Chapter Four – Sold My Life For a Song

Harry returned to Dannie's in quite a mood. He had with him some candy, the kind that he knew Hermione favored, for when he finally saw her again, which was supposed to be later tonight. She wanted to get him to the Ministry as soon as possible to start working on who could've started this rise of power again.

So Harry sat, staring at the blank piece of paper before him. He'd written a letter to Draco before. He didn't know if he'd read it. He didn't know whether he cared. But he thought he did. It was a natural thing for Harry to care when it came to Draco. Though anger still filled him at some thoughts. At the pain, when it came rushing back through him.

He started the letter cautiously, treading softly. Draco had always been so tricky to win over.


Whether there's nothing left for me with you, I want… I need to see you again. I need to figure this out, with you. Meet me, ten pm, Wednesday, at the clock tower. Please.


He didn't know what to add, and he didn't think anything else was necessary. Draco was a blunt sort of fellow, and this was as to the point as Harry could get without feeling like a completely emotionless unsure bastard. Though, he did kind of feel like that anyhow.

Sealing up the letter, he coolly addressed it simply to Malfoy. Exactly as he had the time before. It wouldn't be hard to find his current location -- he was a popular sort of fellow in the world. After he'd been cleaned of Dumbledore's death, he'd been in demand. Always in demand, apparently. Harry could only hope that Draco would respond.

Giving it to Dannie's owl was a terrifying experience. He took extra care securing it with the lashes. Half of him wanted to tear it away from the owl, rip it into pieces and never think of Draco Malfoy again. But the bird eventually got away, looking at Harry with an odd look, before winging out gracefully over the rooftops. Harry sighed. It was up to him, now.

"Harry! Come 'ere, quick! We gotta run." Dannie was screaming up the stairs, startling Harry out of his blank gazing out the window.

"Where's the fire?" Harry muttered to himself as he grabbed his jacket, heading downstairs. Dannie was running around, still frantic, grabbing things from all over.

"Bring that candy you bought. Hermione's having her baby." The news bowled Harry over. Well, of course she'd eventually have it, he knew that. But it'd never quite clicked that he'd be around to witness it. "C'mon Harry, move it!"

If this was what Dannie was like… Harry would hate to be around Ron right now. As he got the chocolates, he wondered idly about that. Ron… wonder what it'd be like to see him, after so long. And Snape, he was on his mind too. When could he work on that? Was there any point? He didn't know, but he sat in the car calmly as Dannie drove. Well, tried to drive. He wasn't doing it all that well.

Harry leaned his head against the window as the car wove between traffic like a madman. He was okay with this. If only Dannie would shut up. He sighed, watching the scenery pass by with a detached feeling. The thought that happened most often though was the one involving Draco. Would he come? He could only hope.

Draco studied the tallies on the paper with intense interest. He'd been working it out, and he knew now he could buy the estate that was located off the eastern border of his manor. He didn't really like the people who lived there, muggles to the core. It would be easier to buy them out than to kill them, and Draco really had no taste for blood these days.

The tapping on the window interrupted him. It was late. He hadn't expected an owl; Lindsey was going out of town for a while, and she was muggle born. She would call him, sooner or later. He didn't really mind if she ever did. Just another pretty face, that's all she was. Muggles couldn't be much more, could they? He stood, stretching, watching the impatient owl tap from foot to foot as it eyed him first from one side, then the other. Finally, Draco opened the window, the owl shaking itself off indignantly before calmly stepping in, lifting it's leg up to deliver it's message. Draco grabbed the parchment, holding it in one hand while he fished around for some tidbits for the owl. He finally just pushed a plate towards the owl which had some pieces of a sandwich left on it. Draco then ignored the bird as he flopped down, reading the note to himself.

His stomach did a somersault. He hadn't expected this. He hadn't expected Harry to make a move, to do something. He'd always been so passive. But only in bed, he noted. In his own life, he'd been a tiger, much like Draco. Going for the kill with everything he pursued.

