Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns all the characters.

Author's Notes: Welcome back to 'I Love to Hate You'. The plot is still the same basic idea, but it's completely revamped. I have to give credit where credit is due, so let's start so I can get it over with already.

First and foremost, I have to thank my good friend Petra who encouraged me, at first, to write more. When I looked over the story, I realized I couldn't keep it the way it was. But thanks to her, I went back to work on it. Thank you so much! Send some love her way and check out her story 'Harry Potter and the Final Meeting'.

Second, I have to make this known. The whole change in the story is due to an old crack-ish fic I wrote a long time ago with a... well, I don't know what she is now to be honest. She played Harry and I was Draco. So, I took some old posts and put them together into the story. I changed a bit here and there, but it's still quite the same. So, for all other purposes, I need to send a thank you to Mel for being a friend a long time ago, and happily writing a story with me. It was a lot of fun, and one day I'd like to think we could do it again.

Here's to hoping. Enjoy.

I Love To Hate You

The Houses of Hogwarts have united during the dark times of war. A full frontal assault hasn't happened yet, but everyone is on their guard, waiting. Anticipating the attack to come. Classes resume as usual, except for the obvious lack of students. Many from the House of Slytherin have been removed by parents, a scattered few remain. No one knows what to make of these students. Are they traitors to their bloodlines? Are they placed within the safe walls of the school to report back to their parents, who were obviously in league with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?

No one knew and everyone was on edge. Teachers watched the hallways between classes, breaking up more than one spontaneous fight. Things were more than tense and nothing could ease the unnerving feeling settling over the school as days and weeks passed.

In the lonely dungeons, deep within the bowels of Hogwarts, one of the only seventh year students left pushed himself off a thickly stuff chintz chair, leaving the eerie shadows from the crackling green fire behind. He couldn't sit around forever, and there was studying to be done with upcoming exams.

He walked the hallways without fear. His family's business was published in the paper every day, and the whispers floated around him no matter where he went. No one tried to attack him or throw insults his way. The rumors just kept floating, but no one made a move.

After he rounded a corner in the hallways on the way to the library, he knocked into something solid and hard, too lost in his own winding thoughts to know what was going on about him.

So many things to memorize, so little time to do it in. There was only so much he could handle at once. But with the Ministry hounding him for publicity, exams and homework, oh, and let's not forget saving the bloody world, he barely had time to sleep. He had to bite the bullet, though. He was the one, and there was nothing he could do to change it.

He was going to go crazy, he knew it. St. Mungo's would be glad to have him.

The worst thing… the most torturous thing had been sorting out recent confusions within himself. It was so hard think that it was true, but it was. He had to keep up appearances and acts, get treated like crap and take it, because if there was anyone around, any small hint of what he was thinking, more people could be in danger. But that was his life. Lives hanging by a thread and he was barely hanging on to them.

Harry paused and started pawing through his bag to get at a scrap of parchment that had an important potion on it that he needed to memorize. He did this as he walked and bumped something that wasn't a wall. He looked up and started to apologize but cut it off and pulled his mouth down into a tight grimace.

Was anyone watching? He couldn't be sure. It wasn't safe.

"Watch it, Malfoy."

Draco looked upon Harry with the same bored, distant distaste that he'd always had. Though, he graced the other boy with the hint of a sneer. He'd left his robes open, hating the things when he didn't have to wear them for class, hands in the pocket of his dark colored slacks, matching the dark blue button up well.

Stopped in his tracks, he said nothing for a moment, looking down at the mop of continually mussed black hair, over his slightly pulled back face, into the green eyes that were enough to give him nightmares when he was truly mad. They were the same color as the Avada Kadavra.

But Draco would admit to nothing of the sort. Not the difference in them in public in private, the fears, the hate that wasn't exactly hate, just a mere jealousy.

"I was Potter," he drawled, sounding bored. "It's not my fault the help seems to get under foot. Now if you'll excuse me, I have studying to do in the library."

With that, he walked past Harry, footfalls echoing in the empty corridors. He was slightly nervous (just like every time), would he follow or brush him off? When would it end? Draco knew Harry had bigger matters than him, but every time he inadvertently gave away his destination when they 'bumped into each other', he couldn't help but wonder when Harry would start to really mean the things he said. When he would stop following, when they would finally be at each others throats.

Draco had a feeling he knew the day would come soon, and as he entered the library, he felt a pang of sorrowed defeat. He pulled a random book from a shelf and dropped into a seat in the dusty library. He opened it, but didn't read.

Harry was arguing with himself internally. He needed to study, and Hermione couldn't be found anywhere…

He resigned himself to go to the library too. He needed those notes. It wasn't for any other reason. He wasn't lying about it. There was nothing else for him to do anyways. He might as well, even if that prat was going to be there as well. Harry knew there was another reason, but he wouldn't let it charge to the forefront of his mind.

As he entered the library, he nodded at the continually scowling Madam Pince and went straight to the back section of the library. He knew where best to reference the potions he needed.

Harry grimaced as Draco shoved past. Should he follow? Or not? He did need to look up that damn potion since Hermione was no where to be found. With a sigh, he decided.
Hey if worst came to worst, he had another excuse for being there.

Harry spun and followed the fading footsteps in the general direction of the library. He was only going to look up the potion. Nothing else. No he wasn't lying to himself. He needed the answer to study. There was no gut feeling compelling him to follow after the blonde headed prat.

But no matter how much he denied it, he knew, buried in the back of his head that there was an ulterior motive.

He pushed the library door open and nodded to Madam Pince who was scowling as usual and headed for the back corner of the library. He knew the best potion references seeing as he had had Hermione hunt them out for him. They were buried in the back under a pile of dust.

