Phantasmagoria
By: ShinigamiForever
Warnings: Slash, some strangeness. Hopefully it's not cliché, I'm trying.
Pairings: Harry/Draco, Ron/Hermione… um… some others I might just throw at you.
Summary: Wherein Fate thinks it's amusing to constantly place Harry and Draco in rather compromising situations. Wherein Ron, Hermione, Seamus, Dean and some others decide to play match maker for the two. Wherein the seventh year ends up to be rather catastrophic. A Harry/Draco production.
A/N: This will take me forever to finish! So sorry if one chapter takes months to get out. Do forgive, I'm slow. The beginning segment of each part will come into play at the very end, so if it's confusing, I'm sorry. Just ignore it and come back to it when (if) I get this story finished.
1 Chapter 1: The Hatchet That Refuses To Be Buried
They handed him the visor so gently he was afraid it would break when he touched it, and he was sincerely relieved when it didn't shatter into a million pieces. It as a wide band of magnetic screens and metal, covered on the outside with connecting wires and switches. They all led back to the master computer. He had never really seen a computer before; when he first saw one, they had to cajole him back into the testing area, he was so impressed. The keys were like their own magic. So little keys do so many things.
They had tubes and sensors on his body, little humming insects against his skin. Blood rate, pulse, adrenaline, brain waves, the rest. He didn't know what it would do to monitor him. He always figured it was a life and death situation. But his hands were strapped with millions of sensors and electric tubes, and a band around his forehead was cutting into the skin.
The visor fitted over his eyes with a little leeway. The scientists leaned over and adjusted the straps, making the cracks of light around the metal and plastic disappear. He was plunged into this singular well of darkness, and he had to bite his lips to keep him from crying out. A mask was placed over his nose, cutting off any noise of protest he was going to make.
A sweet smell ran through the gas mask, a type of chemical they were making him breathe. To relax, they had said. A sedative. And he found it worked, because moments after, his eyelids began to droop, ever so slightly, even with the band chaffing his forehead and the sensors stuck all over his body.
The machines began their silent work after he fell asleep.
***
Harry had made up his mind long before that he would be the first to apologize and not act like he was suffering and actually say the words "I'm sorry."
Of course, that was so much easier looking from the other end of summer, not just a couple days before he would have to get back on the Hogwart's Express and face the situation head on.
The question that had arisen in his mind a couple of days ago was, where had he gotten the insane idea? Easy. When Sirius had sent him that note telling him that he needed all the allies he could get, even if he had to make amends with some people (in parenthesis, 'Slytherins' written in a pained hand). He had, at that time, smiled confidentially and thought to himself, I have friends, and also thought about whether or not Sirius had lost his marbles, suggesting he make amends with Slytherins. Ron didn't know about the letter, or else he would be howling Sirius ever chance he got for suggesting anything as ludicrous as asking to Slytherins for help.
But a few days of pondering and nights of thinking left him wondering, are my friends enough?
Because while Ron and Hermione were loyal to the end, they were only two against the hundreds that would be up against them. He had other friends, of course. Fred, George, Ginny, Seamus, Dean… he counted them off on his fingers. However, he realized that he needed someone to offset the gallant white they all put forth. Someone that was smart and cunning, sly and stealthy, slimy, someone his age but just as intelligent, someone who wouldn't be afraid of telling him off, and most of all, someone who could think like a Death Eater.
And of course, that left him only with one choice: Draco Malfoy.
So, packing up his bags at the Weasley's home, he thought about the ways to approach a Malfoy and apologize without getting laughed at or ridiculed, because by God! he still had some pride left. With extra bravado, he slammed the top of one of his trunks shut, fuming about how Sirius better be right about needing to make amends.
He wasn't going to risk his pride for nothing. Especially not to Draco Malfoy.
***
Harry, Ron, and Hermione, all carrying their respective luggage, found their way onto the train with ease, considering the entire trip to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters was spent griping about the loss of summer and about more homework.
Hermione had severely lectured them about waiting until the last few weeks of summer to do their homework, to which Ron had hotly declared that he had better things, such as Quidditch, to do, to which Hermione replied in turn that homework was most definitely more important than Quidditch, and that had sparked an argument loud enough to make Harry want to take an headache reliever and a sleeping draught simply to shut out the racket.
But all was peachy now.
Or, as peachy as it was going to get. Harry still had a queasy feeling in his stomach as he thought of his upcoming ordeal. After locating an empty compartment, he found himself constantly looking out the window for traces of blond hair and gray eyes, but he couldn't find the Slytherin for the life of him. Ron and Hermione were setting up a chess game when he suddenly asked, "Where do you think Malfoy is?"
