Drarry: The Boy Who Loved

well shit.

Draco knew his father was getting impatient. His mark throbbed painfully during class. It hurt when he, Harry, Ron and Hermione went out for lunch afterwards. It hurt even later, when he was standing next to Potter while they made dinner together. But he didn't want to alarm Harry. No, that wouldn't do. It could be nothing, after all. His father had no way of knowing where he was unless Narcissa told him. And Draco doubted she would sell him out like that.

................

Harry noticed Malfoy's far-off expression that night on the couch, while they were studying. He reached over and held his hand. "What's on your mind?"

Draco glanced over at him, surprised. "Oh-nothing I guess."

"That's not true," Harry said firmly, scooting closer. "You trust me, right?"

Draco hesitated. "Well... yeah."

"So?"

"I just don't feel safe."

"I know," Harry said, and glanced over at Ron and Hermione, who were in the kitchen, to make sure they were engaged in conversation. "But you have nothing to worry about."

"I just-"

"I know," Harry said quietly. He was quiet for a minute before reaching over and closing the book on Malfoy's lap.

"Hey!"

"I think we should take a break."

Draco huffed in frustration. "Potter-"

"-The exam's in four months," Harry finished for him.  "I know, Malfoy. But we've all been stressed. And we still have time."

Malfoy glared, but he didn't object when Harry turned on the TV. Instead he said, "I hate you."

Harry chuckled in response.

................

(A/N shits about to go doowwnnn)

"You guys go on ahead, I'll stay here."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked, looking at Draco with concerned eyes. "It's just dinner, no clubs or anything."

"I'm sure." Malfoy answered without hesitation, sprawled on the couch. 

"Okay," Harry said after a pause, and followed a nicely-dressed Hermione out the door. "Don't to anything stupid!" He called over his shoulder. The door slammed.

Draco rolled his eyes and grumbled to himself as he rolled off the couch. "The hell d'you think I'm going to do?" He decided to cook. That might calm him. So he got out his wand, making ingredients fly off the shelves and out of cabinets. He felt himself smiling as he made them whirl around the room, dancing. Until a bag of flour hit the side of his head. And splat on the floor. Spilling everywhere.

"Oh, crap," he muttered, bending over to get his fallen wand-right before there was a knock on the door. Draco immediately tensed. He knew, somehow, that this wasn't Harry or his friends. Harry's knock was softer. Hermione would call his name so she wouldn't startle him coming in. And Ron wouldn't knock at all, banging the door open without warning. No, this was someone else, and Draco didn't like it one bit.

He wasn't afraid of someone magicking the door open with their wand; the door was enchanted so only a key belonging to the apartment could get it open. But Draco's heart pumped painfully against his ribs as he breezed quietly down the hallway and into his room, shutting the door softly behind him.

"It's fine," he whispered to himself. "It's fine, it's fine, it's fine. Everything's fine."

His vision blurred and he sat heavily on the bed. Fear rippled through his chest as the knocks got louder. He took a deep breath and steadied himself, quickly going through his mind for a logical resolution. He quickly scribbled a letter to Harry:

Someone is here. Come home. 

And tied it to his owl's leg, who took off through the window. He sighed a little and went to the door, staring through the peephole, praying to whichever god was listening to please let it be the receptionist or Luna or Neville please please please.

No such luck.

Lucius Malfoy was on the other side.

And Draco wasn't surprised. 

He knew he couldn't escape. Lucius certainly knew he was inside by now. So, despairingly, he opened the door.

"Hello, Father."