Title: Love Is Blind

Author: silverXserpent

Rating: R

Pairing: Harry/Draco

Disclaimer: All characters and setting belong to JK. Rowling. No money is being made from this story in any way.

Summary: It's Harry's seventh year at Hogwarts and he's now known to the wizarding world as The-Boy-Who-Defeated-The-Dark-Lord. Something is bothering him though. Or rather someone. Harry wants him back in his life. The one who gave him hell.

Chapter One The Mystery of Foes

Drip... Drip... Drip...

It was the steady beating of the rain upon the tin roof and the soft hooting of his snowy white owl that kept a certain raven haired boy awake on the night of August the 31st.

His body was protesting at the lack of sleep and he wanted to fall into a deep slumber before the big day ahead of him, yet somehow, every time he closed his eyes, his mind would begin whirling with thoughts and images again, making it quite impossible to find peace.

Harry lay upon the rather dank sheets of his bed in room 15 of the Leaky Cauldron with his arms propped up beneath his head and his eyes staring blankly out the water stained window overlooking the muggle world outside. Everything was dark and silent; a few cars were occasionally sloshing through the deep puddles but that was all that seemed to be happening at the ungodly hour.

He sighed and sunk deeper into the creaking bed, wishing that it was already morning, but the sun was still a ways ahead and it would be a while until the bustle of the early birds even started.

Harry didn't really understand why he was feeling so restless. Well, perhaps he might have an inkling, yes, but it didn't really give a good enough explanation as to why he'd been effected by something as.... what was the word... Unimportant? - as that.

In fact, he was kind of confused with himself because he found that it bothered him when it should actually make him happy or relieved to say the least.

Maybe I was just taken aback. Surprised? He thought hopefully to himself. That's got to be it...
It had all started earlier that day when he was out meandering through the bustling stores of Diagon Alley with Ron and Hermione, finishing the very last of the school shopping and simply just crushing the large amount of time on their hands.

They had already visited Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, each devouring a double scoop of chocoberry nut, and stopped by the Magical Menagerie to purchase some flea killing potion for Crookshanks who seemed to be suffering from them lately, and Quality Quidditch Supplies to see if there were any of Harry's new brooms stocked up yet.

Indeed, Harry no longer rode his trusty old Firebolt that he'd been treasuring for three long years. He loved the broom even though it seemed to tire frequently nowadays from all the violent riding he'd been doing, and could not hide his glee when he'd been presented with the top notch and absolutely newest model at the end of his sixth year when he'd managed to come face to face with Lord Voldemort for the final time, defeating him with the very curse that had killed his parents sixteen years ago.

It had been a very unexpected outcome, for Harry was in a position that would seem to the normal eye, completely impossible to come out alive of. Wandless, helpless, gagged, and tied with no one but Voldemort in a secluded world of Darkness, he'd prepared himself to die that night.

Voldemort had been standing before him, his face no longer hooded like it usually was, his red slits for eyes burning with rage and a menacing flame that Harry had never seen in anyone's eyes, and if looks could kill, he'd certainly have been finished off with just that.

The white and skeletal excuse of a living being in front of him had only one thing in his mind at that point; and that was to kill Harry Potter as he should have countless of times before. And now, he had his final chance. No interruptions, no Dumbledore, nothing.

Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. The wand that had done great yet terrible things so many times before. The wand that had caused so many tears to be shed and the same wand that gave Harry the scar he had on his forehead. It was pointed at Harry's heart. Inches away from shooting out the curse that would end all in a single blast of air.

Harry's brilliantly green eyes, the ones his loving mother had given him, were alive as ever and unflinching as they stared loathingly back at Voldemort. He didn't need to try to feel all the hate in the world within his unguarded body, it was already there.

Harry could remember thinking only of all his friends, his parents, his fellow classmates.... he could remember fighting back tears at the knowledge that he'd probably never again see their faces.

He'd failed the whole Wizarding World; they had all expected him to be the one to see the end of the Dark Lord and to unveil the hovering Darkness amongst them. To right the world with light once more. But that would never happen. His life had been in vain.

Yet, feeble as it was, he could not give up without giving the last of what he had.

He closed his eyes and pictured his mother and father's faces, and smiled sadly to himself.

'This is for you, mum, dad.' He said silently. 'I love you.'

He opened his eyes right at the moment that Voldemort was on the verge of uttering the deadly curse, and screamed;

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

A blinding flash of green light engulfed his vision and he felt as if his body was being sucked of all it's energy. He felt dizzy and that was when the blackness had taken over. And he knew no more.
So in a nutshell, after he'd killed Lord Voldemort with some sort of wandless magic that he'd never known himself to possess (which Dumbledore had explained to him was very rare and highly unusual), the Ministry of Magic had given him the present of a broomstick which had been designed in honor of Harry. It had been somewhat embarrassing and flattering at the same time to see his name engraved in flashing gold at the handle of this sleek and perfect, not to mention flawless, broomstick. The one that was currently in his possession was in fact, the first ever built broom of the series and had a few unique features that the rest of the Harry Potter models didn't have.

