Darker Side of Me

A/N: Ok so this is a warning. I know that some of what is going to happen in this chapter is going to seem rather far-fetched or unrealistic. HOWEVER, I assure you that I’ve not lost my marbles and that this is possible. I know this from personal experience, so please don’t stone me! *hides* Alright, I’m also not entirely happy with the way this turned out, but it serves its purpose and really isn’t all that important in the long run, so I hope you can enjoy it anyway and overlook the mild randomness of it!

Darker Side of Me –Chapter 18

Everything seemed silent and dead for a time. Harry wasn’t sure how much time had actually passed but as he looked around himself, carefully taking in everyone’s individual reactions to what was just presented to them, he felt as though he were standing in a wax museum.

Hermione had clasped her hand to her mouth in shock and surprise. She didn’t move or say a word but stared at Draco as if in silent mourning for him. Ginny’s face displayed a different kind of shock. She seemed like a doll, staring forwards into nothingness as though desperately trying to imagine what it must feel like to suddenly lose her mother. Ron looked sick, sitting slightly hunched, with a disagreeable expression on his face. There was no colour in his cheeks and his eyes were cast downwards.

The Ministry wizards were standing still and silent for some time, out of procedure and general respect, allowing the proper amount of time for each person to grapple with the news of the diseased. It was all very practiced to them. Snape stared directly at Draco, his cold eyes empty like tunnels and his face displayed a strange judgment on the blonde. Tonks showed the most expression of anyone Harry had observed, of yet. She looked as though it took a great effort for her to refrain from crying in the face of such a tragedy. Lupin was politely silent, bowing his head in silent grief, knowing full-well what it was like to get such sudden news as this. All in all, everyone about them seemed like a pre-positioned figure, sculpted in what might have been thought to be the appropriate manner to react to such a declaration. It seemed very unreal to Harry, but the person who struck him as reacting in the most surprising way was Draco.

Malfoy was standing in mute horror, staring without blinking at the Black Family tapestry, no doubt at his mother’s name. He hardly seemed to be breathing as he stood there, like a statue. What struck Harry the hardest was the look in the Slytherin’s face, however. His features were frightfully blank and his eyes were flat, bearing no surprise, no emotion, no sorrow. Potter felt an overwhelming sadness wash over him, giving him the irrepressible urge to burst into tears. It was as though he was trying to make up for the lack of emotion Draco displayed in being faced with his mother’s murder.

“The Ministry has very little information aside from this,” one of the unknown wizards finally said, stepping forwards carefully. “Naturally, they must have been He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s servants who committed the murder, though it is impossible to tell why or who specifically is responsible. There was however, a note at the scene that read only ‘time is running out’.”

“My father killed her,” Draco answered suddenly. His tone held no anger nor rancor, but neither did it hold any love or pain. He seemed altogether dead, in Harry’s mind. “They would have forced him to. And as for why,” he finally turned his head to address the Ministry wizard directly. “It was a message to me.”

“How can you know that for certain?” the second wizard asked, a suspicious expression on his lined face.

“Because I’m a Death-Eater and they are warning me of what’s to come,” Draco explained, his tone still dull and unimpressed. The Ministry wizards were clearly not informed of this and instinctively began to reach for their wands. Harry stepped up.

“You will not raise your wands to him,” Harry declared, stepping in front of Draco, protectively. “He is here under the protection of the Order and Dumblefore himself. You will respect and obey that.” The Ministry officials gave Harry a disapproving look before Lupin audibly cleared his throat.

“What we need to consider now,” he began, gazing upon Draco with kind eyes. “is whether or not we should put you under further protections and increased supervision. Draco you have clearly become a more prominent target.”

“What other protections can be implemented, Sir?” Hermione asked tentatively.

“Well, we should consider the possibility of an added Fidelius Charm,” Lupin suggested. “Or added Ministry defenses and protections. Perhaps things of that nature.”

“None of it will matter,” Malfoy interjected. Harry watched him carefully. He wanted so badly to hold him and make him feel again. He wanted to rid Draco of that numbness that he was projecting.

“Why do you say that?” the first Ministry wizard inquired.

“Because all of those protections require one’s trust to be placed in someone,” Draco explained. “And when you are in a position such as mine, you cannot afford the luxury of trusting anyone.” He glanced at Harry. Potter felt a pang of worry in his stomach. Did that mean that Draco didn’t trust him?

“Draco…” Harry whispered, but Malfoy shook his head and left the room. Everyone was still for a few moments, still apparently maintaining the ‘wax museum’ idea.

Harry stared at Snape for a moment before walking off after Draco.

*_*_*

Draco stood inside the room he shared with Harry and stared at the ground, wanting desperately to cry or scream or do something irrational and normal that might disprove his greatest fear of himself: that he had become heartless. There was usually only one way to get rid of this feeling when he was in this kind of situation, but the opportunity had not yet presented itself.

