The Dragon's Child Bride

CHAPTER 22

Draco slept very little that night. He was plagued by questions, thoughts, and the constant nagging of that developing conscience of his that would not let him rest with the new knowledge he possessed. When he did sleep, it was fitful and inundated with images of the things he’d seen and the things he now knew.

At roughly 4 a.m., when it became clear to him that he would not be getting anymore sleep, he left his room to wander the darkened halls. He somehow found himself climbing the stairs to the Astronomy Tower, which was thankfully empty of any students coupling. He sat himself down, leaning his back against the wall opposite from the opening to the cool air where the telescopes stood for students to observe the stars.

Draco watched the few stars still in the sky fade with the ebbing darkness into the first lights of dawn that lit up the sky with its fiery colors. He sat in silence watching the sun rise, trying to decide what, if anything, he was going to do with his father, with Laylani, with his ideals, and with the rest of his life. Very few answers came. As much as he tried to organize and reorganize things in his mind, nothing made sense anymore.

When the sun’s light fully lit the sky into blue, he left the tower and returned to his room just before 6:30. He showered, dressed and groomed himself to his usual perfection, flawed only by the darkened circles under his eyes. He frowned at his reflection, but nothing could be done for that now. He checked the clock; it was ten minutes after seven. Perfect; he had just enough time to stop at Laylani’s room to pick up a few things for her and drop them off with her, hopefully talk with her if she was awake.

He sighed. Aside from that, he wouldn’t get to see her much of the day. He would be busy with classes, Quidditch practice, Head Boy duties including patrolling the halls, not to mention an after-dinner meeting with that infernal Granger. Besides, visiting hours were from noon until nine. He might be able to stop by for a few minutes if he finished dinner early, but that would be about it.

Damn it all! He wanted to spend every second with her, to watch over her and take care of her. But instead he would be forced to spend the entire day with everyone else, while she would be practically isolated in the infirmary. Draco knew she would be lonesome and would miss his company just as surely as he would miss hers.

He would bring her something, he decided. Draco would bring her something of his that would remind him of her and hopefully quell her loneliness, if only until he could see her again. He looked around his room, trying to decide what he would bring her, and no specific item sprung to mind. Ideas came: something that was expensive, something that he really valued, etc, etc. But he pushed all that aside. She was sick, possibly still delusional, what would she care whether he left her with something expensive or precious? Not to mention they would both feel pretty rotten if what he left were to be broken or ruined somehow. It just needed to be something nice. He practically laughed out loud at that thought; he was not generally known for being ‘nice.’ Or at all known, for that matter. He doubted he owned anything that would fit that description.

He picked up a set of his emerald green pajamas that were laid out on the bed. The house elves had cleaned and returned them the night before. Yes, he would bring those. He didn’t know why he chose those to bring, they would be at least four sizes too large. For some unknown reason, it brought him comfort knowing that even if he couldn’t be there with her, there would be something to remind her of him in his absence and let her know he loved her and was thinking about her and would make her think of him. And should it serve as a mark of possessiveness, well, that was okay too.

Draco left his private quarters, his ultimate destination being the infirmary. But first he would stop by her room; there would surely be things that she wanted if she were to stay in the infirmary. He walked quickly, not wanting to waste any time he might be able to spend with her, though in all likelihood she would still be asleep. Maybe, if only by seeing her, it would somehow make things clear to him. A part of him knew that was ridiculous, aside from obvious reasons, he’d seen her yesterday and that had made nothing any clearer. However, that was yesterday and this was today; one could always hope.

He whispered the password to her portrait and it swung open dutifully. Hastily he walked through her common room to the back bedroom. It looked just as it had the day before, just as dark, dreary and disordered. It was unsettling somehow.

Draco ignored that thought. He went through the mental checklist of things to bring that he’d made in the wee hours of the morning when sleep had eluded him. He searched through her shelves for her school books. He picked up her toothbrush, her hairbrush, and then pulled the drawer out on the side table and grabbed her silver notebook. He packed everything neatly into her book bag, along with four of the raven quills he’d given her a week ago.

He looked slowly around the room for any visual cue that would suggest he’d forgotten something, but nothing came to mind, so he turned to leave. He checked the clock on his way out; 7:30, still a half hour before breakfast. He hurried to reach her, as if hurrying would shave off more than a few seconds of the time it would take.

