Marked

The Knight

"Whatever he's doing, I'm sure there's good reason for it," she murmured quietly. "Whatever he had to do, I'm sure it was necessary."

Draco grunted unenthusiastically in response. "Maybe."

She hummed softly to herself, thinking. "The kind of friend you are to him," she said, "it's different, isn't it? There's something about your relationship that you haven't told me."

He hesitated. "It doesn't feel right," he told her, though he twisted around to kiss her softly on her forehead. "It doesn't seem right to talk about, even with you. It's more his story than mine."

"I understand," she said faintly.

But she knew the man she loved. She knew him quite well, in fact, and she knew he would talk, if she just gave him a moment.

Several moments, it seemed.

He swallowed hard before speaking and the motion in his throat looked exceptionally burdensome, as though he were wracked with guilt. "It was Theo's father," he said, and she nearly shivered at his haunted tone. "I can't say much about it - I don't want to - but there was a time when Theo thought it would be easier to - to give up."

Her eyes widened. "You mean - "

"I don't want you to think that he's weak," Draco said adamantly, a tremor of frustration reaching his voice. "He's not. Theo's the strongest person I know - "

"I don't think he's weak," she said instantly. "I really don't. It must have been horrible, whatever it was, whatever he felt he needed to do - "

"I was there for him then," Draco said with a shudder, shaking his head vigorously as though to forcibly rid himself of the memories. "And he was there for me, through all of last year. And I just - "

He stopped abruptly, hanging his head. "It's just . . . it's just my turn, Granger."

"We'll get to him," she said, swiveling to place herself between his knees and face him. "I promise you, Draco, we'll find him, and we'll help him." She held his face between her palms before kissing him softly. "I promise," she repeated.

He closed his eyes, and she watched as the signature cool of his, that glacial impassivity that she had so long admired, began to settle itself over his features. "I know."

He stiffened, sitting up and pulling her into his lap. "What was that you said about muggle hair products?" he asked, and as much as she wished he'd been able to continue their conversation, she knew she would have to move on.

"If there were a spell to change your appearance, I'd use it, but there's not," she said wistfully. "It's very rare to be able to change appearance with magic - or else really, I'd have much better hair - and only metamorphmagi can do it. Our only options were polyjuice potion - "

He shook his head. "Too complicated."

"Right," she said, nodding. "Or these," she said, gesturing behind them to the small boxes on the bed.

He leaned back, picking one up. "Chocolate, you say?" he ventured with a smirk, raising one eyebrow. "Sounds delicious."

She laughed. "I also transfigured a pair of glasses for you," she added, gesturing to where they lay in the pile. "The lenses are clear."

He made a face. "Glasses, really?" he said derisively. "And dark hair? Do you want me to look like Harry?"

She rolled her eyes. "Hardly," she said fervently. "And you could never look like Harry."

"I know," he agreed. "I'm much too refined."

She laughed again and he tightened his arms around her, burying his face in the hollow of her neck.