Chapter Two: The Interview
Draco Malfoy was a highly attractive man, Harry realized after the dim light of the room was focused on the other man's fair features. His blonde hair was unnaturally silver in the candle light. It was sleek and carefully oiled back. His pale face was graced by hints of blush on his cheeks. His eyes, the color of chipped ice, were intensely focused on Harry; and, though he could hold Millicent Bulstrode, Pansy Parkinson, and Blaise Zabini's gazes unhesitatingly, Harry found himself looking away each time Draco's gaze challenged his. It was almost as though the other's gaze was too intense and overwhelmed Harry – if there was ever such a thing as an overwhelming stare.
Which was surprising, frankly. Harry hadn't paid much attention to the man with the others in the room, but from what he did notice of him, Harry assumed that he was merely a calm man, indifferent and bored towards his surroundings. Now, however, with the lack of distractions and only Draco sitting opposite him, Harry had the ability to look deeper. Underneath the shadow of calmness, Harry saw a bold, smoldering force, subtly arrogant and knowing of its greatness.
"I'm sorry about my friends," Draco finally said with a slight smirk, interrupting the silence that was beginning to smother Harry. "It seems they're determined to humiliate you."
Harry was so surprised that he had difficulty thinking of something to say. "It's… fine," he said; and he nodded, as if to reinforce this.
"Honestly," Draco took a casual sip of his wine, "you don't have to be so tense. Relax, Mr. Potter," he insisted. "I have really only agreed to do this for the entertainment of Bulstrode and Parkinson; it's not my intention to take your life story in jest."
He was interrupted by a frail servant who uncertainly stepped into the room, asking if there was anything they needed. Draco told the man to bring several roles of parchment, a quill, and a bottle of ink. Apparently, he wanted to take notes on Harry's life.
"Many have described you as the real David Copperfield (1)," Draco continued once the servant showed that he understood his instructions and left the two alone.
Harry was unsure about how he was to reply to this, so he merely stayed silent.
Draco smirked. "I'm not sure about this, however. After all, Copperfield was a hero who developed a disciplined heart. You, on the other hand," Draco eyed him, "seem rather – wild."
"Wild?" Harry repeated roughly.
Draco shifted in his seat to make himself more comfortable. "Yes, wild. Like an untamed horse," he commented thoughtfully. "Oh, but don't take offense," he said with a slight smile when he realized that comparing one to an animal may actually be considered insulting – as though he hadn't realized such a thing before that moment. "I find that this society contradicts itself on many different levels. While some would find such wild and rude behavior atrocious, women often swoon over such men when portrayed in novels as characters; and their hearts go out to the boys such as Oliver Twist, too. They'll become multiple copies of Rose Maylie without a second thought. (2) They'll adore you."
"May I ask you a question, Mr. Malfoy?"
"Yes, of course."
"Can you tell me why Ms. Parkinson would ever suggest that a book be written on my life? Besides wanting me to be humiliated, of course."
At this, Draco didn't bother to cover his smirk. "Curiosity, I suppose."
"Curiosity?"
"Yes. Innocent curiosity. I must admit, I've fallen a victim to this myself."
"But – why? You yourself have acknowledged that your friends want nothing more than to humiliate me. They dislike me – with a passion. If they hate me so much, then why would they want to waste their time reading about my life? I don't understand."
"Perhaps you underestimate your own popularity, then, Mr. Potter. Stories and rumors of the Self-Made Man have been bombarding me for months, now, and many are curious to hear your real story – myself very much so included."
It was strange, there was no doubt about it, that Pansy Parkinson of all people had suggested that a book be written on his life, and that this perfect stranger, an alleged writer of notable fame, had actually agreed. However, no matter how odd it was, he didn't need Hermione to be there to tell him that this was the perfect opportunity. In the end, there could only be one ultimate result: his name would be on the lips of more people.
At that moment, the servant returned with the blank parchment, quill, and ink. He set it on the table in front of Draco and asked if anything else was required. Draco shook his head and, with a flick of his wrist, the servant was dismissed.
"I don't even know where to begin," Harry shifted under Draco's long, expectant gaze.
"Start with your parents," Draco said. "I've heard many versions of the truth when it comes to them."
