A Series of Connecting the Dots

Author’s Note: My turn again. Many thanks to Laurel for her beta work and thanks to all who have reviewed so far.

“Harry, Parkinson here thinks she can walk about making threats on my life. What do you think about that, Love?” I asked, not arrogant enough to take my eyes of the Slytherin minx in question. Who knew what Pansy might do when cornered? I certainly wasn’t going to be caught unawares around her ever again.

I got no answer for a moment, and nearly wrenched my gaze away from the girl to see if I’d been mistaken in thinking it was Harry who had just joined us. The footsteps had sounded like him, and I knew he’d be eager to get back up here and see me after breakfast, in fact, I would be surprised if he’d finished at all. I would have felt the same, of course, but I thought it was endearing the way he always wanted to be at my side. At least I knew I wasn’t alone in my ridiculous crush.

Before I could be careless enough to glance at the doorway, however, he finally mumbled an incoherent response and I nearly sighed in relief. If I’d been mistaken and it was backup for Pansy and not myself, well, I didn’t want to think about the outcome of that error. “I, um Draco, your-” he stammered and finally I couldn’t help myself. I let my gaze wander quickly to the door at least I had expected it to be a quick glance. What I hadn’t expected was to see my mother swirl into the room like an elegant tornado.

“Draco, darling.” Her words cut Harry off abruptly, which I would have glared at her for if not for the look of relief on Harry’s face. I wondered then just how long Harry had been subjected to my mother’s company. I of all people knew how gracious and terrifying she could be and, as she strode toward my bed with a determined purpose, I worried about what feigned pleasantries had been shared between them in the corridor. “How are you feeling, Sweetheart? I was absolutely beside myself when Severus called, and when your father told me he would be attending to you alone and I wasn’t to come, well, I didn’t know what to think.”

“I’m fine, Mother,” I replied, trying to keep the ire out of my voice. By the teasing smile on Harry’s face, I had failed quite miserably. Seeing my mother there just made me feel like I was ten years old again and being fed a regiment of chicken soup and Pepper-Up Potions. “Really, there’s nothing wrong with me.”

“Harry was coming up to see you and was kind enough to escort me here,” she explained, as if she knew I’d be wondering. I’m sure she knew exactly what I was thinking. She always had an eerie way of reading my thoughts, or at least seeming to. When her eyes trained over to Harry, there was a look in those icy blue depths that made me wish the trait worked both ways. Harry, however, didn’t seem to pay much mind, his own attention was raptly attached to the girl still sitting on the edge of my bed. Pansy looked frightened as she took in my mother’s haughty form beside her, as well she should be. Most assumed Father held all the power in our family, but those who knew the Malfoys well, as the Parkinsons did, knew that Narcissa Malfoy was a source of more raw power than my father could ever hope to possess. She would do anything, and I mean anything, to keep her family safe, which was the only reason she ever agreed to throw our lot in with the Dark Lord.

“I was just coming to keep you company, but I’ll come back later,” Harry said. His words were simple enough but those green eyes had worry behind them and I wondered about the source. Was he afraid to leave me alone with my own mother, or was he worried about Pansy?

“After class, okay?” I told him, shooting a small smile his way that I hoped would alleviate his fears, whatever they were. He had no reason to worry about either of the women at my bedside. I could handle them both if I had to.

“Lovely to see you again, Harry,” Mother told him in her usual tone, but surprising both myself, and apparently Harry as well, she leaned in and placed and light kiss on his cheek. “Perhaps you should escort Pansy back to the Great Hall,” she suggested. I knew then that she’d given Harry an order of some kind, and I could reasonably guess that the flavor of that order would be sour on Pansy’s lips. I couldn’t see my Harry fulfilling Mother’s wishes, but it was nice to see them bonding.

