Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with the Harry Potter universe, J. K Rowling might.
Friday (early early morning)
Draco's shoulder was shoved down, making him lie flat on his back, a hand pushing down on his bare chest. He opened his eyes, blinking a lot. Potter was pinning Draco to the bed, Potter's green eyes wild, and the messiness of hair truly reaching a new height. Draco's heart pounded, and he found himself suddenly very awake, for he had been in true slumber.
"What time is it?" Draco asked, voice still rough from sleep. Potter simply smiled, eyes downcast. Draco's gaze went to the doorway to see Dumbledore, other faces and murmurs came from the hallway behind him.
"2:17 in the morning." The Headmaster of Hogwarts answered pleasantly, with none of the tiredness expected in his voice to help indicate the time.
"Wow, I've been asleep a long time." Draco muttered, trying to move, just to get embarrassed because that made his body rub up against Potter slightly. Potter was just focusing on his own hand.
"Yes you have, we've been very worried." Mrs. Weasley's voice could be heard.
"Why were people worried, what's going on?" Potter asked. Draco looked at his soul mate, who was significantly calmer then when Draco was awoken.
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure you have to answer the 'what's going on?' question first." Draco snapped, but he lacked bite. Potter got off of Draco and sat on the side of the bed, one hand still resting on Draco's chest. Draco sat up in the bed, blankets around his waist; Potters hand followed his movement, staying on his chest.
"I, um… I had a bad dream, that's all." Potter said, looking down, and for the first time since Draco had awoken Potter stopped touching him.
"That's all?" Draco asked, watching Potter look towards the doorway, but Draco decidedly kept his eyes on Potter.
"I… It's complicated." Potter said, regaining eye contact.
"Okay." Draco said, shrugging, pretending he did not care that he was not being told what was happening. Potter put his hand back onto Draco's chest, and Draco realized that Potter was specifically putting his hand over Draco's heart.
"Can I stay here?" Potter asked towards the doorway.
"No." Draco answered quickly and loudly.
"What?" Potter exclaimed, standing slowly and turning towards Draco. Draco didn't speak; he just lay back down on the bed, rolling onto his side to be turned away from Potter. Moments passed as Draco tried to listen, but realized the pounding of his own heart was impairing his sense of hearing. Draco could feel Potter sit next to him on the bed, and could hear the door shut. Draco wondered if they were alone.
"When Voldemort attacked me as a baby, he accidentally made a connection between us through my scar. Last year he exploited it, and he figured out how to do it again, he can give me bad dreams, that's all." As Potter spoke he put his hand on Draco's shoulder, thumb making tiny circles.
"That is terrifying." Draco said with a look of horror, turning towards Potter. Draco suddenly wondered if he had brushed his soul mates hand away before turning, or if the turn itself had been what moved Potter's hand. Potter's hand swiftly went through its owner's hair before reaching out to rest again on Draco, feeling for the heartbeat it rested upon.
"Yeah." Potter agreed, a gentle smile resting on his face.
"What happened in the nightmare?" Draco's eyes were wide as he asked, tone tentative.
"I ripped your heart out with my bare hands." Potter's hands slowly and deliberately ghosted over the skin above Draco's heart, voice remained steady. Draco could feel the pace of his heartbeat increase at Potter's admission, and wondered whether Potter noticed.
"I think I've done that to you in my dreams before too." Draco joked, with a lighthearted smirk that accidentally turned into a smile as Potter's lips curled up.
"Do you mind if I stay a few more minutes?" Potter asked, his hand again fully resting upon Draco's chest.
"I changed my mind, just stay." Draco sounded more whiney and begging then he would have liked. Fortunately this made Potter give a genuine grin, although unfortunately that made Draco's heartbeat speed up again. This time Potter chuckled at the uneven rapid pace of Draco's heartbeat, and Draco squirmed, and then they were kissing. It started off with the possibility of going somewhere, but soon they were just lying next to each other, keeping physical contact without action.
"Hey, I got to go tell them I'm staying, I'll be right back." Potter's voice was gruff, and Draco nodded slightly in response. Potter walked out, and Draco found himself alone.
