Title: We Pay The Price

Author: Roslyn Drycof

Chapter: One---Lies

Pairing: Harry/Draco, (others will be revealed later)

Rating: PG-13

Warning: slash, swearing, violence, angst, slight tragedy (no death of major characters, don't worry)

Summary: Children always have to pay the price for war. And sometimes the cost is too much. Here's a story about how seven lives are irrevocably affected by war's often deadly price. Personalities change, friendships transform, and love finds fertile soil. HPDM

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and anything related to Harry Potter and Co. are not mine.

Scratches ran down his back and red marks dotted his neck and collarbone. Bruises in various stages of healing encircled his wrists, marred the flesh of his hips, and purpled random spots on his sides and back. He moved stiffly, as if he were in pain. What the hell had happened him his best friend?

"Harry, mate, is there something you want to tell me? You aren't being abused or anything by anyone, are you?" Ron Weasley asked weakly, his eyes fixated on the hideous marks covering Harry.

In the process of pulling his shirt on, Harry froze and slowly turned to face the redhead. Shit. He knew he should've waited until everyone was gone to change. "Nope. Why'd you ask?"

Ron gaped at his friend. He couldn't be serious. He had to know his marks were completely visible. "Look at you!"

The emerald-eyed teen bit his lip and turned around again. He tugged the shirt over his head and settled it into place, covering the marks marring his skin. "I don't know what you're talking about, Ron. There's nothing wrong with me."

Frustration beat at the youngest male Weasley. Why was his friend being so evasive? He stared at Harry's shirt, faintly noticing that it was a turtleneck sweater. Another black turtleneck sweater. Harry had been wearing them for the past month. Odd behavior, considering he even wore them under his school uniform. That wasn't to say that it looked good on Harry, but still. Who wears clothes like that? Other than Malfoy, of course.

"Harry, don't play games with me. I'm talking about the bruises completely covering you!"

"Oh those. I've been training pretty hard lately." The raven-haired boy shrugged and left the dorm room.

Ron watched his friend walk away and couldn't help but feel a spurt of anger. They were supposed to be best friends. So why was Harry hiding this from him? It made no sense, and it hurt. A lot.

When he went down to the common room a few minutes later, he found only Hermione standing there. Everyone else had already gone to breakfast, including Harry. Up until a month ago, they'd all gone together. Harry had changed, closed himself off more. And this worried both his best friends.

"Something wrong with Harry, 'Mione," he said to his friend after embracing her in a tight hug.

Sadness filled her warm brown eyes. "I know. He barely even said good morning to me today."

"I found bruises and red marks all over him this morning and he just shrugged me off, acting as if they were nothing. Said they were from his training. But I don't believe him. I can't," he told her, leading her to the portrait hole.

Hermione gasped at this information. How could Harry let himself get hurt like that? And why didn't he heal the marks? It was a simple enough thing to heal bruises and light scratches. For the past month, he'd been disappearing for hours at a time with no explanation to where he went. He was changed from the open Harry Potter they used to know. And they wished with all their hearts that the old Harry would come back.

"I don't know what to do, 'Mione," her copper-haired friend whispered, looking lost.

"Me neither Ron, me neither." It pained her to admit it, but it was true. She, the smartest girl at Hogwarts, had no idea what to do.

Harry didn't go to breakfast that morning. He stood by the entrance to the Great Hall and waited until a certain person walked by and then dragged him to an alcove in the nearest corridor. His breathing was ragged as he slammed the person against the stone wall. "Ron saw the marks."

Draco Malfoy swore under his breath. "You idiot! Now they'll be snooping around!"

The emerald-eyed teen glared at him and shoved at the blond's shoulder. A satisfying thud was heard as his back hit the wall again and they both knew the spot would bruise. Neither cared. "You don't think I know that?!"

"I don't know. You could have forgotten. I mean, you already let your guard down and let the weasel see."

"Fuck!" Harry swore, slammed his palm against the wall. Anger thrummed in his veins.

"That sums it up in a nutshell."

He turned to glare at the silver-eyed boy. "Shut up."

"I'm the one who has the right to be angry. You're the one who slipped up!" Draco hissed angrily, shoving at the other teen.

