Part 4 of 4

iv. the game is up

Augusta looks around the ostentatiously elegant sitting room as she sips the fragrant tea Narcissa favours. Surely, such splendour is not truly necessary for one's comfort.

From the room's large windows, she can see into the extensive Manor gardens. Everything is covered at present by a sheet of white. Amongst the soft snow and the white gravel paths, the albino peacocks are barely visible as they strut around self-importantly. Who ever heard of such frivolity as white peacocks! Augusta barely suppresses her snort.

Opposite her, Narcissa is looking very fetching in deep crimson as she carefully stirs a drop of lemon into her Earl Grey.

"Unfortunately, my plan has failed so far to provide the desired outcome," Narcissa tells Augusta mournfully. "Draco is showing distinct signs of strain and discomfort, but as of yet, he has proven admirably stubborn and steadfast in his chosen course."

Narcissa sighs with disappointment.

"It is the same with Neville," Augusta agrees. "He is obviously discontent and jealous over the current state of affairs, but he has yet to take some direct action."

Augusta is very dissatisfied with her grandson; she never thought he'd prove to be such a pushover for a pair of pretty eyes.

"I believe we have no choice but to do something drastic," Augusta states decisively. "Something that will shake the boys up and force them to react. It is time we acted boldly and aggressively."

Narcissa nods her agreement. "I do believe you are right, Augusta. Despite giving Draco increasingly unsubtle hints, it is time I forced a confrontation. I shall present an ultimatum to him and give him no choice but to come to a decision."

Augusta frowns at Narcissa's wording. "Do you think there is a possibility Draco might decide against owning up to his attachment to Neville?"

"I'm increasingly beginning to suspect that might prove to be the case in the end," Narcissa confesses apologetically. "It will be unfortunate for poor Neville but it will be much better for him in the long run to learn now rather than later that Draco's attachment wasn't quite as strong as he thought."

"Indeed," Augusta agrees. When they began their endeavour, she never considered such a resolution. It will indeed be most unfortunate for Neville, but she hopes he will quickly regroup. The Longbottoms never had much use for fickle and easily discouraged partners, after all.

"How do you plan on forcing Draco's hand?" Augusta asks.

"As you must know, in a little over a week we will be holding our customary Yule Ball at the Manor," Narcissa explains. "Thanks to Neville's and Harry Potter's attendance, our guest list has grown to be rather impressive – I do hope you will be attending this year, my dear Augusta. It is quite the public event. I will try to force Draco to announce his engagement to Asteria Greengrass at the Ball. I am going to threaten him that if he doesn't do it, I will do it for him."

Augusta is reluctantly impressed by Narcissa's bold proposal, even though it makes her not a little apprehensive.

"Don't you think it might be a bit too drastic?" she asks wryly. "And public?" she adds, thinking that this might be the most un-Slytherin thing the other woman has ever proposed.

"Not at all," Narcissa responds with confidence. "I'm going to give Draco the ultimatum tonight. After a few days of stewing, the possibility of such an announcement should have him quickly confessing. Draco does hate public humiliations."

"And what if he doesn't confess?" Augusta is not fully convinced, despite Narcissa's assurances.

"Then he will get engaged to Asteria," Narcissa answers implacably, "and I will see to it that he honours his engagement."

For the first time, Augusta considers that Narcissa might be playing both sides. She should have realised from the beginning that she would want to be covered for all eventualities.

A small knot of worry appears in her stomach at the suspicion that she might have been masterfully played by Narcissa Malfoy from the very start. It is too late now, the deck has been set, and she is too deep in the game to pull out. She gives Narcissa her agreement to make her final move and hopes she hasn't overestimated young Draco's affections for Neville or the resilience of Neville's heart.

~ o ~

The Manor's large ballroom looks resplendent with all its Yule decorations; Narcissa hasn't spared any expenses. The banquet tables groan under the weight of all the Yule delicacies piled high on them, and silver platters float around the room, bearing delicate flutes of champagne and steaming mugs of mulled cider. In the corner, a string sextet is playing Yule carols and traditional Wizarding dances. Everything is perfect.

Draco stands in the doorway, eyeing the early arrivals and his mother, who flitters around them in greeting. He is dressed in one of his finest and most severe robes – green velvet with pale green embroidery, dark green velvet to suit his dark mood. He has schooled his face into a carefully bland expression to hide the frustration and turmoil that is tearing him apart. Yet his normally clear grey eyes betray him; they have turned iron grey and flat.

