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The Principle of Sympathy	By : heerayni Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 5832 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not Own any part or character from The Harry Potter series, Or The Master of Magics Trilogy, They belong to J.k. Rowling and Lyndon Hardy, i make no money from this.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Special Thanks goes out to Delia Cerrano, Unneeded, Thrnbrooke and CM for their reviews.

Cm: I think that Harry is sort of a delicate character and yes i agree that they always make Hermione out to be the bad guy. I think its natural order of things that while some people find it hard to move on, some people find it the much easier way. The dying of All death eaters who bore the dark mark has brought a huge shift in people's attitude all over wizarding world in my story. Its human nature to find Divine justice the best possible outcome. So thats why my characters are the way they are. I am impressed that you actually got the subtle messages i am trying to send through out. Its so refreshing when someone reads not what the writer is writing but what the writer is thinking.

Delia : My Harry is closed off and conflicted, but the flash backs are only parts of real events. Harry is not easily lead. he is stubborn. It shows how he is not falling for Draco's niceties right away, even when Ron and Hermione are. Harry only does what he believes is right, which is one of his major character flaws as i am writing him, so yes, maybe you are remembering harry from another story. But nonetheless. Harry will come through. he has to, or there will be no Smut:(

Oh yea... An itsy bitsy smut alert...;)

Chapter 8. Encouraged Cruelty

I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You

I do not love you except because I love you;

I go from loving to not loving you,

From waiting to not waiting for you

My heart moves from cold to fire.

I love you only because it's you the one I love;

I hate you deeply, and hating you

Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you

Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.

Maybe January light will consume

My heart with its cruel

Ray, stealing my key to true calm.

In this part of the story I am the one who

Dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you,

Because I love you, Love, in fire and blood. (Pablo Neruda)

If there is anything in the world that has the unique power of putting everything into perspective, it is death.

Life confuses and confounds and makes you look or overlook too much. Life is chaotic, always changing paths and colors and tones and purpose. It befuddles and makes you wonder. It's a constant illusion and revelation at the same time.

Death on the other hand is everything that life isn't. Which can be summarized in one small sentence alone.

Death is final.

The equilibrium of nature and magic depends on life's chaos and death's finality.

Which is why, when death is not final, chaos ensues. Anomalies form and the balance of nature tips over.

Which is why, a prophecy is made. It's the nature's own magic that assures the equilibrium and allows a seer to make a prophecy always regarding the situation relating to the disruption in the equilibrium in near or far future. It has been the pattern for millennia past, and it will remain the same till the end of the world.

I understand these things now. After seeing the world the way it makes sense. After learning the truth of existence, magic, love and sacrifice. After meeting God.

For me, the first near death experience was what made me realize how wrong I had been in all my estimations. It made me realize how little, wealth, status and prejudice meant in the long run. By the time I made my way back to my dorm rooms from the infirmary, I was a changed person. With the loss of pride and blood and with pain came the focus. The determination. The perspective. And the fact that the hands that had inflicted on me such a situation in the first place, were the hands that held my existence in them without even knowing was as ironic as any situation could get.

I was in love with Harry Potter.

I was in the middle of the war on the side against the one I loved.

I was given the task of murdering someone the one I loved, loved deeply.

The one I loved, hated me beyond doubt.

I'll tell you, for a sixteen year old spoiled brat, it was just the tip of the ice-berg.

The sixteen year old me was too weak, petulant, in denial to realize when his own heart had changed.

Or perhaps it was that the heart had never changed. I was just too stubborn to realize it.

The coward that I am.

As I walk out of the fire place in the Manor receiving hall, I cannot help the smile that plays on my lips.

The warmth of Laurel Cottage and the warmth of his hand still lingers. Seeping in through my clothes. Tingling on my skin.

Oh Draco! You coward, thief, liar and bully!

Oh! How you love it, you sadist!

The house elf pops into existence just as I remove my cloak and looks up at me curiously as he takes the Cloak from me as I walk towards the full size mirror to the side of the entrance door. I know it is there because we Malfoys are pretentious enough to need a mirror straight away as we step out of the floo, which is kept painfully clean. For the purpose of being immaculately composed before we step into the presence of company without a doubt. A Malfoy cannot appear to be anything other than immaculately composed. Ever. If only father had witnessed the entire fracas I had with Potter at school, first hand. I mean the most memorable 'chidings' that I had by my father ever was once after that meeting with Potter in Flourish and Blotts just before the start of the second year and the other one had been after my 'bumping' into Potter, just before the Quidditch World cup.

