Everybody's Fool

(Previously under Grey Hope)

Summary: Draco joins the Light side after failing his task. Harry welcomes him easily into a simple reality that he isn't worthy of. Of course, life can't remain simple for long.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, well, read and find out.

Thank-you: To any that have previously read/ suffered through this and are coming back. To anyone starting the journey. It's a bumpy ride.

Rated M: This is a Harry/Draco. Proceed with caution.

Prologue: Everybody's Fool.

If only you knew, he thought irately, combing his fingers through pristine locks. His gaze alternated between the meal in front of him and the hysteria of cameras only a few tables away. The flashes were distracting to say the least, but they weren't a fraction of the distraction that they were hovered around.

Harry Potter.

Draco forced his eyes to settle on what he couldn't remember placing on his plate and listened to his stomach grumble. He'd felt too sick as of late to finish a meal, leaving him in a ridiculously pale and exhausted state. It was challenging to eat when what made you ill never seemed to disappear, no matter how much was against him.

He sighed; vanishing the food in front of him with the wave of his hand, muttering a spell he'd memorized at eleven. Losing to himself again, he looked up and met with excited emerald eyes. So innocent to the room around him, so perfect. But, that was in his nature to be perfect, to anyone else that is.

Draco gritted his teeth in annoyance, biting his tongue to keep from screaming what he knew to be the absolute truth. He would waste his breath. Perfection could never be conquered by mistake. And that was what Draco continued to make and be, a mistake.

When the taste of blood in his mouth served as enough of an interlude of thought, he released his hold on his tongue, allowing the pain to dull.

He never could get rid of the pain completely.

Deciding that this was enough torture for one dinner, he fled the Great Hall, refusing to meet the confused stares of the classmates around him. They wouldn't understand why he would run from a hero. They also wouldn't be able to fathom the ideas that Draco knew to be facts.

Harry Potter is no hero.

Draco didn't run from a savior, he ran from a monster. He ignored a monster. He hated a monster. But, hating and running and ignoring would never serve as enough to keep a secret for a monster. No, that's only cause for celebration in revealing truth. So, why couldn't he expose the Boy Who Lived?

He finally reached the portrait to the Slytherin common room. Being one of the few to return to Hogwarts after Voldemort's death, he usually spent his evenings alone in the dungeons. The silence comforted him though. Silence meant that nothing was happening. Silence meant loneliness, and when alone, he could never be hurt.

When Draco had had a family, they'd left him. His father was meant to rot in a dirty prison cell, and his mother had left the world completely. People could only leave you in his eyes. And he would be damned if anyone would leave him again.

Interrupting his silence, a first year boy tumbled through the portrait door, still unsure of how to enter and exit a portal. Draco didn't look up from his hands that he was unconsciously staring at while the fire before him flickered.

"Sorry," the younger boy muttered, walking towards the steps that would lead him to his dormitory. He paused at the foot of the way and looked to Draco with questioning eyes. "Um, Mister Malfoy?" the boy asked, a nervous pitch clouding his voice. Draco did nothing to prove he had heard him at all; he only sat as still as stone and waited.

"D-do you know Harry P-potter well?" he finally stuttered through. After a minute of silence, he turned to leave, respecting the older boy's want for privacy.

"Yes," Draco whispered, still unchanged in posture. The word was barely a breath. "I do."

Feeling slightly confident, the boy sat a few feet from Draco, expecting more of a response.

"Then, why aren't you with the press downstairs? Getting your picture taken. They're doing all sorts of interviews. Asking people who were there about how he killed, well, you know-."

"Voldemort," Draco finished. "Yes."

Just what we all need, more lies.

"Yeah," the boy mumbled, too intimidated to say the name himself. Draco turned slightly to look at him. He was childish in features, but he had the makings of becoming a handsome man. He was dark haired and tan skinned. His eyes were a strange combination of greens, and hidden behind thin-rimmed glasses.

"You know, you look a bit like him," Draco commented, "when he was younger of course."

Not now, not with that mask that's so tightly glued.

"Really? Thanks. Maybe I'll look like him whenever I'm his age."

No one could ever be Harry. "Sure, maybe you will."

"Are you friends with Harry, sir?"

After a brief pause, Draco nodded. "You can say that."

"I read in the Prophet that you two were enemies once. I read that in your sixth year, you joined the Light side, and well, I think he said once that if it hadn't been for you, he never would have won against… you know who."

"I read that article," he said, returning his gaze to the fireplace. "We bonded during the war, I suppose."

"And what happened?" the boy wondered aloud. Draco was slightly amused at his curiosity. "I mean during the war, after the war."

"Do you really want to know, kid?"

"Davis, sir. My name is Davis."

Shocked that the boy would correct him, he smirked, something he hadn't done in a long time. "Then you'll call me Draco."

"Draco…" the boy tried, smiling. "Can you tell me about it?"

The graduating Slytherin bit at his bottom lip and wondered if he could tell the story without divulging his secrets, Harry's secrets.

He decided quickly that he would try.

"Where to begin," he murmured to himself, watching as the flames changed from red to orange, orange to smoke. It always ended that way. Fire always ended the same, in a cloud of smoke. "Well, I guess we can start at the beginning, where I decided to join the Light. Is that a good enough starting point for you?"

The boy nodded, his young excitement sparking memories that Draco so clearly needed to forget. And maybe, maybe this Davis could help with the release he needed.