Comments: THE UNRATED CHAPTERS CAN BE FOUND ON MY LJ WHICH CAN BE FOUND ON MY PROFILE PAGE! PLEASE STOP ASKING ME FOR THE ADDRESS! This chapter was a long time in coming, but it's finally here! Thank you for everyone who has waited for it. You guys are the reason I am going to finish this fic!

Rating: R

Summary: Harry refuses to talk because of something that happened in his sixth year. Now at their last year at Hogwarts together, Draco becomes attracted to him and is determined to find out what's keeping the Gryffindor quiet, not knowing of the horrors that's keeping Harry from talking. Things become more desperate as they realize that Harry is the only one who knows how to stop Voldemort from stealing other powerful wizards' and witches' powers. And Harry is no closer to talking than Voldemort is to applying for Miss Universe.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor any characters related to it. The wonderful JK Rowling does.

Butterfly Kisses

Chapter 22: Promises

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'So you're saying I have to attack him while he's weak?'

Draco nodded. "I'm not sure when he is going to transfer his power again to the nasturtium. He just did it a couple of days ago, so I'm guessing it won't be for a while. There's really no way of telling. I was not informed of his first power transfer until I was at the meeting."

'He's still weak then.'

"Yes, but heavily protected," Draco warned, already seeing the conclusions Harry was jumping to. Harry turned to look at him over his shoulder. Draco sighed and levered himself up on his elbow and kissed him. "You cannot attack now, do you understand? It would be a suicide mission with all of those Death Eaters guarding him."

Harry turned completely in Draco's arms to face him. The bed sheet slid down to their waist, exposing their bare torsos to the chill night, but neither paid it any mind. So much for his master plan to stay the bloody hell away from Harry, Draco mused. He wasn't even supposed to see Harry after he left Hogwarts with Boot. What went wrong? Draco snorted to himself. It was the rhetorical question of the century. What went wrong was his will turning weak. Gods and Merlin help him. He was turning into a Hufflepuff.

"You would not be doing anyone favors by uselessly killing yourself," he continued. "I have enough problems to deal with without having to watch your every move as well. Not to mention people will die needlessly if you do not know what you're doing."

Harry frowned at him. 'I don't need babysat, least of all by you. And I have no intention of letting others die needlessly as you put it. But like you said, we have no idea when the next time Voldemort is going to transfer more of his powers. I can't wait.'

"Damn it, Potter," Draco growled, tightening his hold on Harry's shoulder. "You must wait. Why do you never listen to anyone?"

'How long do you expect me to wait?' Harry's mouth tightened. 'I have waited long enough. I cannot risk any more of my friends or family getting killed because of me.'

"So you plan to get yourself killed so you no longer have to worry about that?"

Harry sat up, angry. 'That's not what I meant and you know it. I know I can get through this. I've rushed into other shite in the past without a plan and I'm still alive aren't I? Maybe I'll die, maybe I won't. The point is, if I do, Voldemort will be right next to me dying as well. That is all I care about.'

"No, you listen to reason!" Draco said, grabbing his chin and forcing the green eyes, cast in shadows, to meet his. He didn't want to lose this. There was no risk that was big enough to lose what was in his arms. This stubborn boy was running recklessly, as always, into danger with no regard for anything else but his goal to kill Voldemort. Harry was so blinded by that one goal that he did not stop to acknowledge how others would react if he should die in the process. Most of all, Harry did not seem to understand at all. His concern for others overshadowed any interest in himself. How irritatingly like him.

"Listen to me," Draco repeated more calmly. "Snape and I are doing everything we can to find out how to break the Evinase, but Slytherin's journal is extensive. That's why you must give us more time. Everyone is working hard to find an opportune moment to strike. When we find it, you know that we will tell you.

"Even if you don't listen to me and go track down Voldemort yourself, how are you planning to kill him? You can't cast the Avada Kedavra without a wand. You are proficient at wandless magic, but you're not that good. Do you know how easily Voldemort could cut you down? If you rush in without a plan or even back-up, you're doomed to die. The Death Eaters would stop you before you could get in striking distance of him."

Harry pulled his chin out of Draco's grip. 'Not if I'm faster. Besides, there's more than one way to kill someone. I thought you would know that, Draco. Books on Dark Magic are much more useful than I've given it credit for.'

Draco briefly wondered if Dumbledore would be understanding if he decided to strangle the Gryffindor tonight. "Bloody hell. Just give us one more week. Promise me that you will wait."

