Fatherhood | drarry teen adoptive parents au

eight | draco's secret

By the time Harry arrived that evening, Draco was in a pretty unpleasant mood. He hated being kept waiting and thought he'd impressed that upon Harry a long time ago, but evidently not.

The rational part of his brain had assured him Harry wasn't deliberately late, or ignoring him. He'd probably got detention for not doing his work again, or been caught up by something else important, but these theories did little to calm Draco's irritation. He thought Harry had understood this was important. That Draco needed him.

He pulled the handful of letters out of his robe pocket, and smoothed them flat on his sheets to re-read them. The contents made him feel nauseous, and each page was more urgent than the last.

How was he meant to explain to Harry what his father wanted? That he should join him that year to carry out missions for the Dark Lord?

Precious, beautiful Harry, the boy who had never hurt anyone in his life and never would. He had no idea what it was like to be forced by his parents to be something he wasn't.

Draco didn't envy Harry's home life, of course - being an orphan, sleeping in a cupboard, and being openly bullied by every member of your household sounded far less preferable to Draco's luxurious suite in Malfoy Manor where he was waited on hand and foot - but at least in the wizarding world, Harry could be whatever he wanted to be. Draco had never had the luxury of choice.

Lucius and Narcissa's plan for their son had been concrete since the day he was born. He'd take on the Dark Mark at sixteen and work his way up to the favour of the Dark Lord, marry some old-money Pureblood girl, and become a full-time Death Eater like his parents. There was no room for deviation in that plan.

There was also not a single aspect of it that didn't make Draco want to be violently sick.

It was the private letter from his mother which terrified him the most. In it, she hinted at the breakdown of her relationship to Lucius (not at all surprising to Draco, it had long been clear that they were only still together to protect the Malfoy reputation) - but the solution she suggested was that her son take the Mark sooner, speed up the inevitable.

Draco skimmed the exposed skin of his left forearm lightly with his right hand, shivering at the cool feel of his rings on the sensitive skin.

He couldn't imagine it as anything other than bare, pale. Harry would hate it so much. The symbol of the being that had murdered his parents and so many other people he loved. On the arm of the boy he loved most in the world.

Draco couldn't take it, but he didn't know how to refuse it either. According to his mother, it was going to be difficult to put off much longer.

Let me have till I'm sixteen, he'd written back, a week ago, trying not to convey the terror he was feeling. Nine months, and then I'll be sixteen. I just want to get my O.W.L.s first, then I can make you and Father proud.

What would make your Father the proudest, read Narcissa's recent reply, would be to see you endorse the Dark Lord as a Malfoy should. You know what I think on the matter - if it were up to me, you'd be eighteen or even older. You're just a boy. But this may be what your Father needs to win favour with the Dark Lord. I would urge you to submit sooner rather than later.

Draco had had a hard time concealing his anguish after he opened that message at breakfast the day before the Quidditch match. He didn't want to let on to his friends what was going on, or Harry for that matter. But he felt that now was a good time to warn him, or get his advice if he had any. He needed him to find out. Sooner rather than later.