You are gradually coming to terms with the shocking information when you realize that Drake has the power to remove your memories of what he told you. You beg him not to.

7. Draco the Death Eater

Drake didn't move away as you tried to soothe him, but he didn't look any happier either. Touching him had a calming effect on yourself, however; it made him feel real and solid, a person of flesh and blood who just happened to be able to do supernatural things.

He was still fidgeting with his wand and despite your agitated state you became curious.

"Can I try?" You poked it lightly with your fingertip, expecting a buzz or sparks, but you didn't feel anything.

"Go ahead."

It was made of smooth wood, and lighter than you had expected. Nothing happened when you waved it. "What were those words you said?"

"The words won't do anything without the correct gestures – and you'd need magical ability." He enveloped your hand with his own, guiding you through the movement. "Wingardium Leviosa."

Now you felt it. Your skin prickled lightly as power flared from within the wand, passing through your fingers and joining a force from Drake's hand. The lilac rose, resuming its impossible position.

You shivered, but this time it wasn't from fear. The magic affected you, filling you with a strange excitement. Goosebumps appeared on your arms.

He helped you cast a new spell. "Accio dragon figure." More power flowed through your joint hands and the toy escaped his pocket. With a third spell he made it do little pirouettes around the flower.

You could not hold back a laugh. "That is so cute."

He did more tricks. The dragon grew and flapped its wings, and even breathed fire on the lawn. When he returned it to its normal size the burned patch of grass remained.

You looked at him as he worked. He did it so naturally and gracefully, yet in every motion he was still him. He had the same focused expression as when working through a chemistry lab or writing a report.

This was still Drake, your friend – or, much more than a friend, actually – and you couldn't stand the thought of having to let him go. You didn't see the reason for it, either.

"I don't care that we are from different worlds." You moved closer so you could lean against him. "I'm not afraid of you."

He had been smiling as he cast spells, now the clouds returned to his features. "You should; I told you I'm not a good person."

"Stop saying that! Everything I know about you proves you wrong. You're the nicest guy I know and I like you."

"That's because you only saw one side of me. Like I said, my father was a criminal... and so was I."

"No." You shook your head. "I don't believe that."

He tensed and shrugged you off, creating a distance again. "Then let me describe it to you. Who I am. What I am." His eyes had become angry and his mouth a hard, thin line. "There was a great war in my world, started by a wizard called Tom Riddle, though he preferred a pseudonym which I will not utter. His followers were called Death Eaters. Riddle's basic idea was that wizards ought to rule the world and enslave all muggles – non magical people like you. Thing is, he was rather charismatic and his ideas sounded... I don't know, I kind of fell for them. My parents had always taught me that pureblood wizards like us were above others, and I had no reason to question that. I had rarely met a muggle, but at school there were a few muggle-born wizards and witches and I looked down on them. I found them inferior. So, when I discovered my parents were Death Eaters it made me proud. But then one day my father failed a mission and ended up in prison. A horrible prison; hardly anyone survives in there." He swallowed thickly, and when he continued his voice was toneless. "Riddle then tasked me to kill his greatest enemy – the Headmaster of my school. If I succeeded he would free my father. So I took the dark mark and joined the Death Eaters." He rolled up his sleeve, showing you a faded tattoo on his inner forearm, a long snake slithering out of a skull.

It gave you a strange feeling of déjà vu. As if you had seen it before, though you knew you hadn't.

"I was flattered in a way, first; I felt singled out and important." He made a disgusted grimace. "That was before I knew what Riddle and his followers were really like. How cruel he was – and how completely mental and unhinged."

You traced the contours of the snake with your finger. Unlike a real tattoo, the skin was puckered along the edge of the mark.

He shivered at your touch but didn't pull away.

"I refuse to believe you could kill anyone," you said stubbornly.

He laughed mirthlessly. "As it were, I couldn't, actually. I failed..."

"I knew it!"

"My failure is not an excuse; I still did horrible things. I joined Riddle knowing full well it meant I would commit murder, and though I didn't cast the killing curse, I did try to kill my headmaster indirectly with poison and a cursed necklace, but they got in the wrong hands. Two innocent students nearly died–" His voice broke and you could feel he was trembling. "And later, I was ordered to... hurt people. Torture them. I didn't want to but I was afraid and weak so I obeyed. I probably would have been a Death Eater to this day if Riddle hadn't been killed and we lost the war. I'm a bad person and you should stay the hell away from me." He wiped his eyes angrily.

Your mind was whirring with thoughts. Murder and torture... Trying to imagine Drake hurting someone was even more surreal than witnessing him casting spells.

