The lyrics are to 'Behind Blue Eyes', the version by The Who/Pete Townsend.
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No one knows what it's like
To be the bad man
To be the sad man
Behind blue eyes
Draco looked out across the alley, keeping his features masked against the sadness he wanted to show as people flinched away from his gaze as though it would hurt them. He had gotten away from his father, but he had not escaped the damage he had done to the Malfoy name. It seemed that the name Malfoy was considered synonymous with evil, ever since Lucius Malfoy had been charged as a Death Eater in the last war, and everyone knew he had bought his way out of a conviction.
Nobody even seemed to consider that Draco Malfoy and Lucius Malfoy were two very different people. In their defense though, he had acted just like his father had taught him when he was young, and didn't know better. But nobody seemed to have grasped the fact that he might have grown up since then.
Though, he had seen sadness in Potter whenever the emerald locked with the bright blue that was one of the few legacies he'd inherited from the Black family. They rarely spoke though, so he didn't know why; he guessed it had to do with Potter's godfather, who had died back in fifth year. He had been a Black as well.
No one knows what it's like
To be hated
To be fated
To telling only lies
Harry curled into a ball in the middle of his bed. Ron and Hermione were coming to see him soon, but he didn't feel in any kind of mood to keep up his usual pretense with them today. He chuckled bitterly. He was more open with Malfoy, his schoolyard rival, than with his best friends. But then, wasn't that sometimes part of being a friend, wanting to protect them? He knew that they'd be horrified if they knew how much of an upheaval he'd been going through, so he'd hidden in from them. But now, he was a hair away from a panic attack, and he didn't think he'd be able to hide it from them any longer.
'You have to,' he told himself coldly. 'They don't need to know how close you are to loosing it. They don't deserve that kind of pain.' He ruthlessly suppressed the part of him that said he didn't deserve to have nobody to confide in. The only people he felt close enough to trust with his secrets, he had to protect against the pain he would cause them for as long as possible. It was just his fate, to cause pain to the people close to him.
There was a knock on the door, and he leapt from the bed, pasting a false look of good cheer onto his face. Someday he might give up this charade, but for now it was the only thing keeping him going. He wondered if there was anybody else who would understand that.
But my dreams
They aren't as empty
As my conscience seems to be
Draco sighed, leaning back against the wall. All his life, he had dreamed of being Minister of Magic, and doing good for his people, but it was likely that even his ambition would be looked at though the colored glass of prejudice, and seen only as seeking fame. Really, fame was one of the things farthest from his mind. He had seen, though Potter, how fickle a thing fame was, and all to often ephemeral. He wanted to make a mark on the wizarding world, clean up the corruption that had allowed his father so much power in the first place. Everyone knew that money bought whatever you wanted of the Ministry. That was something he wanted to change. Justice shouldn't be bought and sold like wheat, or allowed to fly in the wind like chaff.
Nobody saw the ideals clear in eyes that looked out of his father's face.
I have hours; only lonely
My love is vengeance
That's never free
His fist clenched as he stared out the window at the people below. What did they care if he lived or died? Everyone expected to kill Voldemort, since he was the Chosen One, but other than his celebrity, did any of those people care about him?
No.
If it weren't for his those who had sacrificed their lives for him –his mother, his father, Sirius,- he would have said 'fuck it' a long time ago. They didn't deserve his help. He could be anywhere in the world right now. Between the Black vaults and the Potter vaults, he could easily be described as filthy rich. The only reason he was still in England was because he wanted satisfaction for the deaths of his family.
Until he got that, he'd stay, and pretend he actually cared about Wizarding England. But as soon as Snake-face was gone, he had a standing invitation to France, and Bulgaria, tendered at the culmination of the Tri-Wizard Tournament by his opponents, who had been shocked to see the defiant 'leetle boy' so torn up after Cedric's death and Voldemort's resurrection. And he had told them about it, before anybody thought to forbid him, and managed to only promise not to talk about it with anyone who didn't already know, so he could still write them for an outside opinion, though how outside Fleur was is debatable, with her being engaged to Bill and all.
No one knows what it's like
To feel these feelings
Like I do
And I blame you
Ah, Harry, Harry, Harry. In the privacy of his own mind, Draco could call him that, though he didn't think he'd ever dare to do so aloud. At least, he wouldn't without a lot of strong alcohol inside him.
Honestly though, he felt he had as much right to call Harry by his given name as the pathetic little know-it-all, and the Weasel did. With as often as they'd turned against him, and gone behind his back, and controlled him, they didn't deserve to keep his friendship. Any Slytherin would have cast them aside long ago for their faithlessness. But Harry had a Hufflepuff's forgiving heart, as well as his Gryffindor courage and a small amount of Slytherin cunning.
He had gone against his father because of Harry, though Harry would never know it. If it weren't for Harry, always challenging him, always pushing boundaries Draco had never thought to test, he would be in reality what the Wizarding world thought he was. Loyal son and training to be a Death Eater just like his father. He wouldn't have broken his mother's heart by leaving home, and he wouldn't be planning to break Pansy Parkinson's by refusing to marry her when the time came. They had been betrothed when they were children, and he knew that Pansy had always thought he'd be the perfect husband. Unfortunately for her, just like the rest of the Wizarding world, he was not the person she thought he was.
