Title: Crown of Thorns
Author: 
el_princess
Team: AU
Prompt: 1. "I'll never lay a wand on..."
Wordcount: 14,000
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Discussions of a religious nature, graphic sexual scenes.
Summary: On his eleventh birthday, Draco was given a Malfoy family heirloom: his grandfather's rosary. He accepted it without question. Years later, when Harry Potter arrives from nowhere with a new set of ideas, Draco is forced to decide whether the life he has always known is still worth living.
Author's Note: Many thanks to joanwilderdacro
Crown of Thorns
"Sin creates an inclination to sin; it engenders vice by repetition of the same acts. This results in perverse inclinations which cloud conscience and corrupt the concrete judgment of good and evil. Thus sin tends to reproduce itself and reinforce itself, but it cannot destroy the moral sense at its root."
Catechism of the Catholic Church 1865
"Draco," the Priest began quietly. "Do you know why you are here?"
Draco sat opposite him in his office, separated by more than the large mahogany desk. A large portrait of Virgin Mary's assumption into heaven dominated the wall behind Father Walcott. Draco tried not to look at it; it always made him feel slightly uneasy.
"I must say, Father," he said, pulling the lapels of his blazer closer together so the golden emblem of St Viers lay across his heart. "I have no idea."
"Sister Arnold asked me to have a word with you." Father Walcott pulled out a large, black file from the bottom drawer of his desk. The name 'Draco Malfoy' was heavily embossed on the front in heavy gold lettering. "She, and the rest of your teachers as matter, we are a little concerned about your conduct."
Draco leant forward, his rosary slipping from his shirt and hanging from his neck. He clamped down on the urge to fiddle with it. "My conduct?"
"Yes," Father Walcott pursed his lips and tented his fingers. "There have been some disturbing reports from some of the Sisters."
Draco stiffened despite his best efforts to keep his features still. "What are they saying, Father?"
"That you have been getting a bit too close with some of the boys, Charles Cadbury in particular?"
Draco paused before considering his next move. Anything he said could damn Charles and him both. "We have developed a ... friendship, that and that only is true."
Father Walcott sighed. "I see. You know, Draco. Such friendships can be damaging and this isn't the first time, is it, Draco?"
He opened the black file and flicked through the pages. "You have had many seemingly innocent friendships with some of the boys from this school."
Shit. This situation was quickly spinning out of control. "They are innocent, Father."
"In one sense they are. However, I have already spoken to Charles."
"You have?" Draco blurted.
"Yes, and his estimations are quite different. He has admitted to certain...desires for you. I must say you are partly to blame."
"Me!" Draco sputtered. "How am I to blame?"
Father Walcott stood up sharply and began pacing. "You are leading him into temptation by associating with him, by suggesting that that his actions are not sinful, that his homosexual acts are acceptable."
He walked around to Draco's side of the table and perched in the edge.
"Draco, I remember what it was like to be young. All those hormones and so much confusion. So, let me clear it up for you. Homosexual acts are intrinsically disordered and you must not give in to your lusts.
"I know it's difficult and so you must pray on this regularly. Do you understand?"
Draco bowed his head and let his hair fall over his face as the shame welled up inside him.
"Yes, Father Walcott."
"Good." Father Walcott placed a hand on Draco's shoulder. His rings made his palm feel so much heavier. "Now, take out your rosary and pray with me now: Ave Maria, gratia plena..."
Draco tugged his Malfoy heirloom rosary and recited the words until they had no meaning left. "Ave Maria, gratia plena. Dominus tecum. Benedicta tu in mulieribus..."
*
"Cadbury!" Draco swept down the hallway. "I want a word with you."
The group of boys standing by the lockers parted to let Draco sweep through, leaving Charles standing in the middle.
He was too tall and too broad for a sixteen-year-old, but his mousey temperament made him easier to intimidate. He pressed himself against the lockers, clutching his textbooks to his chest.
"What do you want, Draco?" he said shakily.
"No, no." Draco said, smoothly, appealing as much to the crowd hangers-on. "This a private matter, Charles. I don't like to air my dirty laundry in public." A slow smirk spread across Draco's face.
"Unless you want my father to get your father's new building license blocked, but then of course, your lovely mother wouldn't have enough money to get her roots done."
Charles' overdressed, bleached blond mother was a well-known running joke and there were titters from the watching people as Charles bloomed bright red.
"Fine, Malfoy." He slammed the door to his locker and followed as Draco waltzed down the corridor, still smirking.
He found an empty classroom and gestured for Charles to follow him inside. The second the door closed, Charles smiled at him.
"Honestly, Draco!" He smoothed his knuckles over Draco's lapels. "I know you wanted an excuse for us to be alone, but did you have to insult my mother?"
"Well, I didn't want a bloody circus, things are bad enough as it is." Draco rounded on him. "You spoke to Father Walcott about us!"
Charles immediately dropped his arms to his sides. "I didn't mean to. Holy Mary, Draco, he's seen us whispering together, I had to tell him something."
"Yes, of course you did, but that? He made out as if I were some sort of Salome cock-tease."
Charles raised his eyebrow and Draco caught his expression.
"No! You can pull that face at me all you like. I didn't instigate this. I am no sodomite."
"No, of course not," Charles hissed, glancing at the crucifix that hung in the centre of the room as if it would strike them down. "Just keep your voice down."
"We haven't done anything," Draco said, dropping his voice considerably after following Charles' glance. "They were just feelings." Draco spared Charles a semi-sympathetic look. "You started it, remember. Nothing you ... we can't pray on."
Charles nodded furiously. "I will. Yes. Of course I will. I have confession this afternoon." He paused before adding hopefully, "Am I still coming over to yours for tea tonight?"
"After what happened today," Draco scoffed, "I should think not!"
"Oh come on." Charles dipped his head shyly. "We can still go riding together again. Father Walcott doesn't have to know about it."
"That's not the point. Father Walcott has already spoken to my father. Now, I cannot be seen to be close with you, just imagine the scandal. I have the Malfoy peerage to think about."
"Oh yes, your precious peerage," Charles answered somewhat bitterly. "You can't forget about that."
"No, Charles," Draco said incredulously. "I can't. Don't envy me just because your father made his fortune in cocoa and cow lactations."
"How would your father feel if he knew of your desires? Or do they pack fudge as well as chocolate at those factories of yours?"
"Draco!" Charles spluttered. "How can you say those things to me?"
Draco tugged on his rosary. "Because it's wrong!"
"I know!" he shouted. "I know they say its wrong and that it'll damn our souls and all the rot, but I thought at least you were my friend..."
Draco bit his lip and looked away. "I have Latin." He bolted from the room, bumping into the tables in his hurry.
"Draco!" Charles called out as Draco reached the door. "Is my father's factory safe? You're not going to get his license blocked, are you?"
Draco looked away from Charles' nervous face. "No," he murmured softly as he closed the door behind him.
Pride
"Blessed is that man that makes the Lord his trust, and looks not to the proud, nor to those that turn aside to lies."
(Psalm 40:4)
"You are late, Draco."
Lucius sat at the head of the grand mahogany table; Narcissa sat his right. Dinner was already served out by Cook.
Draco bowed his down his head as he took his place at his mother's right hand. "Sorry, Father. I got caught up with some schoolwork."
"As honorable as that may be, being on time is very important."
Narcissa nodded along. "Well, we can eat now. First, we'll say grace. Draco, will you lead us?"
Draco took a breath: "Hark to the chimes. Come bow your heads. O Lord, we thank thee, for daily bread. Amen."
"Amen." Narcissa sighed. "That was lovely, darling."
"Yes," Lucius picked up his silver knife and fork. "It is good that St Viers is truly teaching you something."
Draco picked up a fork and prodded at his dinner. The conversation lingered mostly on business; his father was proposing another stable deal, while his mother was not so sure. Draco wasn't listening; it wasn't like his opinion mattered much anyway.
"Draco." Narcissa was looking at him with concern. "Are you all right? You haven't touched your venison. It's your favourite."
"I'm fine, Mother." Draco forced a weak smile. He felt the bile curdling in the back of his throat. The dissolution of his friendship with Charles rested heavy on his chest and it made him sick; his parents could never know how much. "I'm just rather tired."
"I'm not surprised." Draco glanced at his Father who was staring at him. "There is something your mother and I want to discuss with you."
Draco swallowed and gripped his fork tightly; this could only be about one thing.
"I got a call from the school today. It seems that there have been some reports about your friendships there."
"I know." Draco put down his fork and tucked his hands under the table; they still shook. "I spoke to Father Walcott today, I said four Hail Marys with him in his office."
