AN: One-Shot A Simple Continuation of I Said Never Again. It's still not going to be opened for long chaptered story - but who knows what I'll add.

Stranger than the Sympathy

Stranger than your sympathy

And this is my apology

I killed myself from the inside out

And all my fears have pushed you out

My life is filled with nothing but a mix of incongruity. It's been an exact week, since that inevitable night by the fireplace and I still have trouble wrapping myself around the picture.

No one's talking, but one. The communication seems to have been broken from the inside out, just like this song that I'm sitting here listening too. It's telling me just about everything I need to know. The fits I've been having all week, to the discovery.

I don't know if I'm relieved or just paralysed. But, I do know one thing.

I didn't want her to find out like that.

I still hate him, I hope you know. I really do. I can't stand him – but damn him for making me feel so good. Our relationship hasn't come out yet. In fact, it seems to be a little on the strange side as of lately.

Yes, I say strange because usually, our relationship consists of slapping each other around a bit before Draco pushes me onto the bed and bites my neck until I give in. Or I shove him angrily against the wall, grabbing his pretty mouth and chin with my hand, and then forcing him to suck against my finger before tasting it myself just to get the sweetness off.


A lot of the time there isn't even any communication between us. We just – touch and feel until our bodies are satisfied and pleasured.

But, the one thing that always happens and that's never hostile or anger inducing is the way we fall asleep afterwards, together in one another's arms.

The next morning, the hate and spiteful words start all over again, as though the night before had never occurred.

However, lately, when morning comes, Draco's not so – hostile – he doesn't say spiteful things. In fact, he doesn't speak to me at all unless spoken too directly. He no longer uses negative phrases towards me. Our nights have calmed – but not by much. They calm in the sort of way a raging storm does. The soft serene bathing of the earth before escalating higher and higher to a ferocious wind and lashing bite of rain, but before you know it, it becomes quiet again – calm and gentle once more.

My paragraphs aren't making any sense. My writing is getting worse as I continue this entry. I can't think straight – Hermione has barely said a word to me, I feel like shit for her finding out this way.

I never should have allowed our relationship to form in the first place. I didn't listen to that little voice in the back of my mind – warning me against allowing a relationship to come about between myself and her.

But, it had, it held on for six months. But now, I'm wondering what's going to happen. The Trio has been broken up, Ron; my best friend is completely oblivious and believes its just a lover's spat, even though Hermione won't even look at me.

Why did I ever begin this sordid relationship with Draco? Why?

I still can't give myself a straight answer. It just happened, one of those fucked up things that happen and you can't find a way to explain it.

Back to the difference with Draco – I think about it some more, sitting here once again by the fire. I think about how at this very moment, he's standing in the doorway, no shirt, and in only a pair of silk black pyjama bottoms. He looks so fucking hot and he knows it. I refuse to look up, he knows, that I know he's standing there. He's watching me – he loves to watch me for some reason. He stares at me so often – that I'm sure someone has picked up on it.

I continue to tell you how much I dislike Draco – but the words that I say are becoming less and less hateful. I'm beginning to find it extra difficult for me to wrap my tongue around the words and spit it back out like venom.


I want too. I hurt my best friend – I went against everything I stood for, because of him.

Why did I do that? I love Hermione, maybe not like I ought to have as a mate to her. But, I loved her all the same. We'd been through so damn much; Ron, Hermione, and I. Now, I've just thrown it all away.


Was it really because of my hormones and frustration? I'm still asking myself questions and I will continue to do so till I find an answer.

I ask myself, is he worth it?

Before last week, I would have said no, but now, my straight answer is no longer straight. It's crooked with so many lines slashing across. The slashes remind me of thorns and it seems that those thorns are piercing my skin – causing it to run red.

I said this last time, for I loved Draco, but he couldn't return that love – he didn't want it like that.

Now, I'm not so sure, if it was just me seeing what I wanted to see, rather than what really is.

I've just confused myself to hell and back. Dammit, how'd it ever get this complicated? Where's Voldemort when one needs the bastard?

Heh, I best not go that far. Not exactly good for ones health, but neither is sitting here complaining to an old broken book that has duct tape wrapped around it. For some reason, reparo doesn't seem to work. I wonder if it's because of the emotions put into the hostility?

Hmm, Draco's near me. I can feel him walking closer, he just blocked the shaded reflection from the fireplace and now he's standing in front of me. He's not looking at the journal though, he's looking at me. I can feel it; I feel his eyes trying to circle around mine, bring my chin up to look at him. It's just like in bed – when he demands me to open my eyes – for me to stare and not ever move my gaze with him on top of me or me on him.

Such a wrecked life I lead.

What do I do?

Harry Potter

"It's late." Said Draco, as Harry glanced up from his journal and met the Slytherin's pale eyes.

"Time ran away with me." He responded quietly.

"Come, you need your sleep." Draco reached over and closed the book. "You can finish your ramblings tomorrow." He picked the journal and the muggle pen up and placed it all in one hand while holding out his left one for Harry to take.

Harry rose from his place at the table and took Draco's hand without any words spoken and allowed him to be led toward the room that was adjacent from his own. Harry reached for his wand and flicked the music he had playing off.

"What kind of music is that?" asked Draco, casually.

"Muggle."

"Hmm, not bad."

Again Harry didn't reply. He said nothing as Draco leaned around him and locked the bedroom door and tossed the journal and pen aside.

The room was darkly lit and decorated in purest of silk and satin. Draco loved fine and luxurious things. Harry didn't particularly care. He'd never had such fine luxuries to actually want – so it didn't matter to him.

Harry sank lazily down onto Draco's bed and looked the other way at the darkened window. There was no moon outside – for it was hidden by all the dusky clouds, you couldn't even see any stars. He shivered when he felt Draco's presence and breathed in when his companion sank down on the edge of the bed. He began brushing the back of his hand across Harry's shoulder and across his chest.