He pursed his lips together, running a hand through his hair as he pulled out a clean sheaf of parchment and wrote on it delicately. 'See you then, Potter.' It was by far the nicest thing he'd written to anyone in his life, though he doubted Potter would realize that. He tied the parchment on, patting the owl absently before it flew off.

So the game started anew. So many years later…

He counted himself lucky -- at least Lindsey was out of town. She would only pry and push for any information she could get. Something had convinced her that Draco was always cheating on her, which was really an unfair accusation. While he did view his flings as nothing and didn't stay straight edged with them, per-se, he did however, stay straight enough when he was more committed. Which Lindsey had wrangled out of him over the months. He thought it more akin to laziness. He didn't want to look for a new woman of any sort, and as such, was still with Lindsey.

After staring blankly at the numbers before him, he stood up, making his way slowly to his bed. He flopped into it, not bothering to disrobe, not bothering to get into the covers. Oh, Harry.

Draco groaned, leaning against Harry, his sweat seeping through his shirt. He was holding Harry tight against him, his fingers kneading into his sides. Draco didn't know he'd left bruises there -- he hadn't talked to Harry after… that.

"Malfoy, I can't breathe." Harry's muttering woke Draco from his dazed after shock feeling. Slowly, he let Harry turn back to face him, looking down into those lovely green eyes, with the delicate, dark lashes. Pools of perfection, he'd thought.

"Sorry." He'd kissed him again, he knew that. He'd wanted to so badly, to feel those lips again. Soft, gentle.

Harry had wrapped himself around him, having readjusting his clothes during the kissing. What was he to say now? Draco Malfoy, he'd let his guard down, and now he was scared. What would happen if this got out? Would Harry tell anyone. His eyes narrowed as he pulled back to look at Harry, cupping one cheek in his palm. "You're not gonna tell anyone, right?" He was whispering.

Harry shook his head in return, his eyes locked on Draco's stormy eyes the whole time. "No." His whisper was hoarse, his voice full. He didn't know what'd happened either… but something had happened, that was for sure. "Draco…" It was odd, to hear Harry address him as that. Maybe that's what broke him.

"No, Potter. We're not meant for this." And he ran, cursing the whole way. Draco didn't want to face Harry, he didn't want to think that maybe, just maybe, there was something there for the boy that lived. He couldn't take that right now. It'd been a weak moment, a very weak moment, he decided. He wasn't going to let that break him. He'd been confused, because of his mother. Yes, his mother, dead, dead, dead… that's what made him do it.

When he fell into bed, he was crying. Something so strange to him. Tears were escaping, yes… but he wasn't sobbing. He just felt… strange. Maybe in some way, he'd known what he missed out on.

But he doubted it.

Harry paced along the hospital corridor, looking up anxiously every time he heard footsteps. It was three am; Hermione had been in labor for hours… so many hours. He'd heard her scream once. He was suddenly quite happy that he wasn't Ron.

Ron… now wasn't that a tangled web. It'd been awkward, but Harry thought he'd dealt with it well. He hadn't killed him, he hadn't yelled. All he'd asked, was "Why?"

"Because I loved her, Harry. More than anything."

And that had been good enough for Harry. Deep down, he wanted Hermione to be happy, he did. She'd fucked him over in some ways, but he did want her to be okay. She was vaguely important to him, and she'd gone through so much for him… Then it was talk of Quidditch, talk of what was going on in the world. Neville and Ginny, they'd gotten together. Harry thought he'd noticed that, but it hadn't mattered at the time. Nothing really had, at that point.

"Harry!" Ron's happy voice rang down the hallway as he raced towards him, grabbing his hand as he strode down the hall to the nursery. "It's a girl, Harry, Hermione always wished it was a girl. She's got beautiful red curls, Harry, she's perfect! Come see, come see!" Dragging Harry behind him, he stopped in front of the nursery window. There was a few babies in there, but he didn't need help picking out Ron's. She was the quiet one with bright red hair, curly and drying as the nurses cleaned her up. "Isn't she beautiful?" Ron sounded vaguely drugged.

