Chapter 2: The Gate and the Gatekeeper

Author's Note: Draco's POV this time. I want 5 reviews at least, guys. Things get a little clearer in this chapter.

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Draco:

In the Hero's Journey, the hero is initially caught in a gate. In most stories, the gate would represent unfair or harsh rules, social standards, and/ or politics of the time. Anything that suffocates. Home, but not really. Something is wrong. I think in my case, my cage was severe lack of change. Every day, the same. Every look, letter, question: an endless cycle of repetition and redundancy. (a/n: don't you just love how that whole sentence was redundant?)

Obviously, obviously to me, the next step was the gatekeeper. The magical being, teacher, partner, lover, rebel who pushes you out of your cage, pushes you out of your comfort zone, and introduces you to your new life. Your whole journey.

Maybe it was my mother before 6th year, sitting me down and telling me that the Malfoy blood isn't as pure as everyone thought. Maybe it was Dumbledore sending me and Harry to Cantani for the first time; the true location of my birth and ancestry.

Harry. In all of this, I think Harry was my gatekeeper. And a fucking good one, too. Turned my life upside down in bloody 7th year. We'd had our suspicions about one another. Our eyes held the same secret. It was in the way we moved. In the way we look. Most of all, the way we spoke. But he's the one who confirmed it.

I was headed to my room with a new stack of books. I'd been reading up on our kind, trying to figure out what exactly I was. How to deal. Harry was down there; on the stairs. In the dark. I know he was waiting for me, but he denies it to this very day.

I was shocked to see the Gryffindor Golden Boy on the Slytherin steps. I dropped everything I was holding, and nearly fell myself. But Malfoy's don't fall, so I straightened myself back up. The look in Harry's eyes was intense and earnest. Before that, I'd never thought of him that way. It's true we hadn't been fighting. But earnest? He picked up one of my books, the one closest to his feet.

"The Song of a Siren," Harry read. The way he said it, it sounded like a song in itself. I'd read the title ten minutes before and thought nothing of it, but now I could only focus on those five words. "You're not reading this for fun, are you?"

He asked in such a way that you knew it wasn't a question, but a statement. I shook my head anyway. Silence reigned for a good couple of minutes, us just realizing that our biggest secrets were out to our biggest enemies. Former enemies.

"Me too."

He didn't need to say it, but it was nice to hear. He bent to collect the rest of my books, finally straightening and pressing them to my chest. Somehow, his gaze got even more intense. Before I could tear my eyes away from his, I was in his arms. Harry crushed our lips together, and crushed my books between us. It must've been uncomfortable, but, I couldn't feel anything but those lips on mine. It was like I'd lived my whole life just to get there, in Harry Potter's arms. And it was quite worth it.

Harry's musical groans snapped me back to reality, and I pushed the Boy-Who-Lived off of my thin form with internal reluctance.

"What's your bloody-fucking problem, Potter?" I spat. I still remember the arch of Harry's brows at my attempt at being nasty. I was a little rusty. "Sirens have predestined mates, you know." I sniffed and pulled my belongings closer to my body as a gesture of defense, like some kind of stuck-up schoolgirl.

"I know."

And with that, I was out of my cage.

Author's note:

Oh boy, oh boy. Next chapter coming up, baby. Let's head off into the wasteland from Harry's point of view, shall we? Review, everyone. You authors out there know how hard it is to crank out another chapter. I know it's short but I put time into it. So appreciate it.

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