Harry/Draco ch.2
Chapter 2: Secrets are hard to keep.
Draco froze when Harry’s hands cupped his chin. He was mesmerized by those brilliant green eyes, burning with emotions. It was at that moment that Draco realized he might just be in love with Harry Potter; The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-Gorgeous.
Harry continued on with his tirade, oblivious to Malfoy’s feelings, “I’m only going to say this once, Malfoy. I hate the fame that I get. I absolutely loath it. Do you think I enjoy all the attention I get? The pity? The awe? The…worship? I hate it!” Harry, let go of Malfoy’s chin. He jumped up, pacing back and forth, running his hands through his hair.
“Do you know why I have all this fame? Because Voldemort KILLED MY PARENTS! Oh, stop flinching at the name, Malfoy. I wouldn’t have any of this fame if my parents were still alive, and I wish they were. I would trade ALL this fame, and everything else I have for that matter, to have my parents back.” His voice cracked for a second, and he cleared his throat.
“And, I’ve killed so many people,” Harry whispered, “All these people are dying because of me! Every day, Voldemort- I told you to stop flinching- kills more and more people, and I’m stuck here at school. I can’t do ANTYHING to help! And yet, people still worship me, and treat me like a hero. I don’t deserve any of the attention, and I hate it. I’m a horrible hero. All these people have died thinking that I would save them. If it wasn’t for me, Sirius wouldn’t be dead,” he ended bitterly.
Draco wanted to stand and hug Harry so badly, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Who knew what Harry would do to him? Instead, he clapped his hands together to keep himself from smothering Harry. He waited, letting Harry take all the time he needed to calm down.
After a few more minutes, Harry finally stopped pacing, and fell to the ground. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this, Malfoy,” he said, “God; I can’t believe I’m just spilling my secrets to you.” He looked at Draco, his eyes brimming with tears.
This time, Draco couldn’t help himself. He found himself sliding over to Harry, and wrapping his arms around him. Harry stiffened at first, reeling in shock. Malfoy was hugging him; comforting him. But then, he allowed himself to relax into the embrace. Because, oh, it felt so nice. Who knew Malfoy could feel so warm and comfortable? He let out a contented sigh, snuggling his head into Malfoy’s neck without realizing what he was doing.
Draco’s heart leaped with joy, when he felt Harry nuzzling his neck. It was more than he could hope for. He took the moment to take in Harry’s magnificent scent. He didn’t know what it was, but his scent sent his brain into overdrive.
Though neither of them was aware of it, there was a growing aura spreading around them. Strands of pale pink ribbon floated around the two, curling around them in a protective shield. The magic surrounding them pulsed, and a sweet trilling sound filled the air. And yet, Harry and Draco were completely oblivious to it. Moaning Myrtle saw it though, and she was mesmerized by the sight. She knew it was time to go to Dumbledore, but she stayed for just a bit longer to watch.
The aura continued to pulse, and it was then that Draco realized he was uncomfortably aroused, and he squeaked. Please don’t let Harry feel my erection, he prayed randomly. Wait- did I just call him Harry? He shrugged, intent on losing his arousal. He thought of Hagrid in a Speedo, of Snape having sex- it wasn’t long before his arousal was gone, and Draco sighed in relief.
It was at the moment that the two boys realized Moaning Myrtle was still in the room with them.
“Ooh, this must be the sweetest thing I have ever seen!” She squealed, doing somersaults in the air. “Who would ever imagine seeing Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy embracing? “ She gave a wistful, dreamy smile. “I am definitely going to remember this moment, boys.” She giggled. There was more to it, but it wasn’t something she could tell them.
Harry and Draco jumped away from each other, as if they had been shocked. The aura disappeared right as they separated, bursting into small sparks. Once again, neither of the two noticed, as they were both flushed such a deep red that they both resembled tomatoes. They both crossed their arms, refusing to look at each other.
Draco turned to Myrtle, pointing his wand at her, “You better not tell anyone about what you saw.”
Myrtle giggled, ‘And what would you do if I did, Draco?”
Draco gave her a smirk, “I’ll tell Dumbledore about your nightly trips to the boys shower rooms.”
Myrtle opened her mouth, and then closed it, not finding anything to say. “Fine,” She muttered, disappearing out of the room.
“S-She watched us shower?” Harry asked, horrified.
“You never noticed, Potter?” Draco sneered.
