I'm not Allowed to Love You

The Loss of Words, And Blood

What have I done?! Draco thought desperately. Why in the world had he thought it okay to kiss Potter! The Boy Who Lived! The Chosen One! It was as if he was determined to make life worse for himself!

"I've got to tell him that we could never happen," Draco whispered to himself, before fixing his hair (he still needed to look good for Potter) and wandering off to find him. As he suspected, he found Potter by the Lake, sitting under a few small trees.

"Oh! Hey," Potter started, a blush forming in his cheeks already, as they both avoided each other's eyes.

"Potter... what happened last night.... It was stupid of me to... to do that. I shouldn't have. So I am sorry. I suppose we should just continue to hate each other and act like it never happened," Draco said, slowly.

Potter's eyes widened. "I can't do that! After all of what I know now? I couldn't ever hate you!"

"Well, you're going to need to try, Potter. We... could never happen. It won't work. Until the bigger enemy at hand is defeated, we could never," Draco stated flatly. He hated this.

"We could protect each other! If you just get closer, get to know each other more-" Potter began, before getting cut off.

"The closer we get, the more harm we cause to each other. I shouldn't have kissed you, it was selfish. Foolish. I wish we didn't have to either, but there is simply no hope for us," Draco said, in the same flat, dejected tone.

"But I like you! You! No one else! I can't just... just act like I hate you!"

"Why? You've been doing it for six years!" Draco shot.

Potter was silent. That had hurt. And Draco knew that, instantly feeling bad.

"Look, I'm sorry. I've been waiting for six and a half years, Potter. I know I can wait some more. I know I won't even get over you, so if you're still set on me in the end...," Draco whispered, much more gently.

"You question my loyalty?" Potter asked, so quietly it was nearly lost to the breeze.

"I know I won't come out of this war an innocent man. I will always have my heart set on you. I've already chosen. It's time you do the same."

"Draco, that isn't-" Potter began, spluttering, grabbing Draco's hand as he turned to leave.

"That's Malfoy to you, Potter!" Draco said, whipping around, pain and rejection in his eyes. "Don't make this harder than it is. Just... go and date the Weasley girl, I know she only ever saw you as 'The Chosen One'."

Draco shook himself free of the now loose grasp and stormed across the grounds. The tears in his eyes stung, and he felt worse than he had all year, which was saying something, as he had had a terrible year.

The months flew by in a blur of misery, tears, loss of appetite, and continued desperation upon trying to complete his task. He told Madam Rosmerta, who had been under the Imperius Curse for quite a while now, to send Slughorn poisoned mead, with a note saying that it was Dumbledore's favorite drink. He was, of course, horrified when he realized it had come so close to killing Weasley, and that it had nearly killed Potter as well. That was when he lost his nerve. When everyone else was in classes, he was absent, trying to fix the Vanishing Cabinet. Potter seemed even more intent upon following him every chance he got. But as the pressure built more and more on Draco, the air of the castle seemed relaxed and happy. This hurt Draco even more, wishing that everyone was running around, screaming or crying, so he wouldn't feel out of sorts if he did it himself.

It was when he placed a small white bird in the Cabinet, to see if it could manage the trip there and back, and it came back dead and innocent, that Draco was reminded not that he had been chosen for this mission, but that he was the small and weak defence for his mother. She would die if he didn't do this. So would he. He would be forced to watch as a wand was pointed at his mother's heart, and most likely be left to die in the dungeon of his own home. The one he had never felt loved in. He knew his mother had her flaws, but he couldn't die knowing he could have, should have saved her. He needed someone to talk to, someone who would understand.

He needed to talk to Myrtle.

He rushed to the bathroom in which they had met. He clutched each side of the sink, hus back to the door. He looked down at the drain. He wished he, too, could fall into the drain and never come out. It was all depending on him. He had no one to turn to. He began to cry, not caring about how loud he was. His back heaved with sobs as they got more and more desperate.

"Draco?" A small voice asked.

Draco shook his head. "It's no use. I can't do it. I can't."

"Don't," She comforted, crooning. "Don't... tell me what's wrong... I can help you..."

"No one can help me," Draco sobbed, his whole body shaking, consumed in grief. "I can't do it... I can't.... It won't work... and unless I do it soon... he says he'll kill me..."

Draco gasped and shuddered, looking into the mirror. His eyesight blurry through tears, he saw a figure looking at him. Draco wheeled around, and on instinct, pulled out his wand. The silhouette pulled out their wand too. Draco set a hex that missed due to his teary eyes. Draco blocked a jinx sent back his way. Myrtle was screaming for them to stop, but Draco was in pain. He was lashing out upon someone who was rude enough to ignore the fact that his pain doesn't have anything to do with them. He did know who's spells were who's. The bin behind the silhouette exploded, and a cistern was smashed, the whole room became flooded with water. The student had slipped, falling onto the ground. Draco wanted this nameless being to feel his pain. He wanted them to hurt. He knew it was terrible, but he still felt the words forming in his mouth.

"Cruci-"

"SECTUMSEMPRA!" the student bellowed.

The first thing Draco's brain registered was blood. It spurted from his face and chest, as if in slow motion, as Draco stumbled back. Who's blood is this? he thought.

Half a second past.

Then the pain.

That was next. The pain. He wanted to scream, but he couldn't. It hit him like a bus, his ears ringing. It was his blood. His. Draco collapsed to the waterlogged floor. A splash met him. Was this his blood he was drowning in, too? His wand clattered by his ear, his fingers began to tingle.

"No-" he heard someone gasp. Someone appeared in his foggy vision. He couldn't make out the face. He just saw the green eyes. Draco closed his own eyes, his hand scrabbling and his chest.

"No- I didn't-" Draco numbly registered the hopeless feeling the voice had. Draco's limbs began to shake violently. He felt a rough hand in his hair, and began to float away from the screams of murder.

Blackness.

That was all that Draco felt for the longest time. Maybe it was only a matter of seconds. But it didn't feel like it. But eventually, he was being pulled out of the darkness, getting lifted by an unknown source. Merlin. he thought. Merlin is taking my soul.

But then he was in a dimly lit bathroom, blood and water all over the floor. His ears were still ringing. The pain was still there. He felt fresh scars on his chest. He saw a distorted face come into view, Snape. Snape was saying something, his mouth moving. Draco's eye wandered to the other figure. Potter. Harry. He was standing, starting at him, terrified. He blinked a few times, his vision clearing slightly, the ringing in his ears turning into a deafening roar. He was in a hallway. Walking. He began to hear the steps through the stone hallway. Snape was supporting him. Draco wasn't aware of deciding to walk, but chose to keep doing so. His breathing was shaky. He tried to slow it, calm it. He needed to break his loss of words. 

"Don't- be too hard on him-" Draco found himself saying through unsteady breathes.

"Don't talk, Draco. We are nearly there. Save your breath," Snape said in his commanding voice. Draco stayed quiet. Upon reaching the floor with the Hospital Wing, Draco forced himself to say what he needed to say. He tried taking a deep breath.

"I'm sorry- for- for the-" Draco tried to work out how to put it. He had yelled at his godfather, who had shown him more love than his parents. He had said he was trying to steal glory from him. Draco looked to Snape, seeking reassurance, and saw Snape give a half smile, before the muscles relaxed into their usual frown.

"Never mind, Draco. It is in the past now. We best keep it there."

In the past. Best keep it there.