Draco went over what Potter had said, coming to a disturbing conclusion: The Dark Lord knew that Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were soul mates. Why would You-Know-Who put Draco's murder in Potter's head if the Lord didn't know? Draco's father would find out soon, unless he already knew, Dumbledore had said everyone would know imminently.
Draco was Harry Potter's soul mate, his importance once tied to his family now fell on Potter. Potter's mere existence put a huge target on Draco, a target set out for his father and the Dark Lord; the two people Draco truly feared the most.
Draco could feel his stomach clench, turning into a heavy and tight feeling. He rolled until his face was firmly planted into the pillow, before giving a long sigh. He knew he had an entire lifetime of moral ambiguity to mentally wade through, and yet as he lay there in fear his mind was stuck on the boy-who-lived.
Potter was the epitome of contradiction in Draco's mind. Draco had made a gesture of trust to Potter by choosing his side of the war. That's what Draco did, he chose.
Unfortunately just because Draco gave his trust to Potter, that did not mean Potter had earned it, and just because Draco chose a side in the war did not mean he actually believed in it. He wanted to though, and want is mighty important. Draco wanted to trust Potter, but he realized that does not mean Potter wanted Draco's trust. Draco rolled onto his back, letting himself breath freely again.
"Do you routinely overdose on sleeping potions?" Potter accused from the doorway, slamming the door behind him. Draco was hit with a reminder that trust went two ways, but the concept of Potter trusting him was laughable. Draco sat up.
"Routinely? Yes. Often? No." Draco clarified, although unhelpfully since the sneer at the edges of his voice and mouth was apparent.
"Don't be a smartass Malfoy, what's going on?"
"That fucking werewolf is making shit up, nothing is 'going on'." Draco defended, desperately trying to not confront any of the things he was feeling.
"I hate you." Potter spit out, but even as the words were leaving his mouth Draco thought he saw Potters eyes widen in surprise at his own admission. Potter sputtered for a moment, before stuttering out: "I didn't, I mean…."
"I hate you too." Draco looked down to say this, and didn't look up again even after he spoke. Only after he spoke Draco realized he had had leverage before he evened the playing field by admitting to still hate Potter.
"Maybe we're not ready." Potter had completely calmed down, his voice now quiet and thoughtful.
"I don't think we're ever going to be ready." Draco looked up, eyes meeting Potters eyes. Draco did not know if that was honestly what he thought, but the words did not sound like a lie since it is how he felt.
"It has just been fast coming at us, we will get there." Potter demanded stubbornly, maybe trying to convince himself along with Draco. Potter gave a heavy sigh, sitting himself on the bed next to his soul mate.
"In the meantime we could distract each other from all the hatred…" Draco mused, chewing on his bottom lip after he spoke. Potter blushed phenomenally.
"If we keep talking, we just need to work at getting to know each other, it hasn't been very long…diligence…constant vigilance? Er, I mean, focus…" Potter rambled, not making very much sense to Draco by the end.
"When you think about it there wouldn't be moral compromise, since it's not wrong to do it with your soul mate." Draco reasoned earnestly.
"Malfoy how can you want us to have sex after saying you-you hate me?"
"You said you hated me too." Draco defended lamely.
"Exactly, we have to focus on the truth, and not get distracted by easy temptations." Potter stated adamantly.
"No Potter. We are not ready, you said it yourself, can we please just stop trying to force it? Easy temptations are what get me through the day at this point. You want me to be truthful? Honestly, I just wanna do it, I want to feel you inside of me." Draco explained altogether more sincere than usual.
"Wow, er, um, that sounds, well that actually sounds really… it's not that I don't like what you're going for, I mean I'd be into it, er, I mean… I really think we need to talk about, er, stuff." Potter barely got the words out, his face, ears, and neck decorated in a dramatically bright red blush.
"How about we talk about a safety word and some fantasies?" Draco suggested, he meant it jokingly, and grinned wide. Draco felt this mind track paying off, and he ignored the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that reminded him of what he was hiding from Potter. Like how Draco's mother was such a mess, Draco wondered if she was doing better, he wondered if she knew what was going on, he wondered if anyone was paying attention to her wellbeing. He then worried about if, or how, she thought of him.
