Welcome to my first NON Wrestling fanfiction! There will MORE than likely be slightly out of character, having not written a Harry Potter fanfiction before. I do not own Harry Potter and his friends/enemies...They belong to J.K Rowling. Damn it.
When did Draco become such a problem? He was never this bad, but lately the insults had been worse, and even the way he just simply glared at them. Hermione was getting called 'Mud-Blood' more often, and Ron had been through the hospital wings about half of those times, for curses going badly. He'd had his own legs stuck together for six hours before, as no one could conjure up a powerful enough reversal spell.
Harry's next thought, was when did Draco HAVE so many problems? The boy always seemed so pale, and he'd caught sight of the odd bruise or two, when he'd bothered to look. He couldn't talk about it with anybody. No one in the school cared for the Slytherin, whom was alone more and more often these days. Even Crabbe and Goyle avoided him for as long as they could get away with it. He'd gotten kicked off of the Quidditch team, which had resulted in his father sending a Howler, for everyone to hear.
Honestly, Harry had no clue why he cared, just that he could almost understand. Sure, Harry had been hit over the head once or twice by his uncle, and whacked at the a Smeltings stick by his big cousin, but other than that, he knew what it was like when you had no friends to help you through things.
Watching Draco trying to hide the newest bruise on his arm over at the Slytherin table, all alone, Harry promised himself, he'd try to get along with his arch nemesis - as difficult as it would be.
"Oi, Malfoy, hang on!" Harry called after the blonde boy, who only turned his head for a second. In only two years, Draco had changed a lot. For a start, he'd gotten paler, and he'd stopped slicking his hair back, letting it fall messily instead. It looked good on him, Harry decided, continuing to chase him.
"Go away, Potter...What do you want anyway? You hate me as much as everyone lately." Draco spat at him. Harry sighed. This was going to be an awful lot of work, he realised.
"That's why I wanted to talk to you...I noticed you were struggling through History of Magic...Um...if you ever need help..." He started, before realising he sounded really pathetic. Draco apparently thought so too.
"Potter, did Weasel-bee throw a stink pellet in your ear, or did you just end up on the wrong side of a messed up Furnunculus spell? I don't need help...You might, but I don't...'if I ever need help'. Why would I need YOUR help?"
"I...I don't know. I'm sorry." Harry grumbled. "By the way, Malfoy...You'd have more friends if you weren't so rude to everybody! It could get you a lot further than the rate you're going." He informed the cold eyed blonde, who's hand fell to his wand, and flicked the hawthorn stick to Harry's throat.
"Don't you ever insult me like that again, Potter...Just be lucky I'm late enough to not have time to hex you." Draco snarled near Harry's face, turning and stalking off, leaving Harry there to frown at Draco's back. Ron and Hermione would call him crazy for even offering, but he really though the boy could use somebody.
What is going on with you, Harry? This boy called Ron and his family poor, and many other names, along with various insults towards Hermione...So why do you want to help? A voice in the back of his head asked him.
"Oh shut up." He grumbled, as if the voice were real, and then ran towards his class, just remembering what Draco had said about being late. He slid into his normal spot, apologising to Professor Sprout, and frowning at the vicious looking, growling, plant staring him in the face. He avoided Ron's eyes on him, from the other side of the greenhouse. He knew there would surely be questions, but he would avoid them as long as possible.
It wasn't long. Hermione happened to be only a few spots away, and was able to trade out with, a very frustrated, Seamus.
"Harry, you're going mental! Why would Draco Malfoy accept your friendship, or you his?" The brunette asked him, as Harry tried to work out what his plant was doing. If he didn't know better, it looked like it had recently eaten, and was choking on it. He glared at Hermione.
"I don't know! I'd like to think that after a couple years of this...blatant stupidity, we'd be mature enough to work things out...But, it looks like I'm going to have to try for longer."
"Harry, you're being a fool! Honestly, he'll never accept your help, or your friendship. I'd get over it. I know you regret not shaking his hand on the train, but this is beyond annoying..."
"So is you being a know-it-all." Harry snapped at her. Hermione gave him a slightly hurt look, but he ignored it. He was tired of Hermione knowing what was best for him. She frowned, like he'd slapped her, and glanced over at Ron shrugging her shoulders, and shaking her head.
