confused and slightly angry look on his face. He probably recognised the old Draco too.

"Mr. Malfoy, would you follow me to my office, please?" Dumbledore had risen from his seat and was walking calmly towards Draco. "Whatever it is that's bothering you, I think we need to discuss it in private."

"NO!"

Draco hardly recognised his own voice. It seemed as if all his hatred, all his fury - at Voldemort, at Lucius, at the world in general - had collected in that one word.

Dumbledore stopped, and a flash of doubt crossed his face. It looked so wrong that Draco wanted to scream, wanted to run away, and maybe hide in some deep and forgotten part of the castle. The look on the headmaster's face somehow made everything more real. More horrible.

"There's no need to go anywhere," he told Dumbledore. "What I have to say won't take long, and I think that everyone should hear it."

No one spoke. No one moved. The silence was so compact that it made the air heavy and fragile. It felt like even the softest of whispers - the kind only used in bedrooms when the closeness is so complete that sounds aren't really necessary - would have been heard by every single person in the Great Hall. But the things Draco had to say were not suited for whispers of any kind. His words, when he finally spoke, echoed loudly through the room.

"The Dark Lord is much more powerful than you can imagine, and he's going to crush you like the pitiful little fools you are. I stayed with you for as long as I did because I honestly thought you could win this war." He forced out a hollow laugh, and shook his head. "I was stupid and idealistic, but now I see clearly. You are fools, just like the Dark Lord said. You fight for a lost cause, and don't even know it. Well, fight on. He'll kill you, but that's no longer my problem. I'm going to live. I'm going to win."

It wasn't much of a speech, Draco reflected. It was fragmented and sloppy and desperate. But it was also pompous and, he hoped, foolish enough that he wouldn't accidentally recruit anyone for the Dark. Judging by the confused looks on the faces around him, no one had really understood the meaning of his words. But it didn't matter. They would probably forget everything he had said, anyway, once they saw what he was.

He raised his left arm and let the sleeve fall back, so that everyone could see the Dark Mark that Voldemort had put there only a few hours earlier. The sudden exposure to the air, or maybe the light, or even the friendly atmosphere that still lingered in the room made it burn. Draco welcomed the pain. It took away some of his attention from the horrible ache inside.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there with his arm raised and everyone staring at him with identical disbelieving looks in their eyes. He only knew that there came a moment when he couldn't take it anymore, when it was either run away or fall apart.

He turned and strode out of the Great Hall, only stopping briefly just outside the door to pick up the box he had left there. Through the silence that was echoing in his head he thought he heard Harry say, "I'll talk to him." Draco broke into a run. He couldn't face Harry. Not yet. Preferably not ever, but he knew Harry wouldn't let him go. Not that easily.

He made it all the way to the Slytherin common room without Harry catching up, and he sighed in relief once he was inside. Harry didn't know the password.

He walked slowly to his room, the room he had shared with his dorm mates for almost seven years. How many times had he complained about it, saying that it was too small, that it wasn't warm enough, not comfortable enough? How many times had he raged about the lack of privacy? But now... now he wished he could curl up on his bed and stay here forever.

Reluctantly he dragged his suitcase from under the bed and shook the dust off it. He didn't really want to take anything with him. Voldemort would probably take great pleasure in destroying everything he thought Draco valued. But there were a few things he didn't want to leave behind either. He could imagine them - his teachers, his housemates, his friends - going through his things, trying to find some clue, something that would explain what had happened to him.

He had just shrunk his broomstick and was tucking it into the suitcase, when the door opened behind him.

"Draco, what's wrong?"

Draco shut his eyes tightly for a second. Harry! He made an effort to relax. He couldn't let Harry see him tense and worried.

"How did you get in here?" he asked coldly.

"It's your password." There was a strange mixture of anger and tenderness in Harry's voice. "It wasn't that hard to figure out."

Oh shit! Draco stuffed some notebooks into the suitcase. Harry knew him too well. It wasn't going to work. But it has to!

"What's going on?" Harry asked when it became obvious that Draco wasn't going to say anything.

"What does it look like? I'm packing."

"But why... Draco, look at me!"