Harry found himself bitter, which was to be expected, for it was his reaction every time the topic of his parents was brought up. "My parents were murdered," he replied, "by a man who they thought was a friend. This man, Peter Pettigrew, was caught and hanged before I got the chance to ask him why he took their lives; I was only a one-year-old baby at the time. Perhaps that's for the best, though," he added thoughtfully. "If I had a glimpse within a murderer's mind, then my own might have been clouded by thoughts of hatred and anger. I needed a clear, uncluttered mind, in order to focus on my goal."
Draco started to scratch away at the parchment; he didn't glance up as he prompted, "Your goal?"
"Yes. I decided from a young age that I would become a scientist, much like my father was; and I would work hard, so that I could eventually buy back the Potter mansion and many of our prized artifacts. Since everything was taken from my parents, I – well, wanted to restore their honor from a mere couple who was in debt. I wanted to restore the great Potter name."
"This was your motivation, then?" Draco's eyes glanced away from his paper judgingly. "To restore the 'great Potter name'?"
"One doesn't need to be of a higher class in order to care about his family name," Harry offered.
At this, Draco's lips automatically moved into his familiar smirk and his gaze returned downward, to the parchment, once again. "Tell me about your life with the Dursley family."
"It was fine," Harry said automatically.
"Surely not," Draco said skeptically. "They're infamous pigs, as I'm sure you know."
Harry didn't reply; instead, he seemed to suddenly find the intricate design on the wine bowl rather interesting.
"Go on, Mr. Potter," Draco insisted consolingly. "I can't very well leave out an entire piece of your life from my novel, can I? And besides – while you might find life with them highly embarrassing, I assure you, it'll show your superior bravery and endurance. Not many would be able to spend any amount of time near them, let alone live with them."
Harry had difficulty exhaling. "You're right, it is embarrassing," he admitted quietly.
"Like I said before, Mr. Potter," Draco's smile seemed to be so very genuine, "I will not take your life story in jest."
With that, Harry hesitantly continued on to tell of the emotional and physical abuse he endured while in the Dursley household. He confided that he was forced to be their slave for years, and was never truly accepted within their home. He was bullied by his cousin, uncle, and aunt daily – whether he had done something wrong or not. Embarrassed, Harry admitted that he was desperate for friends, and eventually came into the habit of watching the neighborhood children play in the streets. Eventually, one of them introduced himself – a boy with red hair named Ron Weasley (at this, Harry missed Draco's small, snide smile). As children, they played in the grimy streets of London. Harry also described his first, immature childhood crush on Ron Weasley's little sister.
"I always thought that I would marry her," he said reflectively. "But… for some reason, after I returned from my journeys, I couldn't help but look at her differently."
It was as if he had returned to an old street where he used to play as a child. Everything seemed smaller and much less significant. The walls of a grand fortress became the walls of an abandoned bakery. However, as a child, winning Ginny Weasley's heart was also a large motivation for Harry Potter; and he thought that the only way he could possibly impress her was to be one of the rich, high-classed people he, she, and her brother would gaze at in wonder – rich, high-classed people such as Draco Malfoy himself.
He explained how, as he got serious about achieving his goal, he stole old text books and studied math, English, the foreign languages, and science while his friends played and had fun in the streets. He even briefly mentioned how he once got caught stealing books from the library, and was only let go because he was barely ten at the time. (Though he definitely received a harsh beating from the Dursley's.)
Years of hard work was summarized within hours, and before long, he was describing how, after becoming absolutely fed up with the Dursley family, he'd run away at the age of 15 and traveled across the countryside of England. He didn't know what he was searching for, or what he would do, and for weeks he became a teenage beggar who hardly anyone took mercy on.
"I thought that I was going to die. I was starving to death – hadn't drunk clean water in days – and no one would help me. They only stared at me in disgust as they passed by." He thought he had known how the world worked, but it was only then that he learned just how hard and cold the world truly was.
And yet, even as Harry was dying, his pride remained alive and strong. He kept walking from one town to the next, searching for a new life; it was only during the cold, lonely nights that he wished he had listened to Ron and Ginny – wished he had accepted their offer and lived with them instead of running away. But no – he was too stubborn and prideful, too desperate to be independent. He was so sure that he would find a new life waiting for him outside of London; but during those times, he wasn't sure if he would even survive until the next morning.