Ron promptly dropped the pawn he had been holding. Bending up to pick it off the ground, he stared at Harry in sheer amazement. "Harry, have you gone insane? Why would you want to know where that creep is?" He slapped the chess piece onto the board before turning back to Harry and placing his hand on Harry's forehead. "You sick or something?"
Harry scowled and swatted at Ron's hand in annoyance, feeling rather stupid. "No, I am NOT insane. It's just-" and stopped before he could say anything else.
Hermione peered over Ron anxiously and said, "You're not going to try and pick a fight with him, are you?"
"Of course not," he snapped. "And anyway, he's always the one to start." Then why was he going to be the first to apologize? He shook his head, irritated. This was not working.
"Just wait," Ron said darkly, playing with the crown of the black king. "He'll come visit us in a little while. You start," he added, nodding towards Hermione.
She beat him in ten minutes. Ron's expression intensified until it was like a storm cloud, and Harry and Hermione rightly steered clear out of his way.
But it looked like Draco Malfoy was in no mood to do the same, and sure enough, after about an hour of watching Ron sulk, Harry was confronted with Draco, dressed up in bright new black robes and flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.
"Malfoy," Harry said, trying to keep his tone neutral. "How nice of you to visit."
"Potter," came the slow sneer, drawing out the syllables. "How nice of you to remember me."
"Now that you have graced us with your presence," Hermione replied scathingly, "you have our permission to leave."
"Just for that, Granger," Draco said, smirking, "I think I'll stay just a little longer." He perched himself quite elegantly on the seat opposite Harry. Crabbe and Goyle shuffled their way over to sandwich the pale blond in between.
Harry groaned and muttered "Oh hell," to himself before deciding to take the plunge. "Malfoy, can I talk to you outside?" He watched one slim silver eyebrow arch up and clenched his fists to avoid hitting Draco.
"Talk? We don't talk, remember? We insult and hit each other and fight duels, but we don't talk." Harry felt the anger begin to work its way through his veins. He took a deep breath and began to count to ten, but the same insolent voice interrupted his counting. "Of course, if the talk is an invitation to leave, I gladly accept. The Mudblood's slime is starting to stink up this compartment."
He lunged forward, grabbing for the collar of Draco's robes, but Hermione held him back, murmuring, "Just ignore him." He settled instead for glaring angrily at his nemesis.
"Don't insult my friends," he growled. His mind produced an image of spit hurling into that infuriating face.
"Oh don't worry, Potter. I have better things to do," and swept out of the room, Crabbe and Goyle guffawing like trolls behind him
After a few minutes, Ron spoke up. "See? I told you he would visit us. You wanted to see him? There he was." Harry flung himself into a seat, muttering curses under his breath. Hermione and Ron exchanged glances before setting up another chess game.
This time, Ron won.
***
He didn't remember exactly when he had started to stop hating Draco Malfoy. Actually, it wasn't so much as a stop to hating him, it was more just plain indifference. He had never really hated Malfoy himself, he just hated the stupid meaningless pranks he played on them constantly. A tit for tat game that was starting to fray on his nerves.
It was Harry's own fault to begin with. After all, he was the one who refused Malfoy's offer of being friends and had done everything possible to aggravate the boy in the beginning. Started out on the wrong foot and stayed that way.
Harry was not so vain as to not admit he had been quite jealous of the Slytherin. Draco Malfoy had family prestige, honor, knowledge of how to act in the wizard world, and mostly, no scar on his forehead that . He had done things to get under that pale skin just so Malfoy would be like him, human. It was that simple.
But as year dragged into year, he realized that hate was not quite the word for it anymore. In his case, it was just rivalry, an almost friendly competition. But with Malfoy, it was straight out war. He never had enough of cornering Harry in the hallways and starting fights that always ended up with points taken from their houses. Quidditch games were teeth-pulling battles. It was Catch the Snitch or Die.
Harry was, of course, also part of the problem. He had his fiercely competitive nature too, making life difficult for the both of them. But he had stopped feeling like Fury Incarnate and had settled for a brotherly annoyance when dealing with Malfoy.
He recognized, now, sitting on the train going to Hogwarts, that it was the fade-off of animosity between him and Malfoy that made the idea of apologizing so much easier. Deep down, he probably wanted cross the rift between the two and start being friends.
Hell, if he started it, might as well end it too, right?
With that in mind, he cheered up significantly and began to join in on the conversation between Ron and Hermione on the possibility of playing a prank on Snape.