Harry hit the wall hard, the air escaping instantly from his lungs. The impact helped his anger grow. "You're the one who caused them, you overzealous git!"

The blond snarled at him, pulling up his shirt and pointing at the marks on his pale skin. "You're not exactly gentle, either!"

Harry grinned proudly at the sight of his marks on the other boy. They so enjoyed roughing each other up. "I can't help it. You know how what it does to me."

A dark gleam came into Malfoy's eyes and he whispered, "Oh yes, I know exactly what it does."

Draco licked his lips at the memory of what happened last time. Potter had gone wild. But then again, so had he. It was so thrilling to just let go. Let go of all inhibitions, of all control. It was like a drug. They just couldn't get enough of its high.

"Damn, I'm getting hard just thinking about it!" Harry groaned, running a hand haphazardly through his hair.

Draco couldn't resist. He moved as quick as lightning and pressed the other boy against the wall. His mouth swooped down and covered the other's, their tongues instantly tangling together. A moan escaped both of them.

"Can't do this. . .ah. . .now," Harry gasped, his hands finding their way under Malfoy's shirt and scratching at the soft skin. Draco's muscles contracted in pain and pleasure in response.

"Who says we can't?" Draco breathed, roughly parting Potter's legs and sliding between them.

The raven-haired boy didn't answer, instead grabbing ahold of his lover's hair and pulling. Hard. Draco gasped harshly at this and bit the tender area at the edge of Potter's jaw, right under his ear. This elicited a quickly muffled shout of pain. Draco immediately began licking the spot, working his mouth against the smooth skin.

A few moments passed and then Harry suddenly shoved him away. "We can't. Not now."

Both instantly hated the feeling of emptiness that engulfed them at the lost of contact. "Later. After Potions."

Harry nodded, his eyes darkening with anticipation. "Definitely."

With that, he strode out of the alcove and away from his secret lover. His heart was still pounding furiously and he knew his face was flushed, his lips swollen. No way to hide those little indications of what he'd been doing. Oh well. Hopefully no one would notice.

In Advanced Transfiguration, he was busy working on the assigment for the day, when he felt a pair of eyes on him. He knew instantly who it was. Turning, he caught Ron's gaze. The redhead had been staring at the mark right beneath his jaw. That, unfortunately, was a mark he couldn't hide by the turtleneck without looking like an idiot.

Ron knew that mark hadn't been there before. It was still fresh, still a bright pink. And it was a mark of passion. Why hadn't he seen it before? Harry was in a relationship with someone. Only. . .why was he bruised? The scratches and bite marks could be explained, a bit of rough play could easily do that. But the bruises, they were different. Was Harry in an abusive relationship? He hoped not.

A part of him said that Harry would never involve himself with an abusive person, having lived with the Dursley's abuse for too long. And yet, he couldn't dismiss the idea. Why else would he be bruised in places that could easily be explained by someone gripping him too hard or slamming him against the wall? It scared him.

It was like Harry was headed on a crash-course to destruction. He'd changed over the summer, Sirius' death affecting him greatly. It was as if he no longer thought anything mattered. That kind of thinking scared Ron because it wasn't healthy. With a mentality like that, Harry could wind up dead.

When his friend had shown up at the Burrow near the end of the summer, his changes had been glaringly apparent. His entire appearance had changed. The new Harry Potter didn't wear glasses and wore only the best clothes. Only designer threads for him, and only in black, silver, dark purple, gray, crimson, midnight blue, and dark green. He cut his hair and gelled it into spikes. He pierced his left ear and always wore a small silver hoop in the hole. He even got a tattoo of a phoenix on his lower back.

And those were only the physical changes. Harry also came back looking a lot angrier. He was prone to aggressiveness, especially around Malfoy. He controlled all of his feelings behind a mask of barely-concealed arrogance. The only real emotion he let anyone see was anger, and even then he kept it to a simmering level. It was a scary thing to see, when he became furious. He would appear to become calm, but his movements would be more tense than usual and his eyes would blaze with an unnatural rage. No one wanted to be the focus of that anger, no one but Malfoy.