I nearly laughed aloud at the thought, which quickly morphed into an image of my mother and Harry sitting over tea and discussing the best ways to murder someone and not get caught. I knew Mother was fully aware of what had happened to me, and would have suspected Pansy even if she hadn’t come in when she did. Narcissa would want no less than the girl’s death, and allowing Harry to take care of it was a test. I frowned when that realization occurred to me, because there was no way Harry would kill the girl; I wouldn’t want him to, someone else, sure, but not my lovely, pure Harry. Perhaps if he was clever enough in his punishment he could still earn Mother’s respect. I made a mental note to discuss it with him later.

“That’s quite alright, Mrs. Malfoy,” Parkinson replied, clearly feigning the manners she typically used around my family. The Malfoy name had fallen out of favor even more than I’d suspected if she was able to refuse my mother anything, but that worry quickly fled when I saw the murderous glare Narcissa shot Pansy before making her voice sickeningly sweet to contrast that frightening gaze.

“Nonsense, I insist,” she pressed. “There are obviously uncontrolled sociopaths in this school and I wouldn’t want you getting hurt.”

Harry seemed pleased when all the color drained from Pansy’s face and he held his arm out for her as he sometimes would for me, prepared to escort her to her death. Whether Harry realized it or not, Pansy was going to die for what she’d done to me, it was just a matter of time now. He glanced at me over his shoulder, a haunted smile on his lips, and I did my best to hide my shocked jealousy at seeing Pansy on my boyfriend’s arm. There was no need to be jealous of a corpse.

The moment Harry left, all sense of decorum fled my mother’s body and she sat heavily on the edge of my bed, her hands going immediately to either side of my face. “Lucius and Severus said you were in frightful shape last night. Tell me exactly what happened.”

I knew better than to ignore her plea or try to convince her I was fine, so I launched into my tale as blandly as possible. I told her about my courtship of Harry, about being attacked, about waking up here with Father looming over me, and every detail I thought relevant in between. At some point during my story her hands fell from my cheeks to cover my hand instead, and she would squeeze it tightly when I spoke of Blaise or Pansy, or the curses they’d leveled on me. “Pomfrey tells me I’ll be okay to leave after dinner tonight, but I’m not sure how I can when my entire House has turned against me,” I finished.

“Well, she’s done an adequate job at healing you,” she replied, her haughty tone returning now that she was certain her traitor son would live. Deep down I knew her loyalty was to me, but it didn’t stave my concern that the Malfoy traits of self-preservation would eventually take over and she and Father would leave me to my own fate, so as not to meet death at the Dark Lord’s wand. I knew she loved me, as did my father, but would love be enough? I’d been wondering the same thing about Harry and I only just that morning, and I found it curious that in all my sixteen years, I hadn’t managed to form one easy relationship. Every tenuous connection I had seemed to be wrought with conflict. When would I get a chance to just take a deep breath and not fear what the following day would bring? At what point could I begin immersing myself in the joy that being with Harry had to offer? Would it ever happen? Would I ever get the chance to be happy and free?

“Stop being ungrateful, Mother,” I chastised and she pursed her lips at me.

“What would you like me to do? Send her a gift basket for doing her job?” she bit out and I smiled warmly at her.

“That would be lovely,” I replied and her momentary shock was worth the glare I got afterward.

“I’m not sure this Potter boy is a good influence on you,” she told me, but then her next words dispelled my instant worry. “He seems to really love you though.” That admission was as good as her announcing our impending engagement and I smiled.

“I love him too,” I replied firmly and she sighed.

“So he’s told me, but that only makes this whole situation that much more difficult.” I’d never seen my mother look tired before, but just then, she looked utterly exhausted. “Finite Incantatem,” I whispered, ignoring her narrowed glance. I had been too distracted by Harry and Pansy to notice it before, but once I dispelled all of her glamours, I realized how unwell my mother truly was. Her hair wasn’t quite as smooth as it always was, her eyes had dark circles beneath them, her lips were chapped from worrying at them, and her robes were wrinkled from more than the day’s use.

