Set Fire to Rain

It was raining outside. I could hear the silent trickle against the windows in the infirmary. It was also black as pitch, sometime after midnight. Everything was silent in the infirmary, for Draco and I were the only occupants for the night. Draco’s breathing was level and even, deep in sleep. His hand was laying lightly in my lap in my left hand, palm up. With my right, I absently and gently stroked his wrist, lost in another world.
Harry had a plan to save Narcissa. He had thought of it in just moments, and although it was risky, it could work. Narcissa was one of the few wizards I knew that was expertise in Occlumency. She had taught Draco and I, and she was better at it than anyone I knew, even better than her twisted sister. I often wondered if that was how she got away with things from Voldemort sometimes, like protecting me and Draco. She never told him lies- ever. But she never told him the whole truth either, and Voldemort never mentioned a word about it.
But I could also be very wrong about that. Voldemort, an expert in Legitmacy, may not use it as often as I suspect. He may wholly believe that Narcissa is to afraid to lie to him, therefore there would be no need to read her mind. For this plan to work, I would have to hope whole-heartedly that Narcissa was as expert as I thought she was. Because if He read her mind… I could think of no ends gruesome enough that would come to greet us.
I lifted my eyes as Draco shifted in his sleep before going still again. I wasn’t going to tell him about Harry. Draco wasn’t as good in occlumency as Narcissa or even myself. I could not trust that he would suppress the thoughts- the anger of my trust in Harry would be far to great for him to hide the train of thought. Voldemort would pull the strands of thoughts from his mind like string from a ball of yarn.
As I sat in the infirmary, I also came to the conclusion that I was changing juristically as a person. Months ago, I would have never thought my life would have brought me to this spot in the universe, thinking of ways to defy the man who practically created me. I shook my head then, scolding myself. Voldemort did not create me. He destroyed what I was, and molded me into what he thought I should be. He perfected me as his weapon, and for a while, it worked.
But unlike many of his loyal servants, I was intelligent. The rest of his followers were not particularly gifted wizards, or suggestively smart. They were plain, simple-minded, and greedy. For a long time, I thought that I was all of those things, when in truth, I was conniving, smart, and calculating. You had to be conniving to live in that life, which is why his followers so often died.
Draco turned in his sleep again, murmuring, “Reagan.” I smile sadly and laced my fingers with his, bringing his hand to my mouth and kissing it lightly. My heart squeezed in pain, remembering the images of earlier that day. I loved Draco so completely that it was like I had a disease. Loving Draco could either kill me, or help me live. Either way one thing was clear: my existence, my entire reason for being, was balanced on whether Draco’s heart beat or lay still.
Because of this realization, I let the woman who torture me live. Her entire reason for being was for her son and for the love of her life- I had stolen both from her like a thief in the night, without a second thought, without any sympathy for the damage that I was creating. Because I never knew love, I never knew loss. Loss was a concept foreign to me- until I grasped what loss could mean for me.
A fluttering noise broke my train of thought and I flicked my eyes up towards the rafters. A pair of silver coins looked at me from the darkness. Then I heard the shake of wings. A harmless night pixie looked at me curiously. Madame Pomfrey would have a fit if she saw the little devilish creature hanging around the rafters. I didn’t mind the thing- it was harmless and probably wondering if I had pumpkin pasties on me.
Draco sat up suddenly in bed then, making me flinch right out of my chair and let go of his hand. He looked disoriented and looked around in a panic before I touched him on the shoulder, putting myself in his vision. He looked at me wildly for a moment before registering who it was and relaxed visibly, laying his head on my hang and closing his eyes.
I sat down on the bed next to him, taking him into my arms, whispering, “I love you.”
It was the most simple word in the world, but I could see the fire in his eyes when he opened them. “I love you too. Lay with me?”
“Of course.”
He shifted over and lifted the sheet. I slipped in easily next to him, replacing the cover back over us. He looped his arm around my shoulders and I turned towards him, snuggling my face in the crook of his neck. He smelled like aftershave and peppermint, making me laugh in memory.
“Hmmm?” he mumbled as a question, lips pressed against my hair.
“In potions on the first day of school,” I whispered quietly. “We studied love potions that smell differently to everyone. It smelled like you.” I felt him smile against my hair. And I closed my eyes, listening to the steady intake of breath, feeling the rise and fall of his chest. The lullaby of Draco’s existence sent me into a quiet, comfortable sleep.