"She's wonderful, Ron. Congratulations." Harry smiled lightly under his hand as he watched Ron staring so intently at his first born.

Finally, Ron tore himself away. "C'mon, Hermione wants to see you."

She looked tired, Harry noted. He guessed she had all the right in the world to be. He sure as hell wouldn't want to try giving birth. She gave him a happy smile, cradling her arms as the nurse quietly brought the baby back in for her to hold. "She's fine, 'Mione." The woman smiled, brushing the baby's hair gently. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," she replied softly, rocking her arms gently.

Harry stared at the baby blankly. He held nothing against them, deep in his soul. But on the surface, the anger lingered. But the baby… how could he take it out on such an innocent little baby? He turned away then, leaning against the doorframe as Ron and Hermione ogled their newborn.

"Harry." Hermione's quiet voice woke him from his thoughts. When she had is attention, she continued. "Ron and I decided a while back that we'd like you to be our children's godfather, if you'd like. We know how important Sirius was to you… we'd like to give them the same chances."

Harry didn't know how to respond. Part of him was overjoyed, but another was bitter. If it'd been his child… they'd be asking Ron this, right now, and not him. He sighed, nodding with a faint smile on his face as he looked at the baby girl. "What's her name?" He moved closer to the bed as Ron gently picked her up, setting the baby in Harry's arms. He didn't even have time to protest before the little bundle was laying contently in his arms. She was a quiet baby.

"Her name's Lily… I hope… I hope you don't mind, Harry."

Harry smiled. He could feel the tears coming on.

It was the perfect name.

Draco stumbled over to the old dresser, opening the bottom drawer as he took another drink. He'd become quite fond of wine in the past few years. His mother had always liked it, but he hadn't seen why until he realized just how warm and fuzzy it could make you feel. How it could wrap you up and take you away, or knock you out cold for a few hours, if you'd rather.

With shaking hands, he pulled out the letter from Harry that he'd received so many years ago, discreetly given and read, discreetly kept. Thought about… oh so discreetly. He didn't know why he bothered to take it out; he knew it by heart. He knew the shaky signature at the bottom by heart, he knew the words, the way a couple were misspelled. He knew everything about this letter, inside and out. The one piece of paper that Draco Malfoy had that stated that he was wanted. That he was needed. Now there were two. He'd stashed Harry's latest note there, without thinking about it, when he'd gone to bed. But there was no rest for the wicked, and he was wicked. He knew he was.

Taking another drink, barely registering the burn as it ran down his throat, he put the letter back. Soon he was swinging around the empty room, yelling to empty walls. "This wasn't supposed to happen! That wasn't supposed to happen!" He threw the bottle at the fire place, watching it break and shatter on the wood that had so long ago burnt down. "There weren't supposed to be feelings! No strings, none!" His lanky frame crumpled into the lone chair by the fire as he rubbed his eyes and cried. "It's so easy, so easy with the others… there's so much more there, and I don't have to feel any of it."

But he felt it with Harry, still, after all these years. There'd been something there. Something more than two lonely, broken boys fucking in the hallway of Hogwarts on a dreary day. But Draco didn't want to admit that. He'd have to admit to so much… so much.

But those green eyes! How they haunted him. How open and trustingly they'd stared up at him, how they'd kissed so gently… "No, no, no…" He felt so broken. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was stress. He didn't know.

But he knew, that on Wednesday, at 10 o'clock sharp, he'd be at that clock tower. No matter how much pride he thought he had, or dignity he thought he'd lose from it… he knew he'd be there. If only to shoot Potter down and lay this all to rest. If only to get those innocent green eyes out of his mind. Slowly, Draco relaxed, drifting in and out of his drunken stupor as he thought to himself. He'd settle it, on Wednesday. Things would be better. Things would go back to normal. No more Green Eyes… no more late night dreams.


A/N: So, I'm alive. Hm. Maybe I'll keep being inspired and work on this, eh?