Ron rolled his eyes. Harry really was more stubborn than Hermione and Ron had given credit for. Why he continued to try and help that snob, Malfoy, he'd never work out. Harry was becoming almost obsessed with Malfoy, and that worried both of his friends.
Somehow, Harry was oblivious to the looks Hermione and Ron were giving him, and as soon as Professor Sprout let them go, he was out of the green house before anyone could stop him. Ron joined Hermione outside, complaining about Dean Thomas.
"You'd think he knew what to feed the damn thing, and not to prune down by the roots…What's wrong, 'Mione, you look ready to cry?" Ron stopped moaning about Dean, when he caught sight of Hermione's face.
"Harry called me a know-it-all! He's never called me that!" Hermione wailed slightly, wiping the tears from her eyes. "This isn't the Harry we know, this is the mental replacement that came out of the Chamber of Secrets!" She continued, resting her head against Ron, who blinked awkwardly.
"We'll sort him out, don't worry. As soon as his obsession with Draco is done, he'll be back to the exact same Harry he was." Ron said, doubting his own words. Hermione doubted them too. Harry was already back in the castle, and they had a free period to spend. Hermione settled, for once, for sitting down by the lake, instead of going through her homework like a house elf did chores.
Harry had chosen somewhere much more private. He'd discovered a little hatch, in his second year, just outside the DADA classroom, and he spent most of his time there, in his make-shift sleeping place/study hall.
When he entered his special hide out, he flung his bag to the side, and sat down on the single armchair in the whole room, snarling to himself, as he pulled out the journal he'd gotten over the holiday's.
The orignal had come from a random, off handed, and nearly rude, comment, in which his Potions master, Severus Snape had suggested a journal, in order to 'Help Potter focus on his studies, instead of being so fascinated with whatever trauma picking up a wand brought him each day.'
Mean as it was, Snape did have a valid point. He tugged forward a table he'd stolen from one of the class rooms, and started to write.
Remember that promise I made, at the end of last year? When I first got you? Well, I've tried, I really, really have. I'm in my third year at the moment, and we're about six weeks into term.
And mission 'Try To Be Nicer To Draco Malfoy has so far been an absolute failure. He's so…resistant to any kind of help! Crabbe and Goyle don't speak to him anymore - nobody does, he hasn't had a single letter from his parents since he showed up here this year.
I'm worried, but I can't help Draco, if I don't know what's wrong. Maybe something happened at home? I know I messed up their slave at the end of last year, Dobby, but that shouldn't have added much pressure to the family - The Malfoy's practically have enough money to hire every house elf there is, and ten or so future generations from them.
I'm getting annoyed, but I've only being going for six weeks. Hopefully, I'll have him talking to me, even just a little bit, by the end of next term. Damn you, Draco.
Remember when I said I may have been falling in love? Well, I was. Hard. Head first into the pool of freezing ice cold water that are Draco's fucking eyes. If they were any colder these days, he'd be able to put out fires just by looking at them. Yeah, I'm in love with the enemy. Yeah, I'm probably trying too hard to help him out, but I won't stop until I know he's okay.
It's a young age to realise you're potentially gay, or bisexual, but I've gotten over the idea that anybody, aside from the writers at The Daily Prophet would really care all that much. I know the Dursley's probably wouldn't. Hell, they were pissed off enough at me over what happened with Aunt Marge, that I could have told them then, and they would never have noticed it.
I should be doing my studies…I'll write more, I think. I don't know, I'll write when I get the time to. My head feels like it's going to explode from the extra classes we're taking. Hermione's been really weird too, but that's not any of my business…yet Draco is. I'll work everything out, somehow. Don't know when, or how, but I'll do it. Anyway, more later…
Harry quickly put his quill down, as, somehow, the hatch came opened, to his annoyance. Draco jumped through, growling like a dog.
"Stupid bloody Crabbe…Oww." He complained, rubbing at his side, before he seemed to notice Harry was there, and frowned, dropping his hand.
"What are you doing here, Potter?"
"I'd ask you the same question!" Harry found himself snapping back.
"I've been coming here since first year! How the fuck did you know about this room?"
