Now or Never

*Author's Note: This story takes place during the 7th book when Harry, Ron and Hermione have been captured by Fenrir Greyback and his lot and been brought to Malfoy Manor. I hope you like it!*

This isn't what I planned at all. I didn't want to feel this way. I didn't want to fall for Potter. It's all his fault really. Yeah, definitely his fault. I didn't want this to happen between us so it must've been Potter. After all, one of us has to be to blame for this. Don't we?

If there's one thing this war has taught me, it's that everything always has to be someone's fault. Personally, I think all of the horrible things happening because of this war are the Dark Lord's fault. After all, he's the reason this war is taking place at all, but my father doesn't see it that way. He says this war is the fault of all of the witches and wizards who don't value real wizarding blood. I have to tell myself that too. Otherwise I would never be able to live with all of the horrible things the Death Eaters are doing. That my own family is doing. That in a way, because I am not preventing it, I am doing. I don't torture people myself, but I do sit back and allow others to torture without interfering. Isn't that just as bad? So I tell myself it's all their fault. They were asking for it by not believing the same things we do, but there's a little part of me that knows that's not true, that really it's my fault. I am in the wrong. I have to get better at not listening to that part of me. I have to get better at not thinking.

But when I'm not thinking about the war, Potter pops into my head, and that's dangerous. He in essence is the revolution. I'm sure thinking about the way his green eyes fill with emotion when he yells at me and how it would feel to kiss those rosy lips into silence is some kind of high treason. And thoughts aren't safe here. The Dark Lord can read minds if he wants to and you are foolish enough to look him in the eye. This fact is dangerous for me. I'm not good enough at not thinking yet.

I think that's why all of the Dark Lord's followers are so daft. The intelligent ones couldn't stop thinking quickly enough so they were killed, made an example of. After all, thinking can spread. The Dark Lord doesn't want that. The only person who gets away with being smart here is Snape, and that's only because he is able to hide his thoughts. His face is always perfectly blank when he's here, devoid of any emotion. I wish I could do that too. I wish I could be free of emotion. I wish I could stop thinking about Potter.

I know why Potter can stay strong through all of this. I know why he can still fight even now when it looks hopeless. Even after the Ministry has fallen. He has something worth fighting for. He has people to save, people he loves. As corny as it sounds, Potter is fighting for love. When he was still alive, Dumbledore used to always go on about the power of love. I used to laugh at him. I thought it was a load of bollocks. I understand it now, though. After all, it's why I'm still fighting. Fighting on the wrong side, the bad side, but still fighting. The other Death Eaters fight because they are greedy. They want power. That's what draws them to the Dark Lord in the first place. They want power; he has it. Even my own father supports him because of that, but not me. I follow the Dark Lord because of my family. I fight for him to protect the people I love.

But now that I've realized my feelings for Potter, I'm conflicted. I need to destroy Potter to save my family. I need to destroy the Dark Lord to save Potter. Now I can't do either. It was so much easier before I realized that it isn't hate I feel for Potter, before I realized my weakness. Ignorance is bliss. I would love to be ignorant. Too bad my thoughts won't listen to me. They are just as rebellious against me as they are against the Dark Lord.

There's a clammer from downstairs, excited voices. Then people are yelling my name. I don't want to go. I don't want to see which of the rebels they've caught this time, but I have to go. I compose myself, sapping any emotion from my expression. No, not my expression: my face. Even just the word expression gives too much away. I need to be emotionless. I walk down a long corridor and down the stairs to the formal sitting room. Three figures are bound and kneeling on the hardwood floor. My heart speeds up when I realize who it is. I worry its quickness will give me away. I try to keep my expression blank, but I'm not as good at that as Snape. I look nervous. Luckily, everyone is too preoccupied with the prisoners to notice my feelings.

"Oh, good. Draco, you're here," my father exclaims as he excitedly waves me over, "He went to school with Potter for years. He'll be able to tell us if this is really him." Potter's face is all puffy and distorted. I can see why they can't recognize him, but I've spent too many years staring into those defiant eyes not to know. He can tell I know too. I can see it in his eyes: the hope that I won't tell. The fear of that hope as well.

"Well, Draco? Is it him?" my father asks, and suddenly I am stuck. In this moment I have to choose: my family or Potter. I don't want to choose. I can't, but I must. Potter is staring right at me, daring me with his eyes. He is too proud to beg, even just with his gaze, so instead he dares me to save him. He has no reason to hope I will, though. I have never given him one. He doesn't know how I feel about him.