***
The rest of the trip proved uneventful. Harry had decided that he would wait a little before approaching Malfoy again; after all, a few days couldn't hurt. His mind continued to tell him that if he put it off any longer, he would lose all initiative to actually apologize- no, make amends- and never get around it ever again.
But one could always hope.
It was just their luck that the weather turned rainy as they were crossing the lake. A huge downpour caught the students on the boat, making the water rough and soaking every last one of them down to the skin. Ron was complaining the entire way through, trying to wring out his robes while avoiding more rain.
In his haste to get inside the castle, Harry didn't watch where he was going, and a few feet away from the entrance he ran smack dab into another person. It took him a while to look up through the daze and recognize a scowling Draco Malfoy.
"Watch where you're going, Potter."
'Standing in the rain a few steps away from the entrance of Hogwarts' was not top on Harry's list of ways he would like to be when trying to apologize to his archenemy. However, it wasn't like Fate really was going to give him a choice. "I need to talk to with you."
"So you decide to run into me. Transferal of message through osmosis?" Draco suggested scornfully.
"Piss off, Malfoy."
"You're the one that needs to talk to me. At least wait until we're inside." Shrugging nonchalantly, he made his way into the castle. Harry watched him leave with an air of awe. Even with the rain pouring down in gallons, Draco still managed to look poised and groomed, while Harry just felt like a drowned cat. Regardless, he followed the young man in front of him, anxiously looking back to see if Ron and Hermione were catching up. He caught no sight of them in the crowd, even though he thought Ron would surely be easier to spot.
The entrance way into the Great Hall was grandiose and chilly as always. Peeves made it a point to drop a great deal of water bombs on the first years, earning him the wrath of Professor McGonagall. Harry followed Draco into a small alcove-like corner next to a suit of armor. He was rather reluctant about being seen in public with Malfoy, but within seconds he realized the shadows made it next to impossible to see anyone. He caught a glimpse of Ron's hair in the passing flow, but everyone quickly emptied out into the Great Hall, leaving Draco and Harry behind.
"So talk," Draco said, crossing his arms across his chest and leaning insolently against the suit of armor. His hair was wet in loose strands across his face. Harry was fascinated with a drip of water pinging against the ground, streaming from Draco's sleeve.
"Right. So, uh…" He suddenly felt himself inarticulate, face to face with Draco. What was the longest time they've spent together without trying to kill each other? The record was probably 5 seconds.
"What? Cat got your tongue?"
"No," he shot out, rubbing his palms nervously against his wet pants. "I just wanted to… uh…"
"Spit it out, Potter," Draco drawled in a bored tone of voice, looking down at his fingernails. Harry noted with some curiosity that Draco's nails were perfect looking, as if they had been manicured. Turning his head slightly around, he looked at his own nails, torn and ragged at the edges. He shook his head, then turned back to Draco's downward eyes.
"I wanted to say, I'm sorry for everything I've done to you, and I hope we'll be friends." There, he thought to himself, gulping. There. I said it. Now what?
"Well, well, well, Potter. Come to beg for my company?" The sarcasm was dreadful.
"No, it's not that, it's-" Oh yes, stutter, that's really going to help.
"You want me for an ally on your side."
"What? No, not at all!" Except that's exactly why you're doing this, isn't it.
"No?"
"Of course not! What, did you think I was-"
"Trying to make sure that your side wins? Yes."
"Malfoy, that's not the question and you know it!"
"Oh? That isn't the question? Then tell me, why are you suddenly so interested in making me your friend?"
"I just thought- I just thought that it would be nice, you know…" he faltered, looking for words. "To come out of this alive, this war, together, kind of. Like, I don't know, brothers? Friends? At least not enemies because…" Reason, reason, he thought to himself, think of a reason. "There's already so many enemies," he finished lamely, out of steam.
He tried to think of an explanation for his words. Struggling mutely against his rampaging thoughts, he tried to sort out all the strange ideas running through his mind. There were thoughts he never knew he had thought, incoherent reasons that made no sense to anyone but himself. Not even himself.
"No." Harry looked up, quickly abandoning his half formed thoughts when he met Draco's eyes, cold sharp steel in the dark. The Slytherin had his fists closed, pressed firmly against the metal behind him, and his eyes were trained on Harry's face like the muzzle of a gun.
"Why?"
"No," Draco said again, almost growling. A look of wild ferocity crossed his face.
"Damn it, Malfoy! Give me a reason!"