"I am aware of that, but as your father, I believe this is a conversation that I also need to have with you. I am more inclined to remind you of your Malfoy...responsibilities."
Narcissa grasped Lucius' hand as he continued. "To be a Malfoy is to be perfect. It is difficult, of course it is! But you have to try, especially you, Draco. When my peerage passes to you, you will be sole heir of the Malfoy fortune and sole beneficiary of our past, present and future. We want to make sure you are ready for such a responsibility."
Draco dug his nails into his palm under the table. This, this was what he was afraid of when he ... spent time together with Charles. All those horse rides, the sly handholding, such a mess.
"Behaving like some capricious slattern is not acceptable. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, I understand."
"Then tell me what is expected of you?"
Draco tried to meet his father's glare but found it easier to look at the spot just to the left of his left ear.
"I won't see Charles again."
Lucius snorted. "His father is nothing but an industrialist to begin with."
"I'll pray more often."
"I would strongly suggest that you attend confession at least once a week."
When his father strongly suggested something, it was a good idea for Draco to do it.
"Father Walcott will see me."
"I don't believe that would be wise." His father looked thoughtful. "You should go to the confession here in Mere. It would look better if people in town thought you were more pious."
"Yes, Father."
There was a deep and painful silence.
"I just hope we can put all this behind us," Narcissa said, glancing from Lucius and Draco.
Lucius frowned. "I sincerely hope so."
"May I please be excused?" Draco said in a quiet voice.
"Certainly." Lucius waved his hand. "And think on what we said."
Draco pulled out his chair from the table. He said his good nights. The moment he stopped outside the dining room, he let the panic flash over him in hot and cold waves. He clutched his rosary as he walked up the stairs and by the time he reached his room, its four points were indented into his palm. As he curled up in one corner of his king size bed, he wondered when they would fade.
*
"I hate coming here." Draco sniffed as they stood outside the church. "Honestly, it's full of orphans."
"Hush, Draco. People will hear." Narcissa smiled graciously at Mrs Knightlow and crooked her arm.
Draco took his mother's arm but still grumbled. "Why do we have to come here every week? They have a perfectly good cathedral up by Salisbury, everyone from St Viers goes there. "
"Appearances, Draco. These people respect us," his father murmured as they swept through the arched doorway and down the aisle. "They need to see us every week to remind them. They all need something to look up to."
His father knelt down before the pew, crossed himself and kissed his rosary. Draco mimicked him and then his mother followed.
They sat down on the pews and Draco shuffled in his seat. For church, his mother made him wear the fussiest clothes. High collars and excessively pressed shirts and fine silk blazers, of the deepest purple and gold. Not a smudge, not a curling strand of hair out of place, and Draco was expected to keep it that way.
"You are everything the Malfoys stand for," his father always said. "You are to be looked at."
Everyone did. Everyone dressed in their best, not shabby by much, but enough to make the difference, enough to create a gulf. It was the reason Farmer Foster always spat at the marks Lucius' high-polished shoes left on his driveway, the reason why Draco didn't go to the school in town with the other children.
The Townies, as everyone at St Viers called them, were the children from the orphanage next to the Church. They sat always at the back of the Church during Mass, probably so people like Draco wouldn't have to look at them. Though there weren't many of them, they were a sad-looking lot, even compared to the rest of the poor congregation. In their worn down shoes and tatty jumpers, Draco tried not to look at them sniggering at him in his finery, but in a town as small as this, it was impossible to ignore them.
He tried to focus on Father O'Leery. It was impossible, though. He heard the same thing every day; the words were seared into his brain. Draco tuned the words out like static.
He was just staring at the pulpit and wondering whether Cook would make roast duck or veal for dinner when something hit the back of head, something small and round.
Draco turned around slowly, trying not to attract his mother's attention. A group of the orphans were giggling together, hiding large smiles behind dirty fingertips. In the centre of them, one wasn't laughing. His messy black head was bowed so Draco could only see half of his face. He had the same sort of look as the rest of them, filthy skin and skinny bones; he was older, but there was something else that set him apart, something that made everyone around him keep their distance.
Draco glared at him and one of the others nudged him. He looked up and stared back at Draco with a blazing, fearless expression. Draco's glare faltered; none of the other Townies looked at him like that. All their expressions were mysterious and hidden, fear of his name making them hide their expressions.
Not this one though, thought Draco. He turned around as his mother tugged on hand. He could still feel that boy's eyes piercing into the back of his head.
Gluttony
"Be not among winebibbers; among riotous eaters of flesh: For the drunkard and the glutton shall come to poverty: and drowsiness shall clothe a man with rags."
Proverbs 23:20-21
Draco got off the school bus just as the sun was sinking into the hills. It was tea-time and he was hungry. He hated getting the school bus home and walking through the town, but his father was at yet another meeting.
All the rest of children were out and milled round in large groups, looking at the rabbits in the pet store and buying sweets from Frank's Fancies. The girls in their short skirts and over-processed hair and the boys wearing dirty, fashionable trainers, arms around each other. Draco ignored them, mostly. Scum.
He saw a group of the orphans gathered outside Frank's, a few of the younger ones straggling behind. Last of the pile with Katy; he knew her. She was always hanging around near his father's stables, looking at the horses. She was small and simple, so he could find out what he wanted from her.
He crossed the road to catch her up. "Katy!"
He strode up to her and gave her his best, winning smile. "Not buying any sweets, Katy?"
She sucked on the end of her pigtails and Draco fought the urge to cringe.
"Mother Superior says we ain't supposed to have sweets."
"Oh. Well," He waited a beat for asking: "Who was that boy in Church on Sunday?"
Her face suddenly shuttered closed. "What boy?"
"The new one. The one who threw the paper at me."
"Nobody threw nothing at you, Malfoy." She shook her head rapidly. "I don't want to get nobody in trouble."
"I don't care about anyone throwing stuff! I just want to know who he is. Look," Draco said, trying to reason with her, "I'll buy you an apple or something."
"I don't want no apples," she said, peering up at him.
Draco stared down at her. "Then what do you want?"
She lowered her brown eyes shyly. "I want chocolate."
Draco sighed. His father made bribery look so much easier. He dug into his wool coat and pulled out the Kit-Kat he was saving for his walk over the fields. He held it in front of her.
"And if I give you this chocolate?" He pulled it back slowly. "Will you tell me his name?"
She nodded and almost snatched it from his fingers when he held it out to her.
"So," he said quietly when she had devoured the bar. "Tell me...who is he? What is he doing in Mere?"
"Who, Harry?" Her mouth was covered in chocolate, and Draco had to suppress the urge to wipe her disgusting face.
"So that's his name, then?" Draco pulled his mouth tight.
"Yea, Harry Potter! He says his parents are dead too. He's really old too, I think he's almost as old as you."
Draco rolled his eyes; sixteen was not old. "Why have I never seen him before?"
" 'Cause he's new here, 'course."
"Of course, anything else I should know about him?" he asked, now that her guard had been lowered by sweets. "Anything ... interesting?"
She wiped her hands on her skirt. "He don't talk to nobody. He just sits in the room. He reads," she said, wide eyed.
Draco suppressed a smirk. "How shocking."
"I know!" She beamed at him. "And he's got this stick he's always holding onto and always playing with. He said to David that it's special."
"I see," said Draco, who didn't see at all. This boy sounded odd.
"He's nice though. He caught a mouse that was in my room. He didn't even kill it, he just let it free in a field."
"He sounds interesting." For once Draco wasn't being sarcastic. "You should be getting back now. Go catch up with your friends."
"Thanks for the chocolate, Draco." She skipped away from him. "Maybe you're not as mean as everyone says."
Katy left Draco standing glaring, and trotted up off the lane.
Sloth
If a man is lazy, the rafters sag; if his hands are idle, the house leaks." -
Ecclesiastes 10:18
Draco exited the town chapel, feeling like his head was about to spilt open. Father O'Leery made him feel like a rampant pervert and worse still, he had more Hail Marys to do. Draco kicked in frustration at the fence outside the church, like repeating the same nonsense words over and over would help him.
"What has that fence ever done to you?"
Draco looked up and saw the scruffy, black-haired boy from Mass, hanging over the railing near the orphanage.
"It got in my way." Draco tossed his hair. "What of it?"
The boy shrugged. He was a lonely thing. A nasty, bright red scar zigzagged across his forehead. It looked dangerous and Draco wondered whether he'd got it in a street fight.
"What happened to your forehead?" Draco said, sticking his nose in the air.