Harry huffed, changing the subject, “Let’s pretend none of this every happened,” he said stiffly.
“I agree,” Draco said, walking towards Harry. He leaned his head in, until their foreheads were touching. He slightly ghosted his lips over Harry’s, only close enough to feel a slight brush. He heard Harry gulp in surprise, and took his cue to back off. He watched Harry look for something to say, but not finding anything remotely appropriate. Instead, he cleared his throat and walked out of the bathroom, adjusting his robes slightly as he did.
Draco smirked at the gesture. Mission accomplished, he thought, following Harry out of the bathroom.
Harry’s mind was reeling. Malfoy had kissed him. He couldn’t get that thought to go through his head completely. It felt like the thought shot through his brain, then canceled out halfway through. He was also painfully aware of the impressive arousal he had gotten just from that little brush, and it took him too long to get it to go away.
Immersed in his thoughts, Harry did not see the tall, shrouded figure waiting with his arms crossed in front of him. A few feet later, Harry ran head on into Professor Snape, who grunted in the effort to stay upright.
“Potter,” he spat out, pushing him away. “Wandering out in the hallways after dark, again?” He paused for a sneer, “Twenty points from Gryffindor. And I’ll take out ten more each time I find you out here again.”
Harry flushed again, this time out of anger. He walked around Snape, glaring at him. “Sorry, Professor,” he mumbled, heading towards the dormitories. He quickened his pace, determined to get to bed and forget about everything that just happened. He wished that he could just Obliviate himself, but of course, that wouldn’t work.
After what had felt like hours, stomping through dark empty hallways, Harry arrived at the Fat Lady’s portrait.
“Oddsbodikins,” he said to the portrait. Nothing happened; the Fat Lady went on sleeping, softly snoring. Harry cleared his throat, attracting her attention. She yawned, stretching, and then gave Harry a glare.
“What are you doing out so late?” She muttered, fixing her dress, “You know, if you were anyone else, I would-“
“Oddsbodikins!” Harry repeated loudly, making the Fat Lady jump. Merlin, even the Fat Lady worshipped him and his fame! Merlin snorted bitterly.
“Someone’s crabby, aren’t they,” she muttered, swinging open.
“Thank you,” Harry said politely as he could, breezing through the tunnel and into the Gryffindor common room.
As he guessed, there was no one in the common room. It was completely quiet and dark, except for the fire slowly burning away in the far left wall. The fire was set to die away as the last person in the house went to sleep, and it was exactly what happened as Harry made his way up the stairs to the dormitories.
Harry pushed open the door to the sixth year boys’ dormitories as quietly as he could, but he winced as it creaked every centimeter it opened. Luckily for him, everyone in his dorm could sleep through an earthquake, especially Ron who-
“Harry! Where have you been?” Came a worried hiss as Harry opened the curtains to his bed.
Harry jumped at the sound, slowly turning around. He gave a small smile at the face that loomed out of the dark.
Ron Weasley eyed him suspiciously as he scratched his bright orange hair. Harry took the moment to take out his wand, casting a soft Lumos that brightened the area around him and Ron.
“Sorry Ron. I…I just had a lot going on and I wanted some privacy. I guess I lost track of time. Actually Ron, I wanted to talk to you about something. It’s about your sis-” Harry stopped talking, when he realized that Ron had drifted back off to sleep as soon as he had heard Harry was all right. He smiled fondly at his best friend, gently closing the curtains around him.
He put his wand out with a quiet Nox, and changed into his pyjamas. He jumped into his bed, setting his glasses on the desk beside him. He turned on his side, thinking of everything that had happened that night. He didn’t know what it was, but he was feeling something for Malfoy that was not contempt, disgust, or hatred. It made him uncomfortable.
The thought that made Harry feel even more uncomfortable was how relieved he was to not have a conversation with Ron about his sister. It had taken an encounter with Draco Malfoy for Harry to realize his feelings for Ginny were not love. Harry thought of Ginny as a sister, and it pained him to think of how much Ginny adored him in a romantic way. But he would deal with it later.
Content with his thoughts, Harry drifted off to sleep, images of a certain blonde on his mind.
Meanwhile, Draco Malfoy had gone the opposite way of Harry on his way back to the dorms. A smile slowly formed on his face as he relieved the moments from the bathroom. But this was no ordinary Malfoy smile; it was a small of pure happiness and delight. Malfoy loved the fact that he could make Harry blush and stammer with just once touch, and make him aroused with just a brush of his lips.