But Malfoy seemed to get a kick out of angering Harry. Harry always obliged with a fight. And these fights were horrifying to watch. Everyone would stare at the two of them, unable to look away and yet cringing at the sight of their fury. Harry and Malfoy didn't fight with wands. They had no need. Sometime over the summer, they'd learned wandless magic. It was one of the rarest abilities known to the wizarding world, and yet no one doubted that they were certainly powerful enough to possess this great ability. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were the undisputed premier wizards of their generation.

Caught up in his thoughts, Ron almost didn't hear McGonagall dismiss the class. With zombie-like motions, he slowly gathered up his things and trudged out of the classroom. And as he watched Harry stride away, his robe billowing out behind him, he felt a chill run down his spine. He looks awfully like Malfoy. . .

The red-head almost immediately tried to suppress the horrible thought, but it stayed with him as his eyes followed Harry's quickly disappearing figure. Harry walked the same way as Malfoy, with an arrogant stride that spoke volumes of confidence. Harry hid his emotions behind a mask of indifference like Malfoy. Harry even smirked like Malfoy. Their eerie similarities fairly curdled Ron's stomach.

"I think Ron is wising up. He's noticing similarities between us," Harry drawled lazily to his lover, stretching his arms and settling them behind his head.

Beside him, Draco Malfoy propped up on an elbow and stared at him. Disbelief clearly shone in his silver eyes. "The weasel? He'd actually have to possess a brain for him to notice anything beyond food and Granger."

The raven-haired teen sighed. "You're being terribly unfair to him. He may be a trifle thick-headed, but he's not stupid. Unlike Crabbe and Goyle. . ." He said the last with a pointed look.

"I've told you. I keep them around as bodyguards, nothing more. I've made sure that their loyal to me and me alone, so they're good in a tight spot. Can't say the same for the weasel."

Harry scowled blackly. "Ron's loyal, and unlike your lackeys, it's out of true friendship. He may not understand me anymore, but he still cares. But you wouldn't know anything about friendship, now would you?"

The blond reeled back, a hurt look flashing in his eyes before he hid it behind his mask of cool indifference. "Your "friendship" is a lie. It doesn't exist. People only respect one thing, and that's power. If you had no power whatsoever, no one would look twice at you. It's the way of the world."

"That's not true. True friends don't care whether you have are the poorest person in the world or the richest. Ron and Hermione never cared who I was and they never will. They'd do anything for me, simply because we're friends."

"No one would die for someone else for no reason. Can you dispute that?" Draco challenged.

Harry smiled grimly. "Actually, I can. My parents died to save me. Sirius died for me. Ron and Hermione almost died for me. And it was all because they cared about me."

"Caring? That's a foolish sentiment. I've lived my entire life without anyone giving a shit about me and I'm fine," the other boy scoffed, glaring at his lover.

"Oh, you're fine? That's so preposterous, it's laughable. You're so fucked up, you belong in St. Mungos."

"And you're a shining example of sanity? Now that is laughable. You are the biggest pretender I've ever seen, you even manage to fool yourself."

Harry fumed at the thinly-veiled contempt he heard in Malfoy's voice. It anyone deserved contempt, it was him! The cold bastard who took pleasure in hurting others. Damn him. "I may not be the paragon everyone seems to think I am, but at least I have enough sense not to throw back the only kindness anyone has shown me."

"You call us shagging whenever it's convenient a bit of kindness? You're more delusional than I thought!" Draco shouted, sliding off the bed and jerking his pants on. He quickly buttoned them and threw his sweater over his head.

That hurt. They didn't just shag and he knew it. "I can't believe you. We don't just shag, and you know it. But I guess the Ice Prince of Slytherin can't admit to feeling such a stupid sentiment as caring!"

"I don't care. I have never admitted to feeling such a pathetic thing. If you're finished spouting such nonsense, I'll just take my leave. Good day." With that, Draco pulled on his robe and stalked out of the small room.

Emerald eyes watched as the door swung shut behind him and Harry lay back with a growl. How dare he?!

They may not be in love, hell, they may not even be in like, but they did have a relationship. They didn't just screw around to pass the time. But Malfoy couldn't admit that they actually did more than shag. In reality, they talked and shared their wretched excuses for lives with each other. But the Slytherin was just too full of pride to acknowledge their bond.