Not even the pleasant burn of his thigh and back muscles, nor the even more pleasant ache deep in his arse, where he can still feel the ghost of Neville's length in the steady soft throbbing, can brighten his mood. If anything, the memory of how perfect Neville is, how much Draco loves it when he transforms into an aggressive and dominating lover – as he has been doing with increasing frequency of late – makes Draco's mood darker.

Last night was the most exhilarating one yet. Neville was demanding, implacably in charge and relentless. He mercilessly fucked Draco into submission and oblivion, with a force Draco never yet experienced. But even as Draco revelled in it, a sliver of worry wormed its way into what remained of his rational mind. He could not help but feel that Neville was trying to express something through the fierceness of his lovemaking.

Draco knows that Neville has been feeling discontent of late, and Draco has long suspected he might be working himself up to a decision of some sort. Whatever it proves to be, Draco is certain he won't like it.

Draco catches his mother's eye, and the weight of his own impossible choice nearly bends him in two. His mother has demanded an engagement – and will not accept a refusal. Draco can barely tell what is worse: making the announcement himself, being the one to make the light in Neville's eyes dim and to demonstrate to him conclusively that he really does live up to his family name, or hiding behind his mother's skirts and accepting the humiliation of proving to be the craven coward many still believe him to be by letting her make the announcement for him.

Whatever he chooses, it will feel like ripping his own heart out. That is why, a week now since his mother first told him what she expected from him, he refuses to come to a decision. His mind screams in horror, and his heart cries in despair every time he even thinks of the cruel choice he has been given. Because whatever he chooses, to face his fate with courage or cowardice, he will lose Neville. Neville would never agree to be the lover of an engaged man, and Draco – much as he wants nothing else – could never ask it of him.

Despite his late night musings and his wishful dreams for a future with Neville, Draco knows it can never be so. Much as Neville is his heart, his parents are his family, and he would be nothing without them. It's easier to live without his heart than his family, or so he hopes.

Even though his heart is stuttering in his chest, and his stomach is tying itself into knots, Draco plays the part of the gracious host – with his father in Azkaban, he is the Lord of the Manor now – and greets his guests.

As the night grows older, the ballroom starts to fill. Weasley and Granger arrive together with Potter and his girlfriend. Blaise and his mother. Theo and Pansy. More and more guests arrive, and he greets them all, barely recognising their faces anymore. That is, until Neville and his grandmother enter.

Draco's heart lodges in his throat. He barely knows how he manages to welcome them and wish them a merry Yule. Neville gives him a piercing look and a forced smile, and Draco can't help but be blinded by panic as he thinks, Neville knows! He knows, and yet he came.

Suddenly, feeling faint and dizzy, Draco excuses himself. He needs to find a quiet corner to sit down and regain his equilibrium. All he needs is a small breather and a glass or two of champagne to pull himself back together again.

*

His mother finds him sitting on a chair in an empty corner slowly sipping on his fourth glass of champagne of the night.

"There you are," she exclaims upon spotting him. "It is most unseemly for the host to hide away like this. Come, the Greengrasses have arrived. You must greet them."

Still in a daze, Draco puts down his glass and follows her.

The whole Greengrass family has arrived together. Mr and Mrs Greengrass, looking suspiciously cheerful; Daphne and her fiancé, the oldest Montague son; and Asteria, gazing at him with bright eyes and a shy smile. Draco feels the bile rise to his throat, yet he greets them all with a smile he knows is too wide and fixed to pass for genuine.

Unable to take their well-wishes and eager looks anymore, he takes his first opening to escape and practically drags Asteria to the dance floor. She is soft and comfortable in his arms and dances beautifully.

"The ballroom looks stunning," she tells him. "It's even more beautiful than last year."

"Yes, my mother outdid herself this year," Draco agrees, tightening his grip and pulling her closer.

He inhales her pleasant scent and desperately tries to find some sort of spark or latent attraction. Asteria giggles a bit breathlessly, and Draco wishes he could only find the sound arousing.

Across the sea of dancers, Draco can see his mother gazing at him assessingly, Mr and Mrs Greengrass looking satisfied and a little bit smug, and Augusta Longbottom staring at him inscrutably.

Once more, Draco finds it hard to breathe. Thankfully, the dance comes to an end, and the dancers can all take a short break.