“Mother, what has happened?” I asked, fear entering my voice for the first time since she’d arrived. I couldn’t believe all of her disheveled state was over my condition. That was only last night, after all, and she looked like a woman who had been awake for weeks. She quickly renewed the glamours and pursed her lips unkindly.

“I would prefer to discuss it with you when you are well,” she stated and moved to get up, but I grabbed her hand.

“I am well enough, Mother. Tell me now,” I insisted, sitting up and leveling her with my most petulant glare. She apparently knew better than to argue, probably recalling the many times I’d used that same look as a child to get a toy or extra desert. She could never refuse it back then either.

“Things have been rather…tense at the manor of late, and your father and I have been disagreeing on how to handle it,” she replied. Those words alone spoke volumes. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy always showed a united front, even to me. I found myself slightly afraid of what it meant that my parents were not only arguing, but actually telling me about it. I held no misgivings that my parents never fought, but they never fought where anyone else could overhear them, and they never admitted to it.

“Is this about me, or is this about the Dark Lord?” I asked quietly, fully aware that there could be prying ears nearby.

Mother cast a silencing bubble around my bed with just a low flick of her wand, but she leaned in and whispered as if she hadn’t bothered; ever the cautious witch, my mother. “Both,” she replied. “I want him out of my house and out of our lives,” she hissed, and I’d only heard her take that tone with the house-elves. “Your father seems ignorant to the havoc that creature is causing in our home.”

“He’s not ignorant to it,” I assured her. “He told me to break up with Harry.”

“Don’t you dare,” she growled, narrowing her eyes as if preparing to argue with me. When it seemed clear enough that I had no intention to, she continued. “Harry Potter is the only thread we have connecting us to the other side of this war. Your father is too blinded by the Dark Lord’s propaganda to see that our side has just as much of a chance of losing as theirs, perhaps more so with this madman at the helm of our attack.”

“Why are we even attacking?” I asked. “So what if a few Mudbloods get accepted into Hogwarts. What harm can they be if they are as weak as the Dark Lord says they are? And who cares about the Muggles? We stay out of their way and they stay out of ours. Sure, they’re a dull lot, but is that worth exterminating them all?”

Mother looked at me as if I’d sprouted a second and then a third head consecutively, and then she schooled her features into a cold mask. “Obviously you’ve been listening to Potter more than I’d feared. It is not my intention to have you defect to the Order, Draco, merely to see what you can learn about their camp, and seek refuge there if you can.”

I rolled my eyes and she popped me sharply across the jaw, healing it with her wand in the very next instance. “You’ll do well to remember that I’m your mother, Draco,” she hissed, to which I nodded and rubbed lightly at the spot she’d slapped, even thought it no longer so much as stung.

“I won’t use Harry any more than I already have. I can’t find safety within the Order of the Phoenix because I couldn’t possibly hide the Dark Mark from Dumbledore the same as I’ve been doing with Harry,” I explained. “But that doesn’t change my opinions, Mother. I’m lost, stuck in the middle of two sides. I don’t completely believe in what the Dark Lord says or does anymore, so I can’t come back to your side, and I have too many lies and years of darkness wrapped around me to be welcomed by Harry’s side.”

My mother sighed and nodded, warmth flooding out of her normally icy gaze. “I understand,” she told me, and the relief must have been apparent on my face because she stroked the space she’d just hit and gave me a tender smile. “You and I are not so different, Draco. We’re both easily swayed by the people we love.”

“I’m not easily swayed,” I argued, frustrated that she wasn’t taking me seriously.

“Did I ever tell you that I almost left with Andromeda when she was cast out of the Black family home?” she asked, and I shook my head, my eyes wide with shock. Growing up, I hadn’t even been allowed to utter the name without being grounded for a week. “Well, I did. She’d nearly convinced me that Muggles weren’t so bad, and that our pureblood families were just being elitist.”

I made a face that said what my mouth would never dare to. ‘Well, aren’t we?’ But she paid it little mind.