Draco froze. He didn't want to look at Harry. He wasn't sure he could. But he knew he had to. He took a deep breath, then turned around slowly, arms crossed over his chest. He raised an eyebrow condescendingly at Harry.

"Yes?"

Harry swallowed. "What's going on?" he asked again.

"That's none of your business."

For a moment Harry looked exasperated, then that concentrated look he always had at Quidditch games flashed over his face, and his features softened into a gentle worry. Draco recognised this tactic. Harry was digging his heels in, refusing to let Draco goad him into a fight.

"What happened with your mother?" Harry asked.

I'd like to know that, too, Draco thought bitterly. Had Voldemort and Lucius killed her in order to lure him away from Hogwarts? Or had she already been dying and they had just seized the opportunity? He had tried to ask, but they had just looked at him with amusement in their eyes. And the most burning question of all, the one he didn't even want to think about - had she known what was going on?

"Your mother?" Harry repeated. "Is she..."

"What about her?" Draco snapped. "She died."

"Oh, Draco." Harry's eyes filled with sympathy. "I'm so sorry." He took a step towards Draco, looking like he was about to hug him.

Draco went rigid. He couldn't let that happen. He tried to think of something - anything - that would push Harry away. The first thing that came to mind was Lucius, standing at the foot of the stairs looking completely unfazed at the news of his wife's death.

"People die," Draco said carelessly, using Lucius' words and imitating his tone as well as he could.

Harry flinched.

Draco regarded him coldly. "It's over." The words felt raw and painful in his throat, and he was surprised he got them out at all.

"W-What?" Harry looked incredulous.

"You and me. This... relationship..." He had no idea how he did it, but somehow he managed to make that word sound dirty. "... or whatever you want to call it. It's over." He turned away, pretending to be engrossed in his packing. He couldn't stand seeing the shocked and betrayed look on Harry's face for one more second.

"No!" Harry said forcefully, after a long moment of stunned silence, and then softer, with more confidence, "No, something's wrong."

"Yes, something's wrong," Draco muttered. "You, refusing to take a hint."

"You can't do this." Harry sounded calm and reasoning. And much closer! Harry was walking towards him. "You can't break up with me like this. You owe me an explanation." Closer still.

Draco whirled around, pulled up his sleeve and raised his left arm in front of him so that the Dark Mark was clearly visible to Harry. It lay like a barrier between them.

"I thought this would be all the explanation you needed," Draco snarled.

Harry stopped, almost close enough to touch Draco's arm if he reached out, but not quite. "Voldemort," he whispered. "What did he do to you, Draco?"

"I'm a Death Eater now," Draco said through clenched teeth, as if that was the answer to Harry's question.

Harry shook his head slowly. He looked like he was trying to solve a difficult Arithmancy problem with half the equation missing. "He threatened you somehow, didn't he?" he asked thoughtfully. "Forced you to accept the Mark?"

Draco threw his head back and laughed wildly. It wasn't working at all. Harry was getting too close to the truth. He had to distract him, somehow, had to make him believe...

"Please, Draco, tell me..."

No, Harry. Leave. Just leave, please. Draco lowered his arm, to better hide his trembling hands.

"...tell me how I can help you. I know there must be something..."

"I made a deal with him," Draco interrupted. "It's pretty simple. I serve him and he'll let me live when he kills the rest of you." He'll force me to live. "He'll give me everything I want." He'll let you live.

Harry took a short step forward. He looked very determined. "No Draco, you don't mean that. I know you. You want to fight against Voldemort. You're on our side; you'd never want to be on the same side as Lucius." He paused, and then added in a small voice, "And you love me."

"Love!" Draco forced himself to laugh. "Love is for weak-minded fools. Why should I care about such a trifle of emotion when the Dark Lord can give me something so much better?" Harry looked at him with eyes full of hurt and angry questions, and Draco continued, "Power, Harry! Real power, and not just the stupid kind of tricks we learn here. But of course, you wouldn't understand about such things."

"I don't believe you," Harry said stubbornly. But then his voice grew softer, more desperate. "He made you do this. I know I'm right. You don't have to say it. Maybe you can't, maybe he put some kind of curse on you so that you can't. But, please, give me a sign, something, anything. Show me that you're just pretending, and I'll play along. I promise. I won't put you in danger."