He knew, now, that his feelings for Harry Potter had always been love, not hate. He had resorted to hated him because he was hurt by the rejection in their first year. He had never been able to get it around his head that Harry had chosen a Weasley over him! That was what made Malfoy despise all Weasleys for good. And the fact that his father had taught him to hate all Weasleys.
They’re all a bunch of blood traitors; no better than mudbloods, his father had told him. Draco could remember how he had eaten up his father’s words with eager eyes, happy to do anything to make his father proud.
Thinking of his father suddenly brought reality crashing upon Draco’s shoulders. He sagged suddenly, his mind suddenly riddled with despair. He could never be in a relationship with Harry Potter. How could he even think it? It was unthinkable and a sin to his father and the Dark Lord. Thinking of the Dark Lord made Draco even more bitter and depressed, and it was relief when he arrived at the door to the Slytherin dungeons.
“Purebloods rule,” he muttered to the wall, snorting as he said it. The password had to be the most ridiculous and simple password he had ever heard! He shook his head as he stepped into the common room. He was ready to go up to dorm and get to sleep, but an unwelcome visitor was waiting for him.
“Draky!” Pansy Parkinson squealed, running up to him, “Where have you been, Draky? I’ve been waiting here for hours.” She attempted to hug him, but Draco recoiled at the touch.
“I was just out going for a stroll,” he drawled, trying to act cool and unaffected. He slipped out of her embrace with ease, putting a sneer on his face. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get to bed.”
“But, Draky…” Pansy pleaded, pouting. It was a smile that was very unattractive on her pug-like face.
“Let it go, Pansy,” Draco repeated, his voice ice cold.
Pansy eventually let go, a pout still lingering on her face. Draco pushed his way past her, and almost sprinted to his dorms. He slammed the door open, doubting that he would wake anyone up. Everyone in his dorm slept like a bear in hibernation, never awakened by anything.
Draco barely made it to his bed before he collapsed on it, tears threatening to come back up to the surface. He almost tore off his robes in his hurry, not even bothering to change into his pyjamas. He dived under the covers with just his boxers on, his mind reeling. He didn’t want any of he had; he wanted a normal life. He quickly cast a silencing charm around his bed, letting the tears stream down his face as he relieved the events of that life-changing night.
The Dark Lord had been living at their house. He was in a horrible mood. He was angry at Lucius for failing in all his tasks, especially his mission at the Department of Mysteries. He had been foiled by Harry Potter, a mere child. Voldemort had made Lucius pay for it, putting him under the Cruciatus. He made Draco watch, to prove what happened to his followers that were disobedient.
Though Draco did not voice it, he did feel anything watching his father being tortured. He had lost respect for his father, watching him grovel at the Dark Lord’s feet the past few years when he had been back. When Voldemort had been gone, his father had gone into hiding, timid as a mouse. Draco hated how much of a hypocrite his father was and how he tried to shape him into something he wasn’t. He hated his father for ruining his chance at a friendship with Potter. He had no real friends, unless you counted Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, or even Pansy. They were his friends, but only out of respect. They weren’t friends he could confide all his secrets to; ones he could laugh about the smallest things with.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Zabini was a true friend to him. Draco had spilled some of his secrets to Zabini, and he hadn’t told a soul. Of course, both of them knew that Zabini wanted more than a friendship; he wanted to be Draco’s lover. But that wasn’t something Draco wanted, and their friendship had been strained.
Anyways, after his father had been tortured, Voldemort had forced a task upon Draco. “Young Draco Malfoy,” he had hissed, “You have much to prove to me. Your parents have proved to be a disgrace, and it is up to you to earn that respect back.” Draco knew that Voldemort meant: Do this task, or kill yourself and your parents. Not wanting that to happen, Draco had nodded his head, bowing down to Voldemort, kissing the hem of his robes. “Yes, my Lord,” he breathed, trying to keep the disgust off his face.
Voldemort, too gleeful at Draco’s willingness, had missed the show of disgust. “Good, good, very good,” he murmured. “Now, the task I have for you is to build something that will allow my Death Eaters into Hogwarts,” he said, staring down at Draco, “I want this done by the end of the day. Or, you will face the consequences.” He paused, as if he was done, then a horrible smirk appeared upon his face, “Let’s just say that this will be a little taste of what will happen,” he said, pointing his wand so fast at Narcissa Malfoy that Draco had no time to say a word.