Finally, one day, a man in a dusty, patched coat stopped him, asking him what his name was. After Harry cautiously answered, he pulled Harry into an almost suffocating, tight embrace. Harry, bewildered, listened to the man as he explained he had seen Harry hours ago, and followed him since, hesitant but fairly certain of who he was. After all, he looked exactly like James – except for his eyes, which very obviously belonged to his mother.
The man, whose name was Remus Lupin, immediately took Harry to his modest cabin miles away and in the distant countryside, near the woods. A tired-looking man named Sirius Black shared the cabin. When he learned who Harry was, he was shocked beyond belief. Both he and Remus had imagined Harry to be dead.
At the cabin of the two best friends, Harry was home. He felt as if he had woken up from a nightmare, only to find himself in the arms of a loving family. He was ashamed to discover that he rarely thought of Ron and Ginny. At night, he would have nightmares where they would stare at him accusingly. But they had to understand – he had never been so happy and so accepted in his life. Everyday was a new adventure as Sirius would take him hunting or to an equestrian meet; or Remus would take him into the nearest town, to explore the library or shops filled with inventions. They promised to take him to countries like France and Germany – places he'd only read about in text books. Ron and Ginny, surely, would understand why Harry, having found a new happiness, nearly forgot his old life in the streets of London. However, he didn't forget his goal – his dream. It was intensified with every moment he stayed with the two men, who constantly shared memories of his parents. They told him that his parents would be proud of him for coming so far, for surviving such hardships, and for having a dream as noble as restoring his family name.
To help him accomplish his dream, Remus had the idea of tutoring Harry in literature, world languages, and history while Sirius would tutor Harry in the sciences, arts, and math; both were absolutely amazed at Harry's sheer brilliance. They knew that he had taught himself from books he stole from the library, but they never imagined just how much he actually learned. By the end of the year, Harry – having proved his intelligence in the various subjects – was enrolled into the University of Cambridge by Remus, who used to teach British literature and French there before he retired. Sirius Black, though he lived in a timid cottage in the country sides of England, actually had a large inheritance from his family. He had been saving the money for a special occasion, and what could be more special than his Godson's education?
Harry still remembered his intense joy at being accepted. He was so happy and honored that there wasn't any room for fear or sadness at leaving the two men who helped to change his life. He traveled to Cambridge and moved into the dormitories with a sense of raw excitement. Even more exciting were the moments outside of class, when he met new and different people from different countries and cultures. For example, Cho Chang was half-Chinese, half-Japanese, and had traveled abroad on a ship to learn English. Viktor Krum was to spend a year before returning to Berlin; Fleur Delacour, also to spend a year, had come from Paris. He also met others from the United Kingdom, such as Cedric Diggory, Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, and Seamus Finnigan.
He worked as a researching scientist's, Dr. Longbottom's, assistant; and from here, he met Dr. Longbottom's son, Neville Longbottom. To Harry, Neville seemed timid at first, but they eventually became great friends.
The university's library was where he met Hermione Granger. Viktor Krum had enthusiastically introduced Harry to her, and there seemed to be a romantic spark between the pair. However, at first, Harry couldn't say that he shared Viktor's liking for her. She had been bossy and cold towards him, and snidely commented that it was rare to find men who respected women and the fact that they could learn as easily as the opposite sex; (apparently, Viktor Krum was one of these rare men). But, after realizing that Harry was an outcast like her, and didn't think little of her for being female (it never occurred to him that women should be treated lesser than men, in fact), she became much more kind to him. She even taught Harry about the Potter mansion's worth and, because it had been ignored for almost two decades, he was able to bargain it for half of what was being proposed towards him by the time he was 21. Really, now he only had to concentrate on finding the lost artifacts.
At the age of 25, it was only the previous year that Harry graduated with honors from the University of Cambridge. He recently accepted a job in Surrey, near his mansion, where he merely had to research the workings of the engine. He was proud of the job, and it was sure to allow him to make enough money to find and buy back the lost artifacts, as well as maintain the mansion.
