Hiding behind words

Disclaimer: Harry Potter JKRowling. Scenario – partially gleaned from an author whose ideas I like, but hopefully with enough of a twist to keep people enjoying themselves.

Harry/Draco. Merely because it could never work. And I like breaking canon taboos like a madwoman. Most likely disgusting OOC. Yay.

Thoughts in italics.

Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived and hero of the magical world, wanted to be alone. Ever since he'd returned to school for his sixth year, he'd not been allowed a moment's peace. He knew people were worried about him – hell, he was worried about himself as well… But he'd had enough of their constant attentions. He didn't particularly like the way that every teacher (apart from Snape, of course), would talk to him in a hushed voice, as though he were on his deathbed.

It just…reminded him of things he'd rather not be reminded of. Sirius – bloody hell, why couldn't you just stay at home? He frowned darkly at the thought, though wasn't able to stay angry for long. A sob bubbled in his throat, and he pressed the heels of both hands against his eyes, determined not to cry. I've done enough of that to last me a lifetime.

And then there were his two best friends; Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley. It seemed that the clever Gryffindor witch had acquired some knowledge about psychoanalysis from some book or other, and was determined to try it out on him. She was constantly asking him how he was and if he wanted to 'sit down and talk about things'. Most of the time he was able to fend her off, but when Ron joined in as well, it was just… Just too much.

The young wizard looked up at the starlit sky from his perch on the rock overhang that extended out over the Great Lake. He sighed heavily, and his breath misted before him in the frosty air. Snow was heavy on the ground all around him; the sound of crunching footsteps alerted him to the fact that someone else was outside on the cruel winter's night. He mentally cursed, and pointedly ignored whoever it was, keeping his eyes trained on the sky.

The footsteps came to a halt at the base of the rocky overhang. Feeling curious, Harry tore his emerald eyes away from the sky for a moment, and cast a glance over his shoulder. The person who stood there didn't seem to notice him do this – they too looked up at the sky above, pale face bright in the silver moonlight. What's he doing out here? Harry scowled, and turned back to look out over the lake. I come out here to be alone, and then that git shows up. He crossed his arms over his chest, tucking his freezing hands beneath his arms to try and warm them up again.

After a few minutes of tense silence, in which neither person spoke, Harry huffed loudly and turned around to confront the other. He didn't bother to stand up, instead rising onto one knee and pointedly taking out his wand. "What are you doing out here, Malfoy?" he spat out the name like it was a swear word. He raised his eyebrow when he saw the pale Slytherin boy flinch. Grey eyes met green, and the boy-who-lived was surprised at the lack of animosity in the gaze of his arch-nemesis, Draco Malfoy.

He quickly regained himself though, and asked, "Aren't you supposed to be in the Great Hall with your wonderful bodyguards, celebrating cheating us out of our match?" the Gryffindor hissed, still sore over the memory of the dirty Quidditch game played only a couple of weeks ago. Ron had been knocked off his broom, and Harry's Firebolt had lost a good many tail-twigs when one of the Slytherin beaters had lunged at him with their club.

The blond boy looked away, back up to the glittering sky again. He took a deep breath, and then fixed Harry under a cold glare. "Who the hell do you think you are to presume to know where I should be?"

"Well, I don't know who you think I am, but I just happen to be Harry Potter, you idiot," Harry muttered with a small smirk. Malfoy just frowned, before quietly adding,

"Besides, I wanted to be alone…" A sudden thought seemed to strike the Slytherin. "Why aren't you in the Great Hall then? I'm sure your little fanclub will be distraught that you're missing Christmas dinner." He sneered on the word 'fanclub'. Harry just ignored the jab at his friends, and the odd Creevey brothers (whom he had become used to being stalked by.)

"It's none of your fucking business Malfoy."

"Just as what I'm doing out here is none of your fucking business. Now, will you be quiet, you're spoiling the atmosphere."

"And you're not with that aftershave?" the Gryffindor sniggered, just managing to catch sight of an annoyed twitch on the Slytherin's temple, before he turned around to look over the lake once more. The uncomfortable silence returned again, and no matter how much he tried, Harry was unable to enjoy the beautiful evening now that he knew Malfoy was standing behind him. Even though the enmity between them had died down to a dull dislike and the slinging of a few insults at one another in the classroom, he still felt uncomfortable in the blond's presence.

Though that may have more to do with my own twisted mind than anything he's done… Harry looked down at the snow that covered his shoes, and thought about the weird dreams he'd been having involving the Slytherin lately. Not really lately…they've been going for a year, give or take… Hermione would probably be delighted to hear about them – they'd be fantastic practice for her psychoanalytical rubbish.

Somehow, I don't think I'll be sharing this stuff with her though, the dark-haired boy decided, with a guilty smile on his face. It's an interesting secret to have after all… If only I wasn't so fucking famous, maybe I could even see what would happen if I- Running footsteps cut through his train of thought. He snapped his head up, and then looked over his shoulder, wondering if Malfoy was about to attack him.