“Your grandmother sat me down the night Andromeda fled, and told me the truth. On the surface, there is nothing wrong with Muggles. They are essentially the same as us in every respect, except for their lack of magic, but Draco, where would we be without that? Do you know how many magical families there were just a century ago?”

I shrugged, and she gave me a withering glance that told me I needed to study harder. “I would guess at maybe fifty pureblood families, and more that were mixed,” I said, trying to give her any answer I could think of.

“Two centuries ago, there were no mixed families,” she told me and I let her see that I didn’t believe her. “It was forbidden by the Ministry back then to wed, or even so much as fornicate with a Muggle. Back then, there were over two hundred and fifty pureblooded wizarding families. Then the Ministry grew lax, and began softening the penalty for those who bore children with Muggles. Shortly afterward, they even allowed marriages between them, hoping to bridge the gap between our kind and theirs. One century ago there were fewer than fifty pureblood families left. Do you know how many there are now, Draco?”

“Less than half of that,” I replied quietly, a dull thrumming in the back of my head as her words sunk in.

“We’re dying out, Son. Slowly, but surely, to the point where your children might see the fading out of the pureblood lines altogether,” she told me softly. “This war is trying to preserve our kind.”

“This war is killing everyone’s kind,” I rebuked. “If the Slytherins had succeeded in their mission, another pureblood family would have been left without an heir.”

She sat up, her blonde hair cascading down her back in a wave. “You say the word Slytherin as if you no longer belong to them,” she told me fiercely. “Do you want to be a Gryffindor now, Draco? Is that your wish?”

“No,” I spat, “But forgive me if I no longer trust the House I was sorted into. They tried to kill me, Mother.”

“And for that they will pay,” she assured me. “I saw the handsome work your boyfriend did on Zabini’s face, and I daresay he’ll make it through the night.”

“What Harry did to Blaise?” I asked and felt confusion thrill through me. Harry hadn’t mentioned confronting Blaise, and he certainly hadn’t mentioned leaving him fatally wounded. Was my pure, innocent Gryffindor more tainted than I thought? And if so, was that my fault?

“Yes, apparently he took out his aggression toward your attackers solely on one boy. Using his fists to bash the boy’s brains in was a bit crude for my taste, but whatever gets the job done,” she quipped, as if commenting on her newest cloak. My mother, the cold-hearted bitch.

I wondered in that moment what Harry would say if he heard my mother’s words. Would he agree with her, would he be appalled and disgusted? My hunch was on the latter. Did he even know how much damage he’d inflicted on Blaise? I began to worry that I wasn’t the only one being influenced in this relationship. It was as if the two of us were blending together. I was growing more thoughtful and compassionate, while Harry was growing more cunning and cruel. I’m not sure that’s what I wanted, but I didn’t know how to stop it either. I would have done the same had I been in Harry place, although I might not have stopped before his breathing did, but I hoped it was just the situation that made him react that way, not that my Slytherin nature was somehow tainting him.

“And you told him to take care of Pansy in the same manner?” I asked, and she gave me the proudest gaze.

“You noticed that, did you? Well, of course you did. I didn’t tell him how to dispatch of her, only to make her pay for what she did to you,” she replied. Talking about pain and torture came far too easily from her lips. It seemed out of place on someone so dainty and beautiful, even though I’d grown up with her speaking in such a manner. She could talk about Unforgivables like they were new crumpet recipes; in fact, I once overheard her talking about both at the same tea party, the topics within mere breaths of one another.

“And if he doesn’t kill her?” I asked, because I had little doubt he would do such a thing. I doubt he even intended for Blaise to die and I wondered how much of a hand my family was going to play in his death, or if Harry really had inflicted that much damage.

“Well, I doubt that he will, but if he does, he might make a suitable partner for a Malfoy,” she replied.

“Don’t be coy, Mother. You would never be happy with Harry and I as a couple,” I retorted sharply. “There is no room for two gay men to produce an heir, and Harry’s not a pureblood.”