The boy flushed immediately. "Car accident when I was young. That's how my parents died," he answered quickly, almost too quickly.
As someone with parents as slavishly devoted as his, Draco was trained in lying, and knew everything there was to know about distorting the truth. He knew liars, and this boy with his darting green eyes and fumbling feet was definitely one.
Draco decided to humour him. "Potter. That is your name, isn't it?"
"Yes. My name is Harry Potter. And just who are you?" he added defensively.
"Me? I'm Draco Malfoy. My father is Lord Malfoy. We live in Stourhead Manor up the lane."
Harry instantly scowled. "I've heard of you."
It was like Harry had thrown a bucket of water on him. "I can assure you it is all rumors ... all you've heard is false," he said quietly, turning down the corners of his mouth. "I'm not very...popular round here."
"I haven't heard anything much," Harry said nervously. "Just that you live at Shourhead Manor."
"The children that live at the church told you that?"
"Well, yea. I do live there too." Harry slipped his hand into his pocket and clutched at something desperately.
"Why haven't I seen you before?" Draco said, peering at him. If Draco had seen Harry before, he would definitely have remembered. The boy's clothes looked as if they used to belong to a circus elephant. They were certainly too big to be clothing for normal people.
"They move me around foster homes a lot." He had apparently noticed Draco looking at his attire because he tried to tug his tee shirt over his stomach. "I only came here this week."
"So you go to the Salisbury comp', then?"
"No, I go to boarding school...in Scotland."
"Scotland?" Draco raised an eyebrow. "It sounds interesting."
"It's okay." Potter shrugged. "Shame, I have to come back here for the summer."
"You don't like it here in Salisbury?"
Potter's eyes grew wary and he murmured tentatively: "It is a bit boring."
On that score Draco had to agree. "Summers in this town do tend to drag on rather endlessly. When you've lived here all your life, you can find things to do; perhaps you'll help me make your summer a little more eventful..."
Potter's eyes narrowed and Draco could tell he didn't trust him, but he recognised something in Potter's sharp expression; Draco guessed he wouldn't be able to resist a challenge.
Draco's guess landed well.
"Then perhaps I'll see you around," Harry said, his nostrils flaring.
Draco smiled. He turned to go, but loaded his final glance with heavy meaning. "See you around, Potter."
*
Harry sighed and leant against the tree he was shading under. His copy of Advanced Charms slid form his lap, but he didn't bother to pick it up. All this theory would be a lot easier if he was allowed to use his wand. Of course, even if he was of age, he wouldn't be able to do anything with all the Muggles around.
He'd fought to get away from the rest of the children from the Home. They did nothing but ask questions: "Harry, can you tell the time?", "Harry, do you like broccoli?", "Harry, why you always reading?"
He let his eyes shutter closed and tried to drift off. If he was honest with himself, he would admit he was waiting for Malfoy. Harry had not been lying when he'd expressed his boredom for this town. He missed his friends, and he missed Quidditch. The days until he could leave this place eked on slower and slower as the weeks passed. He could play Muggle with Malfoy until then. Snotty, posh little thing he was. There was just one more summer left until he was of age and free of the damn Muggle social services.
No matter how many ways he excused it, he knew what would happen if he got too close to someone, if his magic was discovered, and how dangerous that would be.
He woke to the sounds of a great galloping; he heard the footfall of horses' hooves before he saw it: a shining, white horse. It was a great creature with long firm legs and it was galloping right towards him. He rolled out of its way, but just before it stamped on him, the rider tugged on the reins, called, "Easy there!" and the white horse came to an abrupt stop.
Draco took his off his helmet, shaking out his blond hair. "Still bored, Potter?"
"Not now you've turned up to stampede me to death!" Harry got to his feet and brushed himself off.
Draco climbed from the horse's back, sliding down neatly next to Harry, still holding on to the horse's reins. He stood with both hands on his hips in his red riding coat, jodhpurs and knee-high boots, waiting for Harry to be impressed.
"Come now, Potter. I didn't think you were the type to be scared by a little creature like this." He patted the horse's mane. "What do you know, Flash? Potter's scared of you."
The horse tossed his head and whinnied, and Harry was sure it was mocking him.
"I am not scared." Harry glared at him. "I've seen creatures much worse than your little pony."
Draco raised his eyebrows. "Really? Well that settles it." He tapped Flash's flank.
"Climb aboard."
"What?"
"You're not fat, Potter. This saddle is plenty big enough for both of us. Flash is a calm and peaceful horse, he won't toss you."
"Shouldn't I have a helmet or something?"
Draco reached into his saddlebag and pulled out another black helmet. "I came prepared."
Harry balked; he was almost a hundred percent sure this was a bad idea. "I don't know."
"Oh, come on. Do you want to lie around all day in a field like some brain-dead shepherd, or do you want to come on an exciting ride with me?"
Draco dangled the helmet in front of Harry seductively and Harry admitted there wasn't much choice.
"All right." Harry chucked his textbooks into his rucksack and took the helmet from Draco. He fastened it under his chin but stopped short in front of the horse. "Err...how do I get on?"
"I'll give you a leg-up." Draco knelt down, tented his fingers and spread them, making a flat surface for Harry to stand on. Harry put his feet on Draco's palm and Draco pushed him up. Harry grabbed the saddle before the horse could move.
"Good, Potter," Draco called from underneath him, still holding on to Harry's trainer. "Now just swing one leg over."
"Fuck!" Harry hissed as Draco tossed him up and let go. He clutched the groove on the saddle for support. It was bloody high from up top and absolutely nothing like riding a broom. The horse's back was about a thousand times wider than a broomstick. Harry felt as if his legs were spread almost obscenely. He looked down to see Draco struggling not to laugh at him.
"What's so bloody funny?" he asked, wishing he'd never agreed to this.
"Nothing, you look petrified. It's ... quite sweet."
Draco looked away and cleared his throat, and Harry caught the faint start of a blush creeping up his cheeks. It could have just been the heat.
"I'll get on next."
Harry pulled a face. "How are you going to get on with me here?'
"Just scoot back as far as you can. I'll do the rest."
Draco took the reins in his left hand, grabbing a handful of mane as he went. Harry watched as Draco placed his left foot in the stirrups. He bounced on the other leg and sort of jumped, although Harry guessed it was more technical than that.
"Hhmp!" Draco puffed as he swung his right leg up and over, curling it to avoid kicking Harry in the face, and then he was comfortably seated in the centre of the saddle.
"You made that look so easy," Harry said to Draco's back.
"It should be. I've been doing it for years." Harry heard him pick up the reins. "Let's go!"
"Wait!" Harry grabbed his shoulder. "What do I hold on to?"
There was a snort that definitely didn't come from the horse. "Why, me of course!"
"Oh." Harry put a hand on each of Draco's shoulders. "Ready, then."
Draco sighed impatiently. "My waist, Potter." He reached up and grasped Harry's hands in his. They were unusually cold, long yet slight. Harry's hands felt huge in his. Draco moved them down to his waist and knitted Harry's fingers together across his stomach.
He took up the reins again. "Now make sure you hold on tight. I don't want to have to explain to Father O'Leery why your brains got smeared all over the pavement."
Harry's stomach flipped over, which he told himself was surely more to do with apprehension than the way he was clinging onto Draco's back.
"Ready?"
"Yea," Harry said more firmly than he felt.
"Away!" Draco called firmly.
The horse began to trot and Harry was unprepared for the sensation. Nothing like a broom, not even like the donkey he'd ridden when he was younger, when the Dursleys had been gracious enough to take him to the fair. No, with a broom he had some control, even miles up in the sky. This horse, with Draco at the helm, had a mind of its own and was all the more powerful for it.
Draco kept the horse at a steady pace, which Harry guessed was for his benefit. After a few bruising yards, Harry learned to go with the horse's movements rather than resist them, even if it did bring him uncomfortably close with to Draco now and again.
"Where are we going?"
"Just a little tour of Mere. There's a spot coming up soon in a bit where we can have lunch."
"I didn't bring anything. I thought I'd be back home by now."
"Don't worry about that," Draco said, a little too casually. "Cook always makes too much for me."
The tips of Draco's ears turned pink and Harry had to allow himself a small smile when he realised Draco had planned this all out.
They trotted along for a while with Draco pointing out sights as they went. It was quite pleasant and Harry found himself enjoying himself more than he thought he would've.
"Almost there," Draco called back cheerfully.
They crossed a little, wooden bridge and on the other side was a little grove shadowed by trees. They wandered through them and came out on a large field.