"They're my reasons, and I sure as hell don't have to give them to you!" He banged his fists against the armor, hard hits that rang softly in the empty entranceway. "Potter, sometimes the reasons make less sense-"
But Harry had long ago stopped paying attention to Draco and had instead been gaping at the tall looming metal figure behind him. The sharp raps Draco had given the armor seemed more than its stands could bear, and it was beginning to lean forward, toppling over. Malfoy turned his head around to catch the shadow of the rusty armor as it fell.
Harry wasn't quite sure exactly how the armor had toppled. He only knew that he was pushed onto the floor with a rough force, and, when he opened his eyes, found himself staring straight into dark gray pools of color. A soft breath was washing over his face. There was a weight thrown on his body, unnatural and bulky, all arms and legs. Draco and the armor had both fallen on him.
"What-" he managed, then froze, feeling the contours of someone else's body above him. The wet robes clinging to Draco's skin made the contact unbearably warm.
Skin against skin.
Leg against leg, arm against arm, chest against chest. Like some snapshot from a romance movie.
He struggled to get up, only to find that it was impossible. "Get the hell off me!" he yelled, hands bracing at his sides to lever the Slytherin away from him.
"Don't you think I'm trying?" Draco hissed into Harry's face, nose a few inches away.
His lips, full and pink. His skin, pale like oleander. No, Harry, don't think about that. It's Malfoy we're talking about.
"The armor's on top of me!"
"So do something about it!"
Harry heard an exasperated sigh, then Draco began to shuffle awkwardly off of the boy under him. However, try as he might, the weight of the armor kept him pinned down. And he was forced to stay as he was, head jutted agonizingly close against Harry's collarbone.
"MR. MALFOY, MR. POTTER, WHAT DO YOU TWO THINK YOU'RE DOING?!"
"Bloody hell," Harry heard Draco's voice say, slightly muffled by his position. The echo of McGonagall's voice was still ringing in his ears as he tried once again to sit up. A group of first and second years were already gathered around the scene, as well as a few older students that leered at the pair.
"I can explain, Professor," Harry said as she began to lift the armor up with a spell. Draco quickly slid off Harry and got up, shaking his robes in dismay. As Harry got up too, he caught sight of a slight blush on Malfoy's cheek. If it hadn't been for his involvement in the situation, he would have laughed.
"Good. Start explaining."
"Well, you see, Harry wanted to talk to me-"
"He pulled me into this corner-"
"I thought it would be better if we went inside first-"
"And we started talking-"
"Except Harry started insulting me-"
"I did NOT! You got upset for no reason-"
"And then he started to attack me, so I tried to defend myself-"
"Malfoy, you are such a liar! Professor, he's lying-"
"And then he knocked over the armor-"
"You banged into it!"
"So it wasn't my fault at all!"
"MALFOY! I can't believe you're such a liar! That is NOT the truth and you know it!"
"BOYS!" McGonagall held up her hand to stop further protest, the bickering dying down. Her eyes regarded them sternly, but Harry could almost swear there was a hint of amusement there. Please let her let us off easily, he begged silently, his eyes pleading. "Well, if that's the best you two can do, I am forced to give you both detentions. Together." A flash of dark eyes and Draco swore under his breath. "You two will report to my room at 9:30 sharp. No complaining. If either one of you are late, both of you will serve detentions with Filch for the rest of the year."
Harry drew in a deep breath, hearing Draco do the same, and let it out, heart rapidly sinking into his stomach. "And," McGonagall continued after pausing briefly, "30 points off both of your houses."
"Professor-"
"That's not fair!"
"It was really his fault-"
"You should blame Potter for it!"
"Stop arguing before I make it double. Now, back to the Great Hall, the both of you," she said, quickly exiting into the said Hall. Draco and Harry exchanged frightfully murderous glances at each other before following her.
"Remember, 9:30," Draco muttered under his breath as they entered, facing the curious glances of their respective houses.
"Right. I swear, I'll hunt you down to hell if you don't show," Harry countered.
"Oh don't worry. The feelings are mutual." And they parted without much ado.
A/N: Yay! Got the first done. I think it's turned out nicely. Now, onto the second.
I'm sorry about any problems with placements of rooms. The Harry Potter Lexicon is a great site in case anyone wants to take a look at maps.
Reviews please! Thank you for reading, at least.
Quick Possible Summary for the Next Chapter:
Harry and Malfoy work out their detention, and both find out that old armors are the bane of their existence. Ron and Hermione play spy and eavesdrop, only to learn that innuendoes are bad, or at least give the wrong picture. Harry begins to hate half baked rumors.
