#mimi lind

Unlike the last time you were in his apartment, now there was no need for him to hide anything from you. He showed you how he used spells for everything from cooking to cleaning his teeth, and some of his wizard equipment too. He had a clock with strange numbers and symbols, and several sets of black robes which you recognized from the Halloween party.

“No wonder you didn’t know how to use electrical stuff when there are so many spells. And how sly to dress like your real self for Halloween!”

He smirked. “I thought it was a brilliant idea.”

Next he pulled out a photo album where each image moved. Most of them pictured a chubby toddler smiling toothlessly into the camera.

“You were such a cute baby.”

“Really? I think I was ugly. Look, I had no hair at all.” He traced an image with his finger, where baby-Draco was riding a broomstick across a neat lawn. “Flying is what I miss most from my old world; there is this sport we have, where we use broomsticks and different balls and I was rather good at it.” He absent-mindedly rubbed the callouses in his palm. Perhaps he had gotten them from gripping the broom handle.

In the next picture a handsome man with long, platinum hair was posing in a chair, his lips curled in a contemptuous smile. The likeness with Draco was striking, apart from the arrogant expression. It could only be his deceased father. 

Draco frowned and turned the page.

Another photo showed a beautiful woman at a concert piano, her fingers dancing soundlessly over the keys. 

Draco’s frown disappeared and instead he looked sad. “That’s my mum. She taught me how to play.” He nodded at his own piano.

“Do you miss her?”

“Sometimes.” He shut the album closed and put it back. “Want to see my potions? I made most of them myself.”

He had rows of bottles with labels in his neat handwriting. You examined one marked ‘dreamless sleep’. “I can see now why you like chemistry.” 

“The subject has many similarities, yes.” He took the bottle from you and put it back. “I don’t think I will need this tonight.” He gave you a small kiss on the cheek. “I’m glad you came. I always hated sleeping alone.”

“Same.”

His words reminded you of how late it had become. With everything that had happened you weren’t sleepy at all.

“Shall I put out an extra mattress or will we share my bed?” Then he quickly added: “I meant for sleeping, not…” His voice trailed off and his cheeks colored rather cutely.

“We can share.” You were secretly relieved he had no other expectations; you didn’t think it a good idea to rush it and sleep with a guy on the first real date.

Preparing for the night together with Draco was very different this time. Now you were sober, and had all the things he told you still fresh in your mind. When he undressed and exposed his tattoo you now knew the meaning of it, and though the sight of him in a tank top still gave you butterflies, it also reminded you of his dark past.

It felt a bit awkward and embarrassing to take off your pants and socks in front of him, but that disappeared when you slid under the comforter and was met by Draco’s warmth and now familiar scent. You edged close and pressed your nose against the crook of his neck, and he put his arm around you, softly stroking your back over your t-shirt.

Despite the late hour, neither of you were tired. Protected by darkness you talked, sharing more about yourselves; childhood memories; hopes and fears; personal things you had never told anyone before. 

When you could think of nothing more to say, you started kissing again. Lengthy, intimate kisses, so gentle and soft your heart swelled with fondness. 

After a while the kisses changed, becoming more intense. Draco raised himself on his elbow, leaning over you to deepen the kiss, slipping a hand under your t-shirt to caress your bare skin. 

You responded with the same eagerness, mimicking his movements. When you explored his broad shoulders and hard, flat chest, and felt his heated skin against your fingertips, new emotions stirred in you.

Draco drew back first. “Maybe we should sleep,” he mumbled breathlessly. “It’s already past sunrise.”

You willed your heart to slow its pace, glancing at the windows where a faint light spilled in. Seagulls squeaked outside, a common sound around dawn in this city. You estimated it was three or four in the morning. 

“Sure. But this time of year it’s always past sunrise.” You gave him a last, sweet kiss. “Good morning then, and sleep well!”

“Good morning,” he replied with laughter in his voice, looking adorable with mussed hair and chapped lips from all the kissing. 

Not long afterwards you fell asleep in his arms with a smile lingering on your face.

You were surprised with how easy it was to get used to dating Draco. How his magic became part of your everyday life in the same way as his company grew familiar and comfortable. It soon felt completely natural to let him warm and dry you with charms after a cold swim, or eat a meal he used spells to cook. When you had a headache you swallowed a potion rather than medicine, and if you wanted to get somewhere it was very practical to ask Draco to apparate you instead of taking the bus, even with the nausea you got from the teleportation.

Draco adapted to you in a similar way. Under your influence, he learned to dress like a muggle and how to use all the electrical appliances in a normal home. He bought a TV, a mobile phone and a Playstation, and no longer had to be bored when alone in his home. Not that he was alone much; the two of you alternated between staying at your apartment and his, and you rarely spent a night on your own.

This day was warm and sunny; Sweden was showing its best side. You were at a beach not far from the city with Catrine, Andreas, Martin, and Martin’s boyfriend.

Draco lay stretched out on his back on a patch of grass between the bare, smooth cliffs, closing his eyes against the sun. He wore only swimming trunks and had used a spell to hide the Dark Mark; it was apparently a bit of a hassle to keep up which was why he normally preferred long sleeves.

You took the opportunity to admire his body, rare as it was to see him shirtless outdoors. You found him especially attractive now, in an adorably scruffy way; his hair disarrayed and damp from bathing and his jaw covered in stubble, and a healthy tan contrasting with a scatter of fair hairs on his chest and stomach that continued in a thin line down to his trunks. The sunshine painted his ripped torso golden and the mesmerizing sight gave you flutters. 

Suddenly you wished you were alone at the beach.

He opened his eyes. “I’ve been counting back. We’ve dated for two months today.”

Catrine made two thumbs up. “Yay! This calls for a party.”

“Why not? You’re all welcome to my place tonight, then.”

It became a wild, but fun party. The morning after you were tidying away empty bottles and scores of burst, heart-shaped balloons (a gift from Martin), feeling perfectly well thanks to a dose of one of Draco’s amazing potions, when he came out of his lab looking slightly concerned. “This was the last batch; from now on we’ll have to resort to muggle medicine.”

“Can’t you buy more?”