“He’s second generation pureblood, the Potters were once a very respected family, and his power alone might make up for his mother’s blood within him. If he were to defeat the Dark Lord as everyone seems to be counting on, I would give you both my blessing,” she replied. “Although your father will be a harder sell.”

“You and I both know that you could sell father his own shoes if it pleased you to try.” She smiled sweetly at the compliment and I sighed. “But there is still the problem of an heir and even you might not be able to convince Father to wed me to someone who couldn’t further the family name.”

“I wouldn’t worry over that tidbit too much, Son,” she replied mysteriously. “Do you think you’re the first pureblood who male who preferred other males?”

“No, but-” I began, but she cut me off with a sharp squeeze of my hand.

“Let’s leave these premature topics alone. All you need to decide here, Draco, is how important it is for you to have a life with Potter. If he scratches my back, I’ll scratch his,” she told me.

“So if he kills the Dark Lord,” I started, eyes wide with sudden understanding.

“I’ll give him my only son,” she replied, looking more serious than I’d ever seen her.

“Just like that?” I asked.

“You act as though Potter’s victory is assured, but very little about this war is a sure thing, Draco. Even if he beats the Dark Lord in the end, there is a chance he could die in the process,” she told me, and I knew then that her preferred outcome would be for Voldemort and Harry to kill one another so she could get her cake and marry me off to a pureblooded witch too.

“I know,” I whispered, staring at a spot on the wall just behind her head. I could hardly stomach the idea of Harry fighting that madman, but I knew his mind was set on that very thing. It drove me crazy to think of Harry at the end of Voldemort’s wand. I could almost feel the Avada Kedavra just thinking about it and I shuddered.

“Are you cold?” she asked me at once, casting a warming charm before the words could even leave her mouth.

“I’m fine,” I assured her, though that was nowhere near the truth. Still, what point was there to worry her when she could do nothing to heal the pain I felt. It wasn’t something that could be broken with spells or potions. I needed Harry, I needed to hold him, to kiss him, to tell him everything and have him forgive me. “I love you, Mother,” I told her, though I knew not where the words came from. I hadn’t said them in earnest for years.

“I love you too, Draco,” she replied automatically and then paused, as if realizing she’d just parroted me. “I do, you know?” she added, her eyes warming. “No matter what happens in this war, your father and I both love you very much.”

I nodded, unable to find words that would explain how I felt. I knew they loved me, I also knew that they loved themselves more, and as much as they cared for me, they would turn on me if it would save their own lives. She got up, ran her hands down the length of her cloak to vanish any folds or wrinkles that might have accumulated. “I trust you know how to get in touch with me, should you need to?” she asked.

“I do,” I replied with a nod.

“Ignore your father, he’s just being a tyrant, and an ignorant one at that. We can use all the allies we can get, and I’m not picky about which side they come from,” she huffed. “You should get some sleep,” she told me, and before I could protest she’d summoned Madam Pomfrey over and together made me take a Calming Draught so that I was asleep before Mother even left the ward.

I woke up alone, and judging by the state of the sun dipping low over the horizon, I knew I had missed Harry’s lunchtime visit. I was instantly angry with both Pomfrey and my mother for making me sleep – I had really wanted to see Harry – but my frustration didn’t last too long. I felt refreshed and much better than I had that morning, so there was little doubt that the sleep had helped. Besides, if Harry had shown up after that twisted conversation with my mother, I might have rushed ahead of myself in telling him what happened before I had a chance to think about everything.

As it was, my mother had left me confused and wary, wondering who to listen to and what to do about it once I decided. Father wanted me to break things off with Harry, which I could see the logic in, but my heart protested to such a degree I didn’t think I could go through with it if I tried. I loved Harry too much to leave him, but I didn’t want either of us getting hurt because of our relationship, and my being in the hospital wing was proof that injury would be unavoidable if we stayed together. However, weighing that against the anguish I felt at the very idea of letting Harry go, my beating by the Slytherins was a small price to pay in my opinion. I would outlast whatever pain they tried to doll out just to remain by Harry’s side.