And for a moment Draco was tempted. He imagined telling Harry the truth, telling him everything. Maybe he would understand. Maybe he would see how important it was that Draco did this. He imagined Harry's arms around him, imagined a tearful goodbye and promises to always love each other. And then he imagined what was probably closer to reality - Harry refusing to let him go, saying that he'd rather die than let Draco give himself to Voldemort. I can't let that happen. I can't give him that choice.

"You really are a fool," he said coldly.

"It will be all right," Harry said fervently, taking another step towards Draco. Close enough to touch now. Draco wanted to back away, but he couldn't let Harry see how his presence affected him. "Tell me you have a plan," Harry continued, taking hold of Draco's shoulders. "Tell me it will be all right!"

"Get away from me!" Draco managed to choke out before Harry pulled him close and kissed him.

It started out as an angry kiss, but soon Harry started stroking Draco's hair with one hand, and wrapped the other arm around Draco's waist, pulling him closer still. The kiss became soft and tender, Harry's lips teasing at first, and then more than fulfilling every promise. Just the way Draco liked it.

It took all of his self-control not to kiss back.

It was torture, really. It was worse than anything Voldemort could imagine doing to him; knowing that this was the last time Harry would ever kiss him. Please stop. I can't take this anymore. But he couldn't make Harry stop, couldn't show that he cared one way or the other. He just had to stand there, unmoving, and pretend that his heart wasn't breaking.

Finally, after several excruciating moments, Harry pulled away. Draco wanted to pull him back, didn't want to believe that it was over already, that he'd never feel Harry's lips against his again.

"Are you done yet?" he asked, trying to sound bored.

Harry flinched. "Don't do this. You don't have to..." He was beginning to sound doubtful and a bit desperate. He looked like he would kiss Draco again.

Draco looked around frantically, trying to find some way to get out of there without seeming to be running away. Or at least something that would distract Harry. His eyes fell on the box he had left on the bed. Hedwig. He had almost forgotten about her. No, his mind was screaming, don't make me do this.

But Harry was reaching out to him again...

Draco pushed his hands away, and pointed towards the bed. "The Dark Lord sent you a present."

Harry looked suspiciously at the box and then back at Draco.

"Go on," Draco urged him. "It won't bite."

Harry stared at him seriously for a moment, completely ignoring his malicious tone, before answering, "I trust you."

You shouldn't, Harry. Not anymore.

Draco turned his back to Harry, and busied himself with his suitcase. He didn't even know what he was packing anymore; he was merely occupying himself by throwing random things into the bag. He just knew that he couldn't look at Harry when he opened the box, couldn't stand seeing the shock and grief that was bound to mar his face. Even the thought of seeing Hedwig again was too horrible. That first brief glimpse of the snowy motionless shape was burnt into his mind forever.

A strangled gasp told him that Harry had opened the box. For what seemed like an eternity, an unnatural silence lay over the room. He could hear Harry breathing - rough and irregular breaths - like he was trying hard not to cry.

Oh no! Please don't cry, Harry. Because if Harry started to cry he would too...

But Harry didn't cry. He got angry. "Is this your idea of a joke?" he screamed.

Draco sighed in relief. An angry Harry he could deal with. That was something familiar. He turned around, trying to keep his face cool and condescending. The mask slipped briefly when he saw the raw grief in Harry's eyes, but Harry was too furious to notice.

"You bastard! What did you do to her? How dare you..."

Draco arched an eyebrow. "Me? You're flattering me if you think I'd be able to perform that particular curse."

Harry went on as if Draco hadn't spoken at all. "Whatever you think you're doing, you had no reason to... she's never done anything to you..." And then he stopped, Draco's words finally sinking in. "What? What are you talking about?" Rage and confusion were battling on his face, making him look dangerous and vulnerable at the same time. And lost. Draco wanted to take him in his arms and hold him until they both forgot everything but each other. He wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything else.

"The curse that killed her," he said, trying to smirk. Images were flashing through his mind, making him dizzy. Pure white feathers, not even ruffled. Not a single mark on that small fragile body. "There can't really be any doubt about which one it was..." And a horrible feeling of emptiness when you look at her. "Can there?"

"Avada Kedavra," Harry whispered. All the anger seemed to leave him with those words, and only the grief remained. He looked devastated. Haunted.