“No, I can only get the ingredients from a wizard apothecary and if I show up in the magical community my cover will be blown.” He sighed. “I wish I had polyjuice potion; then I could have gone there looking like someone else. As of now, I’ll just have to make do without potions.”

You didn’t like the sound of that at all; you had gotten too used to his potions to give them up. 

You pondered over it for a few moments. “What if you use that concealing spell? You could go to the apothecary and take it off long enough to buy what you need.”

“Hmm. I doubt any shop owners in this country know me by sight… it might just work.” A pleased smile broke out on his lips. “I could buy more glassware as well, and a new cauldron.”

“Can I come too? I’d love to see a part of your world.”

He firmly shook his head. “No. Too risky.”

By now, however, you had become an expert persuader, and Draco clearly had a weak spot when it came to obliging you. It didn’t take long for him to budge.

“Alright then,” he acceded in mock exasperation. “You’re too curious for your own good.”

Draco chose an early Saturday morning for your visit since he figured the place would be basically empty at that hour. He apparated you to the entrance, which was located downtown in an underground garage. When you arrived, fighting your usual nausea from such transportation, a sickening smell of stale urine worsened your condition.

“I had imagined it to be a bit more stylish,” you said, covering your nose.

“Wait to judge until you see what’s on the other side.” He went over to one of the walls and stood in front of a spot that appeared no different from the rest of the whitish-gray surface. Using his wand, he tapped a pattern.

“There; it’s open.” He took your hand. “You need to trust me for the next part.”

“Always.”

“Then close your eyes.”

You closed them only partly; you didn’t want to miss what would happen, but when he commenced to lead you through the wall they squeezed shut by their own volition at the last moment.

You opened them again at the other side – widely. “Oh my God,” you breathed.

Entering the Swedish wizard shopping area felt like being transported back in time at least a century. The buildings were quaintly mismatched, with pillars, turrets, and decorative trim, and the street was paved with uneven cobblestones. 

“Welcome to Trollstavenyn. Pretty neat, eh?”

Under the disillusionment charm, and a silencing spell to hide your voices, Draco could show you around, explaining what was in the shops, and you gaped at everything with excited awe.

“Amazing. I wish we could go into them all and look more closely.” You pressed your nose against a window with an assortment of animals inside. 

“We’d better not.” He took your hand again. “Let’s shop for potion ingredients now. I’ll need to remove the muffliato charm so remember to keep very quiet.”

The apothecary was even more intriguing than the other shops you had passed. On the crowded shelves you saw jars and bottles of everything imaginable, from powdered spiderweb to unicorn lashes soaked in rum. 

Draco pointed his staff to himself, turning visible again, and walked up to the counter where an elderly witch was labeling glass bottles. “God morgon,” he greeted in Swedish. “I need some ingredients.” He handed her a list. 

He was waiting as she packed his purchases into a bag when the doorbell rang and a beautiful witch entered. Unruly curls cascaded down her back almost to her waist.

“Draco?”

You went cold. Oh no! This was exactly what he had feared. To be recognized. Would he have to move away now? You couldn’t stand the thought of losing him!

On hearing the witch’s voice, Draco’s frame grew rigid, his features undergoing a strange transformation from neutral to haughty. 

He slowly turned around with a contemptuous sneer on his lips. “Why, if it isn’t Granger,” he drawled.

She closed the distance in two long steps, looking genuinely delighted. “I can’t believe I found you of all people, here, in this small town! Where have you been these years? How have you been? You just disappeared. Everyone wonders what happened to you. And your mum… I used to work with her and even she doesn’t know where you are.”

His sneer immediately disappeared. “Mum… works?”

“Yes, can you believe it? But she’s changed. A lot.”

“Is she, uh… well?” His voice was neutral but his face betrayed his coiled tension.

“She’s worried about you. And misses you, of course.”

“Oh.”

The look on Draco’s face wrought your heart. You slipped your hand in his, squeezing it. 

The witch narrowed her eyes. “Is someone there?” She looked vaguely in your direction and you held your breath, keeping as still as you could.

Draco frowned. “I have to go.”

“Wait… It’s been so long. Can we talk over a butterbeer or something? I want to put your mum at ease. Please.”

You squeezed his hand again, looking at him encouragingly. His cover was already blown; he might as well talk to her and find out more about his mother. You knew he missed her too and regretted he had had to leave. Whenever the topic of parents came up, he would grow rigid with repressed emotions.

“Alright then,” he muttered.

As the witch led the way to a nearby inn, you were dying to ask Draco about her. Was she one of the kids he had mentioned who would pretend to be his friend because they envied him? Or was she one of those he had bullied? But if so, she wouldn’t have looked so glad to see him…

The inn was small and cozy, with wood paneling and a merry fire burning in the fireplace despite the warmth of summer. Draco and the witch received their drinks, and you eyed them curiously. They smelled sweet, like toffee. Maybe you could try one too after the witch had left. 

The witch sipped her butterbeer. “I still can’t believe I chanced to meet you. I’m only here for a brief visit to learn about the Swedish Short-Snout dragon’s healing properties. For my research.”

“You study healing, then?”

“Yes, and soon finished, too. This research is for my final thesis.” She continued talking, first about her studies, then mentioning several names, relating what they did now and who dated whom – small talk, that you had a hunch was mostly meant to make Draco at ease. 

When she was done, a silence ensued. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to take another sip but the bottle was empty. 

“Draco…” She leaned across the table, becoming serious. “I’ve been meaning to thank you, but you disappeared so soon after the war there was never an opportunity.”

He blinked. “Thank me?”

“For not turning us over to… him. That time in your manor. We were caught, and I know you recognized us, but you said you weren't sure who we were. You saved our lives.”

“Oh.” He shifted his stance again. “Well, then we’re even, I guess… You guys saved my life in the war too.”

“Have you been in Sweden all the time since it ended?”

He shook his head. “I went to South Africa first, to a sanctuary for magical creatures. I, uh… volunteered, actually. After Dad died, I just wanted to get away from everything. Get a fresh start.” He looked at his empty bottle, twirling it in his hands. “It didn’t work too well, as it were; as soon as people heard I was British I’d get questions about the war. All the questions I didn’t want to answer… Then I figured with my looks I might pass as a Swede and moved here instead. Unfortunately the language was complicated as hell so I thought ‘screw it, I can’t pretend to be from here’, and joined a muggle university as an exchange student.”

