emmagrant01 | FIC: Surrender the Grey (18/30)

NOTE: This is the first draft of this story. The final version can be read HERE.

Title: Surrender the Grey
Author: Emma Grant
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Draco Malfoy returns to London after five years of self-imposed exile to start a new life with Harry. But will the secrets of the past destroy everything they've worked for?
Sequel to: Left My Heart. This will make much more sense if you have read that first!
Disclaimer: Not my characters, no copyright violation intended.
Length: 150,000 words
Status: COMPLETED November 2, 2005 (Posted March 2 - November 2, 2005)
Notes:
1. Please don't archive this story yet! This is the first draft, and in the next few months, it will be revised and edited. I'll post the final version on my website and a few other select archives, but in the meantime, feel free to link to this post.
2. There aren't enough words to say THANK YOU to

jedirita,

hazelhawthorne, and

(18)

The first thing Draco did when he walked through the door was to sweep his room for security devices. Sure enough, there was one in a corner near the ceiling. Draco considered deactivating or shielding it -- but whoever had placed it there knew he was here by now, didn't they? Maybe it would be better if they didn't know he was aware of being watched.

He strolled as casually as he could to that side of the room, stopping under the device, just out of its range. It was an older type, so it didn't transmit information; it only stored it until someone retrieved it. He had learned to cast retrieval spells for these sorts of devices while working for the FBI -- fortunately, the magic they employed was quite simple, since they were used in sensitive areas where complicated spells could be easily detected.

There was one particular scene he didn't want anyone else to see. It took twenty minutes of careful work, but he managed to locate and remove the images that had been recorded the night before when Heather had visited his room. The distilled images spun into a glowing ball in the air above his head until he found an empty glass bottle to direct them into.

Once inside, the ball spread to fill the space, causing the scene to play across its surface over and over in a continuous loop. Draco forced himself to watch it for a moment, not allowing even a flinch at the sight of Heather straddling him on his own bed.

He ought to destroy it, of course. Then it would be gone, and he wouldn't have to think about it. It was bad enough that he'd had to inhabit the very body that had done this to him. Lucius had a twisted sense of humor; that was certain. Draco put the bottle inside the wardrobe, out of sight.

He stretched out on the bed and pulled his mother's bracelet from his pocket. He stared at it for a moment, tracing its curves with the tips of his fingers, letting the events of the evening wash over him. It had been one of the most bizarre days of his entire life.

Harry was at the forefront of his thoughts, of course. He was relieved that Harry didn't hate him, but also worried that he seemed to be in denial about the possibility that Draco had murdered Ron Weasley. What would happen if it turned out to be the truth?

Draco blew out a breath and opened his eyes. For the first time, he wondered if finding out what had really happened during those weeks was a good idea. If he had indeed murdered Weasley, could he live with that knowledge? Could Harry?

It was too much to consider. He pulled the pack of Marlboros from his pocket and lit one, inhaling deeply. Nicotine, he thought. How I've missed you.

He slipped the bracelet over his hand, sighing at the sense of contentment that filled him as it molded itself to his wrist. He closed his eyes again. He'd forgotten how it felt to wear it.

It had been passed from person to person for centuries, the protective spells mingling and building on each other. He could feel the remnants of his mother's concern and love for him, blending now with Harry's. He'd grown used to that constant presence, always reminding him that he was loved. The month without it had been far more difficult than he could have imagined.

But now, its weight on his wrist reminded him of Harry, of the fact that Harry must have been desperately worried for him when it came off. He wondered when it had happened. Had Harry been trying to find him for days? Why hadn't he come to the Ministry when Draco was being held there? Manny had implied Harry was upset with him -- had Harry deceived Manny to keep him from getting suspicious of Harry's activity?

He smiled a little at the thought that Harry had been sneaking around too, working on his own. He wondered what Harry had discovered, whether he'd ever suspected Draco was really working for the other side. If Draco had just taken his offer to move in that night, how would things have been different?