And right near Malfoy.

Harry walked right by him, glancing at him from the corner of his eye before continuing to the shelf. R…R…Ra…Re…where is that bloody book?! Harry thought, a frown twisting his lips.

He glanced at Malfoy. No bloody way.

Harry cleared his throat as he scrambled for something to say, his mouth running dry as nothing came to him.

What do you say to your worst enemy when they probably have the book you need?

Draco heard the library doors open, and though he didn't want to get ahead of himself, he felt his breath catch and his heart pick up a bit. Still, it could've been someone else who walked in. He didn't dare turn his head to look. The blonde kept his eyes trained on the words he wasn't reading, flipping a page from time to time.

When he heard a throat clear next to him, he lazily turned his head, leaning back in the rigid chair. And there stood, The Boy Who Lived.

"The beast the Mudblood has running around, got your tongue, Potter?" The blonde sneered, but almost absently. There was no one save for Madam Pince in the place.

No need to be so rude. Just... rude enough. He couldn't help but be a little wary anyway, because what could Harry ever want with him? Mortal enemies, and this would only make it worse, wouldn't it?

It was annoying how miserably limited he was in actions. Had there been absolutely no one else around, he would've kicked out the chair beside him for Harry. Not completely giving in to total politeness, but enough to be civil and drop the scathing remarks.

The Dark Lord ruined that though. He could feel the burned skin on his arm now, as if it were a living thing attached to him. If it had only been the Dark Lord, maybe things wouldn't be so bad. His hate could have true basis. But no... there was still more.

The Order of the Phoenix.

It was more confusing than one could ever imagine. How he was acting was being monitored by two strong forces, both of them able to kill him in an instant if they so chose. Draco had to be careful of every step, possibly every thought. Harry could be his biggest downfall and the other boy wouldn't even know it.

Harry could get him killed. But wasn't it his own fault if it happened? Still, the hollow words were there:

Harry could get him killed.

Well that went well… Harry sighed to himself. Why did he even bother? For Merlin's sake, couldn't he have just gone to find Hermione? There was no way Draco would ever grow the bloody hell up.

And Harry had no one to tell. He couldn't tell any of his friends. The scathing remarks and years of torture had turned them permanently against anything Malfoy. It wasn't like he could tell Dumbledore. Wouldn't that be a nice conversation. "By the way Professor, I seem to be attracted to a male. And not only any male, but my mortal enemy. What the bloody hell should I do?"

Sirius might have been one to understand. He knows what its like to need a second chance because nobody knows the real truth, but he couldn't tell him either because Malfoy's aunt killed him.

So maybe Sirius wouldn't understand. The nephew of your murderer rarely ranked high on anybody's list of people to give second chances to.

"What was that Malfoy? I could have sworn I saw you mouth moving but heard nothing but the ooze of self-righteousness," Harry commented, running a hand through his unruly hair.

He was sure the line would have been much more self assuring had his stomach not chosen that exact moment to jump into his throat and make his head go light with an inexplicable emotion.

How did Draco do that to him? Not even the Dark Lord—Wait…did I just call him Draco? Merlin am I in for it this time…

The blonde watched the other boy intently under the masking gaze of bored hatred. Slivery blue eyes watched the hand run through the hair of the same boy he didn't want to stay away from, but had to. The tension and awkwardness was thick between them, and more than once he'd caught The Boy Who Lived looking at him in classes, in the Great Hall.

None of that mattered though. What did matter was that Harry always followed him. It'd been a long time since he could place his entire life on anything (in all honesty, never before could he do such a thing), but he was doing it now.

Draco shut the book he'd been 'reading', sliding it across the table towards Harry.

"Studying lost its appeal," he said dryly with a roll of his eyes. Meaning that Harry had caused the sudden leave. "Here. For the N.E.W.T.s, page 304."

The blonde took his leave, seeming to careless about Harry turning to the page he'd suggested or not. In actuality, his heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was going to explode. Once out of the library, he sighed heavily and headed back towards the Dungeons.

He'd left a note for Harry in the book. Now he would just have to wait in the corridor mentioned tonight to see if he would show up.

Draco wasn't sure if he wanted him to or not.

Harry watched the blonde leave with the same snide smile. "Well good then, maybe he'll fail and waste his fortune, and end up in a cardboard box in the street," Harry muttered to himself, hating every word he said.

But it was what he was used to. Habit. A bad habit at that.

Harry gave a dejected sigh and plopped into the seat where the book was. Sure, he wanted to book, but was it worth it? Couldn't he have just grabbed another book and sat down? No he had to scare Draco off and be left alone with the nasty old Madam Pince.

Harry grabbed the dust laden cover of the book and threw it open. What page had Draco said? 30…something. Harry shrugged. How would Draco even know what Harry needed? Probably hexed the page anyway.

Harry flipped through the pages as he looked for the potion. "Here it is," he murmured as he dropped the rest of the pages and a slip of parchment slid out between the nearby pages. Out of curiosity, Harry stuck a finger between the pages where the note was stuck and opened it.

It was page 304.

Harry slowly picked up the paper and turned it over to see the precise handwriting of the blonde who had just left. It was so unlike his own messy scrawl.

Astronomy tower. Midnight. Be there Potter.

He even sounded stuck up in his messages. Harry had half been hoping the note was for someone else, but it was his last name written there on the end.

Harry bit his lip slightly and tucked the note into his pocket before slamming the book (earning a nasty glance from Madam Pince) and hurrying out of the library.

Author's Notes: End of chapter one. I'm doing this one in my spare time. And it takes a lot of copying and pasting, editing and going over to make sure it all flows. So, I can't tell you when the next update will be, but I hope people enjoy it out there.

Drop me a line.

SL