He used a nonverbal spell that shot a quivering blue streak at Draco’s mother. When the spell hit her, she opened her mouth in a silent shriek, her body wracking with pain. Voldemort cackled at the sight and Draco could barely keep from launching himself at Voldemort. The only thing that stopped him was his father’s hand tightly gripped on his wand arm.
Draco had no idea what spell Voldemort had used, but only knew that it was very deadly. There was a slight stream of blood falling from the corner of his mother’s mouth, and she was barely conscience. Voldemort slowly let the curse dissipate after a few more minutes, but Narcissa’s body kept on thrashing. Draco could barely contain a sob at the sight. His mother was his life; she was what kept him sane, and kept him going in life.
Sure, she still had the same pureblood principals as her husband, but she also encouraged to Draco to have fun while he could. She was his savior whenever father beat him for his mistakes; she taught him how to defend himself, and how to keep a cool and collected demeanor. It was torture to see his mother in pain. Draco knew that he had to complete Voldemort’s task for him; if he didn’t, his mother would die. He didn’t care if he died himself, but he did not want his mothering suffering is consequences.
Draco’s tears slowly faded away as the night wore on, and there was a slight pang in his heart. He wished that there was someone he could talk to, to share his secrets with. But there wasn’t, and he couldn’t change that fact. He had already made his decision.
He slowly slid into a fitful sleep, thinking of a certain black-haired boy.
Meanwhile, as the boys had been falling to sleep, Dumbledore had called an emergency meeting in his office. He was situated in his desk, a group of teachers sitting around him. The group included Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall and Hagrid. Kingsley Shacklebolt, Arthur Weasley, and even Sirius Black was present, the latter much to Snape’s disdain. Moaning Myrtle was also present, floating anxiously beside Dumbledore.
“Good evening, everyone,” Dumbledore said quietly, “Sorry to disturb you at such a late time, and so suddenly. But we have an urgent matter on our hands, and we must deal with it now.” He stopped, looking over at Myrtle. “Tell us what you saw, Myrtle.”
Draco froze when Harry’s hands cupped his chin. He was mesmerized by those brilliant green eyes, burning with emotions. It was at that moment that Draco realized he might just be in love with Harry Potter; The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-Gorgeous.
Harry continued on with his tirade, oblivious to Malfoy’s feelings, “I’m only going to say this once, Malfoy. I hate the fame that I get. I absolutely loath it. Do you think I enjoy all the attention I get? The pity? The awe? The…worship? I hate it!” Harry, let go of Malfoy’s chin. He jumped up, pacing back and forth, running his hands through his hair.
“Do you know why I have all this fame? Because Voldemort KILLED MY PARENTS! Oh, stop flinching at the name, Malfoy. I wouldn’t have any of this fame if my parents were still alive, and I wish they were. I would trade ALL this fame, and everything else I have for that matter, to have my parents back.” His voice cracked for a second, and he cleared his throat.
“And, I’ve killed so many people,” Harry whispered, “All these people are dying because of me! Every day, Voldemort- I told you to stop flinching- kills more and more people, and I’m stuck here at school. I can’t do ANTYHING to help! And yet, people still worship me, and treat me like a hero. I don’t deserve any of the attention, and I hate it. I’m a horrible hero. All these people have died thinking that I would save them. If it wasn’t for me, Sirius wouldn’t be dead,” he ended bitterly.
Draco wanted to stand and hug Harry so badly, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Who knew what Harry would do to him? Instead, he clapped his hands together to keep himself from smothering Harry. He waited, letting Harry take all the time he needed to calm down.
After a few more minutes, Harry finally stopped pacing, and fell to the ground. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this, Malfoy,” he said, “God; I can’t believe I’m just spilling my secrets to you.” He looked at Draco, his eyes brimming with tears.
This time, Draco couldn’t help himself. He found himself sliding over to Harry, and wrapping his arms around him. Harry stiffened at first, reeling in shock. Malfoy was hugging him; comforting him. But then, he allowed himself to relax into the embrace. Because, oh, it felt so nice. Who knew Malfoy could feel so warm and comfortable? He let out a contented sigh, snuggling his head into Malfoy’s neck without realizing what he was doing.