He pushed the thought away. He wouldn't be wearing the bracelet now if Harry didn't love him completely. Draco took several long drags on the cigarette at that thought lest he get overly emotional. Time to go to sleep.

+++++

Wednesday, 10 March, 2004

The house-elf who poured Draco a cup of coffee seemed more exuberant than usual. He'd never had much patience for the creatures, but this one -- a pointy-nosed female named Ebby -- was growing on him.

"Master Draco wants eggs, yes?" she squeaked.

"Just toast, please," Draco replied.

The elf nearly bounced with excitement. "Ebby knows Master Draco likes toast. Ebby has already made it." A plate appeared before him, piled with enough toast for six people.

Draco couldn't help but grin. "Thank you. That will do."

"Ebby is glad Master Draco is coming back," she said, pointy nose twitching.

"Back?" Draco asked as he buttered a piece of toast. "Well, we're not exactly at the Manor, are we?"

"Oh, no," the elf said, eyes glistening. "Ebby misses Malfoy Manor. But Ebby is glad Master Draco is back at the castle."

Draco paused mid-chew. "Sorry?"

"Last time Master Draco is coming here, Ebby is helping him." She stopped and clamped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide.

"You helped me?" Draco repeated. "How?"

Ebby hung her head. "Master Draco was asking Ebby never to speak of it. Ebby is being a bad house-elf!" Tears welled in her bulging eyes.

Draco dropped his toast and clasped the elf's arm -- possibly the first time he'd ever touched one of the creatures willingly. "Ebby, you know of what happened three years ago, when I was here before?"

Ebby nodded, hesitantly. A few tears spilled down her pudgy cheeks.

"Forget what I said then, all right? I want you to tell me what you remember."

Ebby choked down a sob. "But Master Draco was saying--"

"Ebby! Please."

Ebby stared at her hands for a moment, torn between the two different orders she'd been given. "Ebby is helping Master Draco, yes? Ebby is not disobeying?"

"You're helping, I promise."

Ebby blew her nose on the filthy tea towel she wore and heaved a sigh. "Ebby is bringing Master Draco things. Ebby is not telling Master Lucius about them."

Draco gaped at her. "What sorts of things did you bring me?"

"Ebby is bringing bundimum, nettles, jobberknoll feathers..."

"Potion ingredients," Draco breathed. Ebby nodded, and he blew out a breath. "Was I making a potion?"

Ebby nodded again. "Yes, but Master Draco is telling Ebby it is a secret!"

"Do you know what kind of potion?"

She shook her head. "Master Draco is only asking Ebby to bring things. Ebby is not asking questions."

"And you've told no one this?" Draco asked.

Ebby stepped back as if stung. "No! Ebby is a good house-elf!" Her lip began to quiver.

"Yes, you are," Draco said. This was an interesting revelation. He took a sip of coffee, and an idea struck him. "One more thing -- do you know where Master Lucius keeps his store of polyjuice potion?"

She nodded. "Ebby is knowing where. Ebby is helping to make it."

Draco pursed his lips. "Could you bring me some?"

"Oh, yes!" the elf cried.

"This is a secret, though. Do not tell Master Lucius."

Ebby nodded, lips clamped together. Draco picked up his toast again and rewarded her with a warm smile.

+++++

Heather was sitting in a large chair in the castle's library when he found her. She was reading a dusty book, legs tucked underneath her, hair loosely tied back from her face. She froze when she saw him, eyes wide.

"Hi," Draco said. "Remember me?"

"Come to apologize?" she asked. She was gripping the book very tightly, he noticed.

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you know who I am?"

"You're Lucius's son," she sniffed. "Who attacked me for no--"

"I had a reason," Draco replied, scowling. Being in the same room with her was turning out to be harder than he'd expected. "But that's not why I'm here." He stepped closer, fixing her with his gaze and shifting his arm so that his wand was accessible. "What did you do last night?"

