Gold Tinted Spectacles (Hecatemus Book #1)

Chapter 8 - Sharing (pt1)

[Draco,] Harry said as he played absently with the sandwich he had summoned for lunch.

His soulmate's blond head popped up from where Draco was reading a large, unfriendly looking text book, and Harry found himself pinned down by his lover's grey eyes.

[There are some things I would like to share with you,] he said, [but I don't know if you'll want to know them.]

Information flowed between them like water, but so far it was mostly current things and Harry had been feeling that there was something more that he needed to do. They had talked many times before they had bonded, but part of him wanted more; he wanted Draco to know him more completely than any normal human being could.

His instincts wanted to know about Draco as well, but Harry did not want to force his soulmate into anything.

For a moment Draco looked at him appraisingly and then unfolded from where he was leaning on the bedstead, standing and stepping towards Harry. Still without replying Draco climbed back on the bed beside him and took his hand.

[Show me,] Draco's mental voice said calmly.

[Some of it's not nice,] Harry warned. [I don't know if I can control it, I just know I want to show you things.]

[I know you came with baggage, Harry,] Draco said, [so do I. I feel it too; it's time.]

Harry looked into his soulmate's eyes, seeing and feeling the unconditional love at the same time. There were no barriers between them, no walls and Harry felt the need to be known and to know.

[I love you,] he said resolutely and let the sensation inside him grow.

It was like an amorphous many-tentacled creature oozing through his mind as Harry let the instinct rise within him, and it reached through his memory selecting times and places. He stretched out mentally to Draco and, as their thoughts locked, it began.

It started with an early memory, Harry recognised himself at no more than four. He was standing in the kitchen at number 4 Privet Drive; his knee hurt and he had been crying. Dudley had pushed him over in the garden, he remembered, and he'd skinned his knee. Aunt Petunia had sent him inside with a reprimand for making himself a nuisance.

No one was going to help him and he realised that if he was going to stop the pain in his knee he had to do it himself. Resolutely he wiped his eyes and his nose on the already grubby sleeve of the too big shirt he was wearing, and then he walked to where he knew Aunt Petunia kept the first aid box.

The image shifted and with a start Harry realised he was no longer inside his own memory. This was Draco's recollection and he was also a child, possibly a little older than Harry had been in the last memory. He was standing in a large study next to a roaring fire; it was his father's study and Lucius was standing in front of his son.

"Draco," the tall blond man said with a warmth in his face that Harry had never seen before, "I think you are old enough to understand some things."

A rush of pride and love ran through the small boy and Harry felt it as if it was his own memory.

"I was very pleased with you today at your Aunt and Uncle's," Lucius continued evenly, "you did justice to the Malfoy name. There are some things you must always remember and now is the time for you to learn them."

Draco nodded to his parent gravely, feeling very important, with a perfect trust in his father.

"You must always be superior to those around you, Draco," Lucius said. "You are a Malfoy and we are always winners. I watched you today with the other children and I saw you lead them. That is what it means to be my son; do you understand?"