The Lion and the Serpent

As soon as the bedroom door closed behind Harry, Draco fled the quarters. He ran through the hallways, the images of the faint, faded scars still fresh before his eyes.



Harry Potter, the savior of the wizarding world, who came from the family of living legends, had been mutilated, by his own relatives, Draco thought, tasting bile in his mouth. He couldn\'t understand why it affected him so much, almost physically, to encounter those old, faint scars, so gratuitous and meaningless. More meaningless than the demands of the bond, more meaningless than the violence of the mob, more meaningless than the agonies Draco\'s father had subjected him to. There was no reason behind those scars, no purpose to them. They just were.



Draco was walking now, shivering a little, unable to compose himself. And then, he found himself approaching the Slytherin dormitory, and slowed his pace. He hadn\'t even noticed that he ended up running to Calixa\'s dorm. He paused in front of her door. It\'s only been one day since she and her group were apprehended, but it felt like eternity had passed.



It was past midnight, and he stood in front of the door. Then finally, he knocked, just once, very quietly.



“Come in,” her voice said instantly.



He entered, and paused again, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dark. She was sitting at her study desk, alone, her legs crossed, and he saw a narrow metal ring around her ankle.



“Look. We wear matching jewelry,” she said with a small smile, nodding to her anklet, and Draco\'s collar.



"You got off easy," he said bluntly.



"I know," she said. "I am actually quite surprised not to find myself in Azkaban. But of course, he\'s a Gryffindor. I am sure he favors a more... hands-on approach to vengeance."



Draco looked at her sadly. He wanted to tell her so much, to try to explain so much.



She glanced at him defensively.



"I know what you are thinking," she said. "Why am I so hard on him, why don\'t I recognize what\'s good and noble about him. Am I right?"



"Kind of," Draco managed to say tiredly.



"Because none of it matters," Calixa said flatly. "It doesn\'t matter how much he\'d suffered, or how much he loved his puppy when he was 7 years old, or how sentimental he gets after he hurts you. He\'s dangerous now. Maybe he doesn\'t even realize it himself, but I do. I\'m a Slytherin. I come from a family with a long history of involvement with Dark Magic. Believe me, I know a vessel of darkness when I see one."



Draco bowed his head.



"It\'s late," Draco said. "I should go to bed."



“Good night, then,” Calixa murmured.



Draco walked away, without saying goodbye.



When he returned to the quarters, he saw light under Harry\'s door. He stood in front of the door timidly, and then he knocked, once. The door opened on its own under his light touch, and he entered, hesitantly trespassing into Harry\'s private territory.



He saw that Harry had fallen asleep, apparently for the first time in many months. He was on lying on his back, breathing quietly and evenly. There was a large book across his knees, with serpentine designs on the pages of it. The depiction of his Mark, the one that Hermione had shown to them before was there too, and Draco\'s curiosity got better of him. Stepping quietly, Draco circled around the bed, and leaned over the book, reading.



The Mark of Promise had its own desires and needs. The desire of this Mark, he read, was to suffer; to find pleasure in pain and powerlessness at the hands of whoever owned it. Perhaps that explained his now frequent outbursts of defiance, and involuntary attempts to provoke his owner. Draco stifled a groan. Just when he thought it couldn\'t get any more complicated, he thought resignedly.



His hand reached instinctively to his collar, and he stood silently, deep in thought.



The bond and the Mark, two driving forces in his life, would sometimes urge in unison, and sometimes, pull in different directions; the bond, urging obedience to his owner\'s will, and the Mark, desiring suffering at his hand. And then, of course, there was the dim vision of the Mirror, the desire that lay underneath all else, the desire for warmth and forgiveness.



Draco knelt next to the bed, and placed his head near Harry\'s hand. And then, seemingly without waking, Harry put his scarred hand on Draco\'s hair.



“Draco,” Harry murmured, without opening his eyes.



“I didn\'t mean to wake you,” Draco whispered. “I saw the light under your door.”



”It\'s dark out there,” Harry said absently, as if talking in his sleep. His fingers ran through Draco\'s hair, sending a current of pure pleasure down Draco\'s neck and back. Draco held still, absorbing every nuance of Harry\'s light, absent touch with his entire body.



And suddenly, Harry\'s gentleness became almost too much to bear. Had he forgotten that Draco killed his best friend? And what would all of Harry\'s friends think – the Weasleys, the students.. the entire Gryffindor, the entire world...”



In response to Draco\'s unspoken thoughts, Harry\'s hand clenched his hair.



“Haven\'t forgotten. Forgiven, yes... If that\'s even the right word....”



Absently, as if telling a story, Harry spoke softly.



“You didn\'t kill Ron alone, Draco. We all killed him. You did, by being angry. Hermione did, by convincing him that the world was a safer, better place than it really was. And I did, but being ... irresistible.”



Harry\'s grip on Draco\'s hair lightened, as he murmured softly, dreamily:



“And what do I care what the rest of them think? It\'s just the three of us now left now. So what if they blame us for sleeping in the light, when it\'s dark out there...”



Harry\'s disfigured hand continued to caress Draco hair, and then, his face, wiping the tears that were now flowing openly from Draco\'s eyes, washing over the faded scar on Harry\'s hand. Blissfully and guiltily, Draco found himself drifting off to sleep, still kneeling in front of Harry\'s bed. The last thing he felt was Harry\'s arms lifting him off the floor, and wrapping around him again.



---------------------------------To Be Continued -----------------------



Emily Says:

So there, I just finished this chapter a few minutes ago. I\'m so honored you like my characters, enough to talk about them, and to them : )

I am planning a happy(ish) ending. Hoping that the story will let me make one, as it unfolds.