"Um," I stutter, still torn, "I, um, am not sure. What happened to him? Why does he look so swollen?" I'm stalling.

"Come on, Draco. Look again. Is it Potter? If we turn him over to the Dark Lord, if it's us, all will be forgiven, Draco. We have to be sure." My father shakes me slightly, pushing me towards Potter to get a closer look. For a moment I glance up into my father's eager face, and in that moment I know I can't defy him. I'm too much of a coward. I can't save Potter by denying his identity, but I won't kill him myself either, and to confirm his identity would definitely be killing him.

"I really can't tell. His face is too distorted," I say. I can tell that Potter knows I know who he is. I can tell he's grateful. He shouldn't be. I am a coward. I could have saved him, said he wasn't Potter after all, but I didn't. I was too weak to choose between him and my family.

"Bollock!" my father exclaims in frustration. He rarely swears. He says it's lower class behavior to swear. "We'll just have to wait until whatever stinging jinx was used on his face wears off. Pettigrew, take him and the others to the dungeon."

"I'll take them, father," I say, getting to my feet. If Pettigrew takes Potter he might torture him a little, have some fun. Even though I have sat idly by every other time people were tortured inside these walls, I can't let them torture Potter. The idea of him in pain, of his will breaking even for a second, is repugnant to me. It feels as though if Potter breaks, I would break too. I don't know why, but it does.

My father nods absently at me, clearly distracted by his planning, and I point my wand at the Griffindor trio, motioning for them to walk in front of me out of the sitting room. Behind me I hear yells break out. Something about a sword one of the men who had brought Potter is holding. I pay it no attention.

We're almost out of earshot of the yelling when it happens. Harry turns to look at me over his shoulder. The jinx used on his face is already starting to wear off. I can see the general outline of his usual features through the swelling.

"Thank you. For not telling them who I was. I know you can tell," he murmurs, looking me straight in the eye. It feels as if something within me shatters. In that moment, I am filled with a sudden desire to become reckless. I have spent so long being cautious, trying to control my emotions, even trying to quash my own thoughts. I never considered before this moment that maybe I should be doing the opposite. I have made myself a villain to be a hero for my family, but maybe a real hero could save my family too. Maybe there is another way.

For a moment my mind is carried back to another instance when I had a tough choice to make. My wand had been shaking so hard then that I could barely aim it at Dumbledore's spindly chest. Dumbledore was having issues drawing breath. He kept slipping further and further down the wall. He was at my mercy, yet I couldn't kill him. I could watch others kill, but I couldn't kill myself. Maybe I was too good a person. Maybe I was just a coward.

"It's not your mercy that matters," Dumbledore stated, and even though I was supposed to be the one in charge, I listened. Truth was, I really wanted there to be another way. If I didn't kill Dumbledore, the Dark Lord would kill me and my family, but I was no killer. I needed another option. Dumbledore gave me that to me.

"Come over to the right side, Draco. We could hide you and your family more effectively than you could ever imagine. Dumbledore can't kill you if you are already dead." Another possibility, another way to save my family. There had been options then. Maybe there were still options now.

"We need to run. Now," I tell Potter and lower my wand. For a moment he looks surprised, then a relieved smile spreads across his face and he and his friends take off down the corridor. I'm right behind them. It feels almost as though, if I run fast enough, I could outrun all of my problems, as if I could outrun this whole bloody war.

"Follow me," I call to the others, leading them through a series of rooms and hallways until we reach a seemingly blank stone wall.

"Appartious," I whisper, tapping the stone with my wand. The wall instantly vanishes. The Death Eaters don't know this passage exists. Not even the Dark Lord knows this passage exists. My father is very loyal to the Dark Lord, but he isn't stupid. He knows it's smart to have an exit strategy. Just in case. Potter and his friends instantly begin to sprint along the dark passageway, but I pause for a moment. I flick my wand, murmuring a spell my father taught me several years ago. Another just in case. A warning for my parents to flee. Then I seal the entrance again and follow the three Griffindors down the dark corridor and away from Malfoy Manor. Away from the Death Eaters. Away from most of my life. It's terrifying, but it's also exhilarating. Funny how those two tend to coexist.

As soon as we emerge into daylight outside Malfoy Manor, Potter turns and extends a hand out towards me. Without hesitation I grab it and Granger and Weasley grasp Potter's shoulders. I disapparate us. As I do so, I can't help noticing how warm Potter's fingers feel clutched in my own. Funny how you can still notice little things like that even when you're doing something as monumental as betraying the Dark Lord. I hope my parents get out alright. It will be all my fault if they don't. What if my warning doesn't get to them in time? What if the Dark Lord arrives in person? If that happens, my actions would have killed them just as surely as if I had cast Avada Kedavra at them myself. This is why it's dangerous to fall in love. People do stupid things for the ones they love.

