Just Not Cut Out for Torture (HP - Drarry)

Chapter 10: Dark Mark

This *might* be the last daily update for a bit. I've run through my backlog of chapters, and it depends on how fast I get the next few written. There will definitely be a new one Monday - I'm determined to at least stick to my schedule. Oh, and Happy Earth Day you guys!

Draco POV

Draco stared at the library door, behind which Kreacher and Harry were discussing something secret. He felt he really ought to be offended by this, but he was still in shock from the conversation that Kreacher had interrupted. Harry had been standing so bloody close, and he had smelled so bloody good, and...Merlin, You've got it bad, Draco. He sighed. He knew nothing would ever come of it. He's Harry fucking Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World – or will be – and I'm Draco fucking Malfoy, Death Eater. Well, former Death Eater. Like anyone's really going to care.

Draco angrily yanked his sleeve up, exposing the ugly black lines of the Dark Mark. This is all anyone will ever care about. It doesn't matter that I didn't want to take it. The only reason Harry has been as nice to me as he has is that he hasn't seen this. But who am I kidding – he'll see it eventually. Hell, Draco, you don't even know if he likes men. He thought of the Weaselette, who'd been hanging on Harry's arm, the last time he'd seen them. Who am I kidding – he's probably still shagging her. And I – I let myself see things that aren't there, just because I want them to be. He's offered me his friendship – well, I'll enjoy that, while it lasts. Which will be until he sees this. Draco wrenched the sleeve back down, nearly tearing it. He bit his lip, fiercely willing the tears away. Harry would no doubt be back soon. He'll ask why I'm crying. Stupid fucking Gryffindor.

Unless... unless that's what Kreacher wanted to talk to him about. Draco closed his eyes, suddenly certain. Merlin. I should have realized the bloody house-elf would notice the Dark Mark. They can probably sense it. He tasted salt on his lips, and realized that the tears had fallen after all. That's that, then. I won't be welcome back at Hogwarts, come fall. I certainly won't be welcome with the Dursleys. Or the Order. For that matter, I won't be welcome here. He swallowed. It was nice while it lasted, Harry. Thank you for giving me, if only for a moment, what I've always wanted.

Draco swiped at his eyes and stood. It was time to pack. With any luck, he'd be gone before Harry could confront him. He could save them both the indignity of that.

----

"Draco?"

Draco closed his eyes. Damn. Wasn't fast enough. He steeled himself, placing the neatly folded shirt carefully into his trunk, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles, trying to buy himself some time. For what, he had no idea. There was nowhere to run. This is it. He turned, slowly, towards Harry – no, better call him Potter, now. The faster you forget Harry, the less it will hurt. He didn't open his eyes. He didn't want to see Potter's condemnation, his rejection. If I don't see it, I can pretend it's not there. If I don't look in his eyes, I can remember them like they were when... when he smiled at me. He would have that one shining memory to savor, to shove away the darkness that tainted all the rest.

"Draco. Why are your eyes shut?"

Stupid observant Potter. How did I ever think I could hide my Mark from you?

"Draco?"

"Yes?" Draco's voice was barely audible: a thin, reedy whisper. He was afraid he would shatter, if he made more noise than that.

He felt a hesitant touch on his arm – his left arm, and he had to work to hold back the sob. Harry's hand was warm on his arm, and the Dark Mark burned just below it, and Draco wasn't sure which hurt more. He tried to wrench his arm from Harry's grasp, but the git wouldn't let go. And then he slid his hand lower, until it rested directly over the Dark Mark. Draco's arm was on fire with the combined heat of Harry and the Dark Mark... and then the fire flared higher, and it was Fiendfyre – it had to be, to burn this hot – and Draco was burning...