"Malfoy!" Potter exclaimed, hand raking through his hair aggressively.
"What?" Draco used the most innocent sounding voice he could, giving Potter a wide-eyed look.
"Why'd you take sleeping potion?" Potter asked, voice heavy and steady.
"I just did, okay?" Draco groaned out. He could not imagine Potter not being able to deal with a situation; he doubted Potter even understood the concept of vices.
"I can't have someone else die on me, you just…can't."
"I'm not going to die from a little sleeping potion." Draco defended adamantly.
"This isn't the first time I have worried that you are… You just, can you please take better care of yourself?" Potter stammered asking. Draco considered telling Potter how much worse last summer had been for him, how he had actually taken such bad care of himself that he probably had done lasting impact.
"I can try." Draco whispered, eyes downcast.
"Will you?" Potter's voice held complete speculation.
"I dunno." Draco gave a smile as they made eye contact.
"It's okay, just…." Potter gave a heavy sigh before finishing with: "try."
"Yeah…" Draco muttered. He put his hand onto Potter's chest, where he guessed his soul mates heart might lay. "Take your shirt off." Draco complained, tugging at Potter's shirt, which was soon laying in a crumpled mess on the floor. Draco had lost the train of thought he had had about feeling Potter's heartbeat, the way Potter had felt his, and instead pulled their bodies together, lips connecting. Potter pushed Draco onto the bed, tongue moving aggressively into Draco's parted lips. Draco laid back, eyes closed, in what would be relaxation aside from the excitement that caused Draco to buck his hips forward. Potter rolled off of Draco, ending the kissing and touching, to lie on his back on the far side of the bed.
"What?" Draco asked indignantly, voice heavy and panting. He rolled towards Potter, stopping once he was on his side facing his soul mate.
"We can't." Potter's voice was gruff.
"What?" Draco asked genuinely this time in confusion.
"It's one thing not to be in love yet. We said we hated each other Malfoy." Potter ended with a loud sigh. Draco was suddenly hit with the importance of what Granger had told him. Potter called Draco by his last name, and Draco was surprised to find it wrong. Draco was not bothered that they hated each other, in fact them saying it was somewhat, and oddly, comforting. Draco was bothered that Potter had not called him by his last name to be rude, rather Potter had done it because what else would he say.
"I hate you Harry." The words fell from Draco's lips as if he was parched and they were water. He had been unable to say Potter's first name to Granger, and yet now as Draco expressed his hate it felt natural.
"Don't call me that." Potter spoke abruptly; startled.
"Alright. Sorry." Draco said with a nod.
"I'm sorry too." Draco knew those were the words Potter said, and vainly wished he could decipher the tone in which Potter said them. Draco blinked stupidly for a moment.
"I'm sorry for being all sexual before too." Draco muttered not making eye contact.
"Why are you sorry for that?" Potter asked blushing again half way through the question.
"Well… I… I do not mean to pressure you? Or, well, make you think I am unsatisfied…" Draco paused and questioned inappropriately.
"Unsatisfied? I did not think about that at all..." Potter said, giving a thoughtful look.
"We are horrible at communicating." Draco realized he didn't think before he said that, he wondered if that was ironic or if he was forcing it. Potter laughed; at first a chuckle, then the noise got loud, ending with him containing himself. Draco's eyebrows shot up.
"Absolutely fucking dreadful." Potter agreed with wording that made Draco's heart skip a beat. The irregularity in his own heartbeat made him think of the lack of physical contact they had with each other. An unchangeable thought jumped upon Draco's brain, and it made him squirm. The thought was a declaration of an infatuation. Draco did hate Potter, maybe he always would, but he definitely also fancied Potter. Draco liked Potter. He really actually honestly did. He liked his soul mate. He didn't understand why, Potter was being as annoying as ever, but Draco could feel that intangible romantic tingle. Draco lay on his back, looking up to the ceiling, face blank but holding the energy of a smile.
"We are going to be okay." Potter muttered conclusively, hand resting on Draco's chest, thumb brushing against skin.