By: ShinigamiForever
Warnings: Slash, some strangeness. Hopefully it's not cliché, I'm trying.
Pairings: Harry/Draco, Ron/Hermione… um… some others I might just throw at you.
Summary: Wherein Fate thinks it's amusing to constantly place Harry and Draco in rather compromising situations. Wherein Ron, Hermione, Seamus, Dean and some others decide to play match maker for the two. Wherein the seventh year ends up to be rather catastrophic. A Harry/Draco production.
A/N: This will take me forever to finish! So sorry if one chapter takes months to get out. Do forgive, I'm slow. The beginning segment of each part will come into play at the very end, so if it's confusing, I'm sorry. Just ignore it and come back to it when (if) I get this story finished.
1 Chapter 1: The Hatchet That Refuses To Be Buried
They handed him the visor so gently he was afraid it would break when he touched it, and he was sincerely relieved when it didn't shatter into a million pieces. It as a wide band of magnetic screens and metal, covered on the outside with connecting wires and switches. They all led back to the master computer. He had never really seen a computer before; when he first saw one, they had to cajole him back into the testing area, he was so impressed. The keys were like their own magic. So little keys do so many things.
They had tubes and sensors on his body, little humming insects against his skin. Blood rate, pulse, adrenaline, brain waves, the rest. He didn't know what it would do to monitor him. He always figured it was a life and death situation. But his hands were strapped with millions of sensors and electric tubes, and a band around his forehead was cutting into the skin.
The visor fitted over his eyes with a little leeway. The scientists leaned over and adjusted the straps, making the cracks of light around the metal and plastic disappear. He was plunged into this singular well of darkness, and he had to bite his lips to keep him from crying out. A mask was placed over his nose, cutting off any noise of protest he was going to make.
A sweet smell ran through the gas mask, a type of chemical they were making him breathe. To relax, they had said. A sedative. And he found it worked, because moments after, his eyelids began to droop, ever so slightly, even with the band chaffing his forehead and the sensors stuck all over his body.
The machines began their silent work after he fell asleep.
***
Harry had made up his mind long before that he would be the first to apologize and not act like he was suffering and actually say the words "I'm sorry."
Of course, that was so much easier looking from the other end of summer, not just a couple days before he would have to get back on the Hogwart's Express and face the situation head on.
The question that had arisen in his mind a couple of days ago was, where had he gotten the insane idea? Easy. When Sirius had sent him that note telling him that he needed all the allies he could get, even if he had to make amends with some people (in parenthesis, 'Slytherins' written in a pained hand). He had, at that time, smiled confidentially and thought to himself, I have friends, and also thought about whether or not Sirius had lost his marbles, suggesting he make amends with Slytherins. Ron didn't know about the letter, or else he would be howling Sirius ever chance he got for suggesting anything as ludicrous as asking to Slytherins for help.
But a few days of pondering and nights of thinking left him wondering, are my friends enough?
Because while Ron and Hermione were loyal to the end, they were only two against the hundreds that would be up against them. He had other friends, of course. Fred, George, Ginny, Seamus, Dean… he counted them off on his fingers. However, he realized that he needed someone to offset the gallant white they all put forth. Someone that was smart and cunning, sly and stealthy, slimy, someone his age but just as intelligent, someone who wouldn't be afraid of telling him off, and most of all, someone who could think like a Death Eater.
And of course, that left him only with one choice: Draco Malfoy.
So, packing up his bags at the Weasley's home, he thought about the ways to approach a Malfoy and apologize without getting laughed at or ridiculed, because by God! he still had some pride left. With extra bravado, he slammed the top of one of his trunks shut, fuming about how Sirius better be right about needing to make amends.
He wasn't going to risk his pride for nothing. Especially not to Draco Malfoy.
***
Harry, Ron, and Hermione, all carrying their respective luggage, found their way onto the train with ease, considering the entire trip to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters was spent griping about the loss of summer and about more homework.
Hermione had severely lectured them about waiting until the last few weeks of summer to do their homework, to which Ron had hotly declared that he had better things, such as Quidditch, to do, to which Hermione replied in turn that homework was most definitely more important than Quidditch, and that had sparked an argument loud enough to make Harry want to take an headache reliever and a sleeping draught simply to shut out the racket.
But all was peachy now.
Or, as peachy as it was going to get. Harry still had a queasy feeling in his stomach as he thought of his upcoming ordeal. After locating an empty compartment, he found himself constantly looking out the window for traces of blond hair and gray eyes, but he couldn't find the Slytherin for the life of him. Ron and Hermione were setting up a chess game when he suddenly asked, "Where do you think Malfoy is?"