"Wow!" Harry breathed. He hadn't expected to be impressed but he was. The field reminded him of the rolling landscape of Hogwarts, only it was completely deserted.
"I know," Draco said. "It's great, isn't it?"
"How did you find it?"
"My father owns it. No-one ever comes here though."
They trotted into the centre and Draco dismounted smoothly.
"Okay." He looked up at Harry. "Now your turn."
"Shall I just jump down?"
"Just swing your leg over like you did before." At Harry's hesitation, Draco added, "Don't worry. You'll be fine unless you crush me to death and then you'll probably die out here because you don't know where you are and you don't know how to get back."
It took Harry several seconds to realise Draco was joking. "You have a sick sense of humour."
"That's what comes of living in the countryside. Now are you going to get down or what?"
The second Harry's legs touched the ground, they turned to jelly. He buckled.
"Whoa," Draco said as he slipped both hands round Harry's waist and helped ease him to the ground. "It can be like that the first few times you ride. Sorry, I should have warned you."
"I'll be all right." Harry panted, flopping back against the grass. "I just need to rest."
Draco nodded and wandered off to tend to the horse as Harry closed his eyes. He heard Draco unbuckling straps and leather hitting the grass.
"Oof!" He gasped as a heavy package hit his stomach.
"Sandwiches." Draco sat down next to him and crossed his legs. "You need to keep your energy up. I don't want you to pass out on the way home."
Harry bit into one, roast beef. He moaned appreciatively. After a few weeks at that orphanage he'd forgotten what real food was like; Mrs Weasley's pumpkin pastries only lasted so long.
"You like it?" Draco asked cautiously.
"Yea, of course."
"I've some orange juice." Draco passed him a bright red flask.
"Oh." Harry took it from him and stared at it.
"What?" Draco looked up from his sandwich. "Do you not like it?"
"Yea. It's just ... been a while since I had orange juice."
Draco tucked some of his rubbish away in a plastic bag and put his hand out for Harry's. "Not many oranges in Scotland?"
Harry handed him his rubbish. "I'm sure there are, we just don't get them at school."
They bathed in the sun for a while, watching Flash chew the grass.
"It's so peaceful here," Harry said, sitting up and resting his hands on his knees.
"I know." Draco yawned and stretched lazily. His jacket rode up slightly and Harry caught a glimpse of the bare, pale flesh that lay underneath. Harry felt something twist uncomfortably deep inside him. He looked away; it felt weird looking at another boy like that. Different but not horrible. He'd certainly never thought of Ron the way he was thinking about Draco now. But then he'd never been horse riding either and that'd turned out okay.
Draco had apparently noticed his silence because he turned over and said: "Is everything okay?"
"Just thinking about my friends from school." It was only a half-lie. "I can't see them until the end of summer."
"You must miss them."
"I do." Harry grimaced. "They're like the first proper friends I had. I didn't really have any when I was growing up."
"Me neither," Draco said sympathetically. "There's not many children in town and I was home-schooled. At least you have some now."
"I'm sure you do too."
"Of course, I do." Draco smiled sarcastically. "You're my best friend, Potter."
Harry tried his best to hide this grin. "Oh shut up."
Draco got to his feet. "We'd better be getting back. Mother makes us say prayers at six." He pulled a face and put a hand out to help Harry up.
"Legs better now?" Draco looked genuinely concerned. Harry had not really noticed his grey eyes, such a strange watery colour, and under his heavy stare, Harry's legs did feel a little wobbly.
"I'm sure I'll be fine. I've still got hands to hold on to you." Harry cringed the moment the words left his mouth, but Draco didn't seem to mind.
He broke out in a grin so wide, Harry could see his crooked eye teeth. "Now you're getting it, Potter! It's all about the hold. Now," he said, bending down and giving Harry a foothold. "Let's see if you remember what to do."
In a while they were both seated on Flash, and they set off over the little bridge.
"Still fine, Potter?"
"Yea."
"Good." A mischievous tone edged into Draco's voice. "Shall we go faster?"
Harry stomach swooped as Draco drove the horse faster down the lane. He had to fight to hold on; he pressed his hands into Draco so hard he thought he was bruising him. The countryside rushed past him.
Eventually, Draco slowed the horse back to a trot.
"I love going that fast." Draco gasped. "It feels like I'm flying."
"I wish we could really take off," Harry said, between pants.
"You mean like a flying unicorn?"
"Unicorns can't fly," Harry said, before he could stop himself.
Draco sniffed. "Says who?"
Harry wiggled uncomfortably. "I know for a fact they don't."
Draco laughed but not cruelly. "You're a weird guy, Potter." There was a brief pause. "A flying horse would be cool, though."
As they rode home, Harry let his body relax and his mind drift. He wished he could take Draco flying, to watch his face turn over from fear to excitement, to go fast then faster and watch the colour soar up in his cheeks. It would be like Harry's first time on a broom, to see someone else enjoy it. A heavy weight settled in his chest when he realised this would be impossible. He'd almost forgotten Draco was a Muggle, that this friendship was only for one summer and was doomed after that. He sighed heavily.
"You all right back there?" Draco said over the sounds of hooves.
"Yea," Harry answered, squeezing him a little tighter.
"Good," Draco answered. He sounded a little strained, and Harry hoped he wasn't crushing him, so he let go a little.
"Don't loosen your grip, Potter," he said sharply. "You might fall."
Harry resolved to concentrate on things other than how soft Draco's flesh felt pressed against his fingertips, like the great troll rebellion of 1377.
Draco stopped Flash just outside the church gates. He helped Harry off before jumping back on himself.
"I better go before the Father catches me here. He's not my biggest fan at the moment. I hope you had a good time."
Harry nodded. "It was sure better than reading my Charms book all day."
Draco tilted his head. "Charms?"
Shit. "Yes ... we all have to learn Charms at my school." Harry scrambled. Deportment ... that stuff.
Draco was still looking at him thoughtfully. His large, grey eyes swept over Harry's face, and Harry's stomach dipped like he was in mid-flight.
Flashed whinnied and stamped his hooves. Draco turned and patted his mane until he calmed.
"I better get off. Flash is getting impatient, he hates being tied down too long." He cast a sideways glance at Harry. "I'm sure you know how he feels."
"Don't get too bored before I see you next." He smiled down at Harry as he turned Flash around. There was something dangerous and naughty in his slanted half smile, and Harry found himself smiling back.
"See you later, Harry," He called as he galloped off down the lane.
*
The next day, Draco came calling for him around midday.
"Potter!" His voice echoed round the front courtyard and all the other children turned to stare. "Coming riding today?"
Harry was rather angry with himself when two minutes later, he was walking across the fields towards Draco's stables. He'd been up half the night, tossing around in bed. When he did finally sleep, his dreams had been filled with flying horses, rivers of orange and a sharp voice crying: "Hold on, Potter!" When he woke, his sheets were sticky and it wasn't that hot outside.
Together, he rightly assumed this equaled bad news. Still, when Draco turned up outside the church in his riding jacket and jodhpurs, he found himself saying yes instead of disappearing in the other direction. He would have to do something about those jodhpurs.
"I thought we'd get you your own horse today." Draco said as they entered the stables.
It was warm and dusty. It smelt of hay and horses; it smelt a bit like Draco actually.
"Do really think I'm ready?" Harry walked with Draco to one of the gates. "I didn't do too well yesterday."
"You did much better than some people. You didn't fall off once." Draco smiled and Harry was quickly learning to dread that look he had in his eyes. "Besides, I've got the perfect horse for you."
Draco opened the gate and gestured for Harry to follow. "This horse really reminds me of you. Come on, Spot. Say hello to Harry."
The horse Draco was talking about was the deepest black Harry had ever seen and not quite as tall as Draco's horse.
"Why do you call him Spot?"
For an answer Draco pointed at the very top of the horse's head. There was a white dot near the corner of his eye like someone had dabbed him with a paint brush.
He turned to Draco. "Oh ha ha! Did you do that to him this morning?"
"No!" Draco said indignantly. "He's always looked like that. Still," Draco shot him a sideways glance, "yours looks more like a lightening bolt."
"Yes," Harry said, quietly.
"It's nice though," Draco added cheerfully. "Makes you more interesting."
Harry perked up; Draco thought he was interesting. "I guess it does."
Draco smiled back at him. "Come on now. I'll show you how to put a saddle on."
They went riding a lot after that. Harry was enjoying himself so much he didn't notice the calendar slowly counting down to his birthday. He was seventeen; he would be of age and he would have to leave, leave Draco. He tried not to think about it often.