“A muggle university? You live among muggles?” The witch’s eyebrows rose so high they disappeared under her curly bangs.

“I know; ironic, isn’t it? I thought it would be the last place anyone would look… But, getting to know some muggles, I found that… It became more than just a hiding place.” He glanced at you. “I’ve made friends here.”

”There is someone there! I knew it.” Her piercing eyes brushed over you again. ”You can show yourself; I don’t bite.”

Draco and you exchanged gazes and you nodded your head. He could reveal you; the room was empty and your table wasn’t visible to the innkeeper. And you didn’t think this woman was a threat. 

He touched you with his staff.

The witch gaped at you. “You brought a muggle with you? You really have changed, Draco… I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.” She stretched out her hand. “I’m Hermione Granger. Pleased to meet you.”

You recognized the name; she was one of the three who had been Draco’s chief adversaries at school. He had recounted to you many of his past squabbles with the trio, sometimes with amusement when he described the more harmless pranks he had put them through, other times with obvious guilt over his behavior. 

That considered, you were surprised Hermione acted so friendly. You didn’t think the warmth was feigned.

“I suppose I have changed, yes,” he said. “It’s been liberating to be an unknown nobody. And to do some good.”

Hermione smiled. “You’re so much like your mum. She’s a volunteer at St Mungos Hospital and works with patients who were injured in the war. She feels guilty for being part of the side who did that to them.”

He looked thoughtful at that.

“Can I tell her about you? I don’t want to expose you if you don’t want to.”

Again you were baffled over the kindness and consideration of this woman. If she kept his secret Draco wouldn’t have to leave you after all. Relief filled you.

Draco seemed to have similar thoughts. He met Hermione’s eyes for the first time, replying with gratitude in his voice. “You can tell her I’m well and that I’m happy, but please don’t give away that you know where I live… you can say we met at Gringotts or something, and I didn’t give you the details.”

“Alright, I will.” She rose. “Can I send you an owl the next time I’m in the vicinity? I’d love to keep in touch. If it’s alright with you, of course.”

“Sure.” He suddenly blushed, dropping his gaze again. “Hermione… For what it’s worth. I’m sorry for everything… I was a jerk. I don’t deserve your kindness, really.”

”Think no more of it. And I’m sorry too; my friends and I could be a bit harsh at times. Everything was either black or white when we were kids. But we all grew up, thankfully.”

“Surprisingly, we did.” he smiled wryly. “If you see Potter, tell him I still think he’s a twat but that I’m sorry.”

She grinned. “I will. But you should tell him yourself or he won’t believe me.”

When she had gone, Draco renewed the charm that hid you, and bought another couple of drinks, handing one to you. It tasted like it smelled, sweet and syrupy.

“Well, that was awkward,” he said.

“She seems nice. And you did well; apologizing like that was brave. I’m proud of you.”

“I’m honestly a bit proud too.”

“Will you go see your mother?”

He looked thoughtful. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

You leaned your head against his shoulder and he put his arms around you.

“I support whatever you decide.” 

Draco was silent and brooding the rest of that day. In the evening when you lay in his bed, he kissed you with unusual tenderness. Like the first time. 

“I’m so grateful for this. For you, for my friends… I’m a lucky bastard.”

“You deserve it.”

“I disagree.”

“No, you really do. You saw what kind of person you were and left him behind together with the rest of your old life. You became a new, better you. After giving so much up, you deserve everything good coming your way. You deserve friends. You deserve forgiveness.” You looked deep into his eyes. “You deserve love.”

He replied with a long kiss, overflowing with feelings.

You responded, and then gently pushed him onto his back. You kissed a trail down his neck, and each of his many tiny scars and nicks from hexes thrown on him in the war, and then the faded Dark Mark. Showing him how none of his past mattered. 

“I love you,” he mumbled thickly.

Your chest filled with warmth at hearing those words for the first time. “I love you too.”

When you started to doze off in his arms a long while later, you felt happier than you thought possible. Draco loved you. Even if he decided to return to his own world you were certain he would take you with him now. 

You also felt hope for him, for a happier future. Hermione’s visit had shown him he wasn’t as hated as he had thought. He would get closure eventually. A chance to make everything right again. 

He deserved that.

A/N:

I'm leaving it open whether Draco returns to live in the wizarding world or stays in the muggle one. But you, Reader, will be at his side, no matter what. :)

Thanks for reading, and don't hesitate to comment! I always love to hear from you and what you think about the story.

Note: The wizard town Trollstavenyn is a pun, “trollstaven” = the magic wand, and “Avenyn” is a famous Gothenburg street. :) My husband made up the name for me, so I assume it’s peak dad humor. XD

Parts: [ < Previous Part ] [ Masterlist ]

Full story: [ AO3 ]

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:

Thanks for reading! 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?

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Was he an economics student who lost his way? But even they didn’t look that snobby in this city. Gothenburg was for average people. 

The teacher only gave him a brief look before he continued to write on the whiteboard, and you turned your attention back to the lecture.

In the break, Catrine immediately went over to the newcomer and shook his hand. “Welcome to the class! I’m Catrine.”

She was one of those hyper social persons who knew everybody, and if she didn’t she made sure to get to know them as soon as possible.

He stared blankly at her. “Sorry?”

“Oh, you speak English!”

“How perceptive of you,” he deadpanned.

“That’s super cool! What’s your name and where comes you from?” She was assaulting the language badly, but in her defense she studied chemistry and not English.

“Drake Marley. From America.”

You narrowed your eyes. America? Absolutely not. His accent had made you think of English royalty and BBC reporters, and no Americans you ever heard spoke like that.

“Nice. Why are you in a Swedish university if you’re American?”

“Exchange student.” He glanced at the pile of textbooks in his open briefcase; all of them were written in English. “It’s not necessary for me to understand anything; I already know the required course book by heart. But I thought lectures were mandatory?”

Of course the guy had a briefcase and not a backpack… a snob through and through, it would seem.

“Not at all. Labs are, though.”

“Good to know.” 