Draco’s heart leaped with joy, when he felt Harry nuzzling his neck. It was more than he could hope for. He took the moment to take in Harry’s magnificent scent. He didn’t know what it was, but his scent sent his brain into overdrive.
Though neither of them was aware of it, there was a growing aura spreading around them. Strands of pale pink ribbon floated around the two, curling around them in a protective shield. The magic surrounding them pulsed, and a sweet trilling sound filled the air. And yet, Harry and Draco were completely oblivious to it. Moaning Myrtle saw it though, and she was mesmerized by the sight. She knew it was time to go to Dumbledore, but she stayed for just a bit longer to watch.
The aura continued to pulse, and it was then that Draco realized he was uncomfortably aroused, and he squeaked. Please don’t let Harry feel my erection, he prayed randomly. Wait- did I just call him Harry? He shrugged, intent on losing his arousal. He thought of Hagrid in a Speedo, of Snape having sex- it wasn’t long before his arousal was gone, and Draco sighed in relief.
It was at the moment that the two boys realized Moaning Myrtle was still in the room with them.
“Ooh, this must be the sweetest thing I have ever seen!” She squealed, doing somersaults in the air. “Who would ever imagine seeing Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy embracing? “ She gave a wistful, dreamy smile. “I am definitely going to remember this moment, boys.” She giggled. There was more to it, but it wasn’t something she could tell them.
Harry and Draco jumped away from each other, as if they had been shocked. The aura disappeared right as they separated, bursting into small sparks. Once again, neither of the two noticed, as they were both flushed such a deep red that they both resembled tomatoes. They both crossed their arms, refusing to look at each other.
Draco turned to Myrtle, pointing his wand at her, “You better not tell anyone about what you saw.”
Myrtle giggled, ‘And what would you do if I did, Draco?”
Draco gave her a smirk, “I’ll tell Dumbledore about your nightly trips to the boys shower rooms.”
Myrtle opened her mouth, and then closed it, not finding anything to say. “Fine,” She muttered, disappearing out of the room.
“S-She watched us shower?” Harry asked, horrified.
“You never noticed, Potter?” Draco sneered.
Harry huffed, changing the subject, “Let’s pretend none of this every happened,” he said stiffly.
“I agree,” Draco said, walking towards Harry. He leaned his head in, until their foreheads were touching. He slightly ghosted his lips over Harry’s, only close enough to feel a slight brush. He heard Harry gulp in surprise, and took his cue to back off. He watched Harry look for something to say, but not finding anything remotely appropriate. Instead, he cleared his throat and walked out of the bathroom, adjusting his robes slightly as he did.
Draco smirked at the gesture. Mission accomplished, he thought, following Harry out of the bathroom.
Harry’s mind was reeling. Malfoy had kissed him. He couldn’t get that thought to go through his head completely. It felt like the thought shot through his brain, then canceled out halfway through. He was also painfully aware of the impressive arousal he had gotten just from that little brush, and it took him too long to get it to go away.
Immersed in his thoughts, Harry did not see the tall, shrouded figure waiting with his arms crossed in front of him. A few feet later, Harry ran head on into Professor Snape, who grunted in the effort to stay upright.
“Potter,” he spat out, pushing him away. “Wandering out in the hallways after dark, again?” He paused for a sneer, “Twenty points from Gryffindor. And I’ll take out ten more each time I find you out here again.”
Harry flushed again, this time out of anger. He walked around Snape, glaring at him. “Sorry, Professor,” he mumbled, heading towards the dormitories. He quickened his pace, determined to get to bed and forget about everything that just happened. He wished that he could just Obliviate himself, but of course, that wouldn’t work.
After what had felt like hours, stomping through dark empty hallways, Harry arrived at the Fat Lady’s portrait.
“Oddsbodikins,” he said to the portrait. Nothing happened; the Fat Lady went on sleeping, softly snoring. Harry cleared his throat, attracting her attention. She yawned, stretching, and then gave Harry a glare.
“What are you doing out so late?” She muttered, fixing her dress, “You know, if you were anyone else, I would-“
“Oddsbodikins!” Harry repeated loudly, making the Fat Lady jump. Merlin, even the Fat Lady worshipped him and his fame! Merlin snorted bitterly.
“Someone’s crabby, aren’t they,” she muttered, swinging open.