Harry exhaled slowly and quietly as Draco pulled him close. He closed his eyes and rested his head on Draco's shoulder. 'One extra week then.'

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Draco flooed back to the floo station and Apparated to the Manor's gates an hour before the sun was due to rise. Malfoy Manor was devoid of human noises, the curtains still drawn on the large windows in the various rooms. Torches were set at intervals to give enough light to guide, not that he particularly needed it.

Deciding that the couple of hours that he slept at Hogwarts was enough, Draco headed to the room that he had designated for the research in the restoration of Voldemort's body. Not surprisingly, Snape was sitting at the desk with Slytherin's journal open in front of him.

"Have you found anything?" Draco inquired, taking a seat opposite his former professor.

"Not anything that's relevant," Snape said, his voice hoarse.

"I'll take over. You should go to bed. You certainly look like you could use some sleep. Harry also decided he would extend the deadline to another week."

"Well now that we have his permission," Snape sneered. He pushed the journal towards Draco and left, his robes billowing in the usual fashion. How could he do that when it was so damn early in the morning?

Draco peered down at the book and sighed. If Voldemort had not directly told him so, Draco would have given up hope that the Evinase was in Slytherin's journal at all. He just hoped that it was soon.

A few hours later, one of the house elves brought him breakfast complete with tea and coffee. Feeling pleasantly full and sleepy, he was drifting off when he caught sight of what he had been looking for. Draco sat up, instantly alert. There in Salazar Slytherin's scrawl was the Evinase Curse. It described the effects that Draco already knew about. Slytherin went on to describe how he had developed the spell and how he had fine-tuned it.

"Fuck," Draco cursed loudly, his hands clenching.

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Snape's eyes were following the blond figure that was pacing restlessly. The boy had been like this when Snape had come into the room to take over. It was rather strange of Draco to have Slytherin's journal closed. Snape would have opened the book to read what Draco had read himself, but he found it rather stimulating to hear Draco's thoughts at times.

It went without saying that Draco's face did not betray his thoughts or feelings. It was blank as he methodically strode twenty paces, turned, and strode another twenty paces to start the pattern all over again. Being a Slytherin himself and their Head of House had ingrained in him that people will share information when they wanted. There was no other way unless one had to turn to spells and perhaps some sly workings that very rarely worked on Slytherins.

However, everyone usually falls for an opening.

"You found what you wanted."

Draco seemed to ignore him in favor of looking out of the window behind the desk. Well, at least he had stopped pacing. The sun's light basked the blond hair to a blinding halo while the simple but expensive black robes soaked it in. The fingers gripping the window sill was the only sign of his unease.

"You were right," he said bitterly.

"You will have to be more specific in telling me in which instance that I was right considering I find too many of them to keep a track of," Snape replied.

"The curse." Draco's head lowered slightly as if in defeat. "You were right. Salazar Slytherin never invented a counter-curse to the Evinase. The only way to break it is if the wizard or witch who casts it dies. How typically cruel of Slytherin to do this." There was a pause. "Do you know why Slytherin developed the Evinase?"

"Enlighten me, Mr. Malfoy."

"He did it because an admirer of his would not leave him alone. She kept waxing poetry whenever she was close enough to him to be heard. Gods, and I thought Lucius was heartless."

"Does this surprise you? Slytherins have always been known for putting ambition before all else. Morality and ethics has nothing to do with it. Now apply this to Salazar Slytherin who prized these very traits in his students. He is the namesake and the epitome of our House, Draco. What did you expect from one such as him?"

Draco rested his forehead against the cool glass, his eyes absently following a bird's flight from a tree in the yard into the dark and gloomy sky. It was going to snow. "What do we do now? Without his voice, Harry doesn't have a fighting chance with the Dark Lord."

For the first time, Draco could feel the edges of his world start crumbling. He didn't know how to stop the lurking darkness from spreading, waiting to drown him if Voldemort was triumphant. Helplessness was an emotion that he had very rarely felt before, but the feeling was starting to envelope him, perhaps making up for lost time. Draco had always prided himself on being a clever and intelligent person, but what use was it now when he couldn't even think of a single damn thing to do to help Harry?

Fuck, Draco swore. What would Harry do when he found out? There would be nothing to hold him back from going after Voldemort. To see that hope die a swift death in those Avada Kedavra eyes would tear Draco into pieces. More accurately, the consequences of that death would possibly literally rip the whole world apart. Who knew how reckless Harry could get when he had nothing to restrain his actions?