Ron promptly dropped the pawn he had been holding. Bending up to pick it off the ground, he stared at Harry in sheer amazement. "Harry, have you gone insane? Why would you want to know where that creep is?" He slapped the chess piece onto the board before turning back to Harry and placing his hand on Harry's forehead. "You sick or something?"
Harry scowled and swatted at Ron's hand in annoyance, feeling rather stupid. "No, I am NOT insane. It's just-" and stopped before he could say anything else.
Hermione peered over Ron anxiously and said, "You're not going to try and pick a fight with him, are you?"
"Of course not," he snapped. "And anyway, he's always the one to start." Then why was he going to be the first to apologize? He shook his head, irritated. This was not working.
"Just wait," Ron said darkly, playing with the crown of the black king. "He'll come visit us in a little while. You start," he added, nodding towards Hermione.
She beat him in ten minutes. Ron's expression intensified until it was like a storm cloud, and Harry and Hermione rightly steered clear out of his way.
But it looked like Draco Malfoy was in no mood to do the same, and sure enough, after about an hour of watching Ron sulk, Harry was confronted with Draco, dressed up in bright new black robes and flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.
"Malfoy," Harry said, trying to keep his tone neutral. "How nice of you to visit."
"Potter," came the slow sneer, drawing out the syllables. "How nice of you to remember me."
"Now that you have graced us with your presence," Hermione replied scathingly, "you have our permission to leave."
"Just for that, Granger," Draco said, smirking, "I think I'll stay just a little longer." He perched himself quite elegantly on the seat opposite Harry. Crabbe and Goyle shuffled their way over to sandwich the pale blond in between.
Harry groaned and muttered "Oh hell," to himself before deciding to take the plunge. "Malfoy, can I talk to you outside?" He watched one slim silver eyebrow arch up and clenched his fists to avoid hitting Draco.
"Talk? We don't talk, remember? We insult and hit each other and fight duels, but we don't talk." Harry felt the anger begin to work its way through his veins. He took a deep breath and began to count to ten, but the same insolent voice interrupted his counting. "Of course, if the talk is an invitation to leave, I gladly accept. The Mudblood's slime is starting to stink up this compartment."
He lunged forward, grabbing for the collar of Draco's robes, but Hermione held him back, murmuring, "Just ignore him." He settled instead for glaring angrily at his nemesis.
"Don't insult my friends," he growled. His mind produced an image of spit hurling into that infuriating face.
"Oh don't worry, Potter. I have better things to do," and swept out of the room, Crabbe and Goyle guffawing like trolls behind him
After a few minutes, Ron spoke up. "See? I told you he would visit us. You wanted to see him? There he was." Harry flung himself into a seat, muttering curses under his breath. Hermione and Ron exchanged glances before setting up another chess game.
This time, Ron won.
***
He didn't remember exactly when he had started to stop hating Draco Malfoy. Actually, it wasn't so much as a stop to hating him, it was more just plain indifference. He had never really hated Malfoy himself, he just hated the stupid meaningless pranks he played on them constantly. A tit for tat game that was starting to fray on his nerves.
It was Harry's own fault to begin with. After all, he was the one who refused Malfoy's offer of being friends and had done everything possible to aggravate the boy in the beginning. Started out on the wrong foot and stayed that way.
Harry was not so vain as to not admit he had been quite jealous of the Slytherin. Draco Malfoy had family prestige, honor, knowledge of how to act in the wizard world, and mostly, no scar on his forehead that . He had done things to get under that pale skin just so Malfoy would be like him, human. It was that simple.
But as year dragged into year, he realized that hate was not quite the word for it anymore. In his case, it was just rivalry, an almost friendly competition. But with Malfoy, it was straight out war. He never had enough of cornering Harry in the hallways and starting fights that always ended up with points taken from their houses. Quidditch games were teeth-pulling battles. It was Catch the Snitch or Die.
Harry was, of course, also part of the problem. He had his fiercely competitive nature too, making life difficult for the both of them. But he had stopped feeling like Fury Incarnate and had settled for a brotherly annoyance when dealing with Malfoy.
He recognized, now, sitting on the train going to Hogwarts, that it was the fade-off of animosity between him and Malfoy that made the idea of apologizing so much easier. Deep down, he probably wanted cross the rift between the two and start being friends.
Hell, if he started it, might as well end it too, right?
With that in mind, he cheered up significantly and began to join in on the conversation between Ron and Hermione on the possibility of playing a prank on Snape.
