Draco was not used to people crying on him. He'd gotten used to crying to ghosts in washrooms alone, but he knew that when he'd had to do that he'd always wanted someone real there. He wrapped his arms around Merlin, pulling him closer.
"I'm not the same Draco," he agreed, voice soft. "I'm someone who's been given missions by your father before. Been tortured by him. Been at the whim of his silk, selfish ambitions. He says my memories are going to come back, but for now I understand. You can tell me what he says you have to do."
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