I had apparated us into Olivander's abandoned wand shop. Olivander had long since been kidnapped, but there were still numerous wands here. The three Griffindors' wands had been taken and I had figured they could at least temporarily replace them here. But now I'm not really able to focus on where we are. I hope I'm not crying, but my cheeks feel hot, my eyes sting, and there's a knot in my throat. Doesn't look so good for the whole not crying thing. Then I feel a hot tear burn its way down my flushed cheek and I know I'm crying. Bollocks. I don't want the Griffindors to see me cry.

Potter is muttering something to Weasley and Granger who have already grabbed wands. Weasley shakes his head, looking angry, but Granger calms him with a hand and a stern look before nodding at Potter. She glances at me once and I look away. I don't like the pity I see in her eyes. Then Weasley and Granger disapparate, leaving me and Potter alone in the wand shop. I hear footsteps and then a rustling of cloth as Potter sits down next to me. For a long time we just sit there in silence as tears continue to slide insatiably down my face. I absently notice Potter's face has returned to normal.

Finally Potter says, "Why did you do it?" I wish I knew. I would love to know why I had risked everything like that. It had been a daft thing to do. Maybe I was going mental. After all, if anything could make you crazy it was spending all your time around the Dark Lord and his followers.

"Because I am a coward," I say quietly, and as soon as the words are out of my mouth I know they are true.

"Rescuing me seems like a very brave thing to do to me," says Potter, clearly confused.

"No," I shake my head, "I did it out of fear. Like everything else I do."

"Fear of what?" Harry asks. I look him in the eye. His eyes are so incredibly green this close up.

"Losing you," I reply flatly. I've never had the courage to say anything like that to him before, but now it seems like a small thing compared to my other fears. And it's true. I had been afraid for my family, but when I looked at Harry in that hallway in Malfoy Manor, my fear of losing Harry had been much greater. Harry: when did I start thinking of Potter as that? I guess it doesn't really matter.

"What?" asks Harry, eyes widening in surprise. I glare at him.

"I'm not saying it again, Potter," I grumble, looking away.

"But, but why?" Harry stutters. Merlin, Harry can be dense sometimes. I lean forward. I kiss him. His lips are soft under my own. Surprisingly, considering everything he must have been through recently, he smells vaguely of soap. He still hasn't kissed back when I pull away, staying close enough to still feel his breath ghost across my face, but still giving him a little space to think. Harry doesn't seem to need time to think, though, since his lips come crashing down on mine almost instantly. I must taste rather salty. I'm still slick with tears, but Harry doesn't seem to care. He sucks my lower lip into his mouth, gently nipping the soft flesh and I let out a gentle sigh. It feels almost unreal to be kissing Harry, almost too good to be true. Harry's tongue darts out to trace the seam of my lips and I open my mouth, allowing his probing tongue to slip inside.

Too soon for my liking, Harry pulls back to examine my face. There's a softness in his expression as he looks at me that makes me feel almost as though part of my is melting. Some part of me down around my navel. And then he's kissing me again and his arms are wrapping around my torso and sliding over the planes of my back and I'm moaning. Then cool fingers are slipping under my shirt to trace the ridges of my spine before dipping down to knead the globes of my arse. I never thought Harry would be this forward, but I'm not complaining.

Harry's other hand grapples with the fastenings on my trousers, undoing the buttons there before jerking my pants down my hips and off onto the floor. Warm fingers dip under my boxers to wrap around my prick. I groan, bucking into his fist, but Harry holds my hips down with his other hand, preventing my frantic motions.

"Fuck!" I gasp as the pad of Harry's thumb runs over the weeping head of my cock, spreading slick beads of pre-cum around, "Merlin, Harry, fuck me now please." Not that I'm begging or anything. Malfoys never beg. Harry's eyes widen in surprise, but I can see his pupils dilate in lust, making his eyes look dark and glossy. A finger reaches down to circle my puckered entrance, slick with my own pre-cum.

"Are you sure?" Harry asks, looking nervous. I wonder if he's ever done this before. I glare.