He's about to ask Asteria for the next dance too, anything to get away from circulating and socialising – he really doesn't think he can take any of that tonight – when a familiar deep voice breaks in.

"Good evening, Asteria. I'm really sorry to interrupt, but could I borrow Draco for a minute? I want to have a short word with him, and I promise I'll have him back to you in almost no time."

Draco turns round to face Neville and receives a sheepish smile. "You don't mind, do you, Draco?"

Draco shakes his head wordlessly, and Asteria gives her assent with a blush. Neville smiles at her thankfully and leads Draco away.

Draco feels the panic from earlier return to him once more as he lets Neville lead him through the large terrace doors out into the cold, dark gardens. He hears the muted sounds of the band taking up once again and sees the bright stars twinkling in the dark sky, all the while his heart beating a mad rhythm within his chest.

Neville casts a quick warming charm over both of them before turning to look at Draco, his gaze earnest and his face determined.

"I do realise my timing is not the best, but I have something I must tell you, and it can't wait any longer," Neville starts ominously, and Draco feels the nausea begin to take over.

"I love you, Draco," Neville tells him fervently. "More than anything. I know you know that. And I believe you love me too."

Draco remains silent, eyes wide and unblinking, as his heart is first suffused with warmth and then lanced by pain.

"I really thought I could do it," Neville continues. "I thought I could do anything, could put up with anything, for love and for you. But I can't. I'm so sorry, Draco, but I just can't."

Draco still doesn't utter a word. What can he say? Neville's eyes are glistening with tears, pleading with Draco, and Draco feels his heart tear in half.

"I can't do this anymore," Neville explains. "I want you more than anything, but I can't lie anymore, I can't pretend and hide anymore. I want to go out with you, Draco, as your lover. I want to be the only one for you and you the only one for me. I want to be yours for as long as you'll have me, and I want everyone to know."

Draco bites his tongue hard, the pain grounding him as his stomach roils, and he begins to feel the ground slipping out from under him.

Neville bites back a sob. "That's what I need," he says hoarsely, "and if you can't give me that, then I'd rather not have anything at all."

Draco sways on his feet, eyes wild and hands clenched at his side. With one last long, anguished look, Neville strides away back into the warm and cheery ballroom.

It has begun to snow again, but Draco barely notices as he falls to his knees in the cold snow. His eyes feel suspiciously damp, and his vision has gone blurry as he bites his knuckles to keep himself from sobbing. Neville has just offered him everything he has ever wanted and dreamed of, he has handed him the possibility of a future he has barely even hoped for. Draco covets that future, that chance to be with Neville, more than anything. Not until now, when he is being forced to forsake it, does he realise just how desperately he wants it. How can he ever turn his back on it? How can he ever turn his back on Neville?

Draco feels his heart break into a hundred tiny shards that rip his insides apart because he cannot give Neville what he wants, he cannot give himself what he so desperately desires. He has a family and a duty, and they must come first, for that is something he has been taught never to question. Draco feels the bitter tears fall freely as his throat closes up painfully.

*

It's in a stupor that Draco rises and cleans himself up. He feels completely numb and raw as he returns to the Ball. He dances and makes meaningless small talk; he sips champagne and greets yet more guests.

"Brilliant party, this," Weasley tells him when he finds himself standing next to him.

"Yes, Draco, thank you for inviting us," Granger adds.

Draco turns to give the couple a stiff smile and an even stiffer bow. He can't help but notice how close together they stand, how they lean towards each other. How obvious it is to all that they are a couple and are in love.

Draco feels the crippling pain grip his stunted heart once more, and he has to get away as fast as he can.

He mumbles his excuses and stumbles, blind, through the chattering crowd. He almost trips, but feels a firm grip on his arm keeping him from falling, and he sees Potter's smiling face greet him.

"Hey there, Malfoy," Potter says cheerfully. "How's it going?"

Potter is holding a rosy-cheeked and laughing Ginny Weasley by the hand. The redhead grins at Draco and pulls her hapless boyfriend towards the dance floor. Draco stares at them, feeling once more dizzy and lost, so lost and confused. He feels like nothing makes sense anymore. There's no up and down anymore. There's only duty and... duty and... What was the other one?

"Draco," says a soft and cherished voice. "Draco?"

It's his mother. She clasps his wrist.

"Draco," she repeats once more.

Her eyes are soft and tender and strangely sad.

"It's time," she says. "It's time for the announcement. Will you make it, or shall I?"