'Draco! If I ever see you sneer so obscenely and behaving like a hooligan again, I would punish you in a way that you will never forget! Must you be so dreadfully obvious in your emotions towards the boy? I will tell you this as I have told you countless times. Merciless, austere, laconic, fearless, Ominous, Yield less Draco! You can never forget yourself. Your tendency for dramatics will ruin your reputation one day!' I remember the exact words of my father.

I smile more openly at the irony. I believe that I am the most dramatic Malfoy by far. I am sure my father still blames it on the Black genes. Wherever he is.

"Mister Montague awaits you in the study master." Monk informs me as I stride out of the reception hall. I feel his steady eyes on me. Monk is without doubt the most composed, observant and deferring house-elf I have ever encountered.

" I see, I think he will be staying for dinner."

"Yes Master."

"Oh, and yes, before I forget Monk. Harry Potter will be visiting tomorrow sometime. Be sure to bring him to me straight away, wherever I am. Do not answer any of his questions and Do not leave him unattended until you have brought him to me. Is that understood?"

"Yes Master." The house elf bows again as I dismiss him and pops out.

Solicitor Montague is already reviewing a pile of parchments as I enter the study. He looks up and his eyes widen for a moment as he takes in my appearance.

I think going to visit my aunt's house in Muggle clothes was the best idea I ever had.

"Good evening Mr. Malfoy, the paper work from Gringotts arrived today so I wondered if you would like my assistance in reviewing it, before you sign and seal."

"Mr. Montague, when it comes to read and review that which is written by Goblins, assistance is always more than welcome."

I say taking the upholstered arm chair that once my father sat in. I feel more than see Montague watching me intently as I settle myself down, I am sure he thinks my mood is rather peculiar at the time. I guess he is revising his opinion of me as he goes and is satisfied by the time he looks away. I think it's more convincing for a twenty-four year young man to be cheerful. And as I have learned over the years.

Sometimes a smile can do more damage than a scowl ever can.

I look over the first pile Montague gesture towards. Property deeds.

Chateau in Toulouse.

Villa in Nicosia

Cottage in Tuscany

Palace in Istanbul

Tripoli…Osaka…Munich…Geneva…Brussels…Vienna… …Srinagar…Lahore…

Bath, Southampton, Cornwall, Glasgow, Cumbria, Kent, Derbyshire….it went on and on

I may be the master of death.

But even mastering death could never desensitize me against the tediousness of paper work.

It does not take long as my mind drifts away to the events of earlier today.

And of course, I cannot help but feel proud of the role my perfect execution of emotions played in the events that occurred today at Laurel cottage.

But it all is rather muted in my memory as the memory of that hand on my chest overshadows all else. Something clenches deep inside me at remembering the sensation, the warmth. I should stop, I tell myself.

I could have slipped very badly, and it was pure chance that what started to happen so suddenly went nicely with my plan.

My intuition had been buzzing from the moment I had opened my eyes at sunrise. I felt that something monumental was to happen today. Restlessly I had found temporary salvation in my usual exercise for which I had chosen my mother's sunroom. The early morning light and openness of the place helped a lot. I chastised myself for going soft. I mean I had after all wandered in the wilderness of Northern Sweden for seven days half naked and only equipped with my wandless magic. For the sake of practice. But I was home. And despite the bad memories, there were also good memories here and I knew acting like a spoiled brat would only placate my mother's soul. You have got to keep the desires of the dead into consideration, since in my position you never know when you are going to meet them again.

I had asked for breakfast to be brought into my mother's Sunroom two hours later and it was with during breakfast that the owl had arrived and with it had brought a most pleasant surprise.

I had stared at the complimentary pre-published copy of the Witch's weekly for at least a whole five minutes before I could tear away from the image of me and Potter on the cover. It was not an original picture of course, but it was worked on very carefully and attentively. I remembered the Creevey boy taking that picture of me unawares. It had been while Cho Chang was taking a break between the interviews which was set for me in protection of the Ministry. The interview had been a spectacle and a tedious one at that. I might have enjoyed it at one time, but after the first few questions it had started to bore me to roots.

But it was the picture of Potter that riveted me. Draped in a well-fitting Muggle Tuxedo jacket in white, He was a vision to behold. Perched on the arm of the sofa I had sat on during the interview. His eyes looking far, unfocused and miserable. The swirl of the wine in his glass was made even more mesmerizing with the strong fingers that held it so carelessly. The wrist that showed a little as it swirled and swirled and swirled. It was mesmerizing and no one was here to observe or judge so I stared shamelessly. I could feel my breath lowering with the rhythm of the picture as my finger skimmed over the glossy surface of his face, the eternally disheveled hair. The lithe and lean line and contours of his body that were at best display in the position he was perched. So taut yet careless. I stared until the image filled my mind. In my mind, he swirls the glass over and over, his eyes wandering, until they fix on me. In my mind he smiles at me, and slips down onto the sofa next to me so close yet not close enough, never close enough. He engages someone in conversation on the other side, while his fingers skim over my knee secretly before the nail of his index finger scratches over the fabric and draws a line towards my thigh. I am alarmed at the fact that he is about to fondle me very publicly and I am not going to stop him.