He personally liked the emerald stone lighting bolt that was embedded into the polished wood just above the left hand grip, for when it caught the sunlight, it gleamed so beautifully that it intrigued him for hours on end. How that would affect his flying during Quidditch matches was a mystery although he hoped it wouldn't.

So continuing, the trio had gone into Quality Quidditch Supplies and were ecstatic to find out that the brooms had indeed come in just a few days before, and were selling like crazy. Even more so than the previous Firebolts which had broken all broomstick-selling records of the past.

Everyone from children to professional Quidditch players wanted them and the media had titled the beyond superb flying device as 'The Best Thing Created In This World Next To Chocolate Frogs'. It was all quite overwhelming.

All through the long streets of endless stores, heads turned and wild whispers were heard as Harry and his two friends walked along leisurely. His right arm was quite numb and in much pain from all the signing he'd been doing every since he'd arrived in Diagon Alley. He'd been autographing everything from school books to photographs of himself to articles of clothing that sometimes made him blush and the female fans to giggle with delight. Ron and Hermione were happily posing for shots with Harry as well since people knew them to be The-Boy-Who-Defeated-The-Dark-Lord's best friends. Ron seemed especially pleased with all the attention he was receiving, and he kept boasting proudly to all that would listen that he had been elected new Quidditch Captain of the Gryffindor team at school.

Hermione of course had been selected as Head Girl but she neither bragged or talked about it much.

They had been avoiding Flourish & Blott's the past few days since the two show case windows facing the Alley were filled with nothing but posters of Harry's name printed in huge capital letters and of his smiling face on every book cover. They were afraid that if Harry stepped one foot into the crowded shop, he'd be bombarded with even more fans who were purchasing his biographies just like in Professor Lockhart's days, who's fame seemed to have died out entirely ever since his memory had gone askew.

But on their final day there, they were forced to enter the shop during the less busy lunch hours in their unavoidable need to buy their new school books which included The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 7), Advanced Defense Theories and Practices, The Deeper Aspects of the Seeing Eye, and The Encyclopedia of Advanced Potions.

Hermione seemed to have a good more number of books to purchase since she was taking a few extra classes that year in preparation of the coming N.E.W.T.s tests. She didn't nag half as much as in years past, but she didn't forget to remind the two every now and then that this would be the most important part of their life where their N.E.W.T.s results could and would completely decide their future.

She had plans to become a teacher at Hogwarts someday, and after graduation, wanted to go to Teaching School to earn the needed degrees and such. It wasn't a surprise since her most admired person in the Wizarding World was Minerva McGonagall.

Ron on the other hand wanted to work in the Ministry alongside his father, although he had no wish to tinkle with unknown muggle objects. The telephone (or phellytone, as he called it) simply made no sense to him whatsoever and unlike his father, he couldn't see what was so interesting about non-magical devices that took minutes to get working. He wanted to work in the Secret Service department, a branch of the Ministry that specialized with keeping the topmost cases and important facts hidden from the press and the rest of the world. Very few people ever got hired in this branch but he had confidence since his whole family was known to be a very loyal and hardworking group of redheads.

Harry knew what he wanted to be too. There was no question about it. He could not imagine himself doing anything else with his future. He would become an Auror after graduation (if he managed to pass the incredibly difficult N.E.W.T.s) and would work alongside famous Auror's like Mad-Eye Moody and Tonks. Therefore, he had the most difficult task of completing the required classes and getting above satisfactory marks in them. Ron and Hermione had it better, for their requirements were not as demanding as Harry's, but he was ready to do it. He would pour his heart into his studies that year like he'd never done in his life and he would become an Auror.

So they entered the near empty bookstore quietly to pick up their books, planning to head out before the people outside spotted them, but it turned out that Hermione wanted some other books that she had to search for and so they were stuck in there for some time. Harry and Ron had already paid for theirs and were standing impatiently behind her, hoping that Hermione would just find her books so that they could get out of the dim and eerie corner of the bookstore they were currently in. Not so many customers bothered to enter this section of the shop since the books were mostly boring novels about deceased witches and wizards. Hermione claimed that there was a certain one on a witch that taught Hogwarts hundreds of years before that she wanted to read about.

"Just a few more minutes." Hermione hissed irritably. "Will you two be patient?"

Ron grunted and frowned. "We've been here for fifteen bloody minutes already! Can't you just wait until we get to Hogwarts or something?"

Hermione ignored him and went on scanning through the endless spines lined neatly on the tall shelves. She kept pulling one out, and putting it back with a shake of her head.

