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Behind the Green Door	By : thewickednix Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 6279 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. This is made for fun, not profit.

Chapter List
- 1-Part I
- 2-Part II
- 3-Part III
- 4-Part IV
- 5-Part V
- 6-Part VI
- 7-Part VII
- 5
- 6
- 7
Part VI

�What do we do now?� Potter asks, looking longingly at the open cell door. For a second I tense up, thinking he will make a run for it. It takes a minute for me to calm down and realise that though Potter might be irrational, he is not a complete idiot. He knows he wouldn�t make it far.
I get up from the uncomfortable bed, dressing quickly and making a small effort to straighten out my messy hair. �There is nothing we can do, Potter.� I state truthfully.
�You do know I can�t let you out, right?� I look over my shoulder at him as I brush off the dust from my clothes.
�I know,� he says, fighting to make his voice sound light and positive. But I can see through it, see how a shudder goes through his body and he pulls the quilt closer around himself.
�I just-,� I begin, in desperate need to justify myself even though Potter didn�t ask for it. �The Dark Lord would know it was me. He would kill me. He would kill my mother.�
Potter nods quietly, offering me a small smile. I can�t help the deep sigh that escapes me as I wonder how the hell I got here. Never before have I had any qualms about what is right or wrong, about the morality of my decisions.
Well, that is not exactly true. Once before have I had to choose.

�Draco, please let me help you!�
�I don't need your help! I have to do this! I have to kill you... or he's gonna kill me!�

I�m still not sure what I should have done.

*******

I still try to pull myself away. I try to distance myself, convince myself that it�s wrong, it�s despicable, it will get me killed in a most gruesome way.
I know all that. I know that I am gambling with my own life, for Potter, nonetheless. But none of what I try to tell myself changes the fact that when I walk into that room, Potter is there, and he takes my breath away. Like the morning chill he sneaks under my clothes and crawls his way under my skin, leaving my voice of reason stupefied to silence. His clear voice clings in my ears in way that seems to melt away every brick of the wall I have fought so hard to build around myself, and his touch is like a hot flame in the cold, damp dungeon. And at night, when I leave, the ghost of his breath on my skin seems to follow me throughout the hours I am away from him. He is the sun I never thought I needed.
Somehow he manages to make me forget about the possibility of getting caught, and all the horrors that would follow. When I try to remind myself and him about it, he only sniggers, grabbing me by my robes and pulling me close.
�Touch me,� he whispers, his husky voice sending shivers down my spine.
And I always obey.

*******

�Do you recon things could have been different?� Potter asks, his breath ghosting tentatively over my naked chest. �If we had- If this had happened before the war?�
�Don�t kid yourself, Potter,� I state coldly, refusing to be sucked into his desperate illusions, his visions too remote to be mentioned. �Nothing would have happened then, we would sooner have killed each other. Nothing should have happened now, either.�
Potter wraps his arms tighter around me, as if keeping me closer physically will prevent me from pushing him away in my mind. �Hypothetically. You don�t think it would have made a difference?�
�No,� I state truthfully. I was never one able to sugar-coat the truth. �You would still have gone off to be the Boy Hero like Dumbledore wanted you to, and I would still have stayed and fought for the Dark Lord.�
Potter tenses in my arms, though he tries to act natural. He hates me for mentioning his mentor, and despised me even more for bringing forth the issue that always has and always will separate us. Though he asks the questions, he does not want the answers.
I pull him closer, and he compels himself to relax. I despise him for trying to search for some pointless meaningfulness in our situation. He will only be sorely disappointed.
How finding some purpose in this mess would help him in any way is beyond me.
A purpose won�t save his life.

*******
I try to remain on the right side of the bars as much as possible. Reading, writing, doing anything inconspicuous. Just in case. A task significantly compromised by Potter, constantly making lewd comments and giving me inviting glances. It seems that he finds playing chess even more tedious than before now that he can think of something better to do with his time. And I find it hard to deny a dying man's wish.