With that decided, my mother’s proposition began looking more and more appealing. If I could get her bargain in writing, her word that she would not only allow, but would bless Harry and I as a bonded couple if we were to defeat Voldemort, then the fighting might just be worth it in the end.

I’d never really imagined myself on a battlefield, couldn’t see myself in dueling gear, running across fields and taking down enemy after enemy, as I’d read in the history textbook. I’d always assumed my place would be behind the scenes, working to defeat the other side with potions I would brew, or plans I would assist with. Even though my father had been sent on several hands-on missions, I figured I was too young to be sent out into battle, even though I knew how expendable the Dark Lord considered me. It was naïve, I knew, but it allowed me to delude myself into a false sense of security…until now.

As it now stood, I couldn’t imagine allowing Harry to go into battle without me at his side. I couldn’t picture myself waiting in safety for him to return to me, wondering what had happened, or if I would ever see him again. If Harry died, I would die with him, and finish the bastard Voldemort off if Harry couldn’t. Was I afraid? I’d be foolish not to be, but fear was nothing compared to the love I held for Harry. Even if I didn’t believe in the same things, even if I wanted to one day live in a world that had more pureblood families, or live a life that was less controlled by the Ministry, or live without hiding our presence from Muggles…I could put all of that aside to give Harry the support he would need in the war.

I was his, and I could not stand apart from him. I would rather stand against my own father in the final battle than face off against Harry.

One might think that making the decision to try and defeat the darkest wizard of our time in a bloody war would make you heavy with fear and doubt, but I felt light as a feather. If fact, I’d never felt so sure of anything in my life, save my love for the silly Gryffindor striding into my room with a look of sheer determination creasing his adorable forehead.

“We need to talk about everything,” he demanded without preamble, and I could tell that when he said everything, he meant everything.

“Oh, hello, Baby,” I replied instead, my voice thick with teasing to mask my nerves. “I missed you too. Yes, my day was just fine, how was yours?”

“I mean it, we can’t avoid this any longer,” he insisted with a huff, coming to plant himself resolutely on the edge of my bed, like a sentient gargoyle that refused to budge. “We have to make a plan to keep you safe. I won’t allow you to get hurt because I was too stupid to stay away from you.”

I took his hand in mine, noticing how warm and calloused it was against my own. I missed his hands, his lips, his body. It was easy to be distracted from all my problems when I was near him, but he was right. We needed to talk. There were things he had to know about me, things I wasn’t proud of, but he deserved to know nonetheless. “Don’t get all worked up, Harry,” I whispered, trying to calm him. Who knew how he would take what I had to say? I wondered if he knew what he was really asking for, if he knew what everything would entail? “We’ll sort everything out. First though, I need to tell you what my mother came to talk to me about.”

He blinked and took a deep breath, apparently willing to set his demands aside for the moment. I gave him a warm smile, which was my only warning to him before I grabbed his shoulders and pulled him to me, devouring his mouth. I wanted this, needed it, and since it might be the last time Harry would allow my lips against his - after what I had to tell him I wouldn’t blame him if he dropped me like a stone - I savored every flavor, every smooth plane and rough ridge, and most of all, I absorbed every muffled moan as he kissed me back.

All too soon Harry pushed me away, his breathing shallow as he shot me a withering glare. “No more distractions,” he insisted. “Talk.”

I laughed, though my heart felt heavy, and I let my head fall back to the pillow. “I love you, Harry. You know that right?”

He pursed his lips and nodded. “Of course. I love you too,” he added hastily. “But it seems like you’re trying to distract me again.”

“I’m not,” I assured him, my arms held up in mock surrender. “I just need you to remember that, okay?”