Harry honestly felt tired of standing in the dusty bookstore too, even though he remained silent, until he heard the soft clang of the bell hanging on the shop door, announcing the arrival of another customer.

Not wanting to be spotted, he ducked behind a row of shelves and hoped that whoever it was wouldn't come to the section they were in.

Unfortunately, his wishes were not granted and a tall and slim figure cloaked from head to toe came around the corner and made it's way to the far shelf a few meters away. Harry could not tell if it was a witch or wizard but whoever it was, seemed to have not noticed the trio. For a split second upon laying eyes on this stranger, Harry's heart gave a nasty thump, for in his past knowledge, only dark wizards wore long, dark, hooded cloaks. But then, he decided that with Voldemort gone and all, no Death Eater would be stupid enough to enter some busy place like Diagon Alley.

He couldn't help but watch the figure as it swept noiselessly to the books and began examining them with a pair of pale white hands, and like Hermione, was pulling one out here and there. The person before him seemed to hold an elegance, that for some reason seemed oddly familiar to Harry and he couldn't quite place why.

Then, after a few minutes, the figure reached both hands to it's head and slowly lowered the black hood to reveal glistening blonde hair and a thin neck, and at that point, there was no doubt as to who it was.

"It's Malfoy!" Ron hissed with narrowed eyes. "What the hell is he doing here?"

Harry wondered the same thing. It was unusual to see Draco Malfoy alone and not flanked by his groups of smirking Slytherin friends, and not to mention inside a bookstore looking for something so urgently. It was almost as if he didn't want to be seen here...

"Oh! Found it!" Hermione exclaimed cheerfully, unaware of Malfoy. She hopped down from the ladder and clutched the book to her chest with a wide smile on her face.

At the sudden sound of her voice, Malfoy jerked his head around and his face visibly paled when he caught sight of Harry, Ron, and Hermione standing on the other side of the aisle, staring back at him.

He seemed to recover pretty quickly from his shock and pursed his lips.

"Hello Malfoy." Hermione nodded curtly.

Malfoy's silver eyes just flickered and he nodded back almost imperceptibly.

"Congratulations on becoming Head Boy." she added.

Harry could sense Malfoy's gaze pausing on himself before going back to Hermione.

"Same to you for becoming Head Girl." he said quietly and with that, he lifted his hood back onto his head and strode past them without another word.

After the doorbell clanged again, Ron frowned and raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"What's up his arse? He's up to something, I can feel it."

Hermione cocked her head to one side. "He definitely didn't act like the usual brat did he?"

"Maybe he was scared of us telling people that we saw him in here!" Ron piped up. "I bet you anything he was looking for some illegal Dark Arts book!"

"This is the historic wizards section, Ronald." Hermione said rolling her eyes. "And you should know by now that Flourish and Blott's doesn't stock illegally Dark books."

Ron sniffed. "Oh. Well then."

"Let's just get moving you guys. Hermione's found her book, she'll pay for it, and we can leave." said Harry.

"Right. You two wait here, I'll be right back." Hermione whisked away the set of school books that she'd set on the floor by her feet and hurried over to the counter where the cranky shop owner was busy readjusting the stacks of Harry Potter biographies.

A few minutes later, Hermione came back with a large bag identical to the ones Harry and Ron were carrying and they exited the shop discreetly, not wanting to face a load of fans with their arms laden with heavy books.

Once they'd gone back to The Leaky Cauldron to drop off their bags, Ron and Hermione said that they wanted to look around some more but Harry just waved his hand and told them that he wanted to take a nap and so stayed behind alone.

It was already four in the afternoon and he felt completely worn out by all the people swarming around him to get autographs and pictures. He inwardly hoped that at Hogwarts, things would be much less troublesome.
So here he was now, lying in his bed at one o'clock in the morning, wondering about certain things that had happened during the day, one in particular having to do with the odd encounter with Draco Malfoy in Flourish & Blott's. He had to admit that he'd been a bit taken back by the silent civilness that the Slytherin had shown even though it had been for only a few minutes. Over the summer, he'd thought of- and gone as far as written down- some intelligent comebacks to throw at Malfoy when they came face to face, but today, that hadn't been necessary and a part of him felt a bit disappointed. He wasn't used to the silent type of Malfoy at all.

He was just chickening out because he didn't have Crabbe and Goyle next to him. Harry yawned and nodded to himself as he rolled over to his side. He'll be the same old jerk when we see him on the train tomorrow...

TBC...
A/N
Hey everyone! I decided to start this other story because I awoke a few morning's ago with an idea that might have a potential to become a rather good story. I have not, I repeat, I HAVE NOT abandoned my other story, 'The Amourette'. I will be updating both as frequently as I can.
Please review this one, for I shall continue if it recieves appreciative comments. Thank you.

silverXserpent