“Tell me more about you. Where in America? Why pick chemistry? Do you live in a dorms?”

“I like chemistry.” He was looking at the door as if planning an escape route. Catrine had a rather overwhelmingly inquisitive personality that could take a while to get used to.

“Do you really know all the textbooks by heart?” Martin, your dorm neighbor, cut in. He had been ogling Drake with a starry gaze since he arrived.

You could see why. Drake was tall, wide-shouldered, and he had a nice face. Straight nose, dark eyebrows, chiseled jaw. His eyes were an unusual pale blue color that matched the silver in his tie.

If he hadn’t looked so cocky and upper-class he would have been handsome.

“Do you think I make stuff up?” he scoffed rather arrogantly.

What a jerk! You were convinced he was just bragging; nobody read the textbooks in advance. 

“Then what is the second law of thermodynamics, Mister Know-it-all?” you challenged.

He smirked. “Depends on who you ask. Kelvin? Planck?”

“Kelvin,” you picked at random. A tendril of doubt stirred in you. Why did he look so confident?

A group of students had gathered around you now, clearly curious about the outcome of the confrontation.

“According to Lord Kelvin, ‘a cyclic transformation whose only final result is to transform heat extracted from a source which is at the same temperature throughout into work is impossible,” he quoted.

“Wow!” Martin clapped his hands and was joined by a few bystanders.

That was taken directly from the textbook. You shifted your stance, beginning to feel a bit too hot. So, maybe he had photographic memory then, but he probably just memorized the phrase and didn’t understand what it meant.

“Say that in simpler words.”

“It means entropy always increases – and that means for example that a hot item will become cool, unless you heat it.”

You knew you must be blushing now. ”Okay,” you muttered, defeated. 

“Some are both hot and cool at the same time,” said Martin, eyeing him appreciatively. “I say, you must join us tonight at the dentist students’ pub!”

“Why would I want to do that?”

“Because their pub is the best,” said Catrine. “Cheap drinks, great music. Try it. It’s fun.”

He hesitated. “Maybe.”

The break was over and there was no opportunity to talk for a while, but you had a hard time focusing on the teacher. Who was this genius, British-sounding, American rich guy? Despite the mortification that he beat you, he intrigued you.

You hoped he would come to the pub so you could get to know him better; not because he seemed very likable but because you were so curious. 

Or at least that was what you told yourself.

When you arrived that night, you saw Catrine and Martin with a group of fellow students at a corner table. There was no sign of Drake.

You ordered your usual pear cider and joined them. 

“Do you think he will come?” asked Martin, sipping his rum and coke. He was nicely dressed in jeans and a shirt with the top buttons open to expose part of his tanned chest.

“I don’t think he will,” said Catrine. “He seems like a fancy restaurant kind of person. He probably only drinks champagne.” She wore a simple, comfortable sweater as always, but with her curvy shape and blonde ponytail she tended to attract guys’ eyes anyway. Not Martin’s obviously, he wasn’t into girls. 

Leaning against the wall, you slowly drank your cider, listening with half an ear at the others’ chatter and the catchy music. 

The dentist students’ pub was small, only two rooms, and the chairs and tables simple and not very comfortable, but the DJ was good and made the most of the cheap equipment. He always put together a perfect mix of new songs and old favorites from the eighties and early nineties.

After a while the others around the table went over to the dance floor in the next room, but you were getting drowsy. Instead you closed your eyes and let the music and alcohol relax you after a long day.

You all but jumped when you heard the door open and shut firmly. Drake strolled in with the same confident air as that morning, and just like then he looked slightly out of place. This time he wore an actual dress coat with tails and everything. Did he think he was going to a ball? 

Ignoring everybody in the room, he ambled over to the bar. “Dry martini,” he ordered. 

“What?” asked the bartender, a gangly dentist student with braces on his teeth.

Drake sighed. “Never mind. Do you have whiskey sour?”

He shook his head. “We have vodka…”

“No.” He leaned over to read the short menu. “I’ll have a gin and tonic.”

He paid rather clumsily for the drink, peering at the coins and twenty-crown note like he was unfamiliar with them, but that was of course expected for an exchange student.

When he scanned the tables for a place to sit, you waved awkwardly. “Here!”

”Oh, it’s you.” He looked down his nose at you.

His arrogant look made you feel like it was you who were out of place. You squirmed uncomfortably, crossing a leg over the stain on your jeans and wished you had dressed nicer. 

To your surprise he chose your table anyway, but first he wiped the chair with a green silk handkerchief. Then he sat, elegantly crossing one leg over the other. His trousers had perfect press creases, and his leather shoes looked expensive and were spotlessly polished.

Nobody dressed up like that to a simple student back alley pub! Was he royalty? An English prince in exile? You tried to recall all the members of the royal family you knew but could only think of the queen and Lady Di. The former was too old, the latter dead, and neither of them was a guy anyway.

If Drake noticed your glances he didn’t show it; he paid no attention to you and could just as well have been sitting alone. He was staring blankly into the air with a bored expression, taking long gulps of his drink. Whenever there was a new song on, you noticed him wincing slightly. 

He finished the drink fast and put down the plastic cup with a suffering look; he would probably have preferred a crystal glass with an umbrella.

If he hated the company, music and drinks so much, why did he even stay?

“Another,” he called to the bartender. “Please,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

The bartender poured it, leaving it at the counter. 

“I think you must get it yourself,” you prompted a bit shyly.

With a resigned sigh Drake fetched the cup. He emptied it equally efficiently as the previous one, but if the alcohol affected him it didn’t show. 

You wished the others would come back but they were still dancing. The silence between Drake and you grated on your nerves. 

You couldn’t stand it.

”I’m sorry I doubted you,” you blurted.

He raised one eyebrow. “Okay.”

New silence.

Your mouth continued rambling against your volition, desperate to fill the void. “But I mean, it’s not strange I did, right? Normally people don’t learn these books by heart… I thought you were just bragging. How did you even have time to both read and learn it? You must be very smart.”

Great. Why had you said he was smart? He didn’t need his ego stroked. If only the greasy linoleum floor could suck you into it and take you away now.