“Okay,” he replied, the word drawn out in his obvious hesitation and sudden worry over what I had to say, but he didn’t make me stop, so I pressed on.

“Mother told me to ignore Father’s demand that I break things off with you,” I told him. “Not that I hadn’t already decided to ignore him,” I added. “But it made me feel better knowing that I had at least one Malfoy on my side.”

“Well, that’s good, right?” he asked, obviously not getting why I’d been warning him of bad news, but he would understand soon enough.

“It is,” I replied. “Mostly.” He looked at me with confusion again and I wished he could just read my mind. I made a mental note to teach Harry Legilimency if he didn’t leave me for what I had to tell him today. “She has an agenda, of course, but I don’t know what it is. For the moment, she’s on our side, but to what extent I’ve yet to determine.”

“Why do Slytherins always have to be so sneaky?” he asked, exasperation practically leaking out of his pores. “Why can’t they just say what they mean and mean what they say?”

“You mean like a Gryffindor?” I asked, smirking delicately up at my cute boyfriend. He looked so flustered when he met my gaze.

“Exactly!” he huffed.

I merely shrugged. We had enough to discuss without getting into the history of Slytherin politics. “All that matters is that she wants the Dark Lord defeated, and she expects you to do it.”

It was Harry’s turn to shrug, but his exasperation didn’t fade. “That’s nothing new. I’d be surprised if there was a single witch or wizard in all of England who didn’t expect the same out of me. Even the Death Eaters probably expect me to fight him, even if they assume I’ll lose.”

“Well, that’s true, but none of them are offering us a marriage contract,” I told him. I waited for the words to sink in and the confusion to fade and I stifled my laughter when his eyes widened comically, the green depths shining with new questions. I was honestly terrified myself – not only of the decisions ahead and the fact that Harry might just reject me outright, but because we’d only been an official couple for a little over a week, and while I knew for a fact I wanted to wake up next to Harry every day for the rest of my life, it still scared me to see a permanent future placed to closely within my grasp – the fact that Harry seemed shocked and frightened as well made me feel a little better about my own twirling emotions.

“A what?” he whispered.

“You heard me correctly,” I told him, and offered up an endearing smile. “Mother came to tell me, that if you kill the Dark Lord, she’ll consent to sign me away to you.”

“Sign you away…? But … I just-” Harry went on stammering for a few moments, apparently unable to grasp what I’d just said, but eventually he took a deep breath, let it out very slowly and ran a hand through his already tousled hair. “Explain,” he demanded simply.

“I’m the last male hair to a line of ancient pureblood wizards, Harry.” I could tell he wanted to interrupt with frantic declarations of ‘I already know all this, get on with it’, but I had to make sure he understood exactly how important my mother’s visit was. “As such, I am duty bound to my family name, and my parents’ wishes. Meaning, I must marry who they want, when they want, and I must produce an heir to carry on the Malfoy name.”

“So, what were you going to do? Give me the sack the moment they ordered you to marry someone else?” he barked and I sighed, shaking my head.

“No. The moment I took up with you I discarded my name, Harry. I was prepared to be disowned, to lose everything – the manor, the vaults, the heritage, my own parents – just to have you instead,” I explained and he remained silent, his eyes still wide as he absorbed what I was telling him. I wondered then if Harry had any inkling of what I’d given up for him, what I was willing to sacrifice to be his, but it didn’t matter whether he understood the full extent of it or not. It was my decision to make, not his, and had he known everything, he probably would have let his heroic Gryffindor nature stand between us.

“I wouldn’t have let you do that if I had known-” he began, confirming my thoughts as if he’d studied Legilimency on his own.

“I know, which is why I didn’t tell you,” I huffed. “I get to choose what’s important to me, and you’re more important than all of that. I’ve had those things my entire life and none of it has ever made me feel the way I do when I’m with you, Harry. I love you, more than all the money, family, or history in the world.”