However, all Harry saw was Malfoy's retreating figure. He wondered why the other was running, and what had spooked him (if anything.) I'll be damned if I can figure out the workings of that prat's mind. With a small groan, he hoisted himself to his feet, deciding that it was probably time to go back up to the castle. Wouldn't want Hermione to have an aneurysm after all…

As he walked down to the bottom of the overhang, in order to start making his way back up to school, something lying on the crisp snow caught his eye. It lay where Malfoy had stood, and on closer inspection, the object turned out to be a letter – addressed to 'Mr. Harry Potter'. What the-? Suspiciously, he approached the folded parchment, wondering if it was about to explode or otherwise harm him. It would be just like Malfoy to try and trick him after all.

Well, I'm not going to find out just by looking at it. After a deep breath to calm his nerves, the young wizard reached out with his wand and prodded the letter. When it didn't explode, he let out the breath he'd held. Well at least I still have my arm. Just as tentatively as he'd approached, he reached out and picked up the letter with his left hand. Curiously (and holding it at arms length), he broke the wax seal, and unfolded the parchment. He jumped when a couple of sheets of paper fluttered out and onto the snow. When he realised that nothing had hurt him, he stooped down and picked up the lost pages.

His eyes widened as he recognised pages and pages of Malfoy's ever-neat handwriting. After a quick count, he discovered there to be five in all. He shuffled them back into the right order, and then started to try and read the first page. However, even with the bright moonlight, it was too dim to make of the words properly. Harry did think about using 'lumos' in order to read the letter, but decided that he may as well read it up at the school.

After all, it'll be a hell of a lot warmer up there than out here. And everyone will be at the feast, so I'll get some quiet up in the dorm… With this decision in mind, the Gryffindor started trudging back up the school, tucking the sheaf of parchment into his robes as he did so.

Draco watched Harry ascending towards the school with trepidation. Judging by the boy's puzzled face, and the short amount of time since he'd left, he guessed that Harry hadn't read the letter yet. Heart pounding, he quickly ducked back behind the corner of greenhouse five, glad that the snow had drifted around it, creating the perfect hiding place for him. The dark-haired Gryffindor paused (Draco could tell by the fact that his crunching footsteps had stopped.)

Carefully, the Slytherin leant around the corner of the building once more, feeling terror bubbling up inside him. I wonder if I could just stun him and grab the letter back? He'd already half withdrawn his wand before he thought better of it. With a bright red flush on his cheeks, he watched the Gryffindor take one last look up at the starry sky, before hurrying up the steps and into the school.

Draco shakily leant against the cold glass of the greenhouse, wondering what the hell he was doing. I must be mad…he'll probably kill me…either that or this will be all over the school in no time! He groaned, and slid down the glass wall, coming to an abrupt halt against the ground (and soaking his trousers in the process.) Then, he put his head in his hands, and started wondering about his own sanity. I really wish I hadn't used that bloody dictating quill…I bet I sound like a gormless idiot…most of that's probably me going 'ummm', 'errr'.

Draco just groaned again, and lifted his head from his hands. Not only was he probably never going to live down what he'd just done, but, if Harry told anyone, he might as well kiss his arse goodbye. Not to mention my inheritence… Father's going to bloody kill me. The blond sighed, and scratched the back of his head, unable to keep still.

He'd been like this for a while now… Ever since the spring of fifth year, he'd been having odd…dreams, he supposed, though at first he'd seen them more like nightmares. But…when they'd persevered, he'd come to realise exactly what they meant. Which was why his insults and taunts had ended up becoming so lacklustre towards Harry. Though I think I more than made up for it with Weasel and Mudblood. Draco momentarily winced as he thought of the other two members of the dream team like that. If he were ever going to convince Harry that he'd changed, he'd need to address that issue straight away.

He won't give a damn if I've changed or not…probably likes girls as it is… He's been chasing after Cho Chang for ages now. Though… Draco thought back to fifth year, and remembered that Harry and Cho had had a fight of sorts. Which might give me a standing chance after all… The Slytherin smiled, and climbed to his feet, intending to head back inside, and try and get himself something to eat before the feast was over.

He scuffed his feet through the powdery snow, watching as it exploded with every step he took. A small cough startled him, and he looked up at the main doors into the castle wildly. As soon as he realised who it was, he ground to a halt, and tried not to look as queasy as he felt. I thought he went inside!

For, who else was standing there, but the boy-who-lived himself! Draco swallowed loudly, and averted his eyes back to the snow around his feet. He decided that he'd rather chance a shouting match with Harry, than getting a cold and having to take some pepper-up potion (which would result in him looking like a prat with steam pouring out of his ears); so, the Slytherin boldly climbed up the steps, and breezed past Harry.

Harry said nothing, merely watching the blond as he walked past. Draco picked up speed when he heard the front doors click closed behind him, bypassing the great hall in favour of the safety of the dungeons. He hurried down the steps into the dank, underground passageways of the castle, and broke into a run as soon as he reached level ground once more. Fuck, fuck, fuckety fuck!

Thus ends chapter one. Woot and all that. In chapter two, we bring you the wonderful dictated letter, full of 'ummms' and 'errrs' galore!