He swallowed hard, trying to regain his control and footing. This game of life or death was far from over. Right now he just needed to keep this feeling of impending shadows and death from taking over. He didn't need any distractions. A solution yes, thoughts of death no.

"Our alternative solution, then, is to clear a path for Harry, isn't it?" Draco murmured. He finally turned around to face Snape. Snape was still sitting in the exact same position, his face impassive as always.

A curt nod was his answer. "It would seem the most likely choice at this point. When the time comes, the Order must have an army ready to stampede the Death Eaters and every obstacle that should present itself, leaving Potter and the Dark Lord alone for their final duel."

Hearing that statement uttered so matter-of-factly was doing things to his already clenching heart. Ignoring the lump in his throat, Draco seated himself in the chair and opened Slytherin's journal again. Who knew what he would find that would come in handy that did not require an incantation or a month to brew? Besides, he had to pretend to keep looking for a spell or potion to restore Voldemort's body.

"What is it?" Draco asked when Snape laid his hand across the book.

"Go rest," he ordered. "You have been up all night. How can you expect to think properly?"

Draco sighed and stood up. "Yes, sir."

Now that Snape had suggested it, Draco was absolutely exhausted. He didn't even remember much of his trip to his room. When he entered his room, he was surprised to see Boot lounging on the couch overlooking the grounds. Boot turned to look at the intruder and a smile lit his face when he saw Draco. He got up and launched himself into Draco's rather unenthusiastic arms.

"I was getting worried!" he said, offering his lips to Draco.

Draco obliged and kissed him in a reassuring manner. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you. I'm fine now, just tired. I think a bath and the bed sounds delightful."

Boot pulled away and nodded. "Of course. I'll start the bath for you."

Draco gave him a brief kiss. "Thank you, love. That would mean a lot to me."

Boot scampered off to the bathroom while Draco began disrobing, looking longingly at his waiting bed. However, he knew that he couldn't just climb in there without bathing. He was afraid that Boot would notice that he smelled different. He had Harry's smell all over him.

When the bath was ready, Draco took his time bathing and relaxing. Although his body had a rather easy time relaxing due to Boot's insistence on giving him a blowjob and a massage.

Lunch was waiting on the table when he stepped out of the bathroom in a bathrobe. Boot was dishing the food onto two separate plates and pouring some wine into two glasses. Draco took a seat across from Boot and listened to Boot's chatter about this and that. Sufficiently stuffed, Draco felt his eyes sliding closed.

"Come on," Boot chuckled, pulling on his arm. "Let's get you into bed."

Draco gratefully fell onto his bed, feeling Boot lay down next to him. Draco closed his eyes and quickly fell into a deep sleep.

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Awareness immediately came to him, but Draco allowed himself the luxury of enjoying his warm nest before opening his eyes. It was dark outside. The house elves had started the fireplace, providing the only source of light. A glance at the clock told him that it was a little past nine o'clock. He looked to the other side of the bed and realized that Boot wasn't there. Assuming he was in the library, Draco rolled out of bed and stood up. He threw on a casual black robe and made his way over to the table where his supper was waiting for him, still piping hot from a charm. A flick of his wand and the candles in his room burned to life.

Over his meal, Draco resolved to wait out the week before he told Harry about the Evinase. It certainly couldn't hurt anything. It would only give him and Snape more time to plan. And what a plan it would be. The ultimate goal was to get Harry and Voldemort close enough to each other without any interference from the Death Eaters. Those bastards would take great relish in killing and torturing the Boy Who Lived before he could even perform a Lumos in Voldemort's direction.

Draco was just finishing up his tea when there was a knock on his door.

"Who is it?"

"Draco?" It was his mother.

Draco had not seen a lot of his mother since he had come home. He was too busy and occupied with other things to join his mother at meals on a regular basis. Of the time he had spent with her, they mostly exchanged pleasantries. Ever since Draco had received his Mark, he felt even more distant from his mother than he ever remembered feeling. When he was growing up, she gave him everything he wanted, doting on him with presents and rich, beautiful, and expensive things. Although he still could ask and receive any material possession from her, he was afraid she would only do it out of habit. Whereas there had been the occasional hug and kiss good-night when he was a child, she never seemed inclined to want to touch him now. That hint of affection that he used to see in her eyes was now gone. He couldn't pinpoint the exact time it had disappeared, but he knew that it had been in his fourth year at Hogwarts after winter break.

