Resolution
There's blood on Draco's hands, thick red viscera slipping between his fingers and filling the air with the familiar scent of iron. It burns him slightly, as all mortal blood does, the trace amounts of metal still enough to char his skin.
He's pressing his hands to a gaping wound, but it obviously isn't enough, there's too much red, too much exposed organ for any amount of magic to fix. Something drips down Draco's nose, and for a moment he thinks it's also blood, but when it falls onto his hands, he sees it's tears. Now that he's seen them, he can feel them pouring down his face and mixing with the blood in his mouth.
"I'm so sorry-" He hears himself say, "It's all my fault. I didn't want too-" There's a broken sob, "Oh Merlin-"
With the haze of tears gone, he can finally see the dark brown skin, or what's left of it, under all of the blood. He distantly hears a scream, and he knows deep down it's his own.
It's Blaise. It's Blaise's blood coating his hand, it's Blaise's blood covering everything in sight, and It's all Draco's fault.
"Draco!"
For a moment, he doesn't know where the dream ends and reality begins, and he opens his mouth to scream, absolutely sure he's about to join Blaise in death. A hand clamps over his face however, just in time to muffle him. He claws furiously at the hand, tears still streaming down his face.
"Draco, it wasn't real." The voice says, and it's enough to make Draco pause. He knows that voice, he's heard it nearly everyday since he was a small child.
The hand slowly moves, freeing Draco's mouth. When he doesn't scream, Blaise lifts him into his arms, and Draco immediately clutches at him. He tries to muffle his sobs into Blaise's shoulders, but it doesn't work.
"Blaise, I'm so sorry- I can't- it's- it's all-"
"Shh, it's all right, Draco, it was just a dream." His fiancé soothes, running his hands down Draco's back. Eventually, his sobs become less frequent, and he quiets, leaning all of his weight onto Blaise. He shifts his head so his ear is pressed to Blaise's neck, his pulse, blissfully strong, helps him pull his breathing back into something more stable.
"Merlin, I'm a wreck." Draco says finally, pulling back and whipping his eyes.
Blaise snorts, but his face is still creased in worry.
Draco bats his hand at Blaise's face, "Don't do that, you'll get wrinkles."
The joke works, and Blaise's mouth lifts into a small smile, "It's hard to spend any amount of time around you and avoid wrinkles at the same time."
Draco glares, the banter settling him, "I take offence to that, I'm a perfectly delightful person."
"Sure, but I'd prefer it if you could be a delightful person that's up in time for breakfast." Blaise replies, moving back to get dressed and letting the subject drop.
Draco stays sprawled on the bed a little while longer. His occlumency was usually good enough to avoid nightmares, that one slipped through meant very bad things for his mind indeed.
He's glad Blaise decided to stay with him. Draco never stayed over the holidays, so when Blaise heard he was staying this time, he immediately put his name down also. Draco had fought him on it; he wasn't about to deprive Dymphna of her son's company, but Blaise was resolute. Draco had even written to her to apologise, sending her an early Yule gift, but she wouldn't have it.
If the stress truly was wreaking havoc on his mind, having Blaise near would help.
It was truly selfish, but Draco wasn't exactly known for his honourable traits.
Draco moved to get up, caring more than he would usually about his clothing. Today most of the students would be leaving, and it was his job as prefect to see them off. Not even Potter was staying at the castle this year, and the only slytherin's staying were a small gaggle of second years revelling in their newfound independence. He settled on his usual black peacoat and trousers, layered over a darker grey cashmere sweater. Having finished dressing before Blaise, he went to wait in the common room, but was ambushed by Vince and Greg right out of the door.
"Why didn't you tell us?" Vince demands as Greg folds his arms. Draco blinked, he honestly hadn't expected the slytherins to be the ones most upset by his and Blaise's engagement. He had assumed they knew, or at least guessed.
"You didn't know?" He asked. With the amount of time they spent at his side, they must have known something.
"No!" Greg said, looking genuinely upset Draco had kept something from them.
"I thought you guessed it! What did you think was happening?" He hissed.
"We thought you were just in denial." Vince shrugged.
Draco stares at the two of them, "You thought we were pining?"
They looked at each other, obviously sensing they had misinterpreted. "Well," Greg said, "You were avoiding each other in the halls, and your families aren't the friendly types."
Vince noded, "We thought it was a whole forbidden thing, and we just weren't talking about it."
Draco smiled, he knew they were secret saps, but the fact they were willing to keep what would have been a monumental secret for him made him feel disgustingly sentimental, "Me and Blaise have been engaged since we were children, Greg." He sniffed, "and I'm slightly offended you think I would do anything so plebeian as yearn for a forbidden lover, Vince."