It was easy to penetrate Muggles' thoughts when they were caught off-guard. An image sprang into her mind even as her eyes narrowed -- a bath, a glass of wine, her hands slipping beneath the water…

Draco let his wand drop into his hand and whispered "Obliviate" before the rest of the memory played out.

She blinked at him. "Sorry?"

"I asked what you did last night," Draco said, tilting his head at her as if concerned.

Her mouth opened and closed. "I… I don't… why do you care?"

"You don't remember, do you?" Draco crossed to the chair and leaned against the arm.

She didn't flinch away. "I… That's odd. What was I doing?"

"Do you remember what you did the night before that?"

Heather looked up at him with a stunned expression. She could only shake her head.

"And what about the night before that?" he pressed.

Her expression changed to one of mild panic. "I don't… shit, why can't I remember?"

"You understand that my father is a wizard, don't you?" Draco asked. She nodded, forehead furrowed. "He's been erasing your memory."

She gaped at him. "That's ludicrous! Why would he do such a thing?"

"Because he's making you do things he doesn't want you to remember," Draco replied. "Things you may not even be doing willingly."

She shook her head, still staring at him with wide brown eyes. "This is… What sorts of things?"

Draco had been holding the bottle containing the scene from the surveillance device behind his back. He handed it to her, expression grim. The images played across the surface silently, showing her pushing him down to the bed, trapping arms that were trying to push her away, undressing him, sitting astride him -- then leaving him naked and unconscious.

"We…?" she began, nearly sputtering. "When was this?"

"Night before last," he told her.

She shook her head, shooting him an accusatory glare. "This is a trick. You've forged this somehow."

"That's impossible," Draco retorted. "You haven't a clue about magic, have you?"

She stared at the bottle again. "What was wrong with you that night?"

"I was drugged," Draco replied. "And resistant."

He could identify the moment when she understood -- the expression on her face went from skepticism to horror.

"You're saying I forced you?" When he nodded, she shook her head. "But that's impossible."

"He had me drugged first," Draco told her. "And then he erased your memory afterwards."

She closed her eyes and shook her head. "This is ridiculous! Why would he do such a thing to me, to you?"

"Let's just say he doesn't approve of my lifestyle," Draco replied, raising an eyebrow.

Heather's defiance crumbled visibly. She sunk into the chair and pressed a hand against her forehead. "Please go away. Leave me alone."

"I can help you," Draco said, injecting as much calm into his voice as he could. "He's using you, and you can't even remember it afterwards."

"He loves me," she said. "He wouldn't--"

"You're a Muggle," Draco said, barely restraining himself from snapping at her. "You're little more than a toy to him; worse, a tool to use and dispose of. He doesn't love you and he never will."

"How do you know that?" she cried. "You don't know anything! You don't know what he says to me when no one else is around."

"I imagine it's exactly what you want to hear," Draco retorted.

Heather's face fell even more. She was silent for a long moment. "You're not the first person to tell me that."

Draco studied her face, watching the way she wore her emotions. "Did Colby Hannick warn you as well?"

She looked up at him, eyes wide. "You know Colby?"

Draco nodded. "You don't remember where you were last night, do you?" She shook her head, and he recounted the tale of the meeting the night before as if it had been her there instead of him, including Colby's message to him. "You insisted on telling me all of this as soon as you got back, so I assumed it was important."

Heather looked shell-shocked. "Oh my god. How long has this been happening?"

"How long have you been here?"

"Three weeks. I was in a pub in Edinburgh with some friends, and I met Colby. He was there with some horrid old man who was very possessive." She waved her hand dismissively, then pinched the bridge of her nose. "We struck up a conversation when his boyfriend went to the loo, and he said he had a friend he wanted to introduce me to. And…" She paused, looking confused. "Well, he introduced me to Lucius at some point, and the next thing I knew I was skiving off work and staying here."

Draco nodded. "And he's warned you about Lucius recently?"