His lip turned up ever so slightly and for the first time he was actually looking at you. “I am, yes. A know-it-all, like you said.”

You dropped your gaze. Damn. Must he remember that?

”Uh, sorry about that too.”

”And actually I do have plenty of spare time; that’s why I memorized the book. But only the first half. I was lucky you picked thermodynamics.”

Slowly you looked back at him. He was smiling for real now and no longer looked arrogant at all. 

”What? So if I had asked about something near the end you couldn’t reply?”

”Nope.”

You giggled nervously. ”You asshole.”

”If you say so.” He nodded at your empty cider bottle. ”Want another of those?”

The offer immediately raised him several notches in your eyes. You never said no to a free drink. Plus, he had a charming smile now that he had dropped the superior air.

Or perhaps he had never meant to be superior, and it was just your interpretation because he looked so wealthy. Thinking back, he hadn’t been impolite to anyone, and just the fact he was willing to attend a pub like this was proof he wasn’t putting on airs.

“Why do you sound British?” you asked when he came back with your bottle and a third gin and tonic for himself.

“Oh.” He hesitated. “I have been living in London a lot.”

London! That’s where the queen lived too! You wanted to ask more, but now the other students returned, and soon Catrine took over the questioning like a twenty-first century version of the Spanish Inquisition.

Drake only replied to half of it and clearly grew more and more uncomfortable under the barrage. Not long afterwards he rose to leave, excusing himself with being tired.

You looked long after him as he walked out. Damn Catrine and her curiosity!

But you could understand her, too. There was something highly mysterious about that young man, and you couldn’t wait until you saw him again and had a chance to find out more.

A/N:

Hey all, thanks for reading! This is a completely new fandom for me to write in. Let me know what you think. :)

/Mimi

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After taking your names, the cops drove away in the direction the bikers had gone. They said since nobody had been hurt, and the crooks hadn’t stolen anything, chances were slim it would amount to much unless they found them and could prove the knives were theirs.

On the way home, Catrine, Andreas and you talked about Drake. Where had he gone, and why?

“Perhaps he was afraid because he used karate on the bikers,” said Catrine. “I’m sure that’s illegal.”

“Not if done in self-defense,” Andreas objected.

“Maybe he didn’t know that.”

Neither of you knew where he lived or had his number, so there was no way to know. You hoped he had gotten home safely and that he was alright.

The next day, you were relieved to see him enter the lecture hall looking perfectly fine. Today his suit was dark gray with pinstripes.

“Where did you go yesterday?” Catrine asked. 

“Home. I was just very tired and figured you guys would be safe on your own with the police there and everything.” Before she could ask more, he changed topics and began to talk about something chemistry related and the upcoming midterm exams, and didn’t stop until the lecture began.

In the afternoon, he joined your lab station. “Do you need a lab partner?”

You nodded eagerly. “Yes, thank you.” You guessed he probably chose you to avoid an interrogation from Catrine, and made sure not to mention yesterday’s event in case you scared him away. 

During the lab, you looked closely at his hands. There was no blood on the cufflinks now, even a drop, and not a mark on either hand. When he wrote in his notebook you saw part of his palm, and noticed a thin, white line across one. An old scar and obviously nothing to do with the recent fight.

No, you must have been so shocked and scared your imagination played a trick on you.

The following days everyone spent studying vigorously in their respective homes, you included, and hence you didn’t see Drake again until after the last exam. You gathered outside, discussing the questions and trying to estimate whether you had made a decent result. You also discussed where to go that night for the traditional post-exam party.

Catrine as usual suggested the dentists’ pub, and after some talking back and forth it was settled. It was the cheapest place after all and one of the few student pubs that had a dance floor.

When you arrived, Drake was already at the bar with a gin and tonic in hand, talking to Catrine and another girl from class. This time he wore marginally less formal clothes: a black suit and no tie. 

You joined them with the intention to buy a cider when you saw a notice that tonight’s special was Red Bull and vodka for a very good price.

“Try it,” said the bartender. “You’ll be dancing all night.”

You liked the sound of that and bought one.  

It was strong, and not as good as pear cider, but it did invigorate you.

Martin and his new boyfriend arrived, and Andreas shortly afterwards.

“Let’s dance,” said Catrine and led the way. You emptied your drink and was about to follow when you saw Drake hadn’t left the bar.

“Won’t you come?”

He hesitated. “I don’t know the steps.”

“There are none.”

“No steps?”

“No, it’s not like a waltz or anything, we form a circle of friends and everyone just improvises.”

A gleam of interest appeared in his eyes. “A circle of friends? Alright then.”

You joined the circle and let the rhythm pull you along, swaying your body, moving your feet, doing all your favorite moves – the ones you had learned in front of the mirror a long time ago and knew made you look your best.  

Drake stood still at first, observing Martin like he took mental notes, then he began, moving with a natural grace you instantly envied, but you figured it was probably due to his martial arts training. He had picked the right person to imitate; Martin was the best dancer among you.

Drake’s fluid movements made your heart beat fast, and not only from the exertion of dancing. 

You took breaks to refill your drinks – more of the same for you – and with each one, the ambience became more cheerful. Drake looked like he had the time of his life, and you were glad for him; he normally was so serious.

The pub was crowded and you became warm and rosy. Soon everyone was in their t-shirts, except for Drake who for some reason always wore button shirts with long sleeves. But he opened the top buttons, exposing an enticing triangle of pale skin, accentuated by a thick silver chain around his neck. 

If only you could touch him.

You edged closer. “You dance well,” you said in his ear, raising your voice over the din.

“Beginner’s luck.” He grinned, then his eyes trailed over you. “Nice shirt.”

You felt a pleasant twinge. It was a tight garment that accentuated your figure – was he checking you out? The mere thought made your heart stutter.

You danced on and there was no limit to your energy. The Red Bull worked wonders. However, the next time you went to get one, you discovered you were out of money. Did you buy that many already?

“Want another?” Drake asked. He had followed you to the bar and leaned against it as if to steady himself. You were not the only one who were fast becoming more than tipsy.

“Sure!” You loved free stuff, drinks included.

You stumbled on the way back but Drake supported you. Despite your drunken state his touch gave you butterflies. 