“Thank you,” Harry said politely as he could, breezing through the tunnel and into the Gryffindor common room.
As he guessed, there was no one in the common room. It was completely quiet and dark, except for the fire slowly burning away in the far left wall. The fire was set to die away as the last person in the house went to sleep, and it was exactly what happened as Harry made his way up the stairs to the dormitories.
Harry pushed open the door to the sixth year boys’ dormitories as quietly as he could, but he winced as it creaked every centimeter it opened. Luckily for him, everyone in his dorm could sleep through an earthquake, especially Ron who-
“Harry! Where have you been?” Came a worried hiss as Harry opened the curtains to his bed.
Harry jumped at the sound, slowly turning around. He gave a small smile at the face that loomed out of the dark.
Ron Weasley eyed him suspiciously as he scratched his bright orange hair. Harry took the moment to take out his wand, casting a soft Lumos that brightened the area around him and Ron.
“Sorry Ron. I…I just had a lot going on and I wanted some privacy. I guess I lost track of time. Actually Ron, I wanted to talk to you about something. It’s about your sis-” Harry stopped talking, when he realized that Ron had drifted back off to sleep as soon as he had heard Harry was all right. He smiled fondly at his best friend, gently closing the curtains around him.
He put his wand out with a quiet Nox, and changed into his pyjamas. He jumped into his bed, setting his glasses on the desk beside him. He turned on his side, thinking of everything that had happened that night. He didn’t know what it was, but he was feeling something for Malfoy that was not contempt, disgust, or hatred. It made him uncomfortable.
The thought that made Harry feel even more uncomfortable was how relieved he was to not have a conversation with Ron about his sister. It had taken an encounter with Draco Malfoy for Harry to realize his feelings for Ginny were not love. Harry thought of Ginny as a sister, and it pained him to think of how much Ginny adored him in a romantic way. But he would deal with it later.
Content with his thoughts, Harry drifted off to sleep, images of a certain blonde on his mind.
Meanwhile, Draco Malfoy had gone the opposite way of Harry on his way back to the dorms. A smile slowly formed on his face as he relieved the moments from the bathroom. But this was no ordinary Malfoy smile; it was a small of pure happiness and delight. Malfoy loved the fact that he could make Harry blush and stammer with just once touch, and make him aroused with just a brush of his lips.
He knew, now, that his feelings for Harry Potter had always been love, not hate. He had resorted to hated him because he was hurt by the rejection in their first year. He had never been able to get it around his head that Harry had chosen a Weasley over him! That was what made Malfoy despise all Weasleys for good. And the fact that his father had taught him to hate all Weasleys.
They’re all a bunch of blood traitors; no better than mudbloods, his father had told him. Draco could remember how he had eaten up his father’s words with eager eyes, happy to do anything to make his father proud.
Thinking of his father suddenly brought reality crashing upon Draco’s shoulders. He sagged suddenly, his mind suddenly riddled with despair. He could never be in a relationship with Harry Potter. How could he even think it? It was unthinkable and a sin to his father and the Dark Lord. Thinking of the Dark Lord made Draco even more bitter and depressed, and it was relief when he arrived at the door to the Slytherin dungeons.
“Purebloods rule,” he muttered to the wall, snorting as he said it. The password had to be the most ridiculous and simple password he had ever heard! He shook his head as he stepped into the common room. He was ready to go up to dorm and get to sleep, but an unwelcome visitor was waiting for him.
“Draky!” Pansy Parkinson squealed, running up to him, “Where have you been, Draky? I’ve been waiting here for hours.” She attempted to hug him, but Draco recoiled at the touch.
“I was just out going for a stroll,” he drawled, trying to act cool and unaffected. He slipped out of her embrace with ease, putting a sneer on his face. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get to bed.”
“But, Draky…” Pansy pleaded, pouting. It was a smile that was very unattractive on her pug-like face.
“Let it go, Pansy,” Draco repeated, his voice ice cold.
Pansy eventually let go, a pout still lingering on her face. Draco pushed his way past her, and almost sprinted to his dorms. He slammed the door open, doubting that he would wake anyone up. Everyone in his dorm slept like a bear in hibernation, never awakened by anything.
