Harry sat, cloaked in shadow, on a bench in a small London alley. It was in a decrepit part of town, where the rooftops nearly merged in the sky, with hookers on every street corner no matter the time of day; their makeup running and making them look like a Virgin Mary crying tears of blood in the August heat. He could hear low voices around the corner, most likely negotiating a drug deal. Surprisingly, it was almost cold in the alley, and the cool coming from month-old rain-puddles was chilling Harry to the bone, causing him to pull his shabby disguise cloak closer around him. He pulled out a watch that had long since lost its band from an inner pocket and checked the time. He frowned. He's late, Harry thought, annoyed. He always cuts through this alley after his meetings. His frown deepened. Maybe something went wrong.
Everyday, Harry sat in this alley at precisely three o'clock, waiting for Draco Malfoy, former Hogwarts student and now junior Death Eater, to exit his daily assignment-meeting and walk through the door on his left. Harry would then follow him for the rest of the day, gathering information about Voldemort's next move. Harry loathed this task. He would rather be pursuing the Horcrux, taken by the mysterious R.A.B., whoever that was. However, he was forced to this task, bodily this morning, as Remus had very nearly tossed him out the door of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. He was also forced to continue school, no matter how many doors he slammed or how many shrunken house-elf heads he threw at people. It was just as well, thought Harry grudgingly, I can't take another glare from Mrs. Weasley. He hated his task almost as much as he hated Malfoy himself. Every time he stepped out the door to Harry's left, he was either toadying up to his superiors or putting down his underlings. Sometimes, Harry felt like dragging him into the shadows and bloodying-up Malfoy's handsome face. Wait… handsome? Where had that idea come from? Harry's brow furrowed further, sure to give him frown-lines later in life. He felt like pacing. He was about to fall through this stupid rinky-dink bench anyway. The planks were rotted and creaking, and had bite marks from rats. The very thought of those little beady eyes shining on him now, even in near-daylight, gave him the shivers.
He is quite handsome… whispered a little corner of his mind. Harry shook his head to rid himself of the thought.
I must be going crazy…Bisque-white skin, luscious white-blonde hair, deep grey-blue eyes, pink, full lips, ones you want to touch just to see if they're real…
Crazy…
Just as Harry was trying to sort through these mind-muddying thoughts, Draco Malfoy swept through the door like he was the Dark Lord himself, flipping his hood up to cover his face. He was alone today, and his mood was not pleasant. Harry could see it in the way he stomped down the alley, and the way his hands were curled into fists at his side. There goes the boy who ruined your life… Harry had thought about that before, about how it was Malfoy who fixed the cabinet which allowed the Death Eaters to enter the castle and ruin his life forever. Now he felt a rage coming forth like nothing he had ever felt, not even when Snape had insulted his father. Instead of simply following him for the rest of the day, Harry waited in the shadows, like a demon, until he reached a conveniently deserted side alley. As soon as Malfoy passed through a shadow, Harry grabbed him by the arm, pulling him further into the darkness. Malfoy panicked at first, then wrenched himself free, stumbling slightly. Harry hung back in the dark, now unsure why he was doing this. Malfoy stepped slowly back, trying to let his eyes adjust to the shadow of the alley. He recognized his attacker at once.
"What the hell do you want?" He said angrily, righting his robes, which had become off-centered in the tussle.
"What do you think you're up to?" Harry countered, stepping out of the gloom. "I've been following you for a month. I should arrest you right now." Malfoy drew up, the 'Look'; the smirk/snarl that Harry was certain was a family trait, painted on his face.
"You have no proof." It was true; he had seen him talking with people he knew were Death Eaters, but none who had been confirmed. Harry gripped the wand in his pocket; he was literally itching to curse the Slytherin into oblivion. Malfoy noticed, with cool indifference, that Harry was looking like he was preparing to jump on him, and said, "Knut for your thoughts, Potter? Do tell." Harry raised his other hand and pointed it at Malfoy's face. Malfoy remained the picture of unconcern.
"You are the most pig-headed, boot-licking, I'm-so-superior asshole this side of Europe. But I won't give you the satisfaction of being the biggest asshole in all of Britain, because I know that's most-likely your goal." The 'Look' crumbled and fell like the Berlin Wall. Malfoy's cheeks were quickly becoming a becoming a luminous pink color, and if looks could kill, Harry would have been shot, strangled, dropped from the Tower of London and repeatedly kicked in the crotch. He stepped closer, and Harry could feel his hot, angry breath on his face. From a detached portion of his mind, Harry noted that it was making him swoon with the thoughts it created.