"Of course I'm sure," I snap only to gasp as Harry's finger penetrates me, pressing slowly into me. It stings a little, but it doesn't really hurt. It mostly just feels uncomfortable. A second finger enters me and this time it does hurt a little. I stiffen and Harry pauses, staying perfectly still until I relax and then scissoring his fingers gently inside me. It just feels a little odd and I'm beginning to wonder why people do this until -Holy Shit!- he brushes against something inside me that has me spasming in pleasure. A small smirk spreads across Harry's lips as he watches my eyes slip shut in pure pleasure. I rock my hips back, fucking myself on his hand as he crooks his fingers within me again and again to press against my prostate. By the time he slips a third finger inside me, I'm so far gone I barely notice.

"Fuck, Potter, hurry up and fuck me," I gasp and Harry complies, pulling his fingers out of me and pressing the blunt end of his cock against my widened entrance. Then he's pushing in and even with all that preparation I'm wincing. It feels the way I imagine sitting on a broom handle would feel. Not that I've ever imagined how sitting on a broom handle would feel or anything, but still. Once he's fully inside me, Harry pauses, gasping and flushed but still looking concerned at my pained expression.

"Are you ok?" he asks nervously, "Do you want me to wait for a second so you can get used to it?" I frown. It does still hurt a little, but I don't want Harry to know that. I want him to think I'm strong enough to take it.

"It's fine," I gasp, "move." So Harry pulls out and thrusts back in. We both gasp at the feeling.

"Merlin, Draco, you're so tight," Harry moans, and my eyes widen in shock as I realize that's the first time he's ever called me by my first name. Then Harry is rocking into me with abandon and I'm pressing my hips back to meet his thrusts and focusing on anything, even something like Harry referring to me by my first name, doesn't seem possible anymore. Harry changes the angle of his thrusts slightly and I moan loudly as his prick grazes against my prostate. Harry smiles victoriously and thrusts again and again at the same angle so that soon I'm just a writhing heap beneath him, gasping his name as he pounds into my prostate. My fingers dig into his shoulders, and part of me worries that my fingernails are cutting him, but Harry doesn't seem to care. I can feel the pressure building behind my navel, and I need to come right now.

"Touch me," I command, and Harry complies, reaching down to erratically stroke my bobbing erection.

"Fuck, Harry, I'm about to-" I start to say, but Harry cuts me off by leaning down to kiss me hungrily as he picks of the pace of his thrusts. Then we're both orgasming, and I can feel Harry's seed spilling into me as my own spunk spurts across my chest and Harry's hand. We lie there for a moment, just breathing against each other's parted mouths as we come down from our orgasms. Then Harry sits back slightly, pulling his deflating cock out of me and I wince as I feel his semen spilling out over my thighs. Harry's looking at me in a way I've never seen him look before, and he opens his mouth to say something, but is cut off by the sudden appearance of a small, silver ball of light floating next to us. Harry looks startled and is reaching for his wand but I stop him, saying: "It's ok. It's from my parents."

I sit up, pushing Harry off me slightly so that I can reach out and cup the ball of light in both hands. As soon as my light makes contact with my skin, my father's voice rings out.

"You're mother and I have made it to safe house number 3. We are safe. We will stay here for 2 days before proceeding to safe house number 5. Meet us at one of those locations." It's just a short message, barely 10 seconds long, but I'm crying by the time it's over. My parents made it out safely. My rash actions didn't kill them. Everything is ok. Everything is going to be ok. Harry smiles down at me, reaching out to gently wipe away a tear slithering down my cheek.

"There," he murmurs, "See? It's all ok. Your parents are safe. We're safe. I don't know how I can ever begin to thank you for risking everything and saving me and Hermione and Ron the way you did. You're parents are alright, but I know they might not have been. I know what you risked to save me." My parents are going to be alright. Harry is going to be alright. I've done it. I've saved them both. I'm so high on victory right now I could sing. I lean forward, capturing Harry's lips in exuberant kiss. I've done it. I've finally stopped sitting back and letting the people around me be tortured and killed. I've finally said enough is enough, and it worked.

It's now or never: "I think I may love you. I haven't been able to get you out of my head for so long," I whisper against Harry's lips as I stop kissing him. Harry freezes under me for a second, and for that second I fear that I've made a horrible mistake, that because I was so high on success I had said something that would ruin all my hard work, but then a huge grin breaks out across his face.

"You idiot," he says, laughing, "I feel the same way. You should've told me that ages ago. We wouldn't have had to waste so much time." I feel so relieved I could cry. It worked out. It all worked out.

"Good," I say, kissing him quickly, "Now get me out of here. Don't we have to go save the wizarding world or something?" Harry laughs.

*Author's Note: Well, there you have it. I hope you enjoyed the story! Please review with any feedback. All reviews are greatly appreciated! Thank you very much! :D*