Vince looked at him, obviously about to argue, but Greg interrupts, "But you love him?" He asks insistently, looking strangely intense. Vince nods again, abandoning his arguments in favour of Greg's line of questioning.
He frowned, unsure of why it would matter.
"You want to marry him?" Vince prodds.
Oh, Draco thinks, they think I'm being forced.
"Blaise is one of my best friends," He says, looking between Vince and Greg, it wouldn't do to have them go on believing Draco was some languishing romance novel heroine, suffering under the weight of an unwanted marriage, "If I was to marry any one of you, I'd still pick him, not that the competitions stiff." He glared, "Now get on, we've got to help the first years onto the train." He pushed past them so they wouldn't see the small grin he tried his best to push down.
Who ever said slytherins had no loyalty, was a bald faced liar.
—-------
Having seen all of the younger years onto the train, Draco turned to Pansy, "Don't ruin Paxton and Paige's lives too often."
Pansy snorted, "The little brats deserve it. They're just angels when you're around because they look up to you."
"Now, I'm sure that's not true," He smirked, "Have a nice yule, Pans."
"Oh, Draco." She threw herself on him, "You know you're always welcome to join me."
"And have to deal with Persephone? I'd rather not." He replied, patting her on the shoulder. The Parkinson heir was truly a formidable woman.
"Oh come off it, now that you and Blaise have been announced she'll back off," She peeled herself from him, grabbing him by the shoulders, "Owl me or I swear to Salazar I'll tell Mother you and Theo are having a sordid affair behind Blaise's back."
"Is it a rumour if it's true?" Theo called from the entrance to the train, winking exaggeratedly at Draco. He glared and flipped Theo two fingers, resolving to fill his bed with itching powder over break.
He grimaced at the thought of such a scandalousrumour going around, but nonetheless promised to owl Pansy frequently before sending her off to where Milicent Bulstrode and the rest of the slytherin girls were waiting for her. The second she left, he turned his back, not willing to seem sentimental, or Merlin forbid, forlorn, about his friends leaving.
He and Blaise made plans to go down to Hogsmead, so he makes his way to Madam Puddifoots. Truly the decor was horrible, but the tea was good, and the pastries even better. Blaise made fun of him relentlessly for his love of the place, but Madam Puddifoot was nicer than half the Hogwarts students combined, and Draco believed in brand loyalty.
"Took you long enough," Blaise said, pouring them both some elderberry tea. Draco took his cup eagerly. This specific tea was the main reason he insisted on visiting Madam Pudifoots every time they were in Hogsmeade, it was near impossible to find anywhere else, so much so that they had to make their own at The Manor. He sent a grateful smile at Madam Puddifoot herself, who waved back with a wink and a smirk from where she sat at the front of the tea house.
"So sorry, some of us have responsibilities we must attend to." Draco sniffs.
"Being your fiancé is enough responsibilities for a lifetime, thank you very much." Blaise replied, sipping his tea primly.
"You," Draco started, "Are incredibly mean to me, for no reason."
Blaise only smiled in return.
Eventually, they left, walking arm in arm through the main street. They stopped in Honeydukes for a moment, restocking on sugar quills and blood-flavoured lollipops for Draco, and licorice wands and pepper imps for Blaise.
Draco once again found himself adrift. Though he hadn't had time to actually work towards his tasks, they linger in the corners of his mind, tearing through any sense of peace or calm he might've been able to achieve.
Once again, guilt crashes into his chest. He stops dead in the middle of the path, causing Blaise to nearly stumble.
"What is it?" Blaise asks, already scanning the area for any threat.
Draco sighs, "Nothing, Blaise. I just-" He pauses, stopping himself before he can reveal too much.
"I just need a smoke." He says finally, causing Blaise to frown slightly, basically a full scowl coming from him.
“You and your French habits.” He sniffs.
“Hey, quite a few people like my French habits.” Draco says in the most suggestive tone possible.
He rolls his eyes, “Why couldn't you pick up my Italian habits and just be really picky about pasta?”
“Because,your Italian habits make you a nightmare at dinner parties.” Draco shoots back, remembering Blaise's admittedly hilarious critique of any and all Italian food he'd ever eaten. "Just go on, I'll be back in an hour or so, just in time for dinner."
Blaise hesitates, obviously unwilling to leave Draco alone.
"It's alright," Draco says, "I'll be in the forest."
This is what wins Blaise over, his obvious reluctance overtaken by the knowledge there was no safer place for Draco.
"By dinner." He says.