More dancing. You sang along to the lyrics and he laughed at how out of tune you were. Not unkindly.

He opened another button and you admired the sight of more heated, dewy skin. He seemed to look at you too.

He bought you another drink.

The dance floor was becoming empty and Catrine and the others had disappeared. You didn’t know what the hour was and didn’t care.

More drinks. Drake and you slumped over the counter, giggling together at something you didn’t quite recall what it was.

You impulsively patted his cheek. “You’re such a nice guy.”

He smiled sentimentally. “Glad you think so. Used to be a bad guy.”

“Probably went around karateing people, yeah? Can imagine. Is karateing a word?”

“Dunno. What’s karate?”

“Your sport. That you used when we were attacked.”

“Right. Yeah, I went around karateing people and was pretty much a jerk. Want another drink?”

“Thanks. You were badass when you scared those bikers. I’m impressed.”

He grinned proudly. “Always was a decent duelist.”

You finished your drink and rested your cheek against the counter. Just relaxing a bit.

Suddenly you stood near the exit. The music had silenced and someone was sweeping the floor. How did you get there? Where was Drake?

A girl looked kindly at you. “Need help?”

“No, I’m fine,” you lied, struggling to walk steadily as you went out. The night air was cold and woke you up a bit. The world reeled.

You found your bike and fumbled with the lock, dropping the key twice. You felt sick and threw up in a flower patch. On the third try you managed to unlock the bike.

“Are you alright?” Drake sounded concerned.

Relief filled you, mingled with embarrassment. You hoped he didn’t see you vomit. “I’m fine. I thought you had gone?”

“I went out to pee.” 

His admission made you realize he was equally drunk as you. Chuckling, you climbed the bike and would have fallen if Drake hadn’t caught it.

“You shouldn’t ride this. Where do you live?”

“The other part of town. It’s alright.”

“Don’t; I have plenty of room and live nearby. You can crash at my place.”

Drunk or no, in a million years you wouldn’t have turned that offer down. “You sure? That’s nice of you.”

“I’m a nice guy. You said so.” He looked pleased at that.

You led the bike along with him.

“I had fun tonight,” he said. “More fun than… can’t recall when, actually. Must be way back.”

You yawned, glad for the bike to lean on. “Me too.” Then you had to stop and throw up again but Drake didn’t seem to mind. He held the bike until you were done.

You went on.

“Great thing, friends,” he resumed. “Never had them before. I mean, real ones. Decent ones. Ones who weren’t just tagging along because I was… who I was.”

“Mm-hm. You’re royalty then?” 

“Not quite. Well. I suppose you could say… kind of like royalty, where I come from. A good name. Old blood. That sort of thing.”

You weren’t used to this chatty version of Drake and wished your head had swum less so you could pay attention.

“Poor you,” you said. “Everyone needs friends.”

“Yeah.” He nodded with emphasis. “But don’t feel sorry for me. I was a jerk, like I said. I deserved all I got.”

“I don’t believe you. You’re too nice to be a jerk.” You tried to give him a hug but the bike was in the way so you settled with a friendly pat on his arm.

“Thanks.” He patted you back.

You were both smiling to yourselves when you continued. 

He stopped in front of an elegant gate. “We’re here now.”

“Right.” You stumbled on the marble stairs. Again he steadied you.

It was a beautiful apartment, very fitting for someone as neat and well-dressed as him. The combined kitchen and living room had a crystal chandelier hanging from a ceiling far above, and there was a persian rug on the floor.

You found the bathroom first of all and made good use of it. As you washed your face, the cold water sobered you a little. You couldn’t find any toothpaste so you tried to clean your mouth with just water.

When you returned, Drake had put a spare mattress with a green pillow and duvet next to his own bed – also with green sheets.

“You like green, eh?” You flopped down on the mattress, unabashedly easing your pants off. You usually slept in t-shirt and underwear.

“I do.” Drake did likewise and unbuttoned his shirt, exposing a white tank top.

The sight of him in only a tank top and underwear swiftly took away your sleepiness. He had such a perfect body. Why did he hide it?

“You should wear sleeveless more often,” you mumbled. “Suits you. Is that a tattoo?”

His cheeks colored and he put a hand over his forearm with a guilty expression. “Just an old… uh. Anyway, time to sleep. Night.” He quickly slipped under the sheets.

“Night,” you returned, burying your nose into the pillow. It smelled good. 

Before you knew it, you slept.

A/N:

Cue, awkward morning… 

This chapter may or may not be inspired by an actual event… the author admits to nothing and has no regrets. :)

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The first time you met again after the ball, you hoped Drake would wear his too and that your classmates would notice, but unfortunately you couldn’t see if he did; he wore long sleeves as usual. 

You felt a bit shy around him. Had he forgotten about the date he promised you? Perhaps changed his mind? It felt awkward to bring it up, especially since you hadn’t found a suitable movie yet. Once you had an actual date to suggest it would be easier.

It needed to be a romantic movie, you figured, or else a scary one. Something that would make you able to sit very close, just like in the opera that time. Also, it had to be a long one; a ninety minute Hollywood romcom wouldn’t be enough.

A week later you had your chance. You saw that the student theater was showing Titanic the next weekend, which was perfect for your needs in every way. Long, romantic, and sad. You had seen it before, in the late nineties when it premiered, and didn’t mind a rewatch.

You waited until the lectures were over before you approached Drake, making sure nobody else was around to hear. Unsurprisingly your body reacted like always on such occasions and gave you a rapid pulse and trembling fingers, but you put your hands in your pockets and hoped your voice didn’t betray your nervousness.

Drake accepted without ado. The time and date suited him and he looked forward to seeing his first ever movie.

“Should I bring or wear anything special?” he asked. “I don’t know the etiquette for this kind of evening out.”

His question made you smile inwardly; you had asked yourself the same thing when he took you to the opera. 

“No, you don’t bring anything; we’ll buy popcorn at the theater. But perhaps you could wear something a bit more comfortable and informal?”

“Hm, I’m not good at Swedish fashion. This is considered formal?” He indicated his suit. Today he wore a white one; since it became spring he had favored light colors, but it still looked both too warm and very impractical.