Heather made a flippant gesture. "He said I tried to escape and Lucius brought me back. I didn't believe him, but… There are so many things I don't remember." She paled and let the book slip out of her lap. It hit the floor with a resounding thud. "What am I going to do?"

"I'm trapped here as well, you know," Draco sighed. "We could help each other. You said you knew how to get a message to Colby?"

"I did?" she asked. At his nod, she sighed. "Well, yes. I usually call him on his mobile."

Draco nearly choked. "You have a mobile phone here?" The thought hadn't occurred to him.

"Of course," she replied, giving him an odd look.

He struggled to contain his elation. "Could I… borrow it for a bit?"

+++++

Thursday, 11 March, 2004

Heather was scowling when she opened the door to the room. "I don't want to do this, you know. The whole thing makes me very uncomfortable."

"Will you please shut up?" Draco hissed, pushing her inside and closing the door behind them. "Trust me. I've got this under control."

Heather threw up her hands. "What if he finds out?"

"He won't," Draco replied. "Now, what are we wearing?" She pointed at a low-cut sundress laid out on a chair, and he wrinkled his nose. "I hate yellow."

"And I'm a size six, don't forget. I hope you have reasonably good taste."

"Don't worry," he snorted. "I could dress you better than you dress yourself."

"Very funny. Pander to the stereotype a bit more, won't you?"

Draco removed the bottle of polyjuice potion from his pocket. Ebby had been trembling when she'd brought to his room that morning, fearful of being caught by Lucius. Draco had patted her on the head and asked her to make him something special for lunch. That seemed to cheer her up.

"What stereotype?" he quipped in response. She needed to relax. He'd have to obliviate her again if she didn't calm down. "Oh, and I need…" He plucked a long blonde hair from her shirt.

She squinted at him. "This is madness, you know. It took me ages to convince him to go."

"And I do thank you for that. Have you heard from Colby?"

"Yes," she said. "He said he would 'be in touch', whatever that's supposed to mean."

Draco frowned. "Did he say what he wants to talk to me about?" Not that he expected Colby to have told her anything, but one never knew.

She shook her head, staring at the vial of potion in his hand. "Are you certain this is a good idea? Because I could--"

"I know what I'm doing," Draco said, poking the hair into the potion. "Erm… you might find this part a bit disturbing." He gave her a pointed look, but she only crossed her arms over her chest and stared back, defiant.

Two minutes later, he was levitating her to the bed from where she had fainted on the floor. He shed his own clothes, slipped into her dress, and cast a sleeping charm on her before leaving the room.

He paused at the top of the stairs and peeked over the railing. Lucius was waiting below, an expression of mild annoyance on his face. Draco wrapped his arms around himself and took a deep breath -- he could do this. He was good at undercover work. He had blended in with Muggle gangsters and American Death Eaters on more occasions than he could count. He had studied Heather's expressions and practiced her northern English accent for the last 24 hours. He could fool his own father, certainly.

One hand trailed down his arm and caught on his mother's bracelet. His eyes flew open, realizing he'd forgotten about it. If Lucius saw it …

He transfigured it into a watch, heart pounding. Oh, that's a good sign, he thought, taking one deep breath more. He managed a smile as he descended the stairs.

"I was about to come fetch you," Lucius said, frowning.

"Sorry!" Draco replied, trying not to stare. He had never before seen his father dressed as a Muggle: his hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, and his clothing was well-tailored, smart, and completely black. He looked like a celebrity, Draco thought.

"You were the one who insisted I buy you a dress," Lucius said. "I dislike spending time in that Muggle village, as you well know."

"I know," Draco replied, trying his best to look demure. Lucius's eyes drifted over the curves of Heather's body. Draco resisted the urge to squirm.

"The car is waiting," Lucius said, gesturing towards the door.

"The car?" Draco asked. Since when did Lucius own a car?

"You keep reminding me how much you hate magical forms of travel," Lucius replied. They walked outside and down the front steps, where a large black car waited for them. The Muggle driver rushed to open the door for Draco, beaming at him. Must have been hired, Draco thought. He'd had no idea Lucius could get around the Muggle world this well.