It was at this point that I had to stop myself. The arousal was surprising. Too surprising. I had not had a conscious arousal brought on by visual or physical reaction in years. I strode out of the Sunroom and made my way towards my quarters swiftly. Arousal still heavy with no plans of diminishing without being satisfied. At the door of my room I realized that I still had the magazine in my hand. Cursing myself I threw it on to the already made bed before I strode into the sanctuary of my bath, as if water could wash away my desire and longing so easily. But water could hide me.

Stepping out of my clothes I stood in front of the life size mirror. Looking at my image with a detached fascination. Was this flushed and obviously aroused body really mine? Breathing deep, eyes shining with desperation, skin flushed and warm, muscles strained and quivering, hair disheveled. How pathetic was it that just a picture and imagination of a finger nail of Potter's index finger could bring me to this state of arousal? How could I underestimate my own desire so badly? How would I stay away from him, when the mere thought of him does this to me?

I had been proud of my vow of celibacy. In order for me to achieve my goal it was a necessity. To be honest, it had not been much of a chore. Impossible magical and physical struggle had made sexual urges almost non-existent. Only the occasional morning wood was all that I had to deal with.

I should have known it was only under control because of the distance between me and him.

And now I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, all shame and desire over a picture of him. At which I was able to stare without any hindrance.

I had a mind to punish myself and ignore my arousal.

'But why?' Asked the little Draco in my mind.

'Why is it a sin worth punishing? Why is being aroused for the one you love so deeply so wrong? Why should you be ashamed of it? Why should you deny it? why should you feel bad about it? You will never have him, but why should you also deny yourself this temporary reprieve?'

I was afraid of the conviction in those questions, but I could not ignore them. What harm could it do? I turned away from the mirror, I could not watch myself do it, not if the image of me in throes of passion did not have him in it as well. Contributing to it, participating. I stepped into the Shower cubicle. Which was already steamy and humid. Perfect habitat for sticky arousals. As water poured down on me, I grabbed hold of my turgid flesh that was in need of desperate attention. The spike of relief was immediate as was the spike of anticipation. I closed my eyes, as my hand started the relentless stroking. Hot and tight and fierce. My mind filled with images of him. The closeness of his body as he accosted me in front of the Entrance gate, the warmth of his breath, the green of his eyes and the black of his hair,

Faster, steadier and smoother the hand worked as the flesh it assaulted grew tighter and tighter. A tidal wave gathering in my navel and thighs and hips and toes.

The way the sunlight played upon that golden skin. Rough and flawless, the breadth of those shoulders and the strength of those arms and the way he smelled. Of morning and breakfast, honey and almonds and cinnamon. I still can take pleasure in smells. It was not one of the things I sacrificed. I bathed in his smell as memory morphs and merges into imagination, in my imagination we have rubbed against each other enough that I smell of him, legs tangled together in sheets while he sleeps beside me peaceful and exhausted after a night of passionate and reckless lovemaking. I watch him, careful to not wake him up as I start the act of covertly inhaling him, covetously, obsessively, deeply. I skim close to the skin of his arms and chest and neck and hair, and the back of his knees and insides of his elbows. He smells of me and I of him. Only to find his eyes trained on me as I retreat from my insane inhaling expedition. So green and shining with love for me despite the sleep in them.

"Draco…" he gasps as I lay my head down on his hard and muscled stomach abashed but not ashamed. I love him too much to be ashamed of doing something that does not fit in with the sane world. I have loved him madly enough.

"Harry…" I exhale back against his shivering muscles.

"Come…" he whispers beckoning me up, closer to his face and I crawl up until my face is suspended over his as I align my body against him, and somehow his hand that is not pulling my lips onto his, finds my hard arousal and tugs at it, Once, making me gasp at the sensation as his moist tongue files through the parting in my lips. Twice… I groan at the inevitability of the fast reaching apex. His grips tightens around me and I know I am a lost cause. Thrice… and he whispers one word in my mouth, a command, a request, a plead, a claim,

"Come!" the whisper says.

And I do, I am, I was.