You chose your words carefully when you replied; he had worn suits all year and you didn’t want him to think he had dressed oddly (though he had). 

“Suits are fine, but a t-shirt and jeans will do nicely for a movie night. Perhaps with a casual jacket if you get cold in the evening.”

“Okay, casual it is. I’ll see what I can find.”

The following days went by very slowly. Now that you had decided on a day, Saturday took forever to arrive. You used the waiting time to think of a present to give Drake, just like he had given you the amazing bracelet. But what did he like? You had already given him CDs, and jewelry was beyond your budget.

Then you got an idea. You headed to a toy store and soon found precisely what you were looking for. Spot on!

Drake and you had arranged to meet up outside a fast food restaurant of your choice. Just in case, you went there half an hour early, but when you arrived it felt awkward to stand and wait for him like an impatient kid. You didn’t want to seem too eager. Instead you hid in a doorway at the opposite side of the street.

When Drake arrived you discreetly stepped out of your hiding place, joining him like you had just come too.

To your delight, you saw he had done as you asked and chosen casual clothes; black jeans and a long-sleeved, dark green t-shirt which suited him exceedingly. You were so struck with how good he looked you could hardly get a word out. 

“Hi,” you said, overcome by shyness. Then you gave him the small gift you had prepared.

“What’s this? It’s not my birthday yet.”

“You gave me a present the last time.” You shook your arm so the bracelet rattled. “I like it so much, and I wanted to give you something too.”

A wide smile broke out on his lips when he unwrapped the toy. “It’s a mini dragon! How cute.” He pulled you into a quick hug. “I love it.”

You looked at your feet, trying to hide how flustered the hug made you. “It’s nothing compared to what you gave me, but I figured since ‘drake’ means dragon in Swedish it would suit you.”

“That’s so thoughtful.” He put it in his jeans pocket. “I shall keep him with me; I’m sure he’ll bring me luck.”

You all but bounced into the restaurant. He liked your gift!

Drake had never been to a fast food restaurant before, so you ordered a burger meal for each of you.

“No knife or fork?” he asked incredulously when it arrived.

You showed him how to hold the burger with the paper and tried to explain this was how it was done, but he didn’t seem convinced.

One bite of the burger later thankfully won him over completely. “This is divine,” he said, voice muffled by the food. “I feel like a barbarian eating like this but by gods, it’s good. Order another for me, will you? I’ll pay.”

“No I’ll pay,” you insisted, and went over to the counter before he could stop you. This date was your idea and he had already given you so much. 

Two burger meals, one pie and coffee, and an ice cream later, he decided he was done. 

“You won’t have room for popcorn now,” you scolded him.

“There is always room for more.”

“I wonder where it all goes?” You indicated his slim waist. 

He shrugged. “I don’t eat much at home. It’s boring to eat alone.”

“Then you should eat in company more often.” You wanted to add that he could do it with you, as often as he liked, but felt that would be a bit too forward. Maybe after watching the movie together you would be braver.

The theater you went to was small and very old, and run by a student movie club. You bought a large popcorn to share, and made sure to buy tickets for the back row which had couples’ seats with no armrests between. 

When you found your seats, you pretended you hadn’t known that. “Oh, sorry, these are tight,” you said apologetically.

“It’s alright.”

You sat, feeling Drake’s arm press against yours. An excited thrill went through you. This had been such a good idea!

When the movie began, you could tell he was soon completely captivated by it. His hand lingered unmoving over the popcorn bowl.

You, on the other hand, found his closeness very distracting. His scent filled the air around you and you felt the warmth of his arm acutely. Seeing the contours of his fit body through the thin cotton of his t-shirt was no help either. 

“Do you like the movie?” you whispered to get an excuse to move a bit closer. Now your legs were touching as well.

“A lot. I had no idea you people could make pictures move like this,” he mumbled without taking his eyes from the screen. “It’s like… magic.”

You didn’t quite understand what he meant, but didn’t pay much attention anyway. You were sitting as close to him as you dared, reveling in the moment and wishing the movie would never end.

When the dramatic part began, you gathered every ounce of your courage. “It’s scary.” You sneaked your hand into his.

He tensed, becoming very still.

You immediately regretted what you had done, feeling your face burn hotly.

You tried to draw back your hand, but he held it. “No, it’s alright.” He made a pause, and then sighed. “You startled me, that's all.”

Despite his words, you weren't quite sure it was true. Why had he reacted like he did then? And you thought there was something off about his reply. He had sounded… sad, almost?

But when he kept holding your hand, you tried to forget your worry.

Now the movie was becoming tragic, showing the unfairness of the poor people’s fate, locked down in Third Class, unable to escape the sinking death trap the ship had become. 

Just like when you first saw it, you felt tears sting your eyes.

You edged closer to Drake again and this time he didn’t move away. Instead he released your hand so he could put his arm around you.

Heart thrumming, you leaned your head against his firm shoulder and slipped your arm around his waist. This close, he overwhelmed all your senses with his warmth and irresistible scent. 

He rested his face against the top of your head and inhaled softly. As if he was drawing in your scent too.

Was this really happening? It felt surreal.

You couldn’t say how long the moment lasted, only that it was much too short. The movie ended and you had to leave the snug seat.

But your disappointment quickly turned into exhilaration when Drake took your hand as you left the theater. “I loved it,” he told you, squeezing it. “I like your kind of night out more and more.”

He still sounded a bit down, however, and his eyes were red like he had cried. But then, Titanic was a sad movie…

“Where to next?” he asked.

“The park, for the drink-sharing I mentioned. I have cider.”

You walked slowly along the street. The evenings were very light this time of the year, but despite it being May there was a chill in the air. You hardly noticed it; you felt feverish walking hand in hand with Drake.

You chose a central park by the canal and sat down near the water. You opened two cider cans and gave Drake one.

At first, you sipped your drinks in silence. Despite the bustling city not far away, the place felt secluded and private. Huge trees towered around you, their leaves small and freshly green, and near the water a few lilac bushes sent a mild fragrance your way. The dark water rippled in the evening breeze.

The air felt warmer now, you reflected, despite the late hour, and though there were others in the park they kept far away.

