Hidden Feelings - A Draco Malfoy Love Story

Chapter Thirty-Nine

I let out a soft laugh when we pull away from each other, twisting around and resting my head on Draco's shoulder. I feel his heart beating, and close my eyes, feeling his arm squeezing tight around my waist. We're on a couch in the Room of Requirement, enjoying our last meeting of the month of November.

"You know, I keep trying to wait until the last day of the month," he says, smiling down at me. "Even the last week. It ends up being far too difficult."

"At least you try," I point out, glancing up at him. "I've decided I'm just waiting two weeks."

"If you need to talk to me, though, I wouldn't stick to that," he says.

I nudge him with my elbow. "You too, okay?"

He smiles. "Okay."

"What's your mother like?" I ask, pulling my legs onto the couch and snuggling a little closer to him.

"I didn't mean you have to talk now."

"Come on, Draco." I look up at him again, our noses almost touching. "If you're not comfortable with it, you don't have to. I just was curious."

He leans in and gives me a small kiss, using his free hand to move the hair from my face. "Better you than anyone else. She's a lot better than my father, I can tell you that."

"Is she..." I don't want to say the words, still unsure if he's sensitive about it. His fingers trail gently over my cheek before he returns it to his lap.

"A death eater? Yeah." He sighs. "More for my father than anyone. She was never really into it, but she's incredibly loyal. It didn't stop her from being a good mother."

I think about Dad, how he seemed like anything but a death eater. Dad. You just don't think of associating a death eater with a parent. The man who taught me how to ride a bike, took me to the playground and museums and carnivals, loved me.

Before finding out about Dad, it hadn't really occurred to me that people who could do such awful things to some could love others.

"I think she'd like you," he says.

"Really?"

"Who doesn't like you, Elizabeth?" He laughs softly. "I know I hold up a sort of...bad boy thing, I guess. I wish I didn't try so hard when I was younger. People always link you to what they see when they first meet you. It may be easy to change, but others will never forget what you were before."

"I can confidently say that I won't forget what you were before," I say. "You were, after all, quite horrible to me. And Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Any Gryffindor, really."

He sighs a little. "Thanks for that."

"I'm not finished. I won't forget, but that doesn't mean I'll hold it against you." I raise an eyebrow. "Although, I feel like I should have held on a little longer."

"Of all things I said to you, I'm most sorry for blabbing about your parents' divorce."

"I forgive you, now."

"I'm glad." He pauses, leaning his head against mine. "What about your mother?"

I want to explain the dilemma I'm in, wondering if Mom knows whether or not Dad has returned to the death eaters; however, I can't let my knowledge of the Order slip, not even to him. Not with who his father is. I've had enough trouble deciding whether or not to tell him about Dumbledore's Army. I don't want to put him in a situation where he's keeping something that anyone in his house would love nothing more than to take to Umbridge. Not just that, but if the Order or DA got out through him, I'd feel horrible.