I opened my eyes as I staggered on my feet with the intensity of my orgasm as it spilt hot and copious on to my fist . I felt that my lips were moving, but I was too out of control to understand what they were saying. As I stumbled into sitting on the marble bench. Panting and still chanting and whispering.

"Harry….Harry…Harry…"I heard my own whispers. I repeated the name like a mantra as I wound down from the orgasmic high. My pants slowed down to deep breathing as loss and despair started to settle in.

That is all it was. A dream, a vivid imaginary sequence of events that will never come about. My eyes tingled as I sat down on marble bench water cascading on my head sticking my long hair against my neck and face. I stood up jerking myself out of despair and loss and longing and stepped forward to shower properly.

An owl tapping at my bedroom window was what welcomed me as I stepped out of the bathroom.

It was a smallish black and brown eagle owl that had a little too much attitude for its size. I could tell the way it flew in and landed on the owl stand erected on the writing desk not even looking at the owl treats that were held by the end of the steel rod for the easiest approach of the owl. I guess it was still young, but not any less self-important. It hooted for me to take the scroll it held aloft with all the dignity possible. It was very amusing and intriguing. I walked towards the desk as demurely as I could clad in a towel and untied the scroll carefully. The owl hooted approvingly at my successful detachment of the scroll. I smiled at it as I unrolled the parchment.

Dear Draco,

You asked to be informed of the best time for visiting me and Teddy, this here is your invitation to drop by at any time today, preferably at lunch, as we will both be at home. The floo address is "Laurel Cottage, Helga's Bode". Teddy is especially excited to see you and has been asking about you continuously since the day he met you at the funeral. We look forward to seeing you.

Andromeda Tonks.

P.s. The carrier of the letter is our pet owl 'Titus' and he will only accept treats if you invite him to it respectfully. I think he developed such refined habits to compensate for my grandson's unruliness. Never mind, only reply if you are unable to come today.

The way my morning was going so far, I seriously considered turning down the invitation for a few minutes, but as I picked my quill to pen a polite refusal.

Something deep inside my mind told me that I will be seeing Potter today. If I was correct in my assumption, Potter was bound to be on the pre-published list of Witch's weekly. It was after all run by his once-girlfriend Cho Chang. Potter would come looking for me for a confrontation once he read the hints of what was to come in the special edition, specifically the point that had really surprised me at the initial scanning.

"- Is Lord Malfoy about to contest the title of Lord Black? Magic Genealogical experts speak."

The thought had not even crossed my mind. But it would infuriate Potter, I knew it. I was not stupid enough to think Potter wanted the title for himself. I was pretty well-versed in magical genealogy to know the legends regarding the Potter vaults, and I remember also how the death of Sirius Black had sent Potter into chaos. No, logic suggested that Potter would be serving as a regent until little Teddy Lupin was of age, the only other blood descendant of the Black blood line, no matter how tainted his blood was by Black standards. Yes, everyone would consider me to be the better candidate to claim the Black fortune and title. Pure-blooded, closer generation and of age as I was.

No, I should not even acknowledge such a suggestion. No matter who it was made by or expected by. Not because it was not validated, but because it would form an impossible wedge between me and Potter, and I would never, ever, ever allow that to happen. I was too far as it was.

That, however did not mean, that I could not use this suggestion and it's repercussions in Potter finding out about it to my advantage. If he came looking for me, he will confront me. If he confronted me, he will threaten and insult me. From then forwards it would depend on how good and convincing an actor I am to act all wounded at the accusation of stealing from a child. Not to forget how to play on the sentiment that I had recently lost my mother.

The plan was not as refined as I would have liked it to be in order to stir the cauldron of Potter's opinion regarding me, but then if he never showed up, no harm could come and as I did wholly intend to refute the accusation of my trying to claim the Black fortune, no hard feelings would be there and the gossip would remain just that, Gossip. Though it was a golden chance even if relying on a lot of chances and speculations.

I scrunched up the parchment and looked up thoughtfully at the brown and black owl that was watching me intently. I gestured with my hand towards the treat bowl perched towards the end of the rod.

"Would you like to indulge in some treats Titus? It would please me greatly."

The owl looked at me for a moment, before it gave a hoot of approval and ducked its head demurely before strutting towards the treat bowl and dipping its head delicately into the treat bowl.

Once it had collected its treat, the owl looked at me questioningly and simple replied.

"There is no reply. You may leave if you wish."

The owl hooted again and flew out of the window that was still open in its wake. I made my way towards the wardrobe which was finally filled with clothes that were my own. I intended to throw off Potter as much as I could from his assumptions regarding me which he had made no effort to hide.

"Desperate times, call for desperate measures" I said to myself as I pulled out the Light mint Green cashmere jumper and muggle jeans.