***
The rest of the trip proved uneventful. Harry had decided that he would wait a little before approaching Malfoy again; after all, a few days couldn't hurt. His mind continued to tell him that if he put it off any longer, he would lose all initiative to actually apologize- no, make amends- and never get around it ever again.
But one could always hope.
It was just their luck that the weather turned rainy as they were crossing the lake. A huge downpour caught the students on the boat, making the water rough and soaking every last one of them down to the skin. Ron was complaining the entire way through, trying to wring out his robes while avoiding more rain.
In his haste to get inside the castle, Harry didn't watch where he was going, and a few feet away from the entrance he ran smack dab into another person. It took him a while to look up through the daze and recognize a scowling Draco Malfoy.
"Watch where you're going, Potter."
'Standing in the rain a few steps away from the entrance of Hogwarts' was not top on Harry's list of ways he would like to be when trying to apologize to his archenemy. However, it wasn't like Fate really was going to give him a choice. "I need to talk to with you."
"So you decide to run into me. Transferal of message through osmosis?" Draco suggested scornfully.
"Piss off, Malfoy."
"You're the one that needs to talk to me. At least wait until we're inside." Shrugging nonchalantly, he made his way into the castle. Harry watched him leave with an air of awe. Even with the rain pouring down in gallons, Draco still managed to look poised and groomed, while Harry just felt like a drowned cat. Regardless, he followed the young man in front of him, anxiously looking back to see if Ron and Hermione were catching up. He caught no sight of them in the crowd, even though he thought Ron would surely be easier to spot.
The entrance way into the Great Hall was grandiose and chilly as always. Peeves made it a point to drop a great deal of water bombs on the first years, earning him the wrath of Professor McGonagall. Harry followed Draco into a small alcove-like corner next to a suit of armor. He was rather reluctant about being seen in public with Malfoy, but within seconds he realized the shadows made it next to impossible to see anyone. He caught a glimpse of Ron's hair in the passing flow, but everyone quickly emptied out into the Great Hall, leaving Draco and Harry behind.
"So talk," Draco said, crossing his arms across his chest and leaning insolently against the suit of armor. His hair was wet in loose strands across his face. Harry was fascinated with a drip of water pinging against the ground, streaming from Draco's sleeve.
"Right. So, uh…" He suddenly felt himself inarticulate, face to face with Draco. What was the longest time they've spent together without trying to kill each other? The record was probably 5 seconds.
"What? Cat got your tongue?"
"No," he shot out, rubbing his palms nervously against his wet pants. "I just wanted to… uh…"
"Spit it out, Potter," Draco drawled in a bored tone of voice, looking down at his fingernails. Harry noted with some curiosity that Draco's nails were perfect looking, as if they had been manicured. Turning his head slightly around, he looked at his own nails, torn and ragged at the edges. He shook his head, then turned back to Draco's downward eyes.
"I wanted to say, I'm sorry for everything I've done to you, and I hope we'll be friends." There, he thought to himself, gulping. There. I said it. Now what?
"Well, well, well, Potter. Come to beg for my company?" The sarcasm was dreadful.
"No, it's not that, it's-" Oh yes, stutter, that's really going to help.
"You want me for an ally on your side."
"What? No, not at all!" Except that's exactly why you're doing this, isn't it.
"No?"
"Of course not! What, did you think I was-"
"Trying to make sure that your side wins? Yes."
"Malfoy, that's not the question and you know it!"
"Oh? That isn't the question? Then tell me, why are you suddenly so interested in making me your friend?"
"I just thought- I just thought that it would be nice, you know…" he faltered, looking for words. "To come out of this alive, this war, together, kind of. Like, I don't know, brothers? Friends? At least not enemies because…" Reason, reason, he thought to himself, think of a reason. "There's already so many enemies," he finished lamely, out of steam.
He tried to think of an explanation for his words. Struggling mutely against his rampaging thoughts, he tried to sort out all the strange ideas running through his mind. There were thoughts he never knew he had thought, incoherent reasons that made no sense to anyone but himself. Not even himself.
"No." Harry looked up, quickly abandoning his half formed thoughts when he met Draco's eyes, cold sharp steel in the dark. The Slytherin had his fists closed, pressed firmly against the metal behind him, and his eyes were trained on Harry's face like the muzzle of a gun.
"Why?"
"No," Draco said again, almost growling. A look of wild ferocity crossed his face.
"Damn it, Malfoy! Give me a reason!"