But he had said he was ordered to; that he did it to save his father. And because he was afraid. That, you could believe. People would do the most awful things to survive, you knew that.

You hated to see him look so miserable and began to stroke his arm again, sliding your finger over the faded mark. It struck you it must have been branded into his skin. As if he were cattle.

You didn't want to think about how much that must have hurt.

"How long ago did you get this?"

"A few years back."

"Then you can't have been old at all? Unless wizards are like vampires or elves and you're super old but in a young man's body...?" By now, anything seemed possible.

He smiled briefly. "No, I was sixteen."

"You were just a boy! And had to do all those things?"

"I was almost an adult; for us the age of majority is seventeen."

"You were a child," you insisted. "A child soldier. Whatever you had to do was not your fault."

"Stop. I was old enough to know better. It was my fault – and my parents'. If anyone, I blame them for spoiling me rotten and teaching me I was above everyone... Especially Father. And I also blame him for joining that maniac. Had he not been so stupid I wouldn't have had to join either, and I won't ever forgive him for that. Not that I can, now." He made another bitter, joyless laugh.

"Were your mother and you sent to prison too?"

"No, only Father," he said tonelessly. "Mum was not as active a Death Eater as him and I, and hadn't committed any actual crimes. And at the end of the war our family switched sides; another mitigating circumstance." Then he added, almost reluctantly. "I would still have been sentenced with Father, but they thought I had been too young to understand what I signed up for when I took the mark. So I was let off."

You didn't say 'I told you so', but thought it.

"Father didn't last long in that prison for a second time. When he was gone, Mum inherited the estate and as far as I know she still lives there. I have no contact with her."

"Why?"

"Because I couldn't stand staying in our world when everyone knew what I had done. Everywhere I went, I'd get hateful looks. Hearing people whispering behind my back... saying I should have been punished." He sighed. "It would perhaps have been better if I had been sent to prison. If I took my punishment and paid the price for my crimes, they would think better of me."

"I'm so sorry." You put your arms around him. "No wonder you are lonely."

"Don't be!" He sounded exasperated. "How many times must I tell you I'm no good? I don't deserve anyone's pity."

Despite his outburst he wasn't pushing you away. Rather, you felt him hugging you back. Clinging to you.

"It doesn't matter how many times because I don't believe you."

"It's true! Even when little, I was a nasty little shit. A bully at school, teasing other kids just because. Bragging about my wealth. And I despised muggles and muggle-born. Didn't you listen to what I said about Riddle's worldview? I would have made you a slave, unless I killed you first. If bad things happen to me, that's justified!"

It didn't make sense. He repeatedly insisted he was a bad person, and said he had hated non-magical people, yet he went to a university in your world, and spent lots of time helping you and his other classmates. He had taken you to the opera and a ball, and earlier he even said he liked you. Somehow his words didn't match his behavior.

It was as if he deep down wanted you to keep making excuses for his former crimes. To convince him he was wrong about being a bad person.

You snuggled closer, pressing your face against his neck, comforting yourself as much as him. "Many children are nasty and selfish. If you realize yourself you were a bully, it means you're sorry for what you did. It means you've changed. You did bad things in the past but decided to be a better person – that's worth something."

He didn't reply to that.

"You're not bad."

"I am." But he sounded less convinced.

"No. You have changed."

"I tried, I guess."

"And you succeeded. Since I met you, you have been nothing but nice to us, what was the word... muggles."

He dropped his shoulders, finally losing part of his tension. "I wanted a fresh start... doing it right, for once. Nobody knew me here. I could make friends with normal, kind people like you. And it worked... you invited me in. I had never... I didn't know what it felt like to have friends who liked me for me, not for who my parents were." He paused, sounding thoughtful when he began again. "I mean, I've always had people around me, and they'd do what I told them to do, and laugh at my jokes, and appear like friends, but I don't think they ever liked me. Feared me, perhaps, and envied me most certainly. As soon as my family lost our status they disappeared." He hugged you a little harder. "That's why your friendship meant so much. It felt real. But it's been difficult to always guard my tongue, and always pretend. I wanted to be honest but I couldn't... I can't, or my cover will be blown. If word gets out about my powers, or the Dark Mark, then it's only a matter of time before my old world catches up with me. I'd have to leave." He eased your arms away from him. "And that's why this... can't be. That's why you must forget this night."

Something about the way he said it, and the way he gripped his wand purposefully, made you realize what he meant.

"A spell? There is a spell to make someone forget?"

His bleak face was answer enough.

You grew cold despite the warming charm around you. The memory loss after the pub night! You had thought you drank so much you had blackouts, but what if he had erased some of your memories?