Nothing could be more unexpected than a Malfoy in casual muggle clothes. Though he would no doubt still look like he stepped out of an Elitist fashion magazine… Muggle Elitist fashion magazine.

There was only one way to describe Laurel Cottage.

It was cozy.

The grassy garden in the front and the back, circled half way by a shallow fresh water stream, the vivid golden glow of the sunlight on the stone that the cottage was made of. Fly net doors, Wooden framed sturdy windows, logged and thatched roof, which was solid concrete underneath. Surrounded by trees and wild grass and squirrels.

The inside of the cottage was just as cozy as the outside. The living room that housed the fireplace floo, kitchen and dining area were all one, only divided by Book cases, and low counters. Furnished in warm deep colors. The yellow of the wall contrasted well with the dark cherry wood of the furniture and book cases. With so much light coming in from the French windows every nook and cranny was lighted up. Teddy who was perched at edge of a chair stared at me as I stepped out of the fire place.

"Hello Little Lupin." I smiled down at the child as he kept staring at me.

"Oh! Draco dear you are here!" Said a voice behind me that sounded so much like my mother that I could not help but whip around to see my Aunt standing a few steps away. I realized that it was not just the voice that matched my mother's. Aunt Andromeda's face also resembled my mother's strikingly. It was just that she was an older version. But where my mother had a certain coldness around her demeanor, my aunt radiated warmth, which made her more beautiful in ways I could not explain in words.

But for a moment, the fact that my cold beautiful mother did not exist in her corporeal form anymore twisted in my gut like a knife.

As if reading my feelings that were over-whelming me, my aunt stepped forwards closing the distance between us and engulfed me in a warm deep hug. The kind my mother was always too self-conscious to give me. It was a soothing salve for my blistered soul. In the manner most wrong of a Malfoy, I hugged her back just as tightly and buried my face in her shoulder. I do not know when I started sobbing. Only that the pressure around my chest that had lingered for days was dissipating slowly. She smelled of jasmine and cake and syrup and butter. So sweet and tender her embrace was. rubbing soothing circles across my back. I do not know how long we stood there. I only snapped out of it when I felt pressure of small arms around my waist, clinging tightly and warm breath against my stomach. Aunt Andromeda let go of me slowly and looked down and smiled sweetly making me look down to see a head full of Black unruly hair against my stomach and small clinging around my waist.

I ran my fingers through the hair with hesitation, making the child look up at me with piercing green eyes that were the exact same shade of Potter's. This little child was trying to comfort me by looking like a friend I once wanted very badly, but never got to have. How could a child be so perceptive? So understanding and giving? Potter could take pointers from Teddy Lupin for sure.

"Draco don't be sad… we have Grandma and we have Harry and Hugo and Rose… we have so many people who love us. We do. So don't be sad."

Oh how I wish Little Lupin that I had Harry too.

An hour after lunch, which looked and smelled divine, Teddy could not be kept inside any longer. He dragged me off my chair, as the little house-elf cleared the table alongside my aunt, and pulled me mercilessly towards the door that lead outside to the front garden. His green eyes glowing and laughing and his little mouth talking non-stop. I had never particularly liked children, but there was something extremely lovable about Teddy Lupin, who was a hyper little bolt of lightning. He was unstoppable, adorable and uncannily observant.

And then before I knew it, I was standing face to face with another pair of a much larger green pair of eyes.

"Harry!" Teddy yelled in delighted surprise as he crashed against his God father still holding my hand in a death grip and pulling me closer than appropriate to Potter.

"Malfoy…" he said in a flat tone. I think it was surprise. Which meant that he had not come here looking for me and it was pure con-incidence.

"Potter…" I nodded curtly.

Potter stared at me a moment longer with a very blank expression. Before he looked down at the child who had a habit of clinging to people's waist with a death grip.

"Hello Teddy, How is my favorite Godson?" Potter said in a kind voice, ruffling the hair that matched his own so uncannily.

"Still Favorite!" Said Teddy's muffled voice as his face was buried into Potter's stomach inhaling deeply. I wondered if it was a were-wolf characteristic he had inherited from his father.

"But of course." Potter said in a made up accent, making Teddy chuckle against his stomach before he reluctantly let go. I could see love glowing in Potter's eyes for the child. it was a beautiful thing to behold.