Draco barely made it to his bed before he collapsed on it, tears threatening to come back up to the surface. He almost tore off his robes in his hurry, not even bothering to change into his pyjamas. He dived under the covers with just his boxers on, his mind reeling. He didn’t want any of he had; he wanted a normal life. He quickly cast a silencing charm around his bed, letting the tears stream down his face as he relieved the events of that life-changing night.
The Dark Lord had been living at their house. He was in a horrible mood. He was angry at Lucius for failing in all his tasks, especially his mission at the Department of Mysteries. He had been foiled by Harry Potter, a mere child. Voldemort had made Lucius pay for it, putting him under the Cruciatus. He made Draco watch, to prove what happened to his followers that were disobedient.
Though Draco did not voice it, he did feel anything watching his father being tortured. He had lost respect for his father, watching him grovel at the Dark Lord’s feet the past few years when he had been back. When Voldemort had been gone, his father had gone into hiding, timid as a mouse. Draco hated how much of a hypocrite his father was and how he tried to shape him into something he wasn’t. He hated his father for ruining his chance at a friendship with Potter. He had no real friends, unless you counted Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, or even Pansy. They were his friends, but only out of respect. They weren’t friends he could confide all his secrets to; ones he could laugh about the smallest things with.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Zabini was a true friend to him. Draco had spilled some of his secrets to Zabini, and he hadn’t told a soul. Of course, both of them knew that Zabini wanted more than a friendship; he wanted to be Draco’s lover. But that wasn’t something Draco wanted, and their friendship had been strained.
Anyways, after his father had been tortured, Voldemort had forced a task upon Draco. “Young Draco Malfoy,” he had hissed, “You have much to prove to me. Your parents have proved to be a disgrace, and it is up to you to earn that respect back.” Draco knew that Voldemort meant: Do this task, or kill yourself and your parents. Not wanting that to happen, Draco had nodded his head, bowing down to Voldemort, kissing the hem of his robes. “Yes, my Lord,” he breathed, trying to keep the disgust off his face.
Voldemort, too gleeful at Draco’s willingness, had missed the show of disgust. “Good, good, very good,” he murmured. “Now, the task I have for you is to build something that will allow my Death Eaters into Hogwarts,” he said, staring down at Draco, “I want this done by the end of the day. Or, you will face the consequences.” He paused, as if he was done, then a horrible smirk appeared upon his face, “Let’s just say that this will be a little taste of what will happen,” he said, pointing his wand so fast at Narcissa Malfoy that Draco had no time to say a word.
He used a nonverbal spell that shot a quivering blue streak at Draco’s mother. When the spell hit her, she opened her mouth in a silent shriek, her body wracking with pain. Voldemort cackled at the sight and Draco could barely keep from launching himself at Voldemort. The only thing that stopped him was his father’s hand tightly gripped on his wand arm.
Draco had no idea what spell Voldemort had used, but only knew that it was very deadly. There was a slight stream of blood falling from the corner of his mother’s mouth, and she was barely conscience. Voldemort slowly let the curse dissipate after a few more minutes, but Narcissa’s body kept on thrashing. Draco could barely contain a sob at the sight. His mother was his life; she was what kept him sane, and kept him going in life.
Sure, she still had the same pureblood principals as her husband, but she also encouraged to Draco to have fun while he could. She was his savior whenever father beat him for his mistakes; she taught him how to defend himself, and how to keep a cool and collected demeanor. It was torture to see his mother in pain. Draco knew that he had to complete Voldemort’s task for him; if he didn’t, his mother would die. He didn’t care if he died himself, but he did not want his mothering suffering is consequences.
Draco’s tears slowly faded away as the night wore on, and there was a slight pang in his heart. He wished that there was someone he could talk to, to share his secrets with. But there wasn’t, and he couldn’t change that fact. He had already made his decision.
He slowly slid into a fitful sleep, thinking of a certain black-haired boy.
Meanwhile, as the boys had been falling to sleep, Dumbledore had called an emergency meeting in his office. He was situated in his desk, a group of teachers sitting around him. The group included Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall and Hagrid. Kingsley Shacklebolt, Arthur Weasley, and even Sirius Black was present, the latter much to Snape’s disdain. Moaning Myrtle was also present, floating anxiously beside Dumbledore.
“Good evening, everyone,” Dumbledore said quietly, “Sorry to disturb you at such a late time, and so suddenly. But we have an urgent matter on our hands, and we must deal with it now.” He stopped, looking over at Myrtle. “Tell us what you saw, Myrtle.”