"You say that now." Draco whispered.
"Honestly, no matter what I say, no matter what, I am not going to let anything happen to you." Potter was serious, declaring it as oath.
"What about you?" Draco's voice came out clear, although smaller sounding then he wanted. He may admit feelings for his soul mate to himself, but he found little desire to tell Potter, and held more plans to lie about it then to volunteer the truth.
"I don't know, and honestly that's not what matters. I want you to understand that you're mine—my soul mate—and I plan, I will, keep you safe." Potter was serious, and although the words held the possibility of romance Potter said them to himself, in an introverted manner.
"If you are supposed to protect me then I will require you to have a level of safety as well, my self interest wants your well being." Draco reasoned, finding comfort in simple logical thought.
"There is a war going on, I will fight." Potter concluded sternly.
"And you will win, and I'll still be yours." Draco brushed off with a shrug.
"You don't have to say that." Potter sounded slightly annoyed, sighing heavily.
"I am yours." Draco voiced quietly.
"I meant you don't have to say I'll win."
"Oh." Then there was the realization that liking Potter did not mean Draco actually liked Potter in a non-romantic way. Draco did not like Potter, but Draco did like Potter as well. Draco felt strangely like a hypocrite.
"I'm just going to sleep, we can talk in the morning." Potter mumbled. Draco nodded.
"Okay. Goodnight." Draco murmured, tentatively pretending to adjust the blanket.
"Hey, come here." Potter muttered back gruffly, arm reaching around Draco's waist. Potter pulled and shifted so he was spooning his soul mate. Draco put his hand over Potter's, which was still on Draco's chest, and squeezed.
"I'm sorry we fight." Draco whispered.
"Stop apologizing." Potter quietly demanded back before kissing at the side of Draco's head. Potter fearlessly cuddled until sleep took his consciousness. Draco felt no want to sleep, neither physical or mental, yet he stayed in his soul mate's embrace for a long time. He could feel Potter's breathing, and sometimes when he quieted his mind he felt as though he could feel Potter's heart beating with his. Eventually Draco found himself restless, siting up, away from Potter, before he even thought it through. Draco pulled on a shirt and robe, leaving the room.
Draco was barefoot, stepping down the stairs as silently as he could, fingers lightly brushing against the banister on the way down. Upon opening the door at the bottom of the staircase the warmth of light washed over his body, a reminder that he could be back in bed with Potter. Realizing he had frozen in place, hand still on the door; Draco stepped into the room, door closing behind him.
"Come sit. Would you like some tea?" Dumbledore asked, sitting with Tonks and Lupin at the table. Much of the room was less lit, but they were clearly the only people in the room.
"Yes please." Draco spoke quietly as he sat, a chair away from Tonks.
"Want some booze?" Tonks suggested, pouring something into the tea Dumbledore handed Draco, the steaming cup he held between his hands, shoulders tense.
"How are you this morning?" Dumbledore asked, voice tired, distant.
"Terrible." Draco blurted how he felt, raw. He gulped the drink, it burned in multiple ways, but Draco gulped again
"What is the problem? Is your health alright?" Dumbledore asked, eyes focused, body jumping forward in sudden awareness. Draco smirked.
"No, I mean yes. I'm sorry, I meant to say I am fine this morning, how are you?" Draco recovered, engaging with a relaxed smile.
"I must admit I am a bit on edge, however the day is coming to an end and it is time to relax." Dumbledore explained, tiredness showing on his voice.
"It's been a long day." Lupin added.
"I just began a new day." Draco commented, sipping at his tea.
"I love that. You're beginning a day while I end mine; that's a beautiful thing." Dumbledore said, returning to his usual look of whimsy.
"We were just talking about how Albus interprets everything as a romantic wonder of life, I think that's a fantastic way to see the world." Tonks commented, making Draco realize that she had changed her hair to match the color of Draco's. Changing your appearance with magic was a subject that Pansy had given Draco many rants in, and Draco had always looked down on those who relied on magic for their looks. Now he found himself envying Tonks for her abilities, he felt self-conscious, wanting to find a mirror or receive affirmation. He brought the tea to his face.