I'm not going to wait around for him to admit the truth! Yeah, we're not in love and we don't pretend to be. But I at least acknowledge the fact that we need each other to keep the pain of reality at bay. We understand each other, but he just can't admit it. Damn his pride! Damn him!

Draco knew he shouldn't have said those things to Potter, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't admit that he wasn't strong enough to admit it. That he wasn't strong enough to accept help or caring from someone. He'd spent his whole life alone. He didn't know how not be alone. Even as he'd said those wretched things, he'd berated himself for uttering them. It was he who was the fool, not Potter. Not Potter.

As he strode into the Slytherin common room, he realized something that struck him in his cold heart. They hadn't physically fought. It had been the first time this entire year they hadn't raised a finger against each other. And in truth, they'd shown more real emotion in those few minutes than they'd shown all year. And. . .it was all because of him. Because of his stupid pride, the masks had cracked, even if for just a few minutes.

"Drake, whose bed did you just crawl out of?" a feminine voice intruded on his chaotic thoughts.

He froze, anger welling up instantly. Damn it! He should've taken the time to make sure he looked impeccable as always. Damn emotions! They were no good. Only caused trouble.

"And I suppose you think I'm going to tell you, correct?" he drawled, turning to face a blond-haired girl. A cold smirk was settled on his features and his eyes were like icy fire.

Pansy stared at him, her face falling into a blank mask. He sounded so much colder than he'd been towards her and Blaise these last few weeks. For a while, she'd thought they were actually becoming friends. Foolish her. "No. I don't."

Draco heard the defeat in her voice and inwardly cringed. Did he sound that cruel? Yes, he probably did. "You don't have to get so melancholy, Pansy. I simply do not share my private matters with anyone, and that includes who I'm currently involved with."

She had to suppress the urge to gape. Had he just uttered something that resembled an apology? Certainly, it wasn't an actual apology. But. . .he'd actually stated a reason for his cruel words, and that was more than anything she'd heard come from his mouth before.

"I understand. Oh, an owl came by during supper while you were gone."

The silver-eyed boy felt his heart come to a sudden halt as he spied the black envelope she pulled from her robe pocket. He snatched it from her and immediately hid it within the folds of his own robe.

"I didn't open it," she mumbled as she saw his expression. When he showed no emotion whatsoever, that meant he was scared. Scared shitless. Oh Dear Merlin. . .it wasn't a letter summoning him to a Death Eater meeting, was it? If it was, she knew he had a right to be terrified.

He gave a small nod in response before leaving the Slytherin common room. His movements tense, he headed towards the small room he and Harry had been in earlier. Hopefully, Potter had already left.

Relief and disappointment warred in his mind as he entered the room to find it empty. He sat down on the bed and pulled out the black envelope, staring at it with dread.

With faintly trembling fingers, he opened it up and pulled a thin piece of parchment out. It was a letter bespelled so that only someone with the Dark Mark could open. Many of the Death Eaters used such letters to communicate with each other, and Voldemort used them when he didn't want a full-scale meeting or had some nefarious purpose in mind that involved details or intructions.

Draco,

The Dark Lord has called a meeting of the Inner Circle and I was told to send for you. Good job, my son, for rising within the ranks so quickly. You are a true Malfoy at heart.

On with things, the Dark Lord professes an interest concerning the Potter boy's behavior this year thus far. We've recieved reports that he is not the Golden Boy he once was. If this is true, we must know and prepare for any other changes. Come immediately to Lesley Castle and report your findings. All other useful information will be reported as well.

Signed,

Lucius Malfoy

Draco instantly set the letter on fire with a snap of his fingers and he lay back on the bed, suddenly exhausted. He didn't want to go, but knew he had to. He hated the meetings, hated being in the prescence of Voldemort. But what could he do? He'd told Dumbledore he would spy for him when his father had approached him about being Inititiated. He was trapped. Utterly, completely trapped by his birthright and by his fast-growing conscience.

Sighing, he sat up and reached into into his shirt to lift a chain out of it. A silver ring hung loosely on it. It had a small ruby set into it and looked quite innocuous. . .if not for the fact that there were special markings on the inside of the band and the fact that the ruby, which wasn't really a ruby at all, could change colors with a tiny flare of power by the wearer. It was one of the two Rings of Cailyn.