Just reach out…
Just a quick touch…
Stop it. No…
"Well you're the most overbearing, I'm-so-alone, its-all-about-me, tragic hero prick this side of the Northern Hemisphere! Maybe if you'd have realized that to be in Gryffindor doesn't make you God of Hogwarts, I wouldn't have gotten so slaphappy and gone against my beliefs! Open your eyes, Potter! I'm doing this entire butt-kissing routine because I'm planning to report to McGonagall! My father's in jail and only cares to have a trophy family. It's convenient when he needs a background! I thought he cared about me, and that's why I tried to protect him by joining the Dark Lord. I also joined because in first year, I was trying to be a friend like my father taught me how, and you pushed me away because you didn't realize I didn't know how to make friends. You made fun of me, insulted me, and generally treated me like a nuisance. I hate you!" He finished, drawing an eye-opening monologue to a close, spitting out the word 'hate' like venom.
He's absolutely beautiful when he's angry…
They were nose to nose, throwing insults back and forth like hexes, unable to curse each other because their hands were too tightly clenched to draw their wands. Harry suddenly realized how close they were, he could feel Malfoy's breath on his face. Malfoy was silent, just staring at him with some unidentifiable expression on his face.
What's he doing?
What is he doing?
Malfoy pressing his lips against Harry's own and Harry noticed with something akin to wonder that his lips were really as soft as they looked. He kissed him back roughly, rougher than he would a girl, for reasons he didn't quite understand.
"I… hate… you…" he tried, pushing Malfoy back against the wall and entangling his fingers in his white-blonde hair. "Why… can't I…" he tried again, but was silenced by Malfoy-
Draco, his name is Draco…
suddenly gentle, putting a finger to his lips.
"Just… don't think…" Draco said, nuzzling his face in Harry's neck and planting a kiss. Harry's breath sucked in sharply, his fingers tightening in Draco's hair. Draco wrapped his arms around Harry, grabbing a fist-full of his shirt and pulling him closer. And he didn't think, not about the implications of what was going on, not about if anyone would come upon them making-out in a notorious London back alley. The only thing that was forefront in his mind was
Draco, Draco's skin, soft and porcelain white, Draco's hands whispering down his back…
The rational side of Harry's mind suddenly realized what the Hell he was doing. He pulled back, his face violently pink and gasping for air, for reality. Maybe this was a dream. A really weird, twisted, dream. He pinched himself. Ouch, that hurt. This couldn't be real….
Draco looked at him, almost pleadingly. As he stepped out into the light, Harry could now see he hadn't been sleeping well. He was much paler than usual; he had dark circles under his eyes and his cloak hung loosely from his back, like a dark angel's wings. Was this how Lucifer looked as he was cast out of heaven? Was he sleepless like Draco, wondering if he had done the right thing?
"Why can't I hate you?" Harry moaned, casting his hands together in a supplicant gesture. "No matter how many times I say it, I look at you…" Harry could feel a lump in his throat. "I look at you and… I know I'm lying." Harry approached Draco slowly.
"Why do you have to hate me?" said Harry, knowing full-well that he himself had spent the better part of his years at Hogwarts hating him back. But right now, that feeling was beginning to ebb away like the tide against something written in the sand. A new emotion was coming forth. Pity. Empathy. After all, he too knew what it felt like to be shunned and unwanted in the place you call home. "You said you had information for Professor McGonagall?"
Draco nodded slowly, painfully. Harry held out his hand for Draco to shake and informally pledge himself to the Order until he could be sworn in formally. He stared at it then, swiftly, he shook it firmly. He looked Harry in the eye, his mouth set in a firm line. Then again, his face crumbled, and his insecurities showed once more.
"You look tired. Maybe you should sleep before we go see everyone," said Harry gently. Draco smiled gratefully at him. "So you look a bit better."
"Do I really look like the living dead?" asked Draco with a wry smile.
"I probably look just as bad." said Harry. "I haven't been sleeping well, either." And, defying all reason, Harry planted a soft kiss on Draco's cheek.