It seemed like every sound was magnified a hundred times upon entering the stillness of the infirmary, from the creaking of the opening doors to his footsteps across the marble floor to the sound of the labored breaths he followed to find her. She’d been moved since he’d seen her last and now rested on one of the more substantial hospital beds closer to the back of the room; the cots in the front were normally reserved for Quidditch injuries and random mishaps, the sturdy beds were for those who would spend the night, or in her case, a few nights. He followed the sounds of her wheezy breathing to the very last bed and pulled the drawn curtains for privacy aside.

She lay with her head slightly elevated against the pillows and as he pulled the curtains back, her eyes opened.

“Draco.” she said in a quiet, raspy voice.

“Good morning, Princess. Did I wake you?” She shook her head slightly, wincing a bit.

“No, I’ve been up for a bit now. I was hoping you’d come.” He sat down at the edge of her bed, resting the book bag on the floor.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better. Not much, but better. Swallowing hurts a lot and my body still aches, but at least I’m sane again.” Draco grinned.

“So you remember.”

“Bits and pieces.” Draco’s grin widened.

“Do you remember the choice words you used with Madame Pomfrey?” She blushed faintly and ducked her head.

“I was hoping that had been a dream…Did I really call her ‘Medi-Bitch’?”

“Indeed you did, pet. You told her shut up, too. I was proud.”

“Was it very Malfoy of me?”

Draco stiffened at the name. His name. His father’s name. What did it mean to be a Malfoy now? He didn’t know anymore. Quickly, he changed the subject.

“I brought you a few things.” he said, lifting the bag onto his lap. She smiled feebly at him while he unpacked it.

“Thank you, Dragon. Oh, you brought my books! Wonderful. Would you be able to do me a favor?”

“‘Course, love.”

“Could you find out the readings and work for my classes today?” Draco frowned a bit.

“Lani, you need to be getting better and to get better, you need to rest. No one will mind if you let your homework slide for a day or two.” She rolled her eyes at him.

“I would mind, Draco.” she rasped. “I’m sick, not dead. Besides, what else am I going to do here all day?” Draco’s frown deepened, but she did have a point. What else would there be to do during the school hours but homework?

“Alright,” he conceded. “Only if you promise that you’ll get plenty of rest as well.” She nodded.

“I promise.” Draco finally finished emptying the contents of her bag, pulling out his pajamas. She ran her hand over the silken fabric and smirked.

“Are we having a slumber party?”

“I thought you might want a fresh change of clothes.”

“Your clothes?”

“Well, I, er, I can’t be here most of the day, but I wanted you to know that I, well, that I would be thinking about you and hoping you get better…” He trailed off, not entirely sure what he had intended to say, but knew it hadn’t come out right. She smiled warmly at him and put her hand as for up his arm as she could reach, giving it a light squeeze.

“Thank you.”

With one hand Laylani pulled the silk top closer while the other reached for the top button on the pajamas she was wearing and caused her to wince, immediately concerning her knight.

“Are you alright? Should I fetch Madame Pomfrey?”

“No, I’m fi-” The words caught in her throat for a moment as she coughed. It seemed the suppressant charm was wearing thin. “I’m fine love. Just a bit achy is all.” She moved her hands to try again at the buttons when Draco’s stilled her own and began to undo them for her.

“Thanks, Draco.” Wordlessly he continued down the vertical line of the buttons until the flannel material opened, causing her to shiver. Draco quickened his actions, not wanting her to get any worse from exposure to the castle’s drafts. He gently slid the flannel off her shoulders and down her arms, then replaced it with the silk shirt, doing up the buttons quickly. He didn’t mention the bruise and for that she was grateful.

She slid off the warm covers and lifted her hips slightly to aid the removal of her pajama bottoms and knickers. Realizing just how much she was exposed, she was very grateful than it was Draco and not anyone else who was dressing her. She would have died of mortification if Madame Pomfrey had been doing this. But Draco, well, it wasn’t like she was anything he hadn’t seen before and she felt comfortably safe with him as if she weren’t so very exposed at all. She trusted him completely, which was not something she could say about any other person.

He slipped the knickers he’d brought her up her legs, followed in quick succession by the pants. Being his pajamas, they flowed loosely, covering her feet. She wiggled her toes a bit, giggling at the feel of the smooth material running over them. Draco placed the blankets back over her.

Laylani opened her mouth to say something when the sound of the infirmary doors opening and clicking footsteps coming towards her room across the hardwood floor interrupted her. The curtains slid open to reveal Madame Pomfrey.