Lucius directed the driver to the High Street of the nearby village of Maybole, then settled back and smiled at Draco. Draco smiled back.

"You look lovely," Lucius said, moving closer.

"Thank you," Draco replied. He forced his anxiety down.

"Good enough to eat," Lucius continued, just before leaning down and kissing him.

Draco stiffened against him, horrified.

"Still cross with me?" Lucius whispered against his lips. "I did promise to make it up to you."

Relax, Draco told himself. "Y-yes," he whispered back. "I am, and--"

He started at the feeling of a hand on his bare thigh. Lucius took advantage of his surprise to kiss him again, this time with an extraordinary amount of tongue. Draco whimpered in horror -- really, he had never wanted to know that his father was such a good kisser -- and Lucius took the sound as a sign of encouragement. The hand was creeping up inside the dress, its destination completely clear.

The driver cleared his throat, giving Draco the opportunity to pull away. "Pardon, sir -- which shop?"

Draco felt nearly undone, while Lucius was the epitome of cool. "I don't know. Darling?"

Draco blinked. "Erm… It's a boutique called Emily's."

"Yes, Miss," the driver said.

Draco didn't dare look at his father, for fear the man would maul him again.

Lucius laughed and took his hand. "I won't embarrass you again, darling. No need to worry."

Draco smiled, even though he wasn't quite sure what Lucius was talking about. Did Heather take issue with this sort of display on a regular basis?

Lucius's fingers grazed the bracelet-cum-watch, and Draco felt his heart skip a beat. He glanced at Lucius -- he was looking out the window, though, and didn't appear concerned at all.

The shop even looked exclusive from the outside. Lucius told the driver to wait there, insisting even though the man protested that there was no place to park. Draco allowed himself a small smirk -- perhaps Lucius didn't know quite so much about the Muggle world after all.

Draco turned to face him as soon as they were inside, smiling up at him. "Make yourself comfortable. This may take some time."

The look Lucius gave him was one of carefully controlled lust, and Draco felt himself blush in response. He ducked his head and smiled at him as he walked away. He might end up permanently scarred from this experience, but at least he knew Lucius wasn't suspicious. Not yet, anyway.

He examined the dresses along the wall, occasionally handing something interesting to the salesgirl who seemed determined to kiss his arse as much as possible. She seemed to understand they would be spending a lot of money. He'd picked a dozen dresses before he felt a tug on his hair.

He glanced at the salesgirl and smiled. She nodded and led him to a dressing room where all of his choices were waiting.

Once inside, he cast a silencing spell around him and blew out a breath. "Well?"

There was a blur of movement and then Harry was standing before him. "Hi."

Draco frowned at him. "Hi? Is that all you have to say?"

Harry sighed. "I had trouble finding the shop. It was a bad connection yesterday, and you kept breaking up. I only had a vague idea of what I was looking for." He paused a moment more, then leaned forward to kiss Draco.

Draco returned the kiss with some enthusiasm until he felt a hand on his arse -- his body was confused enough as it was. He pushed Harry away. "I don't have much time. I have to pick one of these and get back to the castle in thirty minutes." He pulled the sundress over his head and reached for the first dress on the rack. "Oh, here," he said, pulling out the folded piece of parchment he'd spelled to the inside of the dress. It was double encrypted and contained all of the information he'd learned so far. He held it out, only to see Harry staring at him. "What?"

Harry closed his eyes once, then shook his head as if to clear it. "I'm sorry -- this is just a little distracting."

Draco looked down at Heather's naked body. He'd thrown the dress on with nothing underneath, having forgotten to ask her where she kept her knickers. He looked up at Harry to see his gaze focused on his chest.

"What is it with men and tits?" he sighed, pulling the first dress off its hanger.

"Sorry?" Harry asked.

Draco scowled at him as he struggled into a red dress. "You're not helping."