"Did you... do it before?"

"Once. I'm sorry. You saw the Dark Mark and I had said too much about my past. I had to. I couldn't risk that you told someone... If it's any comfort, you did consent to it."

You were beginning to tremble. "I don't want to forget what you told me tonight. I want to know the real you, with your background. I promise I won't tell anyone."

"I can't risk it." He made a wry face and raised the wand. "Gods know it's easy to let something slip by accident, or we wouldn't have this conversation."

"No." You shook your head vividly. "I don't consent. You heard that? I don't consent." You tried to take the wand but he held it out of your reach.

You stood on your knees, grappling for it, pushing him until he lay on his back in the grass. You knew he was physically stronger and could have easily withstood your attempt, instead he was strangely passive. You plucked the wand from his unresisting fingers.

He smiled sadly. "The wand makes it easier but I don't need it."

"Then I'll stop you from saying the spell." You put your palm over his mouth.

He removed your hand. "Spells can be performed nonverbally."

The last resistance left you and you sank down beside him. "Please, Drake." Your voice became a sob. "We are friends. Friends don't steal each other's memories."

"It's Draco." He cupped your cheek, softly stroking it with his thumb. "Draco Malfoy."

His eyes were so large, so unhappy. He was so close.

"Draco..." You became lost in his gaze, enthralled. He could work magic just by looking at you.

You leaned over him, gradually lessening the short distance.

He raised his head to meet you. And then your lips touched.

It was brief; only a light caress, yet brimming with feeling.

He drew your face back to him and you kissed again, closer now. His lips were soft but not too soft, molding themselves against yours. Neither of you took control; you kissed in synchrony, exploring each other as if you had all the time in the world. As if this would not be erased from your memory within moments, never to be repeated.

You stretched out your legs, half covering his body with yours, and he placed his palm on the small of your back. Holding you close.

He opened his mouth slightly; you did the same. Your tongues met. He tasted sweet like raindrops.

Bittersweet, as it were, for the memory of his taste would be robbed from you as well.

Kissing Draco was divine. You hadn't known it could feel this way; how intimate and emotional. How affectionate.

You never wanted to stop, and he made no indication of finishing either. You couldn't get enough of each other.

He rolled you over, switching positions. Kissing you and kissing you more, your breaths mingling. His hands enveloped your face and you drew your fingers through his hair.

Your lips became sore and raw but neither of you stopped. Because if you did, this would end.

You knew he didn't want it to end either.

You turned on your side and he followed. Lying face to face in the grass, so close he filled your vision completely. Kissing each other again and again.

"I don't want to forget this," you whispered between kisses. "It's not fair. Because you will remember..."

"How is that fair?" he returned in a low murmur. "I will remember it and know what I've lost... Forgetfulness is bliss."

"Then don't do it." You put a finger on his swollen bottom lip.

"I have to. This is too... complicated. Risky. But I won't lie, it's tempting..." He kissed your fingertip, then planted tiny pecks on your palm. "Fuck. My self-restraint has become disastrous lately. The other time I had to remove your memories I decided to quit uni and do something else, but even that resolution failed. I couldn't keep away. And now, I just can't bring myself to... but I must. I really must do it, you know."

"No, I don't know, and I disagree. I can keep a secret."

"Even if you kept the secret, I think it's a bad idea. I come with a lot of baggage. You don't need my shit in your life."

"Isn't that up to me to decide?"

He didn't seem to know what to answer and lay on his back again, gaze becoming lost in the pale night sky.

His silence lit a tiny spark of hope in you. He was considering it, you were certain about that. Weighing pros and cons.

You rested your head on his chest and he put an arm around you, idly stroking your back. You listened to his steady heartbeat, filling your nostrils with his scent. Making the most of the moment. Waiting.

"If you told anyone about magic and wizards, I suppose I could obliviate them instead," he said after a long while. "But are you sure you want to be with someone like me? A Death Eater and a criminal. I'm pretty messed up."

You raised your head so you could bore your eyes into his sternly. "You are not a criminal; you were pardoned. You have changed. And I care about you. A lot. You'd have to remove half of this year from my memories for me to forget that, so you'd better get used to me!"

His lips curled up slightly and his eyes got a resigned look. You knew you'd won before he spoke.

"Alright then. I won't take your memories."

A/N:

This chapter took longer to write than I had thought, though I had most of it charted out in detail... It was depressing to recall all the things Draco had to do.

I'm super happy for feedback, don't be afraid to share your thoughts! Do you think a bully and former criminal can change and become a better person?