"By dinner." Draco confirms.
Blaise gives him one last look, before turning and walking back to the castle. Draco lets his shoulders drop, a strange kind of relief in not having to put up a happy front. Walking into the forest, Draco once again feels the magic of push at his own. This time, he remembers Severus' lecture, and ensures he's truly alone before putting up privacy charms.
He once again lays down in the grass, letting his eyes close. The forest pushes at him again, more insistent this time.
"Hello to you too." Draco says, mentally rolling his eyes. You'd think the forest was neglected, the way it acted.
A flower suddenly smacked into Draco's face, and he sputtered, shooting upright to glare into the tree line.
"Oi! I'm here aren't I?"
A decidedly petulant push of magic nudges him in the side, and Draco huffs. The forest wanted conversation? Fine.
"What do you think I should do?" He asks, pushing all of his guilt and confliction to the surface of his mind.
A begonia suddenly sprouted in front of him, making Draco scowl, "Yes, I know I have to be careful, do you think I'm an idiot?"
The same flower suddenly sprouted to his right.
"Tell me how you really feel, why don't you?" He deadpanned.
A mourning glory sprung up next to the begonia, making Draco frown, "You think he'll kill me?"
A tansy came up to his right, the small yellow flowers giving Draco pause.
"You think it will come to an all out war. And that war will kill me." He confirmed.
Well fuck.
The forest hesitated for a while, before a yellow rose slowly unfurled.
Draco stared at it, "You can't possibly think that would work. I couldn't defy him, what about my family? Blaise? Severus?"
Once again, the forest surprised him by growing a sage plant grouchily. How on earth a plant could seem grouchy was beyond him.
Draco glared, "That's your plan? Outsmart him?"
He picked at the grass, pointedly looking away from the goldenrod coming up in front of him.
"It's great you have confidence, but this isn't some society party I can fox by cunning. This is one of the most powerful wizards in modern history, and he has complete control over my life."
Both of them were silent for a while, as Draco thought about the forest's opinion. It was much older than he was, and probably smarter, that he would admit, but a forest couldn't see things the same way he could. The forest wouldn't understand his life.
He was fleeting compared to the ancient magic of the Forbidden Forest, simply a speck in the wind. One boy's defiance must seem so small to it, but Draco was a coward at heart, just like Potter said, and he couldn't imagine throwing himself away like that at an impossible task. It all seemed so pointless if his goals were unattainable.
Slowly, as if the forest was trying to be kind in its delivery, a tall hyssop grew. Its purple flowers swayed in the wind, bowing towards Draco like they could offer him comfort. He stood suddenly, walking backwards out of the clearing.
No.
He couldn't. Every bone in his body rebelled against the idea. A slytherin sacrificing themself for the greater good? The idea was laughable.
He walked back to the castle in a daze, eager to get back to the safety of the dorms. At least the mermaids wouldn't tell him he needed to outsmart the Dark Lord.
The forest had obviously been growing too many mushrooms.
Stomping into his and Baise's room, he flopped onto the bed with a dramatic groan. He heard Blaise sigh, close his book, and walk to the side of Draco's bed.
Leaning his head into Draco's field of vision, he raised an eyebrow, "What could have possibly happened in the hour you were away?"
Draco sniffed, "Magic forests and their annoying amounts of levity."
"Ok, don't tell me then." Blaise replied, sitting next to Draco, "I'll just have to withhold your Yule gifts."
Draco sat up, glaring at Blaise, "I was being entirely truthful, I'll have you know, no need to take it out on the poor gifts."
Blaise smiled, "Alright, but we have to eat dinner first."
That was the beauty of Yule, Draco mused, it lasted much longer than christmas. They didn't have to wait until the 25th to celebrate. He would never forgive the muggle-borns for refusing to learn the old ways, their traditional celebrations being pushed aside for new-age christian holidays of all things. He no longer felt so strongly about blood purity, but when the first years barely knew what Samhain or Imbolc were, he could understand his father's beliefs better.
He and Blaise ate dinner in comfortable silence, taking up one end of the slytherin table. They may be lax over break, but neither would do something so indecorous as eat in bed. After finishing, they went back to their rooms, poking fun at the remaining students, and speculating on what the teachers would be doing over the holidays.
"I bet Binns doesn't even notice it's break." Draco said, elbowing Blaise in the side. One benefit of announcing themselves, they no longer had to keep their space. Their plan had worked, and even the small number of remaining students stared after him and Blaise, whispering about romantic proposals and forced engagements.
"Walk by his classroom tomorrow, and you'll hear him still droning on about goblin wars." Blaise snickered.