Potter ignored me from that moment onwards. Though Teddy remained loyal enough and kept including me in the conversation. Aunt Andromeda soon asked Potter to entertain Teddy while she had a little heart to heart with me. She was treading carefully around Potter and Potter looked somewhat irritated and anxious at the same time. And then the glowering started. The warmth was already over-whelming me every now and then, but the heat of those eyes that were fixed on me from across the garden, focused on me so intensely that I had not even gotten a chance to take all if him in. No chance to linger on those strong and sturdy arms with their sun-kissed skin and that atrocious shirt that was stretched across the shoulder and was a bit on the short side. No chance to look at the golden sliver of taut flesh that showed itself so teasingly everytime he bent down to pick up something from the ground. This business of not looking yet looking was gradually moving me to the edge of losing control. I had been so blanked minded through it all, concentrating so hard on not giving away my desperation and my mind unhelpfully provided me with the images from my fantasy in the shower as it amended Potter's appearance. The arms were more definitely muscled that I had imagined. It was appropriate. He was an auror afterall. The skin more golden…

I watched him from the corner of my eye as he made his way towards us before a jumping, hopping Teddy stole my attention, which was well and good as Potter's eyes were fixed on me.

I smiled down at the child.

"Gentlemen if you will excuse me, I need to see to this incorrigible child…" My aunt said bringing me out of my dispersed thoughts, only to find Potter much nearer now. His eyes had lost all the softness of earlier when he was playing with Teddy. A shrewd confident Auror was staring out of them now.

"By all means Andy… I think me and Malfoy will take a turn around the garden, like in those victorian novels you like so much…" He pauses a moment his smile more of a smirk as his intense eyes train on me challengingly "… For old times sake."

Now, there is a reason I was placed in Slytherin and a reason why the sign of the Slytherin is a serpent.

We make do best with what is provided to us.

And one should never think for a moment that they can have a one over on a Slytherin.

If a Slytherin ever shows himself to be vulnerable, it is because that is where the advantage lies.

Not because he actually is Vulnerable. A vulnerable Slytherin will never show it up. He would rather die.

Now, I knew that the way I played the next few moments will make or break my chance with getting close to Potter.

I knew I would need to probe a little, act a bit defensive at first so that Potter would find a reason enough to slip into the threatening tirade he is about to start.

'give it your best shot.' I urged silently. Preparing myself for verbal onslaught that would not be pleasant, but purposeful.

And Merlin did it ever work.

A tinge of a sneer and a little prodding in the direction, and Potter was off like a mad bludger.

Leaning so close, threatening so passionately.

No, Draco, I told myself I could not be distracted.

He had after all seen the Magazine as well. I could tell from the beginning. I had done nothing else to deserve his wrath so far. So I kept my face blank and confused switching between vulnerable and desperate, as if I am trying to keep my composure and failing. Yes, Potter would expect failure. He would like to think that he penetrates deeper than skin. He would find it more accommodating, the predictable Gryffindor that he was, and so he will inevitably fall into the trap I have laid out for him.

Make him insult me, Make him realize that he has insulted and threatened me when I was not in the wrong, Make him feel guilty, Leave before he can try to make amends.

"If you think of even trying to get your hands on the Black fortune Malfoy, I will destroy you. That fortune belongs to Teddy, who lost his parents to that Mad bastard who you and your fucking father supported. I know the slimy lot you come from, honor and respect means nothing to you but you will honor and respect the rights of that child or I will tap dance on your ashes after I scorch you alive Malfoy! Metaphorically and literally."

I blink at him confused now that he had opened the reason for this accosting.

Potter pauses. As he catches the blink and the most genuine look of confusion on my face that anyone can fake.

Check Mate!

I open my mouth as if I want to say something as Potter's eyes go from guilt, to calculation, to determination. Unexpectedly enough, He sneers at me.

Ah! so the Gryffindor who wore his noble heart on the sleeve has changed a bit. Had I not watched him so closely and obsessively since I got to know him, I would have not noticed the defensive tone that his next few words took. He was… convincing himself that the stupid assumption and accusations he just made were justified.

Showtime! I told myself. As I morphed my face into that of being offended. Urging him that much further to be really really cruel with his next words.

"I know you are not above stealing and snatching from a child Malfoy so don't even think about denying it. You were always a little thief, I know, putting things that didn't belong to you in your pocket. A Liar, a coward and a thief. So it is not far-fetched that you will try such a thing, after all why would you make nice with the aunt your parents called a disgrace and being nice to Teddy? Oh that is a nice touch of sadism right there. So purely Slytherin. Well, you might fool the rest of the world Malfoy, but you will never fool me. So heed my warning if you know what's good for you."

There are many truths in there. Some of them circumstantial, some straight from the bottle. I felt the accusations deep inside. I knew how little I deserved him, his respect, his acknowledgment, but did I not pay my due? I was a child, just a spoiled child who thought very little about anything other than which broom to get next, which chocolates to eat next, how to make Potter angry next. We had all been children once, before war tore it all apart. In my own silent reverie I didn't notice when Potter stopped speaking.