“Good morning Ms. Stanners, I- Mister Malfoy, you’re certainly here early.” She said the last part with a hint of severity. “I don’t think I need to remind you that visiting hours are 12 p.m. to 9 p.m.” She paused, assessing the scene before her. Laylani smiled at her weakly, clad in a pair of pajamas that practically swallowed her, with Draco’s hand holding hers. “However, I think we might be able to let this one transgression pass without incident.” In the kindest gesture she’d ever shown to any Malfoy or their relations, she gave Draco a tight-lipped smile.

“Now, I believe breakfast will be starting shortly, Mister Malfoy. If you could say your goodbyes now, you’re welcome to visit Miss Stanners again during visiting hours.” He nodded. Draco turned to Laylani.

“Goodbye, love. I’ll try to bring by your homework during supper. You need to focus on getting better, alright? I expect you to be doing back flips by Friday.” She smiled.

“I don’t know how to do a back flip.”

“Than you’ll have to see if Madame Pomfrey can teach you.” he said with a wink. She laughed while Draco leaned in and placed a kiss on her cheek, and with that he left.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The day passed uneventfully and downright tediously for Draco and Laylani. He went to his classes, picking up her homework along the way. Without her to sit next to, he sat with Crabbe and Goyle which pleased them to no end, but only served to remind him what horrible conversationalists they were.

She, on the other hand, stared at the ceiling, made small talk with the mediwitch, and went through a very painful procedure that was to serve to remove infection from her lungs. That and swallowed dose after dose of the most foul tasting potions she’d ever had the misfortune to try.

Draco had never been so relieved to finish practice. He had it all planned out in his mind. He would spend maybe a half hour at supper, run down to the infirmary to spend the rest of the dinner hour with Laylani, then go to meet Granger for that damnable meeting to plan the upcoming monthly prefect meeting, then an hour and a half for homework, and then hall duty. Yes, he had just enough time to fit it all in. He had hoped to spend more time with Laylani, but he would make up for it tomorrow.

Draco walked quickly down the corridor towards the Great Hall, absentmindedly playing with her chain around his neck. That would come off soon he realized, the very thought warming him. In less than three months time, they would be married. She would be his wife. Officially for everyone to know and recognize, she would belong to him as he would belong to her.

‘If she‘s still sane.’ he thought cryptically. It made him scowl deep enough to rival that of the Potion’s Professor. On any other student this would have been disturbing, if not alarming, but on Draco Malfoy, this was normal.

He strode through the doors of the Great Hall to his usual place at the table reserved for the Slytherin prince, and he couldn’t help but be acutely aware that his princess was missing. Draco sat down heavily on the bench, his sour demeanor acting like flares for others to know not to approach him. Except for one. Pansy Parkinson slid onto the bench directly across from him.

‘Great.’ he thought. ‘Parkinson’s all I need right now.’ Besides the occasional glares to Laylani, and flirtatious winks at Draco, Pansy had been lying low since that day on the train. However, it seemed that since Laylani wasn’t present she was going to make a move. And indeed, she didn’t fail to meet his expectations.

“Hi Drakey.” she simpered, sliding her foot up his leg under the table. He didn’t even try to hide his obvious revulsion.

“Kindly quit pawing me, Parkinson.” he said in a bored tone, not even looking at her as he filled his plate. Neither her foot nor her attentions waned in the slightest.

“This is the first I’ve seen you without…her… for months now.” She spat out the word ‘her’ with venom. “Trouble in paradise?” She said it with so much glee, there was not way she could pretend to be concerned.

The offending foot had reached his knee and began to move back down only to come back up. He stared at her coldly. “None what so ever. Truth be told, my life has never been more perfect. All that’s left is the wedding. Get your foot off me, now.”

“Oh, really? Are you sure you want to get married having only shagged one girl? Don’t have any wild oats to sow?”

Her foot was just about to slide over his knee again when Draco decided to put a stop to it. He was not one to resort to using physical force with women, but it seemed there was no other way. He grabbed her foot in a vice-like grip, twisting it to an angle that would cause discomfort, but not actually hurt her.

“None whatsoever, Parkinson. Now, if you would kindly fuck the hell off, it would be greatly appreciated.” He twisted her ankle just a fraction of an inch further to drive the point home, causing her to wince. “Am I understood?” She nodded and he released her foot, which withdrew quickly. He ate the rest of his meal in pleasant silence.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

He’d made it less than half a dozen steps out of the Great Hall when his name was called. He knew the voice. He didn’t have to turn around to know that the Potion’s Master was calling to him, and that despite everything inside him that wanted to turn around and tell him to fuck off, Snape would not be ignored. He didn’t turn around, instead only held stock-still; Snape could bloody well come to him.