Draco's head spins, and the panic he has barely contained this last week rises to choke him. ...And love, he thinks. That's the other one. Now that I've found it, how can I live without it? But Draco has been given no choice, no future; for him, there is no winning, only losing. Fear and hysteria grip him, and there is no longer any time for delay and dissembling. He must act.

"I will do it, Mother," he rasps, and she squeezes his wrist and offers him an encouraging smile before letting go.

This is it, Draco thinks as he walks towards the band. The rest of my life begins now. But what will it be? The weight of the impossible choice he's been given threatens to crush him once more.

He motions the band to silence them and turns to face the full room.

"I have an announcement to make," he says. His voice is loud, but the quiver is obvious.

Eyes wild, insides gripped by panic and nausea, he looks over the crowd. He can see Blaise and Pansy looking perplexed, but giving him an encouraging thumbs up, always on his side; Andromeda, who once chose love over duty, smiling; Granger and Weasley sharing an eerily similar expression of curiosity, the image of a couple meant for each other; Potter with his arm around Ginny, cheeks still red, mouths still smiling, another picture perfect image of love; Mr and Mrs Greengrass standing expectantly; and next to them Asteria biting her lip, eyes bright, making his heart scream out in wrongness; Augusta Longbottom holding herself with an inexplicable air of disappointment; his mother, eyes unaccountably apologetic. His mother, who loves him no matter what. No matter what? That's what she has always promised him; the only thing he has never ever doubted. That thought grips hold of his mind and gives him hope.

In the end, he can no longer avoid it, and his eyes wander where they least want to, where they have yearned to from the beginning. Neville stands by himself, a little apart from the others. His shoulders squared, as if ready for a blow, his feet slightly apart, his stance tall and proud, his eyes red rimmed, and yet his gaze unflinching and intense and demanding, so demanding.

Draco wants to tear his gaze away, look anywhere but into those deep brown eyes that strip him bare and leave him nowhere to hide, no chance to lie. Draco wants to look away, but there's no use because wherever Draco looks, all he can ever see is Neville. How could I ever choose to live without him? he thinks.

For a long, interminable moment, he stands there, mind teetering on the cusp of his possible futures, afraid and paralysed.

"I have an announcement," he repeats to the murmuring and questioning room. He spares a brief glance for his mother.

"I'm sorry, Mother," he says. "I'd give you anything I could, you must believe me, but I can't get married." Gasps and surprised whispering fill the room.

"I can't marry a pure-blood witch, like you want," Draco repeats, voice louder, Neville's steady gaze lending him courage. "I can't because I'm in love."

Draco takes a step into the now empty dance floor.

"I'm madly, passionately, irrevocably in love. And I want to spend the rest of my life trying to make him happy, if he'll let me." Neville's hot gaze is burning Draco up, but Draco can't stop looking at him, and now that he's started, he can't stop talking.

"I don't want anyone else. I just want him. I'm yours, Neville, for as long as you'll have me and for longer still."

Violent whispers erupt as the room explodes into noise. Draco never lets his gaze waver from Neville's face and his scorching eyes. Completely oblivious to all else but Draco, Neville strides purposefully across the dance floor and sweeps Draco into his arms, crushing their mouths together.

Draco has never felt more prepared to be swept off his feet or ravished, and he blissfully melts into Neville's embrace as his knees go weak. Neville's kiss is at once possessive and grateful, but all Draco's mind can do is chant, Yes, yes, yes.

There never was another choice, there never was anything else but this for Draco. There never was another future for him, but this one with Neville.

Draco risks opening his eyes to glance at his mother. She is wiping the tears from her eyes with a lace handkerchief, and when she catches his eye, she gives him a watery smile and a wink.

Draco closes his eyes and loses himself in Neville's kiss once more, relief flooding him. Maybe he can have both his love and his family. Maybe his future is brighter than he ever dreamed it could be.

Feeling as if he can't contain the happiness and hope that wells up inside him, Draco breaks the kiss to whisper in his love's ear. "I love you, you know, you great lummox."

Neville pulls him even closer and chuckles happily. "Well, you would, wouldn't you?" he answers dryly.

And suddenly, they are both laughing together, and all is well. Now that everyone knows, Draco no longer feels afraid. In Neville's arms, he feels complete and ready to take on the world. The future doesn't scare him anymore; together with Neville, it can be nothing less than glorious.

Fin