"Right," Harry said. He pulled an envelope from his pocket. "Here's mine. The most important thing is that I've made a lot of progress with Ron's research log."

"You have?" Draco asked, examining his reflection. He wrinkled his nose at the dress and started to take it off again, a more difficult task than he'd anticipated. "You said on the phone that Hermione was working on that."

Harry shrugged. "I convinced her to let me have a go. I was there, after all, so I thought something might ring a bell. Which it didn't. Do you want some help with that, or…?"

"No," Draco replied, a bit more quickly than he'd intended. He managed to get the red dress off, then fumbled through the others on the rack, already tired of trying things on. He pulled out one that seemed to be made up of artfully placed leather strips. "Does she know that you… that you're here?"

Harry nodded. "I had to tell her. She wasn't pleased about everything we've been doing, but she agreed to help."

"We?" Draco raised an eyebrow.

Harry's expression turned sheepish. "I told them -- Hermione and Manny both -- that we'd been working together all this time and keeping it a secret from them."

Draco frowned -- he wasn't sure that continuing to lie was a good thing. "What does she think about… you know?"

"She hasn't passed judgment yet. None of us have."

"Manny has," Draco mumbled. The strappy dress was proving a challenge to sort out.

"Well, yes, but he… She's talked some sense into him." Harry's eyes were sympathetic. "Did you really work as a double agent in New York?"

"Yes," Draco said, turning to look at him. "I did for years, until it came back to haunt me. I'm sorry I didn't tell you that before, but I… well, it doesn't matter now." Harry's face clouded, and Draco looked away. He started to wriggle into the dress, grateful that it allowed him a reason to avoid Harry's gaze for a moment. "I went to San Francisco because I wanted out. And Lucius wanted me to work for him, something I--" He paused, trying to figure out where to arrange the straps on his body.

"So that part was the truth?" Harry asked. "You really were running away from Lucius?"

Draco looked up at him and nodded. "I didn't realize what he wanted at the time." And he told Harry about the conversation in the dungeon, about how he and Harry apparently were present when Voldemort disappeared.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, nodding. "I suspected as much. When I've been undercover, I've heard your name associated with mine and Ron's several times, as if we were working together."

"Lucius said you requested me."

Harry smiled for the first time since he'd appeared. "Can you blame me?"

Draco managed to tug the last strap into place. He grinned at himself in the mirror. "Oh, I think this is the one."

"You look like a dominatrix," Harry quipped.

"Does it come with a whip, I wonder?"

"You do realize your father is going to fuck her in that dress," Harry grinned.

"He'll fuck me in it if I'm not careful," Draco replied. Harry's jaw dropped. "Think these are real?" Draco asked, cupping Heather's breasts.

Harry blinked at him. "No. What did you--"

"How do you know?" Draco asked.

Harry snorted. "It's obvious. Did Lucius do something to you?"

Draco wrinkled his nose. "I really don't want to talk about it."

Harry leaned against the wall. "Is it odd that I'm jealous when it isn't even your body?"

Is it odd that I'm completely freaked out when it isn't even my body? Draco thought. But he smiled at Harry and embraced him. "No, it's quite sweet." He kissed Harry, feeling bolder than he had before. Harry sighed and kissed him back, arms winding around him. Draco felt guilty for spending their precious time this way, when they should be talking strategy, but he couldn't help himself.

"This is hot, you know," Harry whispered. "I don't suppose you'd like to… try it this way sometime?"

Draco felt an odd twinge in his abdomen at the very idea. He grinned and pushed Harry away. "Why don't we save the kinky stuff for when we need to spice up our sex life in ten years?"

Harry's smile was one of the most genuine Draco had ever seen.

Draco checked his watch and gritted his teeth. "I've got to go. Anything else?"

Harry nodded. "The last thing Ron had written in his research log were the words triple perfidio. Does that mean anything to you?"