“Mister Malfoy. I trust you’ve managed to fit a visit to the infirmary into your busy schedule?”

“Yes, Professor.” he said through clenched teeth, still refusing to turn and face the man in his peripheral vision.

“And?”

“And you were right. Satisfied?”

“Hardly.” The answer was spoken in a voice as cold as the question. “Now the only question left is what are you prepared to do about it?” Draco stood just as still, his face somber with stony silence. Prepared to do? Christ, if he knew what he was prepared to do, he wouldn’t even be having this fucking conversation, he would be out there, wherever ‘there’ was, doing it. He assumed Snape was waiting for an answer, but considering how many answers Snape hadn’t given him, he would be served in just.

“Decisions need to be made, and soon before you find them spiraling out of your influence and awareness. I am obligated to tell you that some arrangements have already been made where she is concerned. Now the option is yours; the next moves can be made with the aide of your information and suggestions, or they can be made without them. The latter will be much less efficient and much more risky where she is concerned.” In one whirlwind motion, Draco finally turned to face Professor Snape.

“Arrangements? What arrangements? Who’s made them? Why-” Snape cut him off with a wave of his hand. He’d not meant to stop, he’d wanted to ignore this…Merlin, who knew what this man was anymore, and continue on with the authority he felt he had, but damned if old habits didn’t die hard.

“That’s not your concern until you make a decision. You have two choices, Mister Malfoy. The easy choice would be to take up with the Dark Lord, become the man everyone has expected you to be and throw her to the proverbial wolves. The right choice would be to fight. To fight the destiny that’s been carved out for you by your father and to fight for her.”

“But-” Again that dismissive wave cut him short.

“Until you’ve made your decision, there’s nothing else to be said.” And with that, Snape walked away from him, leaving him even more confused than he’d been before. And that was saying something.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Draco arrived at the infirmary fifteen minutes before he was scheduled to meet Granger, Snape’s words still echoing in his ears. Damn it, that man had made him late. He had maybe ten minutes to spend with her before he would have to leave if he were to make the appointment on time, which he had every intention of doing; if he didn’t, he was sure to get a twenty minute lecture from the bossy little cow about punctuality and duties before personal issues. He strode quickly down the long line of empty beds to her bed at the very back.

“Draco!” Laylani dropped her spoon back into the bowl, causing some of the soup to splash over the sides onto the napkin on her lap. “You came!” He gave her his usual smirk, taking a seat on the edge of her bed.

“Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“Well, when Gin stopped by, she menti-”

“Weasellette came by?” Her eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms over her chest. He rolled his eyes. Cripes, she got so defensive when he called them names. “I mean, Ginny was here?” he corrected himself.

“Yes, Ginny and Lavender stopped by for about half an hour before dinner and dropped off some magazines.” She gestured to the stack of bridal magazines on the side table. “Anyway, while they were here Ginny had mentioned that Hermione had said what a shame it was that you were so busy today, what with me being sick and all, and, well, I thought you might be too busy for me.” She watched the corners of his lips pull down.

“Oh. You are busy.” He looked to her helplessly.

“I’m sorry pet. I’ve got this damned meeting with Grang-"

“No, no. There’s nothing to apologize for. You have responsibilities, I understand.” She tried to smile to him but knew it probably looked just as false as it felt. She didn’t want to be upset; she’d meant everything she’d just said. But she’d been so excited to see him and so bored and lonely all day. She’d missed him, really.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you. Um, look,” He lowered his voice. “How about I come back later tonight, after Hall duty? Would that be alright?”

“No, Draco. It’s alright, really; you don’t have to-”

“I know I don’t have to. I want to. I’ve spent practically the entire day with Crabbe and Goyle; I’m in desperate need of intelligent company.” She laughed.

“Alright. You’ll have to be careful not to get caught then. I don’t want you getting in any more trouble with Madame Pomfrey.”

“I’ll be careful.” He kissed her forehead.

“I should probably go now. I’ll be back around eleven, I promise.” He placed another kiss on her nose.

“Okay.” she said with a smile.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

She’d tried to wait up for him, she really had. She found herself slipping into sleep shortly after ten and as much as she tried to fight it, she couldn’t stop her eyelids from finally falling shut.