�I could save you, you know,� Potter interrupts our game one day.
I huff at him in ridicule. �Potter, I don�t think you are in a position to save anyone.�
He frowns. �I mean, if you let me go. The Order can protect you and your mother.�
He has no idea how deep his words cut me. I know that he fully believes what he says to be true. And perhaps he is right in the sense that he could provide Mother and me with a sanctuary within the Order. And seeing his desperation so clearly, seeing how he reposes his trust, his last hope in me, I can�t but feel guilty. Because I have no intention of helping him.
�No, Potter,� I state, wanting to conclude this subject as fast as possible. �The Order can�t protect us.� To my dismay my voice sounds desperate and hopeless. In any case, it is the truth. Even if the Order tried to help my mother and me, no one disappoints the Dark Lord and gets away with it.
�Of course they can!� Potter exclaims, and I�m certain he doesn�t even realise how naïve he sounds.
I sigh, beginning to loose my temper. �Potter, understand this. I do not wish to be protected by your cohorts. My mother even less, I imagine.� My words are harsh, but I know what must be said so that the meaning will get through to Potter. I take a deep breath and force myself to look into Potter�s vivid green eyes. �I am not going to repent, or whatever it is that you seem to believe. I have no intention to switch sides. I may not always agree with our Lord�s actions, but I do believe in our cause.�
Potter stares at me, his nostrils flaring as he tries to keep himself from screaming at me. Keeping my steady gaze locked with his, I hurry to conclude my statement.
�I am sorry, Potter. But I cannot let you go. You should have known that by now.�
I almost believe I have side-stepped the minefield when Potter�s voice cuts through the air.
�You�re sorry?� he spits, sneering at me in a very unpleasant manner. �You make no effort to prevent me from getting killed, and then you say you�re sorry? What the fuck, Malfoy?!� Potter exclaims, his hands wrapping around the metal bars, knuckles whitening in suppressed rage.
In spite of fighting to stay calm, I feel my insides beginning to boil. �What did you expect, Potter? That fucking you would make me fall in love with you and that I would risk everything I have built up to save you?� I leer at him, pronouncing the words with as much venom as I can possibly conjure. Potter is looking very pale and his jaw shakes slightly, his expression betraying the fact that I have just hit the nail�s head. I feel a strange mixture of triumph and guilt at the fact. I know I have already said to much, but something in this surge of power spurs me on.
�I�m right, aren�t I?� I ask, sneering at the boy in front of me cruelly. �You thought I�d sacrifice everything, my position, my beliefs, my family, my entire life for you.� I watch the mockery in my words twist the knife in Potter�s chest, and it pains me almost as much as him. Still, I can�t seem to prevent myself from delivering the final blow.
�You thought I could actually love you.�
Potter stares at me, despise, rage and the ugly face of betrayal written in his expression. He doesn�t say a word, but gets quietly up from the floor and lies down on the bed, his back turned towards me.
I want to feel regret, I want to be sorry for what I said, for some reason I even want to apologize, but I can�t. I can�t be someone I am not. And the person I am, Draco Malfoy, enjoys watching Potter break before my eyes.
�You said you wanted to save me,� I snort, glaring daggers at Potter�s back and hating him for refusing to look at me when I�m tormenting him.
�You�re a fool, Potter. How can you save others when you can�t even save yourself?�

******
Later in the night, I can�t sleep. I want to tell myself that I don�t regret it, that I don�t constantly wish that I could take it back. I hate Potter more than ever for making me feel guilty when I have only spoken the truth. I tell myself that I did him a favour by not trying to keep him in the dark, in the constant denial that he seems to prefer.
Who am I kidding? If anyone is in denial, it�s me. I thought I could work trough this mess, both have my cake and eat it too, and come out on top, unscarred. But things have never been that simple with Potter. Somehow he always manages to drive me into a corner, even if he�s the one who�s undermined.
I sigh deeply and pull my own hair as I lie in my bed, fighting to catch some sleep. It�s completely useless. Potter has ruined even that for me.
Suddenly I hear a loud series of knocks on my door, and panic surges immediately through my veins.
�Draco? Draco!� Mother�s voice is heard through the door, her voice betraying that she is not far from crying. I hurry to wrap a morning robe over my pyjamas and run over to the door.
I snatch the door open and am met by Mother�s very pale features. �Hurry!� she exclaims in a dry voice, before I have the time to utter a single word. �The Dark Lord wishes to see you.�
I nod swiftly and hurry past her down the stairs, hearing her rush after me. I feel a lump gather in my throat. This cannot be good. Why would he summon me at three in the morning? A horrible thought surges through me.
They can�t know, can they?
What if Potter got vengeful and told Nott about all that has happened? Shit. I�m dead meat..
�What does it concern?� I quietly ask Mother when I am finally able to swallow my fear enough to speak.
�It�s about Lucius,� Mother sniffles, her voice very raspy.
I feel a stone fall from my chest at the same time as a new kind of dread washes over me. So it is not Potter. But if Father has done something unforgivable, what will happen to us?
�Very good, Narcissa,� the Dark Lord exclaims as we enter the room, and I force my legs to stop shaking as I bow before my master.
�You wished to see me, my lord,� I state, trying to ignore the fact that it doesn�t help my confidence to be standing here in my pyjamas, feeling more like a child than ever.
�Indeed I did,� the Dark Lord replies, a slight sneer playing on his thin lips. He leans back in his armchair and looks over at the large windows, creating a theatrical pause before he continues.
�You know, Draco, that your father has been something of a disappointment to me lately.� he states, his cold, read eyes shifting back to me.
I fight to look calm and composed as I answer. �Yes, my lord. I have hoped that my efforts have made up for some of that.� I fight to amend whatever errors my father now has made.
The Dark Lord looks at me silently for a moment, before an amused grin appears on his face. �That is very thoughtful of you, Draco. I am proud to find that you hold such a strong respect for the aspect of family.�
Another theatrical silence follows as the Dark Lord pretends to observe the pattern of the tapestry. I hold my breath.
�Unfortunately, I have to tell you, Draco, that your father is no longer with us. He got very unlucky in a resent raid.� The Dark Lord observes me very intently, watching my reaction as he utters every word carefully. Some of the other Death Eaters, standing by the walls around me, snigger silently.
Initially, I am shocked. Not wholly surprised, but shocked. Then the fury sets in, because I know that the Dark Lord is lying. My father was not killed in a raid. If the Lord didn�t do it himself, someone else in this room did. I feel the anger boil within me, but a fear for myself and Mother soon sets in and overpowers it. I fight to breathe normally, determined not to show the Dark Lord any of my emotions. A hard task, especially as I can hear Mother�s quiet sobbing by the back wall.
�I am sorry to hear that,� I state coolly, my eyes focusing steadily on the Dark Lord�s. He seems impressed by my composed posture. Something resembling a smile appears on his face.
�I am very proud of you, Draco,� he says, and I feel some relief surge over me. �After some initial� failures, you have risen to the occasion and become a great asset to me.�
�Thank you, my lord.� I breathe out, nodding curtly at the lord.
He looks very pleased. �Therefore, I would like to appoint you your father�s position in my inner circle.�
I hear a series of gasps escape the other Death Eaters, their surprised reaction echoing my own. Of course, it is a great honour. A honour I had not expected to receive for many years. A way to truly make a difference, to save Mother from suffering from Father�s mistakes.
And I won�t have to watch Potter anymore.
The thought is not nearly as happy as I had wished. But in the end, it makes no difference. One does not decline when the Dark Lord offers something.
�It would be an honour, my lord,� I state, bowing deeply before the Dark Lord who looks very pleased with himself. �You will not regret this.�
�I hope so,� he answers, nodding at me one last time before dismissing me with a offhanded gesture.
I back away to the door slowly. In the hallway I am attacked by Mother, who throws herself around my neck and sobs onto my shoulder, her tears wetting my robe. I am pretty certain this is the first time she has hugged me since I started school at 11 years old. And I have definitely never seen her break down and cry before. Patting Mother awkwardly on the back, I try to offer her some comfort. After all, she has lost her husband. And I have lost my father. I wonder why that doesn�t provoke the same feeling in me.
When Mother finally lets go of me, I look her in the eyes. �We will be alright,� I declare, and her face lights up slightly. She looks at me with such unreserved adoration and trust that it makes me even more determined to follow through with my promise.
Walking back to my room, I make that same promise to myself. I will make sure we are alright. I�ll make sure that Mother won�t have to hide her face in shame around here anymore. I�ll make her proud of me. And I will never give her a reason to cry again.
Someone should benefit from my promotion.
I have just been appointed one of the highest posts in the Dark Lord�s circle. Yet somehow I can�t seem to feel as happy as I should. This is something I have been waiting and wishing for my entire life. And not that I have it, I can�t seem to enjoy the glory. Because of one small reason.
Potter.
My new position withdraws my duty to be Potter�s guard. I won�t be able to see him anymore. Not alone at least. And something in acknowledging that seems to carve a hole into my chest.
Fuck him. Fuck him for taking away the one thing I could be proud over in my entire life.
Fuck him for making me miss him.

End of part VI
- 5
- 6
- 7
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Behind the Green Door