"They're my reasons, and I sure as hell don't have to give them to you!" He banged his fists against the armor, hard hits that rang softly in the empty entranceway. "Potter, sometimes the reasons make less sense-"
But Harry had long ago stopped paying attention to Draco and had instead been gaping at the tall looming metal figure behind him. The sharp raps Draco had given the armor seemed more than its stands could bear, and it was beginning to lean forward, toppling over. Malfoy turned his head around to catch the shadow of the rusty armor as it fell.
Harry wasn't quite sure exactly how the armor had toppled. He only knew that he was pushed onto the floor with a rough force, and, when he opened his eyes, found himself staring straight into dark gray pools of color. A soft breath was washing over his face. There was a weight thrown on his body, unnatural and bulky, all arms and legs. Draco and the armor had both fallen on him.
"What-" he managed, then froze, feeling the contours of someone else's body above him. The wet robes clinging to Draco's skin made the contact unbearably warm.
Skin against skin.
Leg against leg, arm against arm, chest against chest. Like some snapshot from a romance movie.
He struggled to get up, only to find that it was impossible. "Get the hell off me!" he yelled, hands bracing at his sides to lever the Slytherin away from him.
"Don't you think I'm trying?" Draco hissed into Harry's face, nose a few inches away.
His lips, full and pink. His skin, pale like oleander. No, Harry, don't think about that. It's Malfoy we're talking about.
"The armor's on top of me!"
"So do something about it!"
Harry heard an exasperated sigh, then Draco began to shuffle awkwardly off of the boy under him. However, try as he might, the weight of the armor kept him pinned down. And he was forced to stay as he was, head jutted agonizingly close against Harry's collarbone.
"MR. MALFOY, MR. POTTER, WHAT DO YOU TWO THINK YOU'RE DOING?!"
"Bloody hell," Harry heard Draco's voice say, slightly muffled by his position. The echo of McGonagall's voice was still ringing in his ears as he tried once again to sit up. A group of first and second years were already gathered around the scene, as well as a few older students that leered at the pair.
"I can explain, Professor," Harry said as she began to lift the armor up with a spell. Draco quickly slid off Harry and got up, shaking his robes in dismay. As Harry got up too, he caught sight of a slight blush on Malfoy's cheek. If it hadn't been for his involvement in the situation, he would have laughed.
"Good. Start explaining."
"Well, you see, Harry wanted to talk to me-"
"He pulled me into this corner-"
"I thought it would be better if we went inside first-"
"And we started talking-"
"Except Harry started insulting me-"
"I did NOT! You got upset for no reason-"
"And then he started to attack me, so I tried to defend myself-"
"Malfoy, you are such a liar! Professor, he's lying-"
"And then he knocked over the armor-"
"You banged into it!"
"So it wasn't my fault at all!"
"MALFOY! I can't believe you're such a liar! That is NOT the truth and you know it!"
"BOYS!" McGonagall held up her hand to stop further protest, the bickering dying down. Her eyes regarded them sternly, but Harry could almost swear there was a hint of amusement there. Please let her let us off easily, he begged silently, his eyes pleading. "Well, if that's the best you two can do, I am forced to give you both detentions. Together." A flash of dark eyes and Draco swore under his breath. "You two will report to my room at 9:30 sharp. No complaining. If either one of you are late, both of you will serve detentions with Filch for the rest of the year."
Harry drew in a deep breath, hearing Draco do the same, and let it out, heart rapidly sinking into his stomach. "And," McGonagall continued after pausing briefly, "30 points off both of your houses."
"Professor-"
"That's not fair!"
"It was really his fault-"
"You should blame Potter for it!"
"Stop arguing before I make it double. Now, back to the Great Hall, the both of you," she said, quickly exiting into the said Hall. Draco and Harry exchanged frightfully murderous glances at each other before following her.
"Remember, 9:30," Draco muttered under his breath as they entered, facing the curious glances of their respective houses.
"Right. I swear, I'll hunt you down to hell if you don't show," Harry countered.
"Oh don't worry. The feelings are mutual." And they parted without much ado.
A/N: Yay! Got the first done. I think it's turned out nicely. Now, onto the second.
I'm sorry about any problems with placements of rooms. The Harry Potter Lexicon is a great site in case anyone wants to take a look at maps.
Reviews please! Thank you for reading, at least.
Quick Possible Summary for the Next Chapter:
Harry and Malfoy work out their detention, and both find out that old armors are the bane of their existence. Ron and Hermione play spy and eavesdrop, only to learn that innuendoes are bad, or at least give the wrong picture. Harry begins to hate half baked rumors.