She was in the dungeon. The Malfoy Manor dungeon, walking down the staircase, once again unable to stop herself. She grabbed hold of the railing in a desperate bid to at least slow down, but it slipped through her finger like sand and her feet kept moving under an unknown authority.

The room lit itself as she reached the landing. She didn’t want to look, didn’t want to see whatever horrible things this place held but she couldn’t stop her eyes from opening, from staring at the gruesome sights in front of her.

Blood everywhere. Pouring down from the walls, dripping off the chains, soaking the slabs. Bodies, bodies she couldn’t recognize but was certain that she knew.

"Come to me." No, no, no, no, no. This couldn’t be happening again. She couldn’t watch this happen again.

"Come to me." She couldn’t block it out; it felt like the voice was a very part of her.

“No!” she wailed. “Stop, please! Stop!”

"Come to me’"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Draco went through his evening’s activities mindlessly. His meeting with Granger, his homework, Hall duty, it all came to him automatically with minimal thinking involved. It was as if he was walking down some well beaten path and, he supposed, in many respects he was.

Draco returned to the infirmary shortly after eleven, as promised. He kept his mind solely on where his feet were taking him. He knew if he let his thoughts wander to anything beyond his destination it would leave him in a state of confusion and helplessness and whether he wanted to be one or not, Malfoys were not confused nor helpless. Ever. So instead he carried himself with his usual aloofness and detachment that had come so easily to him since birth, it seemed.

It only took one word to rip through it all.

“No!” He heard her scream just inside the infirmary doors. Fear painfully and immediately had him in its grips. Without thinking, he ran as fast as he could to her, ready to kill her attacker with his bare hands.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Harry sat in a chair in the corner of her curtained area under the shield of his invisibility cloak. He hadn’t intended to come. Ron and Hermione had pleaded with him for a full twenty minutes to come visit her with them, but he had refused. Like hell he would go to see her, even if she was sick. Harry had convinced himself that his love for her had been the be-all, end-all of loves and she had refused it in favor of the silver ferret; she had made her decision and she would live with the consequences.

His two friends had returned almost an hour later, idly discussing her condition while Harry was trying to finish off a divination assignment in the common room. Anaerobic pneumonia, they’d said, water in the lungs. She’d looked so pale, they’d said, her lips and nails were still faintly tinted blue; Madame Pomfrey had said it was because her body wasn’t getting enough oxygen. She looked so lonely, they’d said, what with the few real friends she had and Malfoy being so busy today. Not that Harry had been listening. Of course not.

Somehow, that night found him under the cover of his cloak, sneaking into the darkened infirmary just before curfew. He’d convinced himself he was only going to check on her, that was all. Just to see if it was as bad as Ron and Hermione had said. But then he’d gotten to her curtain and she laid there, so still and peaceful, asleep in the moonlight cast through the window, and then he thought that it might be alright if he sat down for a moment. Just a moment to really see her, to really make sure she was okay. One moment had turned to another and soon he’d found himself sitting quietly for over an hour, just watching her sleep.

He heard the clock strike somewhere in the distance shaking him out of his silent reverie, telling him it was eleven o’clock and he cursed himself quietly. How had it become so late? He stood silently, preparing to leave when he noticed her sleeping expression had changed from one of peacefulness to one of fear. Laylani’s soft features were twisted in fright and her body began to twitch as small whimpers escaped her lips.

Harry watched her, conflicted in how he felt. On one hand, he wanted nothing more than to pick her up, hold her in his arms and soothe her fears; on the other, he enjoyed her in pain, thinking of how much pain she’d caused him. He walked slowly towards her, getting close enough to notice that she’d begun to cry in her sleep. Before he could stop himself or even realize what he was doing, Harry found himself brushing her tears away.

Just as quickly he became aware of himself again, pulling his hand away quickly as if he’d been burnt. Damn it! How could he find himself to be tender with her when she’d ripped his heart to shreds and ground her heel in the shards? And damn her, too! How had she managed to put him under her spell without even trying, without even being awake for it? And while he was at it damn him as well, because while he looked at her he could feel the anger and the hurt slipping away and he reached out to touch her again.

Suddenly she cried out a loud ‘No!’ in her sleep, which made him withdraw his hand quickly.