It wasn't hard to forget. There was something about Draco's manner that always made Harry stop what he was doing. He touched Harry a lot, little presses here and there, that when Harry put them together added up to a lot more than Harry was expecting.
*
The next time Harry came to the stable, he brought Katy.
"I thought she could draw the horses while we go riding," he said apologetically. "She wouldn't leave me this morning," he added in a half-whisper. "I think she's lonely."
She looked up at him with her stencil set clutched to her chest, and Harry's hand on her hand. They were both smiling at him. Draco sighed; even he couldn't resist this much manipulation.
"Of course you can, Katy," He said with heavily faked enthusiasm. "Just don't get too close. They kick."
"Thanks, Draco!" She beamed, tooth missing, and wandered off, pigtails and all.
Harry laughed when she left. "You should have seen your face."
"Yes, Potter. Laugh but I'm not feeding her."
Harry's expression changed. "Seriously, Draco." He put his hand on Draco's arm and pressed it gently. "That was really kind of you."
Draco felt his face flare with heat. "Well. You know me. I took you in, didn't I?"
"Yes, you did." Harry still didn't move his arm. Instead he pulled Draco closer and they settled into an awkward hug. Awkward because Draco's heart was racing and he was sure Harry could feel it.
They broke apart and Draco found he couldn't quite let Harry go. He rested his head on Harry's shoulder. He murmured in Harry's ear: "Let's race the horses today."
Harry snorted but he didn't pull away. "You're quite mad."
"What's the big deal? You've been riding for weeks now."
"I wouldn't trust you not cheat."
"And injure the horses? Never!"
"Okay." Harry turned his head so his nose was almost touching Draco's. For one dangerous, breathless moment, Draco thought Harry was going to kiss him. Instead, he sighed and pulled away. "Let's go then."
*
Hours later, they trotted back to the stables, hungry and exhausted. Draco was having great fun pretending to be annoyed because Harry 'won'. It meant Harry was paying at a lot of attention to stop him from being annoyed. He even helped Draco down from the horse. Even though Draco certainly didn't need any help, he was more than happy to have Harry's hands so close to his arse.
Harry leant against the stable door, sweaty and flushed, as Draco led the horses back in. He hoped they weren't too tired out or his father would kill him.
"I want a prize after that."
"A prize?" Draco snorted, "You nearly rode the poor creature into the ground."
"I still arrived back here first."
"You fell off twice."
"I know." He rubbed his bruised thigh. "I still think I deserve something though."
And people thought Draco had a sense of entitlement. "Oh yea?" Draco tilted his chin, trying to not to smile. "Like what, Potter?"
Harry came close, almost too close. Draco could smell his heady scent of sweat and salt, mixed in with the hay from the stables. Harry's fingers found a strand of Draco's hair. He wound it round his finger and gave it a tug.
"Like this."
He leant forward and pressed his mouth against Draco's. His lips were smooth and warm, almost nothing like Draco expected.
He felt one of Harry's rough hands running through his hair, the other gripping his waist tightly. He pulled Draco against him heavily until Draco could feel every one of Harry's pointed joints, every sharp muscle.
And oh god, wasn't this wonderful? Wasn't it everything he'd wanted for so, so long? He felt something uncoiling inside of him, like a spring he'd pushed down further and further until it couldn't be contained anymore. He pushed Harry against the stable wall, not caring when Harry moaned underneath as his back hit the wood. It turned rough as Draco felt Harry's teeth against his tongue, Harry's hands yanking off Draco's jacket, the soft planes of Harry's stomach under his stupid baggy shirt. Draco tugged it up and off and somehow they lost their balance and went tumbling into a pile of hay.
Harry landed on his back and dragged Draco on top of him until he was straddling Harry's waist.
"Fuck, Draco!" Harry moaned.
Draco smiled. Harry looked fantastic like this, spread out underneath him. Draco leant forward to kiss again when his rosary slipped from his shirt and hung between them.
Draco recoiled instantly. "Shit," he said, scrambling to his feet.
"What's wrong?" Harry sat up. He was half-naked and covered in hay, the skin on his chest and neck bright red.
Draco dusted himself down, trying to brush the hay from his hair and jacket. "This-this is just wrong."
Harry stood up. "Did I ... Did I do something wrong?"
"You kissed me, Potter!"
"You didn't seem to mind a few moments ago."
"It's a sin."
Harry, to Draco's great horror, laughed. "You are joking, aren't you? You don't really believe that nonsense, do you?"
"Nonsense!" Draco turned to Harry in a fury. "How dare you? What do you know about anything?"
"Well, I know it's not real."
Draco voice dropped to a deathly level. "Are you saying God isn't real?"
"Well ... " Harry ran his hand through his hair. "I suppose I am."
Draco stood there waiting for the lightening bolt to strike. "I can't believe-"
"Draco," Harry interrupted. "Can you smell that?"
Draco folded his arms. "Stop changing the subject."
"No, seriously. Can you? It smells like burning wood."
Draco stopped dead. He could smell it too. Come to think about it, it was rather hot in here.
"Fuck." Harry was clearly coming to the same conclusion as Draco. "I think the stable's on fire ... We've got to get out of here."
Harry grabbed Draco's hand, but Draco shrugged him off.
"I've got to get the horses out!"
"I'll help."
There was no time to argue with him. No time for anything. Together, they unbuckled the horses' gates. One small catch after another. All the time, the flames got closer and the metal catches got hotter, until Draco felt his fingertips blistering. He had no idea where Harry was.
Finally, he flicked the last catch and the final horse galloped past him. He felt an urgent hand pressing against his shoulder.
"Let's go!" Harry hissed, driving him forward.
Draco turned back; he could see the bright orange flames licking against the dark, brown wood, then he heard it.
A high-pitched scream, a little girl's scream.
"Katy!" Draco said desperately. "She must still be in here."
The expression on Harry's face changed very quickly and Draco was scared for a completely different reason.
"Draco." Harry's tone was low and flat and unlike any other he'd used with Draco before. "I want you to go outside and stay there. I'm going to get Katy."
"You're fucking mental, Potter! You'll die."
"Don't argue with me. Just do it!" He grabbed Draco's chin and kissed him fiercely. "I'll be back." With that he turned back towards the flames.
Draco called after him until his throat was dry, but he was already gone and Draco's lungs were filling with smoke.
He stumbled outside and collapsed on the grass verge. After a few heaving breaths, he threw up over the gravel. He could hear the sirens of the fire engines in the distance slowly getting louder. The world had just begun to swim when he saw Harry running from the stables, a crying Katy in his arms. It must have been the lack of oxygen, but Draco was sure he saw the light shimmering off them in blue and purple waves
He staggered to his feet. "Is she okay?"
She was still crying, but Harry continued to hold her.
"I think she's fine. She's really scared though."
"Give her to me." Draco held out his hands.
Harry only clutched her tighter. "Why?"
"Because you need to get out of here. And if you stay here, everyone's going to wonder why you're here and they're going to ask just how you rescued her." Draco's eyes narrowed. "Pass her over, Potter. I'm not going to hurt her."
They exchanged her gently and she seemed more than happy to go to Draco. He brushed her hair out of her face.
"I have to tell you something," Harry began shakily as he watched them. "I-I'm a wizard. That's how I saved her."
Draco felt his face go dead. "What?"
"I'm a wizard, Draco. I do magic. I go to a magic school, I turn tortoises into teapots and yes, I have seen a unicorn."
Draco shook his head. "You've gone fucking starkers, Potter. It must be the shock."
"No!" Harry was adamant. "I've got to-"
"Potter! Just go!"
Katy started crying again and Harry set his jaw, and Draco just prayed he wouldn't argue. He didn't; he just gave Draco a brief nod.
"I'll come find you tomorrow," he said as he slipped through the gates and set off over the field.
Draco watched Harry jog off through the fields and held Katy tight until the ambulance came.
*
Draco sat in the kitchen window seat, watching the fire inspector peer over the ruined stables.
"Turned out not be too bad in end," his mother was saying to Cook. "Lucius says that the insurance will pay out more than the old thing was worth anyway. It's such a lucky thing little Katy wasn't hurt."
"That's not luck, Lady Malfoy," Cook answered her. "That was a miracle from the hand of God himself."
"Does she still not remember anything?"
"Not a thing, Ma'am. However the Almighty saved her ... Well, he has his own reasons for that."
Draco tuned them out. He knew exactly who'd rescued her; he knew why, he just didn't know how.
He watched the fire brigade sort through the wreckage. All twenty-eight horses without a home were to be sold, even Flash.
