His Hidden Side - Draco Malfoy

28- Dumbledore's Army

It was time to take out my blue scarf, hidden at the very bottom of my truck. Draco insisted I should have started wearing it weeks ago. My new normality was having persistent colds, and to my dismay, even the tissue stocks were going down. Draco nagged about my carelessness and grimaced at my sneezes. Still, he cared me as if I was fragile glass. On one particularly cold afternoon, I found his Slytherin scarf wrapped around my neck. (Until is was transformed by the same tie changing culprit.)

Winter was approaching us like a storm, and so was Delores Umbridge. Just like the worsening weather, she controlled and changed everything.

Snow covered the ground with a white blanket and Umbridge covered the walls with a museum like collection of framed rules. The wind is bitter and the air is cold. Umbridge is both.

Despite Hogwarts being turned into a Ministry controlled prison where our every moves were monitored and inspected, it was time to strike back and all four of us agreed - myself, Hermione, Harry and Ron.

After several essay-length ideas, Hermione had concocted a plan. Which is unlike her, as it involves some rule breaking. It was time to enact it and hopefully gain some support after we pitch our rebellion idea at Hog's Head, today.

The only issue was Draco.

***

I'm snuggled into Draco's chest in a secluded booth at the Three Broomsticks, listening to the crackle of the roaring fire in front of us and Draco's steady heartbeat against my ear. We had ordered a Butterbeer each, but they sit long forgotten on the table. The glass shines, reflecting the flickering candles beside it.

His pale thumb circles my palm, tracing the idents on my skin. His chest goes up and down rhythmically, and I would have fallen asleep if it weren't for the crowd's loud chattering. No body paid any attention to us, and that was perfect.

His chin presses down against my head and I notice how his breathing has hitched. "...Lily."
I groggily lift my head up in anticipation. His eyes are dark when they meet mine and a weak smile tugs at his lips. "This is nice, isn't it?" He whispers, not daring to destroy our quiet bubble.

"It is." I lean in to kiss his cheekbone. He does not react.

"I want this to- " his words get caught. He starts again. "I want this to... last."

"Last? Us?" I chuckle, twirling a strand of his white hair between my fingers. "Where's this coming from?"

"Do you ever want to, I don't know... disappear?" His eyebrows knit together and his eyes glow, not from the candle light but from... something else.
"Just drop everything. Move across the country, hell even across the world."

I stare blankly at his sudden outburst. He's no longer whispering. "No one knows who you are, no one can track you down, or hurt you, you could be... free. A home- it wouldn't need to me a manor. A cottage. A bungalow. A cabin in the woods. Just... away."

"Is something wrong Draco?"

"Why- don't assume that. Nothings wrong- just a thought."

"Draco tell me."

The light in his eye is gone. He forces a smile. "Drink your butterbeer, before it gathers all the dust." He clasps his fingers around the glass, bringing it up to me. The lukewarm foam greets my lips before I can stop him. But as I slides down my throat, I don't taste anything. Instead, the normally delicious Butterbeer seems to rise, tasting like bile.

Draco's face and shoulders are gravity drawn. His lips waver, struggling to hold onto his fake smile.

I notice how my hand trembles as I reach forward to slick his fallen hair away, his eyes finally lift up to meet me. "Bottling up your emotions will not make them disappear, they'll continue to gnaw at you, unless you confine to me, and to yourself." I'm surprised at how stable my voice is.