"Yes. Don't you just love the irony?"

Harry looked horrified at the cruelty of Draco's words. But he didn't answer. He's starting to believe now. Good. It made Draco feel like screaming. But he didn't. He couldn't be that foolish now. Instead he picked up the suitcase and stepped around Harry, trying to stay as far away from him as possible without making it seem obvious. Just before he reached the door, he stopped and looked back.

"Goodbye, Potter. You were fun while it lasted, but now I have better things to do."

The insult seemed to snap Harry out of his silence. "Aren't you going to try to kill me?" he snarled.

"What?"

"Or capture me and take me to Voldemort? Isn't that what Death Eaters do? Isn't that what you're supposed to do if you really are a Death Eater?"

Draco sneered at him. "Do you think I'm stupid? I told you I plan to live. You don't really think I'd be able to get away from here if I harmed you, do you? I'd guess Dumbledore has about a dozen spells guarding you in here. So no, I'm not going to kill you. Why don't you just stay here and play with your owl for a while, and let me leave now. My master is waiting for me."

He swirled around and almost ran out of the room without looking at Harry. Whatever reaction that statement had caused, he didn't want to see it.

He made it all the way outside and halfway down to the lake before he heard someone calling his name. He glanced back over his shoulder and saw Harry running after him. Apparently, he hadn't given up yet. No, Harry, don't do this, Draco begged silently. Don't make me hurt you any more. But Harry didn't heed his silent plea. He kept coming closer. Draco patted his pockets, looking for the Portkey. It wouldn't work, not as long as he was on Hogwarts' grounds. Voldemort had said that it was possible Dumbledore had set up wards against Portkeys, and he had charmed it so that it wouldn't activate until Draco was well outside Hogwarts. But he'd still feel better having it ready.

His attempts at finding the sleek chain and putting as much distance as possible between himself and the castle were interrupted when Harry caught up to him.

He grabbed Draco's arm, forcing him to stop.

"I love you, Draco," he said, simply, sincerely, confidently. "Whatever happens, wherever you're going, that won't change. I'll always love you."

Draco summoned all his coldness, all his anger, and glared at Harry for a long moment before answering, "Get over it. Or don't. I don't care."

"Please don't leave me," Harry whispered. The confidence seemed to drain out of him, and it was replaced with panic and desperation. His voice rose. "I love you!"

Draco shrugged. "That's your problem, isn't it?"

Something changed in Harry's face; something broke. But it wasn't a breaking in the normal sense of the word. Hatred and pain and hopelessness struggled to rise in his eyes, but the feelings never made it all the way, and soon they faded. Beyond those weak shards of emotion was nothing. Harry's eyes were empty. Dead.

"Well," Harry said. "Weren't you leaving? Why are you still here?" His voice should have been cold, but it wasn't. There was just an eerie flatness to it, as if Harry didn't even care enough to use a cold tone.

Oh God. What have I done to him? Draco thought, staring at Harry. The emptiness, the complete lack of emotion in his face was the most frightening thing Draco had ever seen.

"Maybe I just find it amusing to watch you humiliate yourself," Draco croaked. Harry didn't react at all. "But if you're done with that now..." Draco turned around and started walking away. Harry didn't call after him.

The silence seemed to grow with every step he took, and Draco forced himself to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. He tried not to think about the fact that the last he'd seen of Harry were dead eyes and an expressionless face.

After a few steps he started searching for the Portkey again. Was it Voldemort's idea of fun to make a Portkey out of something so small it was nearly impossible to find? His fingers closed around a cold, irregularly shaped object, and he pulled it out. His Gemimal. He hadn't had a chance to give it to Harry.

He turned the toy bird over in his hands. There were no colours swirling in it. It was empty and almost opaque, like a glass that had been left in the sun until all the water had evaporated. Listlessly he dropped the Gemimal, and it shattered into thousands of pieces even though the ground was soft and grassy. Strange, Draco thought absentmindedly. Weren't Gemimals supposed to be practically unbreakable? They were toys, after all. But then again, he reflected, to believe that anything good could last forever was a childish dream.

He stepped over the shards and kept walking. He found the Portkey in his other pocket, took a few more steps, and disappeared.