"Would ask you the same question, Draco!" Harry snapped back at him. Draco froze in place at the use of his first name. Harry never called him Draco, unless he was mocking him. Then it occurred to him, Harry was probably pretty annoyed.
"Are you kidding? Father informed me of every nook and cranny in this place before I even showed up here! I would always come here, when Crabbe and Goyle's idiocy started bothering me." Draco told Harry, with half a mind to curse the boy, then and there.
Harry frowned, unsure how he'd managed to stumble across the room. He remembered tripping over the slightly open hatch one day, after being particularly frustrated about Lochart refusing to teach them real things, opting instead for his tales of wisdom, which as they'd found out late last year, were all complete and utter bullshit. When he explained this to Draco, he snickered.
"Of course, that's how the Muggle-raised wizards always work things out about our world - By complete accident, with no clue about what they've just done, or how." Draco said absently, waving his hand. "Take you and your friend, Granger, for example…Although, I must say, Weasel-bee's lack of talent is a shock, coming from a pure blood family…"
"Your lack of teeth will be in a minute." Harry snapped at him, shoving his things back in a bag, and checking the time.
"Got enough time to find a place to start next time around…Would you please move?" He said coolly. But Draco didn't move so much as an inch.
"I want to know something, first, Potter." He said, standing in front of the ladder, while Harry tried wishing for another door out, despite knowing that wouldn't work. This room did not generate things at need - a shame, it would come in more handy than it's current state.
"What?"
"Did you mean what you said to me this morning? Just found Weasel-bee consoling the Mudblood - "
"Don't call her that!"
" - about you calling her a know-it-all! I would never believe that. I may be rubbing off on you yet, Potter…Remark like that towards your best friend, I'm stunned, coming from such a 'proud, noble and brave' Gryffindor! That remark belongs in the ranks of 'Slimy, awful and rude' Slytherin." Draco informed him.
Harry snarled, and aimed his wand straight at Malfoy, before the words he'd just written in his journal came back through his ears, and he lowered his wand.
"Yes, I meant it. Now, if you aren't accepted my help, then please move, I'd like to get some work done, before I have to off to that loon, Trelawney…"
"The ding-bat who teaches Divination? Why on earth would you take that class, of all the more interesting ones you could have selected?" Draco wanted to know.
"I thought it would be helpful…It's only proved so far, that I'm going to be mauled to death by a Grim, or murdered by Sirius Black." Harry informed Draco, shoving the boy aside a little.
He heard uttered words, and his body froze, head to toe. Damn it, why's he so eager to talk NOW?
"I warned you earlier, no shoving me…I'll let you go, if you promise to apologise, got it?" Draco asked curiously. Harry, of course, couldn't answer him, but Draco let him go anyway.
"Why are you such a jerk, Malfoy?" Harry asked, his offer of an apology. Draco actually paused for a minute to think about it.
"Don't know…dad's a jerk, mummy's not exactly nice…And auntie's a mental case…I've got all those traits. Must be a family thing." Draco said, abnormally cheerfully, until Harry caught sight of a new bruise on the back of his hand.
"What's that?"
"Frustration being taken out against a wall. Nothing abnormal…Why am I even talking about this sort of thing to you, Potter?"
"…Because I'm easy to talk to?"
"Piss off, Potter…Go meet up with that Dingbat…Hope the Dementors get you."
"Right back at you."
"That's the lamest response ever."Harry held a single finger over his shoulder, annoyed. Every effort he tried to make, the Slytherin boy just pissed him off, and he didn't want to do it anymore. Then later, with only his four poster bed to hide it, his heart would break a little more, and he'd get over himself by the time morning came back around.
Sliding into Divination, he caught sight of the old ding-bat wandering around absently, trying to find something or other. When she caught sight of Harry, she jumped slightly, and pointed a finger at him.
"Yes, I know I'm going to die, I don't need to hear it again, Professor." He complained gently, taking his normal seat. She sat down in front of him.
"Why do you try so hard to help the boy?" She rasped, and Harry looked upwards, in shock. He'd thought she was just a phoney! How would she know that? She pressed on. "The blonde one…the one you used to detest? The rest is so clouded for me, as it hides buried within private thoughts and feelings…"
This was creeping him out. Period. He already wanted class to be over, and it hadn't even started yet. He couldn't think of an answer, that Trelawney wouldn't go blabbing about. She seemed to snap out of whatever she was in, and continued dancing around the room oddly, as if she'd lost yet something else.