"Unfortunately the reality often cannot live up." Lupin's voice was gruff, face tired.
"Maybe not for you, my life has been a little too wondrous lately." Draco complained.
"Mine could be more." Tonks wished aloud, glare shooting at Lupin.
"If you want to talk about this we can talk about this, but your cousin will be undoubtedly agree with me." Lupin whispered to Tonks, the only other sounds in the room were the Headmaster sipping his tea, and the paintings mellow shuffling, neither of which obscured the quiet words being spoken.
"What?" Draco asked leaning forward, hooked on the conversation. Dumbledore grinned.
"I am completely comfortable telling him, it's you that made me promise not to tell people willy-nilly." Tonks threatened.
"That is because people will talk." Lupin sounded more tired then he had yet.
"I am the one whose reputation would be hurt." Tonks tried to defend.
"And I could not live with that." Lupin's voice was quiet, sad.
"Well you will have to, it's my choice. He's my cousin anyways." Tonks reasoned, but also seemed to ask. Draco nodded, trying to be helpful, and curious as hell. Lupin noticed Draco, and the werewolf smiled nodding himself. Tonks giggled, turning her body to Draco, "I have a crush on Remus" she whispered.
Draco had a solid second of excitement, and then he sighed with feelings of what was becoming normal confusion. He did not know, or particularly care about his cousin, but his dislike because of her blood status would have to be put aside since Potter also was impure. Being a werewolf was not a partisan idea; it was unconditionally changing and dangerous. Lupin had been an extraordinary professor, Draco freely admitted that to himself, but werewolf means your blood has been stained and danger follows you.
"I don't know if I really know you that well." Draco muttered, drinking his tea and looking down. Trying to not interact since he had no positives to contribute.
"I, of course, know it can never happen." Lupin added.
"I think your excuses are bullshit." Tonks countered.
"What do you think Draco?" Dumbledore asked. Draco swallowed nervously; he really did not want to say something wrong.
"Well I have had a different education around werewolves then you may agree with, but the way Potter talks about you, well just, your reluctance here seems to affirm my upbringing, and discredit Potter's defense of you."
"Ah ha! What a fascinating point." Dumbledore exclaimed.
"What did Mr. Potter say in my defense?" Lupin asked. Draco wondered why Lupin referred to Potter formally. Dumbledore got up, going to a large bag on the other side of the room.
"He implied you are safe." Draco answered.
"Do you think he is safe right now to be around? It is not a full moon." Tonks argued.
"I don't want to talk about what I think."
"You sound like a scaredy-cat, but then again you are here voluntarily in the same room as a werewolf. You're a hypocrite." Tonks taunted.
"I am a hypocrite about many things, but not this. I am scared to be in the same room with him. I am just also scared to be in the same room with my soul mate, and I'm a bit weary of you two as well. Thinking someone is unsafe is relative." Draco shrugged.
"Weary of me? What the hell does that mean?" Tonks exclaimed.
"Well, you might be more of a risk of moral corruption than anything else." Draco said with a joking edge in his voice, although he supposed he was telling the truth.
"Again what does that mean?" Tonks slurred grinning, leaning forward. Lupin chuckled.
"What the hell are we drinking? This is nasty." Draco jokingly brought it in a different direction, choking down another mouthful.
"Fire Whisky." Tonks brushed off, drinking herself.
"It's actually Whisky of Fire." Lupin corrected, putting the bottle on the table near Draco.
"This is disgusting." Draco muttered as he examined the bottle, and drank more.
"Mr. Malfoy I found the story of The Dragon's Heart, written." Dumbledore cut in, returning to the table with a small worn book.
"From when? What language is it in?" Draco asked, sitting up, interest peaked.
"It's from over three thousand years ago." Dumbledore handed the book to Draco as he spoke. Draco ran his fingers over cloth that was once black, now a faded grey-blue. He gently opened the book, the pages soft and yellow, the words written in a deep green sloppy handwriting. The language looked to be a dark dialect of the old language, Draco found himself able to make bits of it out; the title page had the words "dragon" and "heart".