Suddenly, the sound of pounding footsteps moving at a rapid pace filled the infirmary. Before Harry could react, the curtain was ripped aside to reveal a very angry Draco Malfoy. Dangerously so. He looked angrier than Harry had ever seen him. Harry froze, about to stammer out an excuse for being there when he realized Malfoy’s eyes weren’t focused on him but beyond him; he was still under the invisibility cloak.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Draco had never been so relieved in all his life. She was having a nightmare... that was all. She wasn’t being attacked, wasn’t being abducted, just having a nightmare. He let out an audible sigh of relief. He closed the curtain behind him, effectively cutting off Harry’s chance of escaping undetected, leaving him trapped until the curtain was either opened again or they fell asleep.

Draco crossed over to the bed and shook her gently by the shoulder. She woke up with a small start, her fists immediately attacking whoever dared to lay hands on her. Her breaths came in heavy pants as she muttered inarticulate cries of fear and anger at her supposed attacker. Draco quickly caught hold of her wrists.

“Lani, it was just a dream. Just a nightmare, love.” She ceased her struggles and her eyes slowly came into focus.

“Draco?” He let out a bit of a laugh. She sounded genuinely unsure.

“The one and only.” Draco let go of her hands and she lowered them to her sides, looking sheepish.

“Sorry about that.”

“Not at all. Another nightmare?”

“As always.” she said with a small frown.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She bit her lower lip and shook her head, leaving Draco a bit miffed. She usually always told him about her bad dreams, sometimes even waking him up at ungodly hours to tell him. What had changed?

“Oh. Alright then.” They sat in a silence so uncomfortable even the invisible Harry felt it. After a few moments Draco spoke, if only to fill the void.

“Um, I see you got a card since supper.” He picked up the hand-made Get Well card sitting on the side table and flipped it open. It was the standard ‘Get Well’ shtick: Miss you, love you, feel better, blah, blah, blah. It was the end that caught his attention.

***

With Love,
Ron & Hermione

***

“So, Granger and Weasley were here.” Laylani looked up at him, and a very small but excited smile spread across her lips.

“Yes,” she said her voice full of repressed glee. “And guess what? They were holding hands!” Not that she thought for a minute Draco would care, but she’d been so pleased about it that she had to tell somebody, even if it was him. As expected, her fiancé made his usual sarcastic remarks.

“How fascinating.” he said dryly.

Harry found this bit of news fascinating. Since when had his friends started seeing each other in any kind of romantic light? Laylani giggled.

“You’re just jealous because no one loves you.” she laughed with a bit-back grin. Draco smirked.

“Actually, as I recall, someone happens to loves me very much.” He leaned in to kiss her but at the very last moment she ducked away.

“I can’t.” she said gloomily. “Still infectious.”

“Right,” he said with a growl. “Damn it Laylani, the minute you’re well….” Laylani grinned.

“I’m all yours.” She shifted over, moving away from him and pulled back the covers.

“Until then,” she said, “climb in?” Draco was just about to remove his shoes and join her when he paused.

“Lani, I really should go. You need to rest.” The invisible Harry Potter was surprised to say the least; Draco Malfoy showing concern for anyone else’s welfare but his own? There had to be some kind of catch, some reason why. Malfoy was not selfless.

“Please? Just for a little while.” He deliberated a moment and then relented.

“Alright, five minutes but then I’m going to go.” She smiled.

“Okay.” He removed his shoes then took his place next to her, putting one arm around her as he did so. She smiled, leaning against his chest.

“How was your day, pet?”

“It sucked.” she grumbled. “I had to take some of the most disgusting potions imaginable. I swear Snape made them taste as vile as possible just for me. Bastard.”

“I’m inclined to agree.” Both Laylani and Harry gaped. Draco had always admired Snape, or at least respected him which was saying a lot for Malfoy.

“Really? What could have ever come between you and your precious Head of House?”

‘Oh nothing,’ thought Draco bitterly, ‘He’s just one of the many psychopaths who tried to kill you and now is making me choose between everything I’ve ever known and you.’ He said nothing to the effect though. She needn’t be troubled by these things.

“He’s just…not the man I thought he was.”

“Oh.” Laylani was at a loss for words. Draco looked and sounded so unhappy and perhaps a bit perturbed as well. What bothered her most is that she couldn’t think of anything to say to comfort him. She hated Snape, the way he treated her, or didn’t treat her more specifically, for no reason at all. But Draco seemed just so lost at that moment that she had to say something.

“Don’t worry Dragon,” she said, trying to make her voice sound as comforting as his had always been to her. “I’m sure everything will come ‘round.”