I looked at him, really looked at him, and noticed that he is expecting me to fight back. To counter his accusation, to sneer, brawl…

I kept silent, as I watched him stand there so near me, flustered and expectant. I realized that I was too tired of playing the old game with him. So I just looked at him, urging him to really look at me and see if he can find the old 'Malfoy' in there somewhere, since I was unable to find him. I saw his discomfort at my silence and I took the chance. I really opened myself up so he could see deep in me and see if the old Malfoy remained. I smiled at him, welcoming him to the emptiness that I had become over the past seven years. To see how much I gave, how little I got back for it, how I despaired at the impossibility of what I truly desired. I felt myself standing on the edge of the void, waiting for him to see it all… I opened myself up.

And then it happened.

He placed his hand on my chest, as my heart thumped away faster than it had ever before, his green eyes fixed on me in confusion and fear and something that seemed like concern, somehow completing a connection between us that I was too afraid to even imagine.

No matter how evil and spoiled and bad I was. My love for Potter had been pure when I gave the piece of my soul for him.

The piece that lived inside him now since he was granted a passage back from the world of the dead.

My sacrifice had not been a waste. I had always known, but to see the physical evidence of it for real was an out of body experience.

The fact that a part of me resided inside Potter's body forever was enough to over whelm me into looking down from those piercing eyes. I did not want him to see anymore than he already had. So I clenched my eyes close and bowed down my head. I wanted to cling on to him and yet let go at the same time with the same desperation. This was too raw, too delicate, it could be too much.

Defenses came up as easily as they had gone down and at that very moment the creak from the door alerted Potter as he flinched back his hand with a twitch. I knew I could not stay there any longer. So I looked up at him. Just memorizing the moment for a second before I turned away and saw to my escape.

Now sitting here in My father's study, I cannot help but feel optimistic about the events that transpired today. That simple touch, that little display of secrets has set me free in a way I could not have imagined. I am confident that he will come looking for me. I know that Potter's world famous curiosity will win over his prejudice. He will seek me. He will want to know more, see more. I only hope that time will be on my side this time and that I will be able to resist his probing long enough for a chance of True friendship to be formed. That will be necessary for what is to come. That will be necessary for me to just…

"Mr. Malfoy…" i look up to see my solicitor watching me very intently. I just raise a brow at him in a query.

"Let me be the first one to congratulate you Lord Malfoy for successful transition from the role of heir to the role of Master with all assets intact. Your resilience with the Goblins was remarkable." I notice that whilst I thought away I had gone through signing all the deeds.

I take the hand he offers for a firm shake.

"You are a most capable young man, and I expect you to slip into the role of a social leader effortlessly."

I want to laugh at the claim, but I don't for the sake of propriety.

"But I must suggest a few things, if I may, since I have been living in this society for a while and it has much different social dilemmas and expectation than it did seven years ago."

I wonder where this is leading to, but I know that this man in front of me never says anything redundant and as it is, though I would never admit it, I do need a few pointers to cruise through the society as it is now.

I nod at him to continue.

"The fact of the matter is, the people have still not forgotten the war, and with the old houses system back in application, certain attitudes have formed amongst classes. It's true that they are most integrated now, but still, when it comes to a family like yours, there are certain expectations, which if not met would make them suspicious."

"I do know all these things Mr. Montague and I would appreciate if you would come to the point."

The older man takes a deep breath. Before he leans forward at the desk.

"The fact of the matter is Draco. The way I have observed you so far, you are too straight-laced for some reason. I don't know what happened to you in past seven years, but it has surely changed you to the point that you are no more the person you were once expected to be.

You were born with a gold spoon, pampered and spoiled beyond limits, and then when the dark lord rose, you and your family was found on his side. You were marked, but very few know that and then you disappeared. Now that you have reappeared. Seemingly unharmed. People will grow varied if you are too out of character, because in the mind of the people you are still the spoiled pampered brat that you once were on top of which now you are also the richest wizard in all of Europe. Considering all these things, a little change in outward attitude is required. Whereas I recommend you to form the Good will with the golden trio, who hold a place of their own. I believe you should be careful with who you associate with otherwise. Be sociable yes, but you have no more restriction or pressures from family, no one to chide you Draco, think about what any other twenty-four year old would do?"

"Are you telling me to act a little….Promiscuous Solicitor Montague?" I looked at the man incredulously.