Draco leaned closer and began his kisses where he had touching; Harry's eyes fluttered close and he lolled his head around until his cheek was touching Draco. He brought his hand up and cupped back the back of his lover's head and gasped when Draco began nibbling against his flesh.

There were already marks all along his neck and chest from the rough nights; Harry breathed in deeply, taking Draco's scent with him.

Draco hissed against Harry's ear, "Open your eyes."

Harry did as Draco commanded and they locked in the gaze of one another before Harry's hand moved around and gripped Draco's chin. He flicked his thumb across his pink lips until his mouth opened up and he began to suck licentiously, running his tongue up and down Harry's thumb until the Gryffindor's body was reacting so desperately until he couldn't take it and replaced his thumb with his own mouth and drank in every bit of Draco lips and tongue with his own. He gripped Draco by the shoulders and shifted from his sitting place on the bed, pinning him firmly down.

He hovered for a moment and stared into those eyes, like he had done many times before. He pushed Draco's blonde hair out of his eyes and watched him breathe in sharply. It heightened his senses as they reached out lolling effortlessly against his Slytherin.

Harry began – pressing innocent kisses along Draco's forehead, before sliding down to kiss just next to his eyes and then just underneath until he met those seductive lips. Harry slowly let go, allowing Draco to move his hands and take control over his mind and body. Whenever he had an emotional night – that was what he wanted – the control taken from him and used against him until he was left exhausted and unmoving.

It was just one of the many calmer nights that Harry found himself swimming in. His own emotions still confused – and wrapped up like a spider caught in its own web.

-

When morning rose and Harry was forced to open his eyes and face another quiet and unresponsive day he was vaguely surprised when he found himself staring back at a pair of silvery/blue eyes. Those same eyes he looked deeply into last night.

Draco's fingers brushed along his cheeks affectionately.

This was new. This hadn't happened the last three weeks. He took the lens off of his own eyes – those lenses that had blinded him of what Draco was really thinking and feeling. He searched Draco's face, trying to understand what was happening.

"It's eight thirty, my Harry." Harry licked his lips and remained silent. "I've already laid out your clothes – just slide into them and I'll do the rest." Draco turned to move and Harry didn't know what caused him to react but he reached out and grabbed Draco – pulling him back. The Slytherin gave a very rare smile and relaxed with his arm wrapping around Harry's torso.

"Did you read my journal?"

Draco shook his head, "No." he said honestly.

"Why not?" That vaguely surprised him.

"You did not want me too."

"I never said you couldn't…" Began Harry, biting his lower lip.

Draco gave him another rare smile and pressed his finger against the bitten lip, "Your face to me is your journal. I read everything you wrote last night on your beautiful face."

"I don't think I hate you so much anymore."

"Course you do." Stated Draco, with a smirk. "I wrecked your life – I wrecked your bed – and I would do it again in a heartbeat."

Harry found himself laughing, his eyes unable to stop the glitter that formed. "You wrecked me as well."

"Yes, that I didn't like doing." Admitted Draco, "You became blinded."

"Are you sure you're not stealing my thoughts?" asked Harry suspiciously. "I was just thinking that."

"No, not stealing your thoughts." Draco smirked, "Unlike you – I have not had anything holding me back from you. I was never bound to anyone – I do not give a right damn about anyone else. You've purposely placed an invisible blindfold over your eyes. You believe all I ever wanted was sex." He shrugged halfheartedly, "In the beginning – I loved the scandalous chase. You were a fucking tease and I loved it. But now-" He stopped and searched Harry's face. "It's different." "Different?"

"Hmm, I find myself caring about you, loving you, needing you, and wanting you even more. I even care about that – priss Granger – you're hurt that you hurt her and I hate to see that." He scowled and leaned up, "Entirely your fault."

"Bout time you cared about someone other than yourself, you great prat."

"I don't much like extending my feelings or affections for those who don't do anything to deserve it."

"Then what the fuck have I done to deserve it? I've cursed you, curse your name, cursed your very existence…"

"Yet, you love me so damn much that you're willing to break all loyal boundaries, which resides in those good Gryffindor veins that you would spend your nights in my bed – with me. Potter – you're no whore."

Harry snorted and sat up fully, his hand running across Draco's clothed chest, "Nicest thing you've ever said to me, while calling me Potter."

Draco glanced at him loftily, "I'm only stating the truth. You hurt your best friend – I can't stand to see you in pain – I want you out of it and I want you back to normal."

"You don't know me."

"We were enemies, I know you better than your friends, and you would know me better had you taken that blindfold off."

"So – what do you feel?" asked Harry, lolling his head to the side.

"Something – probably that song from last night described it quite well."

Harry growled and bit Draco down on his shoulder, "Thief!" He accused.

Draco grinned, "Bite me a little harder baby-"

Harry clicked his teeth together very close to the blonde's ear, "Don't tempt me."

"What was that song called anyway?"

"Sympathy."

"Ah – that's the feeling I have. I wondered what it was."

"New to you?" asked Harry dryly.

"Very new." Draco scrunched up his nose, "And I don't quite like it."

Harry smirked and wrapped his arms around Draco and kissed him on the cheek, "Of course not – feelings not your strong point."

Draco sighed, "I have a hunch that it will become one – very quickly."

"I wait for that day-"

And for now, Harry would just take it one day at a time. A couple of his questions were answered and the confusion receded just slightly. He still felt awful about his best friend – about betraying and becoming a traitor – but he wondered if his heart knew what it wanted all along and forced him to turn against all that he believed – for something he never believed would exist.

It would be much stranger than Draco developing sympathy for anyone; especially him.