While that didn’t really comfort him, Draco could at least appreciate the effort. He smiled down at her and placed a soft kiss to her forehead.

“Of course it will, love.” She smiled back at him warmly.

“Tell me about your day. It’s bound to be much more interesting than mine.”

“I doubt it.” he said dryly, “It was just more of the usual. Class, Quidditch, meetings, hall duty. Nothing special.”

“Tell me about it anyway.”

“Um, well classes were…fine. We brewed a healing salve in Potions, and Longbottom managed to not only melt his cauldron but melt it through his table. It was really rather impressive.” Laylani giggled. Neville was a sweet boy but he was hopelessly lost when it came to Potions and, well, most anything really. Draco continued.

“Quidditch went well. I really think we have a chance at the Quidditch Cup. If we win this next match against Ravenclaw, we’ll be guaranteed a place in the finals.”

“I know you will, Draco.” Harry laughed to himself. Every year Slytherin went up against Gryffindors for the Quidditch Cup, and every year they lost.

“I had a meeting with Granger about the upcoming prefects meeting and -”

“Draco? Sorry to interrupt, but can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“What does ‘mudblood’ mean?” Of all the things he had expected his girl to ask, that was not it. Harry waited. This should be good.

“I, er… Where did you hear that, Lani?” She blushed, but was determined to find out what Narcissa had called Hermione.

“Well, when your mother came by to plan the wedding I was telling her about my new friends.” Draco could easily see where this was going. “And anyway, I told her about Hermione, that she was Head Girl and all, and well, she called Hermione ‘mudblood’ and then she wouldn’t tell me what it meant.” She looked to him expectantly.

“Well, love, it means…It’s a term for witches or wizards born from muggle parents. A…derogatory term.” Her brow furrowed.

“Oh….Derogatory how?”

“It means, literally that is, ‘dirty blood.’” She frowned, still looking confused.

“Well, that’s stupid. What difference does muggle parents make? I mean, magic is magic isn’t it?” Harry held back a snort of laughter that threatened to give him away. This was pure gold.

“Um, it’s not that simple.”

“Why not? Why can’t it be? What else is there?” Draco fumbled for answers, much to Harry’s delight.

“Well, there’s pureblood. That’s what you and I are, love. It means we come from lineage of all wizards and witches, without being tainted by muggle blood.”

“Tainted?”

“Um, yes. The general idea is that muggleborns are inferior to purebloods.” She rolled her eyes.

“Well, that’s ridiculous. How can they call Hermione inferior when she’s the smartest, most talented witch ever to come out of Hogwarts?” Draco couldn’t come up with the answer. Since Hermione had saved Laylani from Pansy’s wrath, he’d come to see her as more than just ‘mudblood.’ She was indeed a very talented witch, though he would never admit that out loud; she was still a nosy little bint who was too damned mouthy for her own good.

“You make a good point, love.” That was all he was going to say about the matter. Any more would involve thinking about things that he knew he had no answers for. At least, not yet. “So, you never did get ‘round to telling me what you and Mum decided.”

“Oh, right. Of course.” He was grateful she didn’t push the subject. “Could you pass me those magazines, please?”

Draco reached over to the side table and lifted the hefty stack of magazines from the table and felt something on the bottom of the pile, too thin to be a magazine, fall out of his fingers. He put the stack down next to her and looked back to the table.

It was a letter, unopened. It was addressed to her in familiar handwriting. The elegant script of his father. Laylani peered around him to see what he was looking at. Harry watched her face flicker through at least a dozen emotions within the space of three seconds. Worry, fear, anger, confusion and others that he couldn’t put a name to.

“That - That came late this afternoon. I just haven’t gotten around to, um, opening it yet.”

“I see.” He set the letter back down before he was overtaken by the urge to rip it apart. What the hell was that bastard doing, writing her letters? Was he trying to traumatize her even more? Merlin… Laylani cleared her throat and he turned back to her with a deep breath.

“I didn’t tell anyone about this because I didn’t think I was going to get it, but Narcissa said it was okay…” His interest piqued, Harry silently crept across the room to her side of the bed and looked over her shoulder. She opened the magazine to a well-worn page and showed Draco the picture of what was to be her wedding dress. The thought sent a little thrill of giddiness through her.

“This is my dress.” Draco looked at the picture. It was nice. Beautiful, really. She would look good in it. He said as much and she smiled even more. Harry, for what may be the only time in his life, agreed with the Ferret King.