"Yes… But be subtle about it as well. People expect to Gossip about you, so give them something to gossip about every once in a while. Go clubbing, throw a party every now and then, treat ladies to dinner..So on and so forth…"

I must admit that I had not had the chance of thinking about this, and now that it is mentioned I do see the logic. I look back at the older man, my mind full of immediately forming plans as I get up to lead him out of the study towards dinner.

"You did always have a penchant for skidding off track Draco…" says the deep tenor of a too familiar voice. It is impossible to mistake who it belongs to. I turn around swiftly to see him standing facing away from me, his stark black robes flapping behind him in the soft warm breeze that blows around us. The midnight blue sky and the light grey ash desert present an all too familiar landscape.

"Hello Severus." I say quietly as I step forward to stand next to him.

"You are like a kitten Draco, getting distracted by even the tiniest speck of light, and how shall you face the deepest darkness the world you live in will ever know when you are so distracted by the lightning bolt that is Potter?" he sneers in that way he always used to do. He looks clean. Proper. In his prime.

I am glad to see that the afterlife is treating him so well.

"And is Potter not the lightning that shall dissipate the darkness you speak of?" I ask him with emotion.

"There was a reason I used the metaphor in the first place, a lightning bolt during the thunder storm is not only destructive, it contributes to the darkness, by just showing you how dark it is. No, Lightning needs a conductor that will make light that shall dissipate the darkness. You Draco shall become that conductor. Pay attention to what is necessary and only what is necessary, for the darkness is about to strike too soon and too close to home."

But I thought I had time.

"What do you mean? I thought I still had time Severus!"

"You do, but very little, it will start small, and gradually pick up. Just make sure you keep your eyes and mind…Undistracted."

With a crack he disappears without any warning, making me fall back into state of consciousness.

I sit up, as the wards around the Manor tinge dismissively yet warningly. I look to the window to see that its it still dark outside, I look at the marble wall clock that indicates it's four in the morning. Sunrise is still an hour away. I reach out with my magic to see who it is that is trying to enter the Manor without consent.

Half a dozen magical signatures. Though none of them is tough enough to do any significant damage to even the basic manor wards, that is, if they ever breach through my own personal ward in the first place. But I know that the one that can possibly breach the wards, would not need to breach them at all, all he will have to do is open the door and step right in.

The pop indicates me of Monk's presence.

"Master, Mr. Potter is about to reach the entrance foyer, should Monk bring him to Master's bedroom straight away?"

"No! No… take him to the Gent's parlor." I will be there by the time you reach.

The elf pops away. I grab my dress robe from the sofa and wrap it over my half-naked self before I apparated to the Gent's parlor.

I stand awkwardly for a minute trying to work out in my mind what is happening? Why exactly Potter is here and how he is going to be?

I prepare myself knowing full well that it is all in vain.

A minute or two pass which for me feel like an eternity. And then the door to the parlor swings open to allow entrance to the one person I wish and dread to see.

I am surprised by the Crimson auror robes which flow around him. I am surprised at the contrast between the fresh and easy man I had met just this afternoon and this tired but authoritative auror. It is just after four in the morning why is he here in Auror robes.

"Potter." I nod curtly. Taking in the shadows across his face. He is conflicted and angry about something, it is very apparent.

"Malfoy." He nods back. Determined but hesitant.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your company at this ungodly hour Potter?" I try to sound as sardonic as I can.

"To the fact that Dumbledore's Grave was exhumed and violated, and a centaur that was also a known professor at Hogwarts was murdered in cold blood on the altar."

I am confused. Shocked too. I admit that it is rather distasteful and wrong in all senses, but I do not see the connection with me, apart from the fact that I had contact McGonagall two days ago to visit Hogwarts and the Portrait of my God father in the dungeon. It would be typical and really tiresome if they suspect me of having to do something with it only on the basis of the fact that I was once a death-eater.

"and the fact that the ward that would not allow anyone into the area of the Tomb was the exact replica of the one you have surrounding the Manor, which neither I, nor anyone in the department has ever come across before in their careers and life."

"The darkness is about to strike soon, and too close to home." Severus' voice echoes against the walls of my mind.

Severus, you liar.

The darkness has struck already.

"So will you explain things yourself, willingly? Or will I have to take you into custody Malfoy?"

I do not know how to explain things to him without telling him everything.

I stare at his tired face blankly, looking for a hint of accusation there and I am surprised to find none.

"All right!..." he sighs as if in defeat "...Custody it is." He says as he closes the distance between us.

Cliffie! Don't you just love the idea of Harry Potter Interrogating Draco Malfoy? :D... By all means necessary?..:p...

If you do... Watch out for the next chapter for the close encounters of a Drarry kind.

As always, Do not forget to review!
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The Principle of Sympathy