He loved her as a son should love a mother. She gave him life and softened an otherwise harsh childhood had Lucius been given sole reign. But then again maybe he didn't love her the way he presumed other children loved their mothers. Other children would run to their mothers when they were hurt. He had run to his nanny and when his nanny wasn't there, he ran to his room to weep. He hadn't dared let Lucius see him cry. It was a weakness that needed to be cured, his father would say. Draco hadn't cried since the summer before his eighth birthday when Lucius had given him an hour-long lecture on the indignity and shame Draco brought on the Malfoy name by crying. Crying was for those who had no control and no pride in oneself.

"Come in, mother."

His mother was nothing but elegance. She had always had a privileged life from the time of her conception to this very moment. She did not sully her hands with the war. She graciously entertained when she needed to and kept her loyalties behind her husband. It was everything that was befitting to a perfect wife.

"How are you doing darling?" she questioned, seating herself next to him at the table.

"I'm doing fine, mother. Thank you for asking. Would you like some tea?" Draco poured her some at her nod. "I'm afraid I'm not going to be very good company tonight. I'm rather a tad tired still."

Narcissa smiled slightly at him. "It's alright." She swallowed and looked down at the teacup she had just set in its saucer. How did she begin to talk to her son? Out of all the lessons on etiquette and being a wife and mother, none of them had covered how to show love and affection to a child. Her own mother had been rather apathetic when it came to Narcissa and her sisters, so Narcissa had no idea what she was doing. Pulling Draco into a hug or kissing his cheek went against her very nature.

"Is something the matter, mother?" Draco asked politely, not used to seeing his mother look unsure of herself.

She met his eyes. "Draco." She hesitated. She glanced down at his hands which were set neatly on the table as he had been taught. "I know that this is a lot to handle, all this business with the Dark Lord. I always knew that you would have to follow in your father's footsteps and serve him. There is nothing I can do to stop this. Our world, Draco, this pureblood world and ancient tradition that we are born into demand things of us half-bloods and muggleborns would never understand. Loyalty to one's name and family is what defines us. If we lose such things, what will we have left?"

Of all the things that Draco had expected his mother to say, it was not even close to this. She had never before spoken to him about the Dark Lord. Lucius had always been the one to discuss such matters with him.

"Of course, I understand," he said. "I am doing what is required of me to uphold our name and family."

Narcissa moved to touch the hand that was closest to her only to quickly withdraw her fingers before any contact could be made. "I know you are darling. But there are times when our name and our family are not the same things. In such times, you must choose."

"Mother?" There was not a chance his mother could suspect or even know. Could there? If she did know, what had given him away?

Blue eyes looked sadly at him. "I haven't been the most affectionate of mothers, but those are the words I have always wanted to say to you. Now seemed like a good time." She got up and her fingers grazed his shoulder before leaving without another word.

Draco stared blankly at his wall for a good ten minutes before he shook himself from his daze. He didn't know what had gotten into his mother. She was giving him her blessing to choose, that the path that his father had carved out for him wasn't necessarily the one she wanted him to take.

With a surprised cry, Draco grasped his left forearm. His mark was burning. Draco stood up quickly. How could there be a meeting? Voldemort was still weak. He would not let anybody see him in such a state. Something wasn't right.

He summoned a house elf and commanded it to find Boot and send him back to Draco's room immediately. When Boot arrived, panting, Draco strode up to him and held him by the shoulders.

"Terry, listen to me very carefully."

"Draco? What's the matter?"

"Listen to me. Take this pendant. It's a Portkey. If I do not contact you within the hour, I want you to go find my mother. The activation word is 'Hogwarts.' It will take you and my mother right outside Dumbledore's office. Once you're there, tell Dumbledore that something is wrong. Do you understand?"

Boot was beginning to look panicked. "But Draco! What about you? What's going on?"

"I don't know, but you must act like nothing is—"

Just then, his father came into the room, his mask already in hand. "Come, Draco. We have no time."

"Yes, father." Draco grabbed his mask from his cabinet. Without another look at Boot, he followed his father. "What's going on? Did something happen to the Dark Lord?"

Lucius' face looked grim. "There has been a disturbance on the wards surrounding our Dark Lord's dwelling."

"How could they have found it? Not even we know its exact location!"

"I do not know. But we must hurry."

Draco had a horrible feeling he knew who the intruder might be.