The Rings of Cailyn hadn't been seen in centuries, not since the fall of last Ard-Ri of Ireland. They were rings of power, and had been crafted by the sidhe untold ages ago. Cailyn, the Unseelie sidhe who'd created the rings, had made them after her mortal wizard lover was killed in battle by an invading muggle army. Most knowledge of the rings was lost, but it was said that the rings were connected to each other and connected the wearers. They could be used as a means of communication and as an indicator if one of the wearers was in danger. The rings also prevented the wearers from being killed by any mortal means. Unless a weapon was crafted by magic, the wearer couldn't be killed. Not a lot of help against a wizard or one of the fey, but very useful when facing a muggle.

When the sidhe had abandoned the mortal world completely, shutting their gates against humankind, it was said that it caused the magic to start dying in the world. Wizards and witches who'd had untold power before found their power halved or worse. Muggles began to fear magic and prosecuted anyone suspected of being a witch or wizard. Thus the wizard community became hidden and the end of the old days was complete. Within a few centuries, the Ard-Ri of Ireland had all but died out, Ireland lost its magic, and the world became a deadened place. All relics given to the wizards and witches disappeared and a world once teeming with the essence of magic, became a cold place of iron and machines.

Thus, when Harry and Draco woke up one morning with the Rings of Cailyn on their fingers, they were utterly surprised. Draco had been instantly suspicious. It was sidhe made, and those fey monsters were not to be trusted. (Did I forget to mention that a hatred of all faery sprung up in the hearts of the abandoned witches and wizards?) Harry had thought differently. If the rings had come to them at a time when the wizarding community was in such need, then any gift was not to be thrown away. His lover reluctantly agreed, and found the rings useful. They were frustrated that so much of the rings' power was unknown, but used what they knew to their advantage. Unfortunately, they had to hide the rings because they would've been recognized immediately. Both wore them on silver chains around their necks.

Draco brushed a finger against the smooth surface of the ring and shuddered at the power he felt emanting from it. Sighing again, he sent a flare of power into the ring and whispered in his mind, Called to meeting of Inner Circle to report on your changed behavior. Shouldn't be long and probably won't be dangerous. . .wait for me in our special place if you can forgive me for earlier.

Slipping the ring back into his shirt to rest warmly against his chest, he stood and strode out of the room. He kept to the shadows as he made his way towards one of the secret passages leading off school grounds so that he could Apparate, yes illegally, to Lesley Castle. No one saw him and no one noticed his absence except for one raven-haired wizard in Gryffindor Tower. And within the blink of an eye, Draco Lucius Malfoy was gone.

-We wear the mask that grins and lies,

It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes-

This debt we pay to human guile;

With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,

And mouth with myriad subtleties.

-Why should the world be overwise,

In counting all our tears and sighs?

Nay, let them only see us, while

We wear the mask.

-We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries

To thee from tortured souls arise.

We sing, but oh the clay is vile

Beneath our feet, and long the mile;

But let the world dream otherwise,

We wear the mask.

We Wear the Mask ; by Paul Lawrence Dunbar

"We Pay The Price" is a new story my mind obsessed about for weeks until I finally gave in and started writing it. I've written an outline for the first five chapters, although only the first chapter is actually written out. I'm optimistic (for once) about updating often, and it hopefully won't interfere with updating my other stories. About this fic, the summary basically explains its entire point. Although, the story goes a lot more in-depth than that. This story is going to be the most detailed and novel-like story I've written so far, and I hope it turns out like I plan it to. The idea behind it is strong and I definitely don't want to lessen the emotion of it. The first couple chapters may seem a bit slow, but I need to explain the backround of a lot of key things behind the things that will occur in the story. A lot of changes in situations and characters will occur, so be forewarned.

Reviews will be greatly appreciated. Any comments regarding the flow of the story or anything helpful like that are welcomed and in fact, encouraged. I'd like all the help I can get! (Yes, we all know I need help. . .although mental help seems more urgent. . .hehe)

Much love, Roslyn Drycof. . .