He pulled the little letter from his pocket and stared at the letters on the page for a moment, as though looking for some hidden meaning. As he did this, however, the letters began to move and shift until all of the words became meaningless gibberish and had lost all value to him. He crushed it in his hand and shoved it back into his pocket, suddenly feeling very very hot. He tore his sweater off and threw it aside.

He felt something now. He felt angry but the emotion was still misdirected. He did not feel angry with the Death-Eaters, nor did he feel anger towards his father. He felt angry at himself. He felt loathing for himself for all the foolish decisions he had so far made which had ended up hurting others around him. Every time…

“Draco,” Harry’s soft voice came from the doorway. Malfoy refused to turn to him. Harry did not say anything else. Instead, he walked over to the blonde and wrapped his arms around him, pressing himself up against the other boy’s body. Draco felt a familiar impulse surge through his body. When opportunity knocks…

“I told you,” Draco could only manage to whisper. Harry turned him around and stared at him.

“Told me what?” he asked, softly brushing the hair out of Draco’s eyes.

“I told you that this is how they work,” he answered, Harry’s touch making it hard for him to finish what he was trying to say. “My father killed his wife just to get the message to me. They wouldn’t stop at anything and Voldemort abuses of it. He can push any of his followers to kill their own grand-mothers if he so chooses and he knows it. The only thing he likely hates more than you, Harry, is a traitor.”

Harry only stared at him for a moment. Draco had never dared speak Voldemort’s name before now. He had never been so frank about how he felt and Harry could feel it. The look on Draco’s face still read of no emotion but Harry knew that couldn’t be true. Perhaps this was his own way of grieving; to put up a face.

“Draco, I’m sorry about what happened to your mother,” Harry tempted. He was never sure how to react in the face of someone else’s loss. “But you’ll be alright. You are safe here.”

“Do you trust the people that are around you here, Harry?” Draco seemed to ignore his comments. Something strange was burning behind his eyes.

“Yes,” Harry answered, with little hesitation. He thought only of Snape, but decided not to get into that.

“Why?” Malfoy’s questions seemed strange, but he was driving at something.

“Because they are my friends, they are important to me,” Harry answered with little certainty in his voice.

“What about Snape? He is not your friend and I doubt he means much to you,” Draco remarked.

“Well no, but Dumbledore trusts him,” Harry argued, knowing this likely meant little to Draco.

“Did I not tell you before that Dumbledore cannot know everything?” Draco snapped. “Did I not tell you not to put much stock in what Snape tells you?”

“Draco, what exactly is your point?” Harry asked, clearly having no intention of starting that conversation up again.

“My point is that you trust all these people for reasons that mean nothing in the grand scheme of things,” he explained dramatically. He was breathing heavily and somehow there was an odd desire alight in his cold eyes. “And these people can betray you just as easily as some of your enemies would. Your parents trusted Pettigrew with their Secret and look at what happened!”

“Draco,” Harry snapped, none too pleased with the relation he was making. He stepped up and took Malfoy by the shoulders. “The same thing isn’t going to happen to me!”

“But it might! It might as long as you trust people without good reason or proof!” Malfoy cried, his voice rushed, clearly wanting something else. “You must trust no one!”

“Do you trust me?” Harry asked, moving closer to Draco. Malfoy licked his lips.

“Yes!” he answered, breathing heavily. “And that’s what scares me! To know that I trust you and you trust me but with no good reason!”

“Loving you isn’t good enough reason??” Harry snapped in confusion. Draco didn’t answer.

Instead, he pulled Harry into a very rough and very strong kiss. He was pulsing with heat, feeling this anger take control of him and express itself in such a strange way. He immediately removed Harry’s shirt and threw it aside, forcing their bodies together with his movements.

Potter’s surprise registered on his face and he tried to pull away.

“What are you doing, Draco?” he asked. Draco couldn’t help it. This was his compulsion, this was how he had learned to deal with grief. He didn’t express it through tears or violence. He didn’t drink or do drugs. He wanted sex and he wanted it now.

“Don’t you want me?” Draco demanded, still burning with anger and lust and ignoring Harry’s question.

“They just told you your mother was killed,” Harry said quietly, a look of disbelief on his face.

“This is how I grieve,” Draco answered, amazed that he was actually feeling tears come to his eyes. “I need to do this now. Do you want me, or not?”

“Of course I want you,” Potter said, clearly a bit uncomfortable. “But I don’t think this is the right time…”

Draco pulled Harry into another kiss and forced him to the floor. Harry let Draco kiss him and press their hips together.

“This may be hard for you to understand,” Malfoy murmured into his ear. “But I need you right now. You can either let me have you, or I’ll have to satisfy myself.” As he spoke, he nibbled Harry’s lower lip and began to undo Harry’s trousers, running a thin finger over his pride.

“Ah, take me now,” Harry mumbled, still lost but too enamored to care.