Draco shook his head. "Nothing. But one of the house-elves told me I made a potion of some sort when I was there three years ago. She helped me get ingredients behind Lucius's back. Maybe there's a connection?"

Harry nodded. "It could be a potion. Hermione's done a lot of research, though, and we've been able to turn up nothing."

Draco pursed his lips. "If it is a potion, there's one person who would probably know."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "He still hasn't forgiven me, you know."

"Then I'll ask him," Draco said. "I think Lucius would be willing to let me meet with him."

Harry snorted. "I'll bet."

"Now, now," Draco said, pulling the strappy dress off again. "None of that."

"Yes, dear," Harry replied, grinning.

After one more lingering kiss, he left Harry in the dressing room and handed the strappy dress to the sales girl. Her eyes widened ay his choice, and then she winked at him.

Lucius was sitting on a chaise lounge, studying his fingernails. He smiled when he caught sight of Draco. "I trust you found something suitable?"

Draco leaned over him and planted a quick kiss on his lips. "Oh, yes. It's quite expensive."

"Then I shall enjoy tearing it off of you later," Lucius replied, capturing his lips again.

Draco felt a sharp tug on his hair from behind. He stumbled back, pretending he'd nearly lost his balance, and giggled. Lucius stood and went to pay for the dress.

"That's pretty disgusting," he heard Harry whisper in his ear.

Draco turned and pretended to be looking at another dress. "You have no idea," he whispered back.

"Just… please be careful."

Draco nodded. His hand was squeezed once and released. He resisted the urge to stare at the spot where Harry might be.

In their broken conversation on the phone the night before, Harry had offered him protection, saying he could stay at the flat in London. Draco had refused, though. As uncomfortable as his current situation was, he was in a position to do quite a lot of investigating. He had more freedom under his father's eye than he did with the authorities searching for him, certainly. It would take both of them to learn what had happened. They each had a different role to play, but they needed to work together.

Lucius kissed Draco on the cheek and handed him a package. "Ready?"

Draco nodded again, then followed him to the car.

Fifteen minutes later, Draco was back in his own body, standing over the real Heather as she slept in her bedroom. He considered waking her, but finally left the dress on the bed next to her and headed back to his own room, clutching Harry's coded message.

Once the door was closed behind him, he sank to the floor and leaned back against it, closing his eyes. He could still feel Lucius's hands and lips on him, no matter how much he tried to push the feelings away. The car ride back had been harrowing, and the sense of violation he felt competed even with his memory of the night with Heather. He took a deep breath and tried to clear his mind, but the feeling of fingers penetrating him was still there.

He exhaled, pressing a hand to his forehead, and then opened Harry's envelope.

+++++

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

souls-tamer.livejournal.com

OoOoOhhh... I'm first *runs off to read*

From:

souls-tamer.livejournal.com

Poor poor Draco... His fathers a pervo. I'm glad that things seem to be working out with Hermione and Manny regarding Draco.

(no subject)

From:

emmagrant01.livejournal.com - Date: 2005-07-28 03:43 am (UTC) - Expand

From:

-sana-.livejournal.com

Wee, I'm second. Right. Better read.

From:

-sana-.livejournal.com

Oh god. I'd be traumatized. That's child molestation, man. *wrinkles nose*

(no subject)

From:

emmagrant01.livejournal.com - Date: 2005-07-28 03:45 am (UTC) - Expand

From:

ladycat777.livejournal.com

If he had indeed murdered Weasley, could he live with that knowledge? Could Harry?

I love you for that line. It took him a while to think of the personal implications, but that's understandable given he was still operating under a certain amount of shock that it'd even be possible, and a spy's constant need to be analytical underneath the acting. But when he does think about it, his first response is that he isn't a murderer. Then he thinks about Harry. Yeah. Love you for that :)

And you struck exactly the right tone with polyjuiced!Draco and Lucius in the car. I was squirming and wincing right along with him. Just lovely.

From:

Yes, I'm here for the porn.

FIC: Surrender the Grey (18/30)

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