No one bites back as hard
On their anger
None of my pain and woe
Can show through
Harry gritted his teeth and pretended to smile at yet another complete imbecile who was working himself into a panic about whatever the hell they were talking about now. He wasn't even paying attention, though he knew Hermione would verbally flay him should that bit of information ever reach her. He could get a recap from Arthur or Remus with very little effort, and he always paid attention to the people who actually knew what they were talking about. The name Malfoy caught his attention.
"He's completely dropped off the radar. Has anyone seen him?"
"Malfoy the younger?" Harry asked. "He's my neighbor. He's actually easier to be around than most of you are."
"Why is that, Potter?" Snape asked sharply, and for once Harry could actually bring himself to forgive his sharp tone. He was just worried about his adoptive godson.
"Because he doesn't look at me like I'm either a savior or a hopeless failure, and I can count on one hand the people who have a differing outlook, and still have fingers left over." Harry was glad that Dumbledore wasn't present for this meeting, as he was still successfully hiding his escape from his erstwhile mentor. He just didn't feel like listening to the old man's recriminations, delivered in that oh-so-sorrowful tone. Especially since all he wanted to do was tell him to go to hell every time he got started. Several people winced at his less-than-charitable assessment of their behavior, though most of them didn't even realize they were doing it most of the time. Snape gave him an appraising look, but allowed the topic to be changed.
But my dreams
They aren't as empty
As my conscience seems to be
Draco woke suddenly, with a strangled gasp. He turned on his side, laughing shakily when he realized he'd instinctively turned to face the object of his highly unauthorized, but not at all unwelcome dream. It was about Harry, of course, most of his dreams nowadays were. Harry, on his knees, doing wickedly delicious things to- He halted that thought in its tracks. While he was asleep was one thing, but he would not allow himself to entertain fantasies of his next-door neighbor while he was conscious. There was no point in teasing himself with the unattainable.
He felt a familiar aura press against his wards, then move slowly away. He opened the door to see Harry a few steps away, headed towards his own apartment.
"Potter. Won't you come in?" he asked, secretly delighted for the opportunity, though he made sure nothing showed on his face but mild curiosity. Harry turned, surprise and uncertainty showing in his posture, though his command of his expression was fairly good. Draco stepped into the hall, pushing the door wide with one hand, gesturing inward with the other. Watching him warily, Harry walked into the apartment, glancing discretely around.
"Nice place, Malfoy," he said idly. Draco smiled.
"I like it. Plus, the fact that it's small and surrounded by other apartments mostly keeps father away." Harry nodded absently.
"Did you know there are no less than six surveillance charms on this room?" Draco's eyes widened. He had only caught four.
"Six? Are you sure?" Harry nodded.
"Not that I care. I short them out temporarily, and it looks natural, too."
"How do you do that?" Harry grinned at him.
"Magic, of course." Draco rolled his eyes. "Why am I here, Malfoy?"
"Because you decided to accept my invitation. Tea?" Harry growled at him, and Draco had to close his eyes to contain his automatic reaction to that sound.
"You know what I mean. Why did you invite me in? You've never done anything like that before…."
"You never touched my door before either. Do you want tea?" Not waiting for a reply, he turned and headed to the kitchen, collecting a tea tray. When he returned, Harry was sitting by the fireplace, watching the conjured flames. They didn't give off any heat, but they were pretty to watch. "Had it ever occurred to you that maybe I'm lonely too?" He took it as a minor victory that Harry didn't deny being lonely, especially since he was sure that had one of his friends even tried to hint that they thought he was lonely, he would shut them down. Instead, he stared pensively into the flames.
"There's so much I hide from them. I know they'd be upset if they knew, but I still feel like I have to protect them, y'know? Especially them, since I put them through so much shit."
"You do? Forgive me, but I'd rather thought it was the dark lord's fault."
"But they wouldn't be involved if they weren't my friends," Harry argued stubbornly. Draco shrugged.
"If you feel that strongly, I won't be able to convince you. And you don't trust me enough to not wonder why I'm saying this anyway, so let's drop it. Tea?" he asked again, holding out a steaming cup. Harry took it, a bemused smile on his face.
"How do I know I can trust you?" he asked slowly, holding the cup like his fingers were cold.
"Well, you're not dead or unconscious to be delivered to the dark lord."
"There could be a potion in the tea." Draco shrugged.
"There could be, but there's not." When Harry didn't say anything, he sighed. "Come on, Potter. Have I ever lied to you before?" Harry gave him an intense glance, then raised the cup to his lips, sipping slowly. A pleased smile bloomed on his lips, as he tasted the rich chamomile Draco had blended with the tea before he'd brewed it, along with orange zest to pull the bitterness from the tea. Harry stirred a small spoonful of honey into his, leaning back against the wall, sipping contentedly.