He didn't let himself cry, not with Cook and Mother so close by anyhow. He hardly needed to attract any more attention to himself.
"Draco!" his mother called. "William says there's someone at the door for you." Narcissa gave him a curious glance. "Harry Potter?"
"Oh." Draco felt nauseous all over again. "He's just another boy from the orphanage. I'll go meet with him"
"Not getting too close, I hope." Narcissa frowned at him.
No, Mother," Draco answered quickly. "Just doing my Christian duty. I'm being charitable."
He met Harry by the fountain in the courtyard. He looked brilliant with in his ferocity, his hair messy and dark like a shadowy crown. His eyes were the most exciting though, vividly green as always, but now they were tinged with soft concern and it was all focused on Draco.
"Draco," he began softly. "I have to go back to London today."
Of all the things Draco was expecting Harry to say, that was not one of them. He felt as if someone had punched him in chest.
He clutched the marble for support. "What?"
Harry looked as distraught as Draco felt. "It's my birthday tomorrow. I have to be back before then."
Draco should have expected this, if he'd thought about it, but Harry had always made him feel like he'd be here forever. "You better ... Better ... fucking go then," Draco managed.
"Draco. Don't." Harry reached out and touched Draco on the shoulder, but he shook him off viciously.
"Leave me, Potter. I wish ... I wish I'd never met you."
"You can't mean that."
"Yes, I can! Tell me, do you always turn up somewhere and fuck up people's lives?"
Harry's face fell. "Sometimes. My magic does tend to have that effect on people."
"Magic, again?" Draco spat. "Spin me another!"
This time when Harry gripped his wrist, Draco couldn't shake him off. "It's true, Draco."
"Prove it, Potter!"
"I can't," Harry said desperately. "I'm not allowed to do underage magic. I'm already in trouble for casting that spell with Katy."
"How convenient!" Draco yanked his wrist away.
Harry yanked him back. "I don't want to leave like this."
"Tough, Potter. Just fucking tough! You don't get to make those decisions anymore." He sunk his nails into Harry's hands, and Harry let Draco go with a wince.
"Goodbye, Potter," he said coldly.
He walked briskly to the side of the Manor. He wanted to stop, but he knew if he did, he would see Harry and his bright eyes, and then he wouldn't be able to stop himself from believing everything Harry had promised.
Draco turned and looked back at Shourhead. Harry was gone and the delicate light cast threatening shadows against the heavy brickwork; there was smoke from the stables, rising gently behind them.
In this half-light, Draco could imagine the ghost of the Malfoys, swanning around the grounds, forging connections and talking politics. Fine men, married with heirs who would continue their heritage without question.
Draco felt sick all of a sudden, the weight of the ancestry pressing against his throat, his chest... His vision swam, his knees buckled underneath him and he found himself crouching in the driveway. When he finally stood up, he'd been sitting there so long, the gravel was indented into his cord trousers.
Wrath
Cease from anger and forsake wrath; Do not fret; it leads only to evildoing.
Psalms 37:8
"So I said to Daphne that she was being utterly stupid about the whole thing. I mean it's not as if I meant to cut her fringe so short."
"No," Draco answered smoothly. Inside, he was sure his soul was dying a slow and painful death.
This date with Astoria was definitely the worst idea he'd ever had.
She'd moaned about the sandwiches ("Mayonnaise, Draco. I can't eat that. Do you want me to get fat?"), she'd moaned about the fields ("It's too muddy, Draco. These shoes are brand new."), and after three hours of listening to her talk about the state of her sister's spilt ends, he was more than ready to chop his ears off.
Astoria continued on unfettered by Draco's poor show of interest. "It was lopsided to begin with. She's just trying to look like me, but then who would blame her?" She laughed. "I mean, you think I'm gorgeous, don't you, Draco?"
She turned to him and struck what was clearly supposed to be a model pose. Both hands on her hips, her lips pressed up into a stupid pout. He arranged his face into a suitably impressed expression. He hoped she wouldn't notice that the excited gleam in his eye was not for her but for the bus coming down the lane. Soon, he would be rid of this harpy.
"Yea...isn't this your bus?"
Astoria started. "Oh yea...that was quick."
Not soon enough, Draco thought.
"So, aren't you going to kiss me goodbye?" she said, flicking her hair and staring up at him.
He definitely did not want to kiss her. In fact, he was sure he'd rather stick his cock in one of his horses than in her, as it'd probably complain less. But if he didn't, all the St Viers boys would know, since Astoria had a big mouth. Then more rumours.
Draco smiled tersely. "Sure."
She flickered his eyes shut and Draco felt a spike of panic, but then there was no room to pull away now. She was puckering her bright, pink mouth, coming closer and ...
... almighty, it was awful. Slimy, sloppy. He could taste her dirty, plasticky lipstick when she slipped her tongue inside his mouth. Nothing like ...
He held her by the shoulders to stop her from pushing her horrible breasts against his chest, and after what felt like hours but could have only been thirty seconds, he pushed her away.
"You'd better get on your bus." Draco said, fighting the urge to wipe his mouth.
"Yes," she breathed. "Bye, Draco." She climbed onto the bus. "I'll call you soon."
As the bus pulled away with her on it, Draco let out a large breath. He resisted, just barely, throwing his arms in the air and cheering.
"That difficult?"
Draco turned and saw Harry, in worn jeans and muddy trainers, leaning against a gate post. He hadn't been there before Astoria had got on the bus; it was like he appeared out of nowhere.
In his shock, Draco stammered: "S-she was perfectly charming."
"Sure." Potter laughed. "She looked it."
Harry looked very nice when he laughed; he threw back his head and exposed his neck like he didn't care who was watching. Draco swallowed; this was a bad development. His body was remembering things it ought not to.
"What are you doing here anyway?" said Draco, recovering himself quickly. "I thought you went back to Scotland."
Harry stepped closer to Draco. "Clearly I came back."
"A year later, Potter." Draco narrowed his eyes angrily. "A year later. You didn't even call." Draco dropped his voice when he realised what he was revealing, but he couldn't help it. "You didn't even write."
"I thought about it, but the Wizarding post -"
"Oh don't start that nonsense again." Draco pointed at him. "Potter, you are not magical."
Harry set his jaw. "You didn't believe me last time."
Draco folded his arms. "Well, I asked you to prove it. You couldn't."
"But now, I can." Harry smiled and reached into his pocket and pulled out a long stick. Something inside Draco clicked, something Katy had said long ago. No, surely not.
Harry pointed at a large rock several yards from them. Instantly a red stream of light shot out of the stick. There were loud splitting sounds and the rock lay in hundreds of tiny pieces.
Harry dropped his hand. "Now do you believe me?"
Draco shook his head at Harry's question, at the fear that gripped him. All his father's power, all the influence he possessed could all be undone with a simple flick of Harry's wrist. Could he blast Draco like that? Would he?
He dropped to his knees as waves of sickness throbbed through him, and promptly threw up all over the grass.
"Fuck. Sorry, Draco! I forgot Muggles sometimes react like that. Here." Harry took off his cardigan and draped over Draco's shoulders.
"I'll warn you next time."
Draco wiped his mouth on the tissue Harry had found. "Please do."
Harry sat down next to him and pulled him into a hug. "I think...I think there's some things I need to tell you."
Harry told him, firstly, about his parents. As Draco suspected, they hadn't died in a car crash.
"What happened?"
"Somebody killed them," Harry breathed shakily. "Somebody sick."
"Was he...magical too?"
"Yes, he was a wizard. A dark one. He wanted all the power for himself, he wanted to control the Wizarding world. He'd kill anyone who stood in his way."
Draco shuttered involuntarily. "He sounds like my father."
Harry paused thoughtfully. "I suppose he was in some ways. My parents were part of a group that was trying to stop him. He came into our house when I was a year old. He killed them, then tried to kill me too, but the curse rebounded and killed him. I was left with this scar."
Harry held Draco tighter. "The scary thing is he was trying to become immortal. He wanted to make these vessels for his soul ... he never managed it. He still took away my parents though."
Draco didn't think having parents was that wonderful, but he didn't mention that; instead, he said: "So you're famous, then?"
"Very. It's horrible." Harry grimaced.
"Why? I always thought that would be fun."
"It's not." Harry shook his head. "Imagine everyone knowing the worst thing that ever happened to you in detail, knowing before you did, worshipping you for something you had no hand in. It's different in this town, it's not my world, but sometimes I think it's better...no-one knows who I am or what happened to me."
"That's why you're back here, then? To get away from it all?"