When they got back to their room, they both went to light all of the candles, forgoing the magical lights they usually used. They changed into comfortable pyjamas, then sat cross-legged on Draco's bed, curtains drawn.
Each had two packages, expertly wrapped, Draco's in a deep emerald, and Blaise's in a dark blue. Handing Blaise his gifts, Draco watched eagerly as his fiancé unwrapped the two boxes. In one, there was a set of goblin-made cufflinks, with black rubies surrounded by small diamonds, and set in silver. In the other was a set of handmade leather shoes, tailored perfectly to Blaise, with protection spells soaked into the leather, and soles charmed to show the night sky, the spell work done by Draco himself.
It was a truly difficult spell, nothing like the altered Black-family spell projected onto his canopy, but Draco had been insistent about doing it himself. When Blaise turned the shoes over to inspect them, it was worth every second for the look on his face.
"Draco." he breathed, running his hand over the butter-soft leather, "I can't even begin to imagine how you found these."
Draco grinned, not bothering to temper the smug edge of it, "I didn't."
"No." Blaise said, looking up in shock, "You didn't."
"I did." Draco replied.
"Draco." He said, grinning just as fully as his fiancé was, "Will you ever stop being so insufferably good at things?"
"Not if I have anything to say about it." Draco said in his most pretentious voice, turning his nose up.
"Here." Blaise all but shoved his gifts into Draco's lap, watching him intently.
Picking up the biggest of the two first, he tore through the paper, revealing a wooden box. Opening the latch revealed a velvet interior, housing a set of delicate silver pins, each with a unique twist of leaves. Small jewelled flowers seem to sprout from the silver, and when Draco reached a hand into the box, they all turned slytherin green, the same colour and shade as his pyjamas.
"I didn't do any of the charmswork, but I don't think they're half bad." Blaise smiled.
"I think we can all thank our lucky stars you didn't do the charms." Draco started, "But they're so beautiful I don't think I would have cared if they ended up turning my hair blue."
"Anything but red?" Blasie asked.
"Anything but red." Draco confirmed. "I'd have to kill you if you made me look anything like a Weasley."
Blaise snorted, but handed Draco the second gift. It was much smaller than the large box of hair pins, able to fit into the palm of his hand. Draco took much more care unwrapping this one, sensing its delicacy.
It was a small velvet ring box. Draco took in a sharp breath and looked up to Blaise, seeing his smug smile.
They didn't have rings because it had always been something concrete. They didn't need something so simple as jewellery to represent what they were to each other. But now Draco couldn't help but feel floored.
Should he have gotten Blaise a ring? No, probably not. Blaise would've been better at picking them out anyways.
He opened the lid slowly, bracing for something unknown. Inside was a beautiful ring, with a delicate silver band and sharp purple stone. It sparkled in a way that should've been impossible in the low light, though Draco could not for the life of him sense any cosmetic charms. It was elaborate and obviously expensive to the trained eye, but not gaudy or overdone. Something poked at the back of Draco's mind, the itch of something forgotten.
His eye's catch Blaise again, and it hits him. He's seen this ring before, on Dymphna Zabini's hand. It was one of the few recurring pieces of her wardrobe, and one he had admired on several occasions.
His mouth gaped, absolutely speechless in his sudden and violent fondness for Blaise Zabini.
"It's a portkey." Blaise's voice interrupted Draco's thoughts, his usually infuriatingly confident voice bellied by a strange amount of hesitance. "The code is 'waltz.'" He stared straight into Draco's eyes, refusing to look away, "You don't have to like it, but promise me, if you ever need it, that you'll use it."
Draco sat silent for a few more moments, staring at the ring and Blaise in turn.
He licked his lips, searching for the words he wanted, "I can't promise I'll use it," He started, holding up a hand when Blaise made to argue, "But I'll keep it with me whenever I can." He summoned a length of cord from his dresser, stringing the ring onto it and looping it around his neck, "Thank you, Blaise, really."
Blaise, seemingly appeased, smiled softly in the way only Draco got to see, and suddenly, a choice he hadn't even known he had was made. He couldn't sit here, accepting gifts and soft smiles from Blaise when he was planning something so awful. He couldn't make Blaise love him while he planned murder.
He thought he had no choice, that he had to kill Dumbledore and let Death Eaters into Hogwarts, but was he any better, making Blaise an unwilling accomplice? Stringing him along in the dark while Draco let himself sink deeper and deeper into The Dark Lord's service?
Leaning and pressing a soft kiss to his fiancé's cheek, his resolve hardened.
Suddenly, his decision was easy.