I choked on my last words, fighting the tears that strangled in my throat. Part of me was sure I was going to lose him despite all of this, I had been keeping secrets from him, lying to him from the start, and he would leave me when he discovered that I was no better than my traitorous father.

“Draco,” Harry whispered tenderly, his fingers lacing together with mine, but I wouldn’t let him say whatever words were on the tip of his tongue. I had to press on, I had to get this all out before it festered and rotted me from the inside out.

“So, my mother has offered me in exchange for the death of the Dark Lord, which gives me hope that I might not have to give up everything to be with you after all,” I told him. “I know you, and I know you’re planning to fight him, and I know you’re powerful enough to win, Harry.”

“So, what?” he asked teasingly, though his voice still shook slightly. “You’re proposing?”

My smile didn’t make it all the way up to my eyes, and that made his own grin falter. “Not just yet,” I whispered. “There are things you have to know, things that might change your mind about me.”

Dread set into his eyes, but I watched his jaw clench and then he nodded his head curtly, my queue to get it over with. I had thought for a long time on the best way to tell Harry my secrets. Sugar coating it was impossible, he’d see through any attempt to do that, and probably resent me for the effort. In the end, I figured it was best to just use Gryffindor bluntness, and rip it off quick like a bandage.

I pulled my sleeve up and held my arm aloft for Harry to see. It took his eyes a moment to focus, but when they did, he scrambled off the edge of the bed at the sight of the Dark Mark on my forearm. He couldn’t get away from me fast enough, and as he scurried off he lost his footing and tumbled to the ground, his eyes wide with what I could only call horror. I winced, and it broke my heart in two, knowing that feeling was directed at me.

“Harry, please listen to me,” I pleaded, begging him not to leave me, to at least let me explain before he decided.

“You … you’re a,” he gasped.

“A Death Eater,” I confirmed with a shameful nod. “He branded me on my sixteenth birthday.”

“But, I’ve seen that arm, I’ve touched it, I’ve – oh god,” he groaned, hiding his face from my view as he buried it between his knees. The pieces of my heart cracked again as I saw the regret in that movement, regret for everything we’d shared.

“I’ve been hiding it from you because I knew you’d never give me the time of the day if you knew I was a Death Eater, Harry,” I told him honestly. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

He didn’t acknowledge me either way, and I had no clue what he was thinking, so I just kept blubbering, digging myself deeper and deeper into the hole my lies had created. “When I first started talking to you, I did it out of foolish intentions. I thought that if I got you to fall in love with me, I could give you to the Dark Lord and he’d reward me for my efforts, but it didn’t work that way. I fell for you long before you even looked at me with anything but distrust.”

He looked up at me from his spot on the floor. He was sitting with his arms folded across his knees, his hair flopping moodily in his face, so that his eyes were the only things visible to me, and those usually expressive green orbs gave nothing away.

“What I feel now is honest, Harry, even if it didn’t start out that way. I swear on my life that I couldn’t even think of betraying you now. Even if you walk out that door and refuse to glance in my direction ever again, I still wouldn’t do anything to deliberately hurt you. I love you so much,” I told him, my voice frantic and pleading. “I’ll join the Order, I’ll promise my loyalty to you and Dumbledore and whomever you want if you’ll keep me. I’ll stand at your side and battle Lord V-Voldemort; I’ll even fight my own father if that’s what it takes to convince you that I’m yours, through and through. I belong to you, Harry, even if you don’t want me. I always will.”

His fingers kept twitching against his knees, forming into fists and then releasing them in the next moment. I stayed in bed, my own fingers digging into the mattress edge as I poised there and waited for him to Hex me, or slug me, or just get up and walk out. He didn’t do any of that though, he just stared at me with those piercing gemstone eyes and made me wait to find out if there was anything I could do to make everything right again.

“So, what do you say, Harry?” I asked, when the silence became too much to bear, a sad, weary smile on my face. “Will you marry me?”

Author’s Note: Well…it’s all out now, hm?