"No." He turned to Draco, grasped his hand and held it firm. "I came back for you, Draco. I want you to come to London with me."
"London?"
"Yes. I'm eighteen now. I don't have stay here and neither do you."
"I don't think I can. You should just go...you could visit."
"No," Harry said firmly. "How could I go and leave you to rot here? You've been brainwashed by that school of yours."
Draco sputtered, "How bad can St Viers be?"
"St Viers," Harry said slowly, "teaches you that what we do is wrong."
"It is wrong," Draco said, growing more uncertain. "It's a sin."
"Says who? Some stupid book that was written thousands of years ago. I can turn water into wine, Draco. I can travel hundreds of miles in a spilt second. I can do many things your Bible says I can't."
Draco put a shaky hand to his chest; he felt the wooden cross buried underneath his tee-shirt. "But my father-"
"Your father knows nothing," Harry said crossly. "He just wants you to be a carbon copy of him so you can carry on the title. He doesn't know the first thing about you."
"And you do?"
"I know that you don't want to be a businessman like him. You love horses. You want to teach people to ride."
"I never said that."
"You don't have to. I could see how much you enjoyed teaching me."
"It was fun." Draco was understating that. It had been amazing to watch Harry go from nervous and anxious to charging around fields on race horses, and it'd been because of Draco.
They sat together, holding hands in silence, and Draco thought about it. The more he did, the more the idea picked at him. He could see himself with his own riding school, starting the younger children on ponies, building up their confidence, teaching them to shod... But his father would never agree to it.
The sun sank down slowly behind the hills. "I need to go home," Draco said unhappily.
Harry got to his feet. "I'll walk you back."
"Just to the gates," He said, but he didn't let go of Harry's hand.
When they arrived, Harry pressed a quick kiss to Draco's mouth. "I won't give up, Draco. I'm not leaving here without you."
"I don't know what I can do." Draco turned towards the Manor.
"You can come with me." Harry grabbed him by the shoulders and forced Draco to look at him. "I'm staying at the inn in town and I'll come back tomorrow."
They hugged briefly and then Harry turned on the spot and disappeared.
Greed
By justice a king gives a country stability, but one who is greedy for bribes tears it down.
Proverbs 29:4
When Draco walked through the gate, he was not ready for the scene that confronted him.
Blue and white police cars littered the drive, the front doors to the Manor were open, and he could hear shouting coming from inside the house. Outside, his mother was clutching a handkerchief, tears running down her face.
He sprinted through the police cars to where Narcissa was clutching a pillar for support.
"Mother," he said desperately. "What's going on? Has there been a theft? An accident?"
"No, Draco. It's your father ... " She pressed a delicate, shaking hand to his cheek, where just moments ago, Harry had kissed. "He's been arrested."
Arrested? "No ... that can't be true. There must be some mistake."
"They say he had something to do with the stable burning."
"What?"
"That's not all. He's wanted for other charges too."
Draco's heart stopped dead. "Like what?"
Narcissa pressed a shaking hand to her chest. "Attempted murder."
Draco bolted, making for the door.
"No, Draco!" She pulled him away from the entrance hall. "The police are in there."
As Draco fought to break free of her grip, the police led Lucius out, his hands cuffed behind his back.
"Father!" Draco cried, standing by the police car window as the police deposited him in it. "What have you done?"
Lucius looked up at him. "I did what I had to do," he said, his grey eyes a pantomime of Draco's. "I did it to keep this family alive."
Draco put his hand round his neck and yanked at his rosary chain. He heard the beads snap and tumble to the floor, but he couldn't see anything thorough his blinding tears.
"You fucking hypocrite!" Draco cried at his father. He threw the remainder of his rosary at the car window before it drove away and his mother pulled him back.
"Calm down." She shook him slightly. "Go wash your face and we'll have dinner." She wiped her own face and only then seemed to see him for the first time.
"Just what are you wearing?"
Draco glanced down. It was only then he realised he was still wearing Harry's cardigan.
*
When Draco came down to the dining hall, Narcissa was dressed as she always was. Her make-up flawless, even though her eyes were sore-looking and red-rimmed.
"Hello, Draco," she said when he pulled up a chair. "I thought some midnight tea would do us good."
"So, we're just going to pretend nothing has happened, then?"
Narcissa sighed deeply. "No, Draco. We are not going to pretend nothing happened, but there's nothing to stop us carrying on with our lives."
She smiled brightly, falsely. "Will you go riding tomorrow?"
"No, I am not going riding! I'm going to stay here and figure out what to do. Mother, we could lose the Manor."
"We'll definitely have to move, get a small place. Maybe a flat in Bristol, then we can stay with your aunt."
"Mother, I have plans!" Harry's terribly sincere face flashed before his eyes. "I want to go to London." His voice cracked.
Narcissa sighed. "You can't go. We must all keep together during this. I'm sure your father will be released soon. It's just a misunderstanding."
"A misunderstanding? He almost killed Katy!" He dropped his voice as the realisation dawned on him. "He could have killed me."
He stood up sharply, shoving his chair back against the marble floor.
"Draco. Where are you going?"
"I can't stay here!"
"You can't just do whatever you want anymore. Things have changed now," she said sharply, "and that's God's will-"
"It was nothing to do with God." Throwing the china teacup onto the floor. "It was all Father, greedy Father!"
Draco stormed out of the dining hall and up to his room. He tossed some things in a rucksack and headed out the servants exit. Even in his blind rage, he knew where he was going.
Lust
"For lust is a shameful sin, a crime that should be punished. It is a devastating fire that destroys to hell."
Job 31:11-12
"Potter? Potter! "
Harry woke to someone's knee poking into his shoulder and low hissing in his ear.
"Harry! Wake up."
Harry blinked in the moonlight, his lack of glasses making him blind. "Ron?"
"Ron?" came a fierce whisper in his ear.
Harry sat up and groped on the bedside table for his glasses. He slid them on his face and a shadowy shape standing over his bed came into view. "Draco?" he murmured.
Draco frowned at him. "Who's Ron?"
"My old roommate at school." Harry felt a smile crept over his face. "Are you jealous?"
"No," Draco answered unconvincingly.
Harry rubbed his face. "What are you doing here anyway?" He glanced over at the billowing curtains. "Did you climb in through the window?"
"Yes, I used a ladder."
"How did you find my room?"
"Let's just say, this wasn't my first try. Now, are you going to make me stand here in the cold?"
Harry pulled up the covers. "Get in, then."
Draco slipped off his coat and his tee shirt, leaving them to pool like a puddle on the floor, but he kept his trousers on. He clambered in beside Harry.
Harry put a tentative hand on Draco's waist; he would have pulled him closer, but Draco was tense, trembling like a taunt string.
"What happened?"
"Father's been arrested."
"Jesus!" He tugged Draco over by his hips to face him. "Why?"
"Well," Draco said with a hysterical, little laugh. "It turns out, you know that stable fire, the one that nearly killed us? He started it for the insurance!"
If Harry was this angry, he didn't know how Draco was feeling. "The bastard," he said quietly.
"So I was thinking..."
"Wait." Harry pulled out his wand from under his pillow and cast a wordless locking spell on his bedroom.
Beside him, Draco went stiff. "I hate it when you do that. I makes my skin itch."
"I don't want anyone to walk in on us."
Draco shifted silently in the dark, his body rubbing against Harry's. "Why? What do you think we're going to do?"
"Nothing."
"I just wanted to talk."
"Well, go on, then."
"I was thinking I want to go to London with you."
Harry inhaled sharply. "Really."
"Well, there wasn't really much choice after what's happened." He leant up on to his elbow. " There's just one thing though."
"What?"
"I want you to stop doing magic."
"What did you say?"
"I hate it, Harry. It makes me feel sick."
"You don't understand ..."
"I don't want to understand! Look, I saw how everyone looked at you when the stable burned down, I know they suspected you. They know there's something different. I don't want people looking at us. Saying things like 'freak.' "
Harry felt his blood run cold. "Freak?"
"Yea." Draco's hands made fists on the sheets. "A nasty, little freak."
Harry felt his heart beat louder in the long silence between them. Freak. Harry felt his face heat as he thought about it. That was all Muggles thought of him. He couldn't stand it any longer; he sat up abruptly, tossed off the covers and said with more certainty than he felt, "I think you should go."
"Go?" Draco turned and looked at him sharply. "Why?"
Harry crossed his arms. "If you think I'm a freak-"
"Not you, Stupid! Me!" Draco raged, throwing pillows after him. "I'm the freak. All my life I've been taught that how I felt is wrong, that it's dirty or sinful. And now this with you. It's just another thing that'll make us stand out ..." Draco put a shaking hand to his face. "I just want to be normal."