By the time class ended, Harry was completely annoyed. She'd informed him, by more damned tea leaves, that some 'ignored feelings' would soon show up in his life.
What ignored feelings? He admitted his own feelings, so what else would that leave. Someone prodded their wand to his back, and he turned around to see.
Draco was waiting for him.
"That offer still on? The old ghost just informed me, if my marks don't go up, I'm doomed." Draco said dully. "Believe me, I don't want to be asking you, but as it appears, it appears to be a house law that you have to be bad at history in Slytherin."
Harry inwardly chuckled, as he imagined Ron and Hermione's looks behind him. "Yeah, sure…After dinner, in the spare…hour or so we've got, now we're older? Library?"
"Thanks, Potter…I'll owe you one if I pass." Draco said, turning on his heel, ignoring a first year girl who quite obviously said 'freak' as he passed her.
He turned around, and wished Muggle camera's worked in this castle. He'd have to freeze time, and find Collin Creevy, so he could keep that memory forever. Both their jaws had to be tripping people behind them. He found it all too amusing, and burst out laughing.
"What? I offered him help earlier, and he took it. I'm not gonna back out now."
"Are. You. MENTAL? The perfect opportunity to have Malfoy kicked out of the school, and you HELP him? Did he knock you on the head?"
"Ron! Everyone deserves to be taught! But still, Harry, Malfoy? He sent a snake after you second year, practically was responsible for putting Gryffindor last place in the standings, AND for Hagrid having to give up poor Norbert! What are you thinking?"
"He's been lonely lately, haven't you seen? He's been…broken, I guess is the right word. He's got no one, and I…everyone should have somebody, even if they aren't who you expect them to be."
"Mate, you sound like you're planning to ask him out, instead of just helping him with History of Magic…How come you never help me with that mind-numbingly boring subject, anyway?"
"Hermione generally helps you with everything…And I am not planning to ask him out!" Yet. He allowed himself to finish his sentence in his head. "Look, there's an escaped killer after me, and according to our Divination teacher, there's also some…dog wolf thing. Grim, whatever. Let me make my decisions this once, please? I really do believe Draco has some good in him."
"Draco? …Hang on, you called him by his first name."
"I call you and Hermione by your first names." Harry retorted, turning around and walking towards his next class, vowing to sit as far away from his two, maybe not quite friends these days, as he potentially could. He tried to remember what lesson it was, not really in the mood to go fishing through his bag for a timetable he was surely not going to find.
When he finally remembered, he smirked. Potions class, perfect opportunity to go over some details of the class Malfoy was failing. He knew Draco was a dab hand at potions, and would probably point it out to him if he was doing something wrong. He hoped so - Draco now owed him one.
When he made it there, he instantly stole the spot by Draco, who glared at him for a second. Harry could feel Ron's eyes burning holes in his neck as he walked through, Hermione right beside him.
"Figured while we were here, we'd go over a little bit of your history of magic homework - you generally finish potions pretty quickly." Harry said quickly, and quietly, hoping Snape wouldn't walk through in any great hurry, as he started setting his cauldron up.
"Thought the Dementors would get you - damn." Draco absently mused, but he pulled out his history of magic homework, none the less, and Harry looked over it, as he read through the basic outline of what Draco was supposed to be doing for his make-up tests.
"More goblin rebellions? Honestly, does he teach anything else?" Harry complained softly. Draco was unable to help but snicker, as Harry continued reading.
"Should be able to give you a hand with this, and what I can't, the books should surely do something." Harry informed the blonde, who nodded, before turning his head.
"Why do you…why are you suddenly being so nice to me?" Draco asked curiously, as more students trickled, some unwillingly, into the dark dungeon, in which Harry had taken to lighting his wand to see in.
Harry shrugged. "You need someone to keep you sane, right? We all do. And, personally, I'd like to be there for you, for some bloody reason I can't explain." Was all Harry told him. Draco didn't believe that though…not one single word of it.
That's the end of the chapter…Probably a little weird, but, I'll work it out as I type this up. That, and it's quarter past midnight currently, so that probably does nothing for it. Anyway, until next time!