I have hours; only lonely
My love is vengeance
That's never free
Harry started spending a lot of his free time with the blond, and they both realized quickly just how often he was on his own. Ron and Hermione had finally succumbed to his hints that he would prefer to exist with less of their company right now, as they were always fighting and it was getting harder and harder to resist locking them in a closet together, which, regardless of whether it worked or not, would tick them both off.
"I gotta go soon. Ron and Hermione'll be getting here in about half an hour," Harry said idly, but made no move to leave, instead pouring another cup of tea. He leaned back into the corner of the couch, eyes closing tiredly. After a few moments, Draco reached out and took his mug out of his hands. He habitually dosed Harry's tea with an herb that caused drowsiness, and he had forgotten that Harry's friends would be coming by that afternoon. Shrugging, he tucked a small pillow under Harry's neck to keep it from cramping, and covered him with a light blanket, as he seemed to get cold easily. Harry murmured incomprehensibly, curling into the warmth, wrapping one hand around the edge of the blanket.
When my fist clenches, crack it open
Before I use it and lose my cool
When I smile, tell me some bad news
Before I laugh and act like a fool
He felt a vague presence against the very edge of his wards, and sighed, standing. He walked slowly to the door, hoping that they would just leave, but knowing that this would just cause more problems with them for Harry, and he didn't want Harry to loose them completely, though he was enjoying Harry having the free time to spend with him.
"Weasley," he called, opening the door. "Granger. In here." Granger frowned, but followed him hesitantly. She gasped when she saw Harry asleep on the couch, running to him. Draco rolled his eyes, but stayed by the door until Weasley had entered, shutting and re-warding it behind him. Harry stirred restlessly as he felt the energy levels changing.
"Draco?" he whimpered like a frightened child. Draco momentarily rested his hand on top of Harry's head as he passed.
"I'm here. Go back to sleep."
"M'kay," he hummed, curling even more into the corner. He gestured the other two, who were watching in shock, to the opposite couch, taking the half-full teapot back into the kitchen area, returning with a pot free of the sleep-inducing herbs Harry's was made from.
"What did you do to him, Malfoy?" Weasley exclaimed angrily.
"I gave him tea made from chamomile and cloves."
"Why?" Granger, at least, knew what those herbs all had in common, which was a soporific effect.
"He doesn't sleep at night. I can hear him, through the wall, pacing. All night sometimes." He shrugged. "And anyway, he likes it." They sat in silence for a while, until Harry started stirring. Glancing up at the clock, Draco realized he must have drunk less than he'd thought. He hadn't expected him to start waking for another twenty minutes or so. Granger flung herself on him as soon as his eyes opened.
"Oh, Harry, I thought you'd said the nightmares had gone away."
"I never said that," he said sleepily, reaching absently for the cup of tea Draco was habitually handing him. "You asked if I was sleeping, and I said I was. And it was true. I come here and sleep four, five hours or so. And I usually get two or three hours of sleep a night." Suddenly, Draco sat bolt upright.
"You have to leave. Now. Father'll be here in ten minutes." Harry's eyes widened, and he practically dragged his friends out of the apartment and into his own.
If I swallow anything evil
Put your finger down my throat
If I shiver, please give me a blanket
Keep me warm, let me wear your coat
"What was that about, Harry?" Ron asked furiously. Harry shrugged, faux-casually.
"His father doesn't know we live in the same building. We're trying to maintain this state of affairs for as long as possible." Ron snorted disbelievingly.
"Right. He's probably planning with his daddy how to capture you. They just don't want you to know."
"Draco's not going to hurt me!" Harry exclaimed. He glared at Ron.
"He's just worried about you, Harry. You've been so withdrawn lately, and we find out you've been seeing Malfoy…." Harry growled. His friends were really getting on his nerves.
"You could trust me."
Hours later, there was a subdued knock on the door. He opened it to see Draco's purposely-blank face. He moved to draw the other inside, but he shook his head slightly.
"Father brought word that the Dark Lord is anxious to see me. I have to go, now. Looks like you were right. I won't be able to avoid it after all. Just came to let you know, and tell you I'll do it. I'll probably be gone about a week, then they're probably going to send me back out to gather information, since I'm already set up for it here." Harry's eyes fell closed, but he nodded, and darted forward to hug him tightly.
"Be safe," he whispered as he withdrew. Draco smiled slightly and reached up to touch his face before he turned and walked away. Harry stood in the door and watched until he was out of sight.
No one knows what it's like
To be the bad man
To be the sad man
Behind blue eyes
Draco sighed as he warded himself into his room. It felt strange to be here again. Almost as though he had never left, and all that had taken place at his little flat was nothing more than a dream.
Except that his father and Severus were both giving him speculative looks, and his mother tried to spend every moment of the day with him. Pansy and Blaise weren't allowed to visit, and any orders he gave the elves had to pass through his father. And above all, he missed Harry dreadfully.
Turning, he stared out the open window, towards London and Harry. Slowly, he blew a kiss towards the distant figure, then turned out all the lights, collapsing into his bed, trying to forget, for a moment, what was being required of him.
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So, the first story gets them around each other, this one starts a relationship. I suppose the next one will have the continuing development of their relationship, and who knows what else will happen. I sure don't. I'll try to let you know what song the next one will be to as soon as I decide.