"An ancient version of the old language, not exactly unexpected for something this old." Draco muttered, shooting his former Headmaster a confused look.
"And a very dark version at that, but get into the story, the sentence structure has so far been out of my reach." The elderly man's voice sounded tired, though lighthearted. Draco flipped forward, finding pages full of foreign writing. The language did seem confusing, but Draco was already seeing patters, rules, he saw the puzzle, and he found himself excited.
"It's almost rune-like, but more eastern in the organizing." Draco gave his vague first impression.
"I have no doubt your father taught you the dark language, but I would like confirmation that my assumption is correct." Dumbledore said, all business. Draco's eyes rolled involuntarily.
"You're not the first to make that assumption, but no, actually I had to spend time in the desert with magic men to learn it. No one was taught it since before the fairy massacre, and the battle of the shadows." Draco rambled, not caring if he was showing off, or just remembering information. His father hardly knew the dark language, although Draco supposed his father was the one who set up his education of it.
"I am surprised you were educated legally." Tonks mumbled into her drink. Draco grinned; feeling smug that he had successfully slipped through a religious loophole and legally learned something dangerous.
"A lot of people have learned it since the fairy wars, there was actually interest sparked in the language for a while." Lupin contributed. Draco groaned in frustration.
"Yeah, except that's bull. My father spread rumors, and got his purest friends, to say that they knew the dark language. It was to scare people, it's a lie, my father was never taught anything but the old language, and then he gave me all these expectations…" Draco trailed off, eyes downcast towards the book, before knocking back the end of his drink.
"Yes, he gave you quite the education." Dumbledore remarked.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Draco looked up, glaring as he spoke.
"It mean's I am tired, and sorry. Good night." Dumbledore apologized directly at Draco, although it was brief Draco found all retorts die in his throat while his breathing quickened.
"I'm getting out of here too." Tonks stated. They rose to the sounds of Lupin's goodnights.
"Your book." Draco outstretched his arm, offering the book to his former Headmaster.
"You hold onto it." Dumbledore suggested, glint in his eyes and quirk of the lips as he turned, leaving with Draco's cousin.
"I hope I do not truly make you feel unsafe at this time, I am supposed to be here for your protection." Lupin's voice was hollow; he smiled yet his face seemed to stay somber.
"Do you have a crush on her as well?" Draco asked, assuming Lupin would know he was talking about Tonks.
"It scares me." Lupin said, giving an ashamed and honest smile.
"What?"
"How much I like her. How much I like her scares me." Lupin admitted, head shaking, but smile never falling from his lips.
"Why? She's the one that should be scared of you!" Draco accidentally accused, although confusion was clear. Tonks should be much more scared of the werewolf than she was, but Draco did not understand what Lupin had to be afraid of.
"Yes, maybe she should. I always worry that because of what I am I will hurt those that are close to me, but, very selfishly, what scares me more than anything is how she makes me feel. She makes me want to be happy—think I deserve happiness. She makes me feel alive, it scares me." Lupin explained. Draco's heart ached with self-hatred as someone that sounded so human saddened him. "Does Mr. Potter scare you?"
"He hates me." Draco almost said yes, diverting from that did not put him on much better ground however.
"Why do you think that?" Lupin looked concerned, surprisingly relieving Draco.
"I'm going to head back upstairs, thanks again for the drink." Draco effectively ended the conversation as he got up.
"Thank you for the words. Have a good night." The kind werewolf spoke, Draco simply nodded, hurrying back to the bedroom.
Draco stood in the middle of the room, staring down at sleeping Potter, sprawled across the bed. Draco sat on the bed, book in hand, he gently laid himself next to his soul mate.
"Hey." Potter mumbled, arm going around Draco to pull their bodies closer together.
"Hey." Draco repeated, relaxing into Potter's warmth.
"No, your shirt needs to be off." Potter, eyes barley open, started pulling at Draco's shirt, yanking harder then was comfortable. Draco sat up, taking off his own shirt, throwing it on the ground, before returning to Potter's embrace. In no time Potter was asleep, and Draco had the book open, fingers running across pages as he tried to find meaning.