Roommates (Drarry)

Chapter 7 - An unexpected arrival

*Draco pov*
We broke apart, breathing heavily. I felt lighter than I had in weeks, almost radiating happiness. Harry's influence was quite profound on me on a normal day, I hadn't had a single nightmare since that first night with Harry. But now... it was difficult to describe. I'd never actually taken drugs, but this was what I would have imagined a high to be like. Just his touch sent sparks streaking through my veins - imagine that a hundred times magnified.

Just then there was a sharp knock on the door of the common room and in walked Professor McGonagall. She regarded them both on the couch, robes askew, lips swollen, and though she looked stern there was the faintest hint of a smile on her cheeks.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy, do you realise that you have already missed fifteen minutes of my class?"

Harry and I looked at each other, panicked. We hadn't meant to miss Transfiguration, and we certainly hadn't meant to be caught making out by a teacher. Merlin, what if we got in trouble? What if McGonagall turned out to be homophobic?

"While I have nothing against you kissing," she continued, apparently oblivious to our panic,"I would rather you did not do it during my lesson time. We have started human Transfiguration today, a very important part of the NEWT course, and you have already missed a quarter of it. In the future could you please make it to the lessons on time or I shall have to give you both detention for your tardiness. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Professor." We replied.

"Good. Now hurry up before you miss more than you already have."

***

I sighed with relief as we packed up after Transfiguration, thoroughly exhausted by turning my finger to wood and back. It was a thoroughly unpleasant sensation, and I wished that I could have been a Metamorphmagus because natural transformations were supposed to be a lot less like losing a limb and more like a disguise or an illusion.

As Harry and I pushed our way through the crowd of students leaving McGonagall's classroom, we saw a familiar shock of ginger hair leaning against the wall, his eyes staring into space. My lip curled slightly. Weasley. I attempted to fashion my expression into something pleasant for Harry's sake, though, as Weasley was his best friend, and settled on slightly frosty neutrality as Harry gasped in delight.

"Ron! What are you doing here?" He ran over to his best friend and embraced him tightly, Ron grinning broadly.

"Came on behalf of the Aurors to speak to McGonagall. How's school this year? Are there many eighth years?"

"No, there's only four of us, it's really great though. We have our own common room decorated in all the Hogwarts colours, as we have one person from each house, two boys, two girls, sharing dormitories as usual, though they're a bit smaller this year. Just one boys' one and one girls'."

Ron, whose eyes had started wandering as he lost focus, suddenly spotted me, leaning against the opposite wall waiting for Harry, my face still slightly frosty. His face twisted with intense dislike.

"Malfoy." He spat.

"Weasley." I said, as blandly as I could.

"What are you doing here? Didn't they lock you in Azkaban with the rest of the Death Eaters?"

"Don't they tell you anything at that Auror office of yours, Weasley?" I said, unable to keep the sneer out of my voice. This was a sensitive topic for me - it was very difficult to not fall back on old habits as a defence. "No, I suppose not. If they had, you would already know that I was cleared. Pity, I thought you were finally someplace you were important."

Ron's ears went pink. "Says the boy back at school because nobody would employ him. Don't kid yourself, Malfoy. You'll always be a Death Eater."

"That's enough," said Harry quietly, looking at Ron with a burning gaze.

"You're not seriously defending him?" Ron scoffed.

The words swam in and out. Ron's earlier comment had punched through my heart like a cannonball. Don't kid yourself. You'll always be a Death Eater. It brought back memories of the War and before it, memories I'd tried to push down.

I staggered through a nearby door, to a toilet cubicle, where I sat against the side wall, not locking the door. My father's voice invaded my thoughts.

*Draco/narrator pov*
*Flashback*

The winter sun lit the frosty garden, dull and stark bluish-white, illuminating the pale, pointed faces of two people sat on a bench outside a huge manor. The elder had long, blond hair and was wearing black wizards' robes; the younger, who looked about seven, had shorter hair and was wearing black trousers and a white shirt.

"Why are Muggles bad, Dad?" Asked the boy. "You always say they're worth less than us, but it isn't their fault they aren't born with magic."

"It may not be their fault," replied his father, "but the very fact that we are born with magic and they are not puts us above them."

"But what about Mudbloods?" Asked the boy, using the slur because he knew no other word for it. "They're magical, why don't we like them?"

"Don't kid yourself, Draco." Said his father sharply. "Mudbloods are filthy scum who are Muggles at heart. They don't deserve to learn magic at all, and they certainly don't deserve to be among true, pureblood wizards such as ourselves. That's why they're called Mudbloods, son. Their blood is contaminated with their Muggle heritage. They don't deserve to be considered wizards at all." This was all said coldly and with utter contempt.

Draco fell silent, ashamed that he had even questioned the worth of Muggles and Mudbloods, and that he'd caused his father to get into a foul mood. He knew he would probably suffer for it later. His father's fingers were already brushing his belt, as if itching to unbuckle it.

The memory of the beating that had followed that encounter made Draco flinch. You'll always be a Death Eater. Draco braced himself as a torrent of images flashed before his eyes.

The Dark Mark burning into his skin. Doing nothing as his aunt carved Mudblood into Granger's arm. The rows of bodies in the Great Hall. The Dark Lord himself. You'll always be a Death Eater. He would never escape these memories, these deaths, the horrors wreaked on the wizarding world that he alone was accountable for.

He was sobbing now, breathing coming in short, sharp breaths. The memories didn't stop. Lupin, the werewolf who had taught them in third year. Dead. His son orphaned. The Weasley twin. He'd never liked Ron, but nobody deserved to lose a brother, a son, a friend. He thought of Mrs Weasley, heartbroken. He thought of George, forever without his twin. The breathing came shorter, sharper.

The world swam before his eyes, spots appearing over his vision as his breathing became faster still. He was dimly aware of footsteps rushing in, and a familiar voice, hands gripping his shoulders.

"Draco. Breathe. Stay with me."

A/N
Hi guys,
Sorry I had to cut that short, it was already too long and I try to keep my chapters roughly the same length. Hopefully part 2 will be here soon, but I can't make any promises.

Please keep voting and commenting, it is much appreciated!