You sat close enough that you felt Drake’s leg brush against yours. You hoped he would put his arm around you, but this time you waited for him to make the next move. You didn’t want to startle him again like in the theater. 

Thinking about the movie, it struck you how strange it was that a young man of twenty or so had never seen one before, nor owned a TV, or a CD-player. Even if his parents were as old-fashioned as he said, why had he not tried those things after he moved out? He clearly could afford it.

“What was your childhood like?”

He sounded reluctant when he replied. “Why do you ask?”

“I just find it odd you have never seen a movie… were you in some sort of sect? Like, Amish or something?”

“No. I told you, my parents were just very conservative about the old ways.” He had a closed expression and didn’t look at you as he took a deep draught of cider.

Again he had talked about them in past tense. “Why do you say ‘were’? Are they… Did they pass away?”

“My father did.” There was a deep bitterness in his voice. 

“Oh no… What happened? If you want to talk about it.”

“He died in prison.”

You stared at him. “Your father was a criminal?”

“Yes. A war criminal.”

“War? Now you said it again… what war? Where are you from?”

“It’s complicated.” 

You snuck your arms around him, hugging him. “I’m sorry; I shouldn’t pry.”

He returned the hug for a short while, but then he gently eased your arms off and drew back. “Look… I like you. I really do. But this, that you are trying to… I have been thinking, and no matter how much I want to, I can’t. We are from too different worlds.”

His words made your throat grow tight and you struggled not to cry. He was breaking up with you before anything had even started. But why? You didn’t understand.

And what did he mean by different worlds? Was he talking about social class? 

You had to know. He owed that much to you, at least.

“Is it like in the movie? You are from a fine family like Rose and I’m simple and poor like Jack…”

“No.” He shook his head for emphasis. “Of course not. It’s something else entirely. But you wouldn’t understand even if I was allowed to explain it to you.”

“Explain what?” You couldn’t hold back your frustration. “Are you a celebrity? Royalty? The grandson of the British queen?”

He leaned his face against his knees, wrapping his arms around them. As if hiding from you. “I’m British, but not royalty,” he mumbled. “I’ve actually never been to America. I lied about that. I’ve lied a lot to you. That’s one of the reasons this won’t work; I’m not a good person.”

Now he sounded sad again, like he too was on the verge of tears, and all you wanted to do was hug him and comfort him. But despite being so close, he felt far away. 

“I forgive you; I’m sure you had a good reason. But please try to explain. I can’t… I can’t just pretend nothing ever happened unless I know why I must forget about you.”

He was silent for several minutes. Then he sighed deeply. “Alright, then; I will try.” He pulled out a smooth, thin stick from under his sleeve. “This is a wand.”

You blinked. “Uh, okay?”

He pointed it at the closest bush. “Accio lilac flower.” Something snapped and a twig with a few leaves and a flower came flying toward him. “Wingardium Leviosa.” It stopped right in front of you, suspended in mid-air.

You thought it was a trick first, but then you touched it. It felt real. You gave it a push and it bounced back in position.

“I’m a wizard,” said Drake calmly.

You stared so hard at the floating flower your eyeballs were on the verge of popping out of your head. Suddenly petrified with terror, your heart began to beat frantically. This couldn’t be happening. It must be a practical joke. An illusion. 

The lilac hovered before you; so ordinary, yet so disturbing in its defiance of gravity. 

“Calm down.”

Instead of soothing you, his voice frightened you even further. Liquid ice began to trickle down your spine and you couldn’t get enough air.

When he tried to put his hand on your arm you shied away.

He had done something to that flower and now he scared you too. You wanted to run away but your body wouldn’t obey.

You began to tremble violently. 

Warmth enveloped you; the air temperature was rising. “This is a warming charm,” said Drake. “And another charm makes sure nobody else pays attention to us. They can’t hear us either. There are many useful spells.”

His calm voice in combination with the warmth gradually made you breathe a little easier.

“I’m a wizard,” he said again. “You live in what we call the muggle world.”

“C-can you p-please take it down?” you whispered through chattering teeth.

“Finite Incantatem.” The flower fell to the grass.

You took it, but your hand shook so much you nearly dropped it.

Drake enclosed your hand with both of his, holding it still. “Do you see now why this can’t be? We’re too different. I frighten you.”

You met his gaze. His eyes were dejected and his expression glum. 

You looked at the flower instead, putting it to your nose. It smelled sweet. It was a completely normal lilac.

In a way, this all made sense. Drake had acted strange from the first moment you met him. He did seem otherworldly. And he had done impossible things several times, such as when he scared away the muggers, or when he miraculously cured your hangover.

But how was it possible? A wizard? It sounded like a fairy-tale, yet Drake was real, and the flower was real, and you knew you hadn’t imagined what you saw.

“That medicine you gave me once, was that a spell too?”

“No, that was a potion.”

You recalled the strange room with the cauldrons and bottles. “Your lab is real?”

“It’s real, yes. We make a lot of potions in my world. For healing, for sleep, for changing one’s appearance, for curing poisons… and many more.”

“No wonder you like chemistry then,” you mumbled tonelessly. The acute panic had become replaced with a strange numbness. 

“It’s a bit similar, yes. We don’t have chemistry in my world, or electricity, or movies. We do things our way, and we’re not allowed to show any of it to your kind.”

“Then this will get you in trouble?”

His features became even more gloomy. “No, you will forget all of it.”

“Of course I won’t.” Was he stupid? This evening would probably haunt you forever.

Shoulders drooping, he twirled the wand between his fingers. “I’m sorry, but yes, you will.”

You didn’t understand, and your head was too full. You couldn’t think clearly. All you knew was that you couldn’t be afraid of him when he looked so vulnerable and melancholy. You still liked him – perhaps even more now that he had told you his secret – and you didn’t want him to hurt.

“It’s alright,” you mumbled, stroking his shoulder. “We’ll figure this out. Somehow, we’ll figure this out.”

A/N:

Since this is an alternate version of the Harry Potter books without the Epilogue, I’ve changed Draco’s parents’ fate. In my version, Lucius was sent to Azkaban and died there shortly afterwards, and Narcissa inherited the estate, but Draco has no contact with her at the moment.

Thanks in advance for any comments, likes or reblogs!

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