“Thank you.” She spent the next few minutes showing him various magazines with other pictures of the things she and his mother had decided on, getting his opinion. Suddenly she stopped short, and turned to face the wall behind her, looking right through the invisible Harry suspiciously.

“What’s wrong, love?” Laylani placed one hand on her shoulder, rubbing it unsteadily and then turned back to look at Draco.

“N-nothing. I just felt a bit of a draft, that’s all.” Harry held his breath and backed away, careful not to disturb anything.

“We had best keep you warm then.” Draco said, pulling the blankets up around her. “I think it’s time for me to leave, Princess.” She frowned slightly, but he was right. It was late and as much as she wanted him to stay, he needed to sleep.

“Alright. Will you come back tomorrow morning?”

“Of course.” he answered, getting out of the bed. “Do want me to bring you anything?” She blushed and grinned shyly.

“Another pair of your pajamas?”

Draco did something that Harry thought right up until that moment was completely, utterly and in every conceivable way impossible. Draco Malfoy, The Amazing Bouncing Ferret, Snarky Son Of A Bitch, and Pureblooded Bastard… laughed. A real, good-humored laugh. Draco put on his shoes and robe.

“Like them, do you?”

“They’re comfortable…and well, they smell like you do.”

“Like what?” he asked curiously. Malfoys were known for many things, but this was the first time he had heard of any scent. She pursed her lips and thought about that.

“Like sandalwood and vanilla and spice…and…I don’t know. Just ‘Draco’.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“A very good thing.” Draco kissed the tip of her nose.

“Alright, but if I end up having to sleep naked, I’ll have you know it’s you I’ll blame.”

“I’m willing to accept that.”

Harry waited impatiently by the closed curtain, just a millimeter away from getting out of the room, out of the infirmary. He really had no desire to see lovey-dovey moments between his adversary and the girl who’d rejected him. Who the hell cared who smelled like what and was wearing whose pajamas? If he’d been paying attention, he would have noticed that he didn’t. At least, not nearly as much as he would have in January.

Malfoy picked up the magazines strewn about her bed and placed them on her side table, then the Get Well card he’d left at the foot of her bed. He reread its contents before placing it back on the table.

“So I take it Potter didn’t join the happy couple on their visit?” Harry watched Laylani’s smile fade.

“No.” she answered quietly. “Harry still hates me.”

“Maybe that’s for the best, love.”

“Maybe you’re right.” She didn’t know what else to say.

Harry’s eyes went wide. Oh, that’s how it was, hmm? His softening for her dissolved and his anger felt reaffirmed.

Draco kissed her cheek one last time and headed for the curtain. His hand grabbed the edge of it to pull it over and leave when he stopped, leaving Harry to stop short beside him, narrowly avoiding bumping into him.

Draco turned around slowly to look at her as she smiled naively to him. She would be safe here, right? Voldemort wouldn’t dare try to attack her within the school’s walls? Of course not. He wouldn’t dare try to breach the school’s wards… or would he? Until twenty-four hours ago, Draco had been under the idyllic delusion that nothing and no one could harm them here, but his own father had managed to attack her on the school’s very grounds? The next step would naturally be to attack her inside the school.

Quickly, Draco strode back to her and took the sides of her face in his hands.

“Fuck it.” he breathed and kissed her lips, hard and thoroughly. She could feel his thumbs gently trace circles as far as they could over her cheekbones and let herself melt into him, despite him risking infection. It seemed almost as soon as the kiss started, it was over. Draco pulled only inches away, looking intently into her eyes with his own, nearly black with solemnity.

“I will never, ever let anything happen to you again.” Then without another word he left, with Harry hurrying to follow. Harry spent a moment deliberating if he should follow Malfoy to wherever he was headed next, but his weariness won out; he did have Quidditch practice in the morning.

Draco stalked out of the infirmary, his strides purposeful and deliberate to where they were taking him. His mind was made up. He wouldn’t, couldn’t risk losing her. Whether it was true or not, Draco simply could not run the risk of her being taken from him again. It wasn’t simply the fact that he needed her, though he did; they needed each other. What was a knight without his fair maiden or a princess without her handsome hero? So he would have to be that knight and hero and make the right choice over what was easy and what was familiar.

He entered Snape’s private quarters without knocking or waiting for permission. The professor looked up to him from where he sat in front of the fire, brandy in hand.

“Alright. You’ve got me. Whatever it is, I’m in.”