He looked so fragile. Sitting up in bed, the moonlight reflecting off the sharp angles of his face. He looked so cold; like quartz, he changed every time Harry looked at him. Harry pulled the covers back up.
"You are normal." He rested his hand on Draco's.
"Fine judge of normal you are." Draco sniffed but took Harry's hand anyway. "We could go somewhere no-one knew you. Think about it, Harry."
"I don't know. It would be like you giving up on...God."
Draco laughed bitterly. "I don't know about you, but I don't want anyone or anything else controlling me again."
"My magic doesn't control me."
"Oh no? How long before you get addicted to power like the rest of them? How long before you get bitter and decide to take by force what the world owes you?"
"That won't happen." But now that Draco mentioned it, he wasn't so sure. How much did Harry really trust himself?
"You have to decide what you want, Potter."
"I want you."
Draco laughed quietly. "That's not an answer."
Harry tugged Draco until he was lying on top of him. He groaned as Draco rolled his hips into Harry's groin. "Why is this familiar?
"Well," Draco bowed his head forward to kiss Harry's nose. "There's nothing in between us now."
"Except these." Harry slid his hands down over Draco's stomach and tugged at his trousers. "I think you should take them off."
Draco complied willingly. He rolled off Harry, unbuckled his trousers and tossed them on the floor with the rest of his clothes.
Harry hissed when Draco slid back up close to him, and he could feel his bare skin.
"Did you take off everything?"
As a response, Draco took Harry's hand and put it on his bare hips. Harry brushed his fingertips over Draco's hip and down in the dip that had been covered by material before.
"Hmm," sighed Harry. "You're naked."
Draco tugged at Harry's pajamas, impatient. "Maybe you should be too?"
Harry lifted the hips and pushed his trousers down as far as they would go, before kicking them off completely.
He crawled back up the bed and dropped a kiss to Draco's temple before he moved in between his legs.
"Oh!" he breathed reverently as he rubbed his cock against Draco's. His fingertips dug into Draco's hipbones, yanking him closer. In his short life, it was the sweetest, most painful feeling he'd known. Every time their cocks connected, Harry felt as if he would come all over Draco.
Draco's face was flushed and speckled pink and white as Harry rubbed their cocks fiercely, and he could not control himself any longer. He pressed himself as close to Draco's pale, slender body as possible. He twisted Draco's chin almost painfully up and kissed Draco's swollen red mouth, licking his lips. "I've got to taste you."
"Potter, you're so cheesy," Draco whined between pants. "How you got anyone naked is unbelievable."
Harry stopped suddenly, resting a warm, sticky hand on Draco's now bare chest
"I've not had anybody else," he whispered, rubbing the spot carefully. "Now I don't want anyone else."
Draco was quiet for a moment and then said: "Me neither."
Harry rested on his arms, but Draco wrapped his legs round his waist and pulled him closer.
"Don't stop." He moaned and Harry sped up his rhythm, keeping that glorious friction between them.
He paused to wrap his hand round Draco's cock. It was much like his own, only thicker. He glided his hand up and down the hard shaft, trying to discover what Draco liked. Every time Draco gave a little gasp, he speeded up his movements until Draco threw his head back and cried: "Fuck!"
Draco shivered and dug his nails into Harry's back. Seconds later, he was shooting all over Harry's stomach. Draco's high pitched moan was almost enough to push Harry over the edge. He just needed a little more.
He knelt up by Draco's head. "Put your mouth on it," he said, resting the head of his cock on Draco's bottom lip.
For a moment he thought Draco was going to refuse, but instead, Draco moved his hand to the base of Harry's cock. He made an 'O' shape with his mouth and slowly slid his lips down Harry's shaft.
Draco didn't take much in his mouth at first, but he was swirling his tongue around the head, and he looked so good doing it. His little pink tongue flicking in and out across Harry's cock, over and under and -oh god- over again.
Harry moaned uncontrollably, and pushed Draco's hair back from his face. Draco sighed throatily against Harry's cock. As if he wanted nothing more than to have Harry sliding deep and wet down the back of his throat. Draco glanced up at him and Harry saw his own lust mirrored in Draco's grey eyes.
Something inside Harry snapped. Before he could warn Draco, he was shooting his load over his lips, some catching in his blond hair.
"Shit!" he rasped as Draco give his cock a final lazy stroke, before resting his head against Harry hip.
Harry bent down and wiped Draco's mouth with the back of his hand, then kissed him until they were breathless. He flopped back against the bed, dragging Draco down with him, and they lay together, side by side, their chests still heaving.
"Are you okay?" Harry asked, gently brushing Draco's white blond hair from his face.
Draco grimaced. "My mouth tastes weird."
Harry smiled, but his voice shook as he uttered his next words: "I'll give it up."
Draco sniggered. "I thought you already had."
Harry flashed him a look. "Not that. My ... magic."
Draco pinned him to the bed with his sharp glare. "Really?"
"Yes, I mean, you're right. I don't want that life anymore. Besides," he ran his hands down Draco stomach, "that was rather magical."
Draco laughed loudly and slammed the pillow over Harry's face. "Soppy, Potter. Really soppy."
Harry grinned. He didn't care. He pulled Draco close to him and rested his head on his shoulder.
*
Dear Mother.
There are no words for what I have done. I have decided to live life on my terms. I am your son and yet, I am also my own person. There have been times where you have forgotten that.
I have gone to London to begin a life without the Malfoy name hanging over my head. This does not mean we will not see each other again. However, if you chose to excommunicate me, that is your choice.
As if for Father, I choose not to see him. For many years he made me repress the most natural parts of myself until they were almost unknown to me. Now, he has betrayed us, Mother. I cannot forgive him.
I know you will pray for me, so it would be a waste to tell you to desist. I hope your prayers bring you comfort.
Your loving son,
Draco
*
Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins.
1 Peter 4:8
What Harry would remember most about that day they left was the sun.
It was warm, they had on tee shirts and shorts, but its rays were young and didn't bear down on them as it would have done if it'd had a chance to grow into its full maturity.
It glinted off Draco's sunglasses, throwing snatches of light dancing over Harry's bare arms as they stood on the bridge and looked out over Mere.
Harry turned to look at Draco, who had been quiet for while. He looked different like this, away from the endless fields of green, like a too bright cartoon brought into live action. He was leaning over the stonework and staring at the water. His hair, still half wet from the shower, fanned around his face like a halo, the little flat strands curling around his exposed long neck. Harry longed to run his fingers over it, pull Draco closer, and he would later when they were alone. He felt as if he hadn't seen Draco's bare neck, and then it clicked what was missing: heavy, dark beads. Draco wasn't wearing his rosary.
Draco turned and smiled weakly. "Scared, Potter?"
Harry smiled back. "You wish, Malfoy."
Draco picked up his rucksack. "I'll just be a minute. I'm just going to post this."
Harry watched Draco stride up the hill towards the postbox. His heart was thumping in his chest and he pulled his wand out of his pocket. He rolled it over in his hands, feeling the magic strumming through his fingertips and running through his veins. All those years he'd spent dreaming the perfect life he'd have when he went to Hogwarts, the wonders he would weave with this instrument. Now, he only remembered the horrors it could do.
"Inertia", he whispered. The tip of his wand flashed red, white and then red again, before becoming completely silent.
Then with one swift motion, he snapped the wood in two. The sound of the breaking holly echoed around the field. The sound of its finality was something Harry would never forget, but then he would try not to think about it.
As he let the two ends tumble out of his hands and into the water, he felt the hard pinch of regret which made him want to jump in the water, fish out the pieces, reverse the spell...
"Harry?" Draco's voice came ringing out. "Are you coming?"
Harry turned away from the floating wood.
"Sorry," he said, smiling sheepishly at Draco when he caught up with him. "I was just throwing away some stuff."
Draco opened his mouth and then closed it again. He gave a small nod and held out his hand.
Harry slid his palm against Draco's fingers and pressed them tightly. They stood silently, hand in hand, until the coach pulled up next to them.
Harry turned to Draco, whose cheeks were wet, although he'd never admit it.
"Are you ready? Harry asked softly.
Draco took a deep breath and tilted his chin. "Of course," he breathed.
They sat at the back, luggage underneath their feet, and as the coach pulled away, Draco leant his damp head against Harry's shoulder.
Harry sighed and let his fingers trail over the back of Draco's neck. He didn't look back at the town and neither did Draco.