For the time being, however, he lived in a flat near the city of London, once again reunited with his friends. They had been surprised, to say the least, when they saw him on his doorstep with handsome clothes and a lopsided, sheepish grin on his face. Ron and Ginny were upset at him, at first, for not even bothering to write for all those years – they had thought he was dead, for the love of God! – but, nonetheless, they quickly reaccepted him, as if it was the most natural thing to do. And for months, they did nothing but talk and make up for the years of time they weren't able to spend together.
With a nostalgic feeling, Harry was able to conclude that his journeys rewarded him with education and a secure job; lifelong friends such as Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black; and a clear pathway towards his goal.
After about five hours, the fires of the candles were about to go out in the melted wax. Draco's silent, almost cold stare forced Harry to shift uncomfortably.
"You've had a hard yet triumphant life, then," Draco finally said, breaking the tense silence.
Harry nodded once, unsurely watching the other man. His expression was like stone: it was impossible to read and, having just spilled out his entire life story, Harry felt as though the blonde should say something more.
"What of your love life?" he suddenly asked.
"My – love life?"
"Yes. Whatever happened to your relationship with the Weasley girl?"
Harry chewed on the inside of his cheek, a horrible habit he had whenever he became uncomfortably nervous. "It never really started. She was just a childhood infatuation."
"And now? Oh, but you can't be telling me that you – the Self-Made Man – have no one significant in your life?"
"I've been too busy restoring everything – "
"A life too busy for love," Draco almost sneered. "That sounds quite lonely indeed."
Harry didn't comment.
"Are you lonely, Mr. Potter?"
He shook his head. "I have my friends."
"Yet none of them are significant."
Harry sighed impatiently. "I found that such friends aren't always necessary. In fact, it's probably better if I only depend on myself at the moment."
At this, it almost seemed as though Draco leaned forward on the sofa ever so slightly and gazed at Harry as though he was observing a specimen.
"Why must you stare like that?" Harry found himself asking.
A small smile flitted across Draco Malfoy's face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. It's just that Mr. Zabini is right: you really are rather interesting."
Draco was different from the others – there was something about him that Harry couldn't understand. It forced him to open up to the man – forced him to tell his life story to a complete stranger. He was the only one who Harry felt like he could trust.
"Are you all right?" he asked quietly.
Harry nodded. "Yes, thank you."
"I want to apologize for my friends again," Draco unexpectedly said, holding Harry's surprised gaze levelly. "It seems, at times, that they have nothing better to do than create social wars with others. Perhaps they'll understand you better after I've completed your biography."
As they both stood and left the private room, Harry found himself wishing that he could become even closer to Draco Malfoy for, though he could be intimidating and confusing, he seemed friendly and interesting.
Most had already left the ball. There were only a few groups that stood at tables where high screeches of laughter echoed off of the walls. The orchestra was just finishing a composition by Edvard Grieg (3), but it didn't have as much energy as when Harry had just walked into the ballroom. At one of the nearby tables, Millicent stood with a smile. She approached the two men.
"Had a nice, long interview, I presume?" she asked with an obviously fake smile, eyeing the two of them. Draco and Harry both nodded.
"That's good. I suppose this is good night, then, Mr. Potter?" she nodded to him, turning back to the table.
Draco smoothly inclined his head to Harry and said, "I had a delightful time, Mr. Potter. You've inspired me, there's no doubt about that; and I'll work without stop until your biography is complete."
Those words rang in his head on the ride back to Hermione's mansion. (A journey back to London was far too long, and both he and the driver were too tired. He would politely ask Hermione if he could stay the night and, the next morning, he would return to his own home.) He longed for nothing more than to close his eyes and stop his rampant thoughts – yet he couldn't stop thinking about the possibility of his newest ally – and friend.
But, really… one would think that he would know better than to trust a man of the upper class, especially a friend to ladies like Milicent Bulstrode and Pansy Parkinson.
1: David Copperfield is the protagonist of the novel, The Personal History, Adventures, Experience and Observation of David Copperfield the Younger of Blunderstone Rookery (which he never meant to be published on any account), otherwise known as David Copperfield, written by Charles Dickens. The novel was of the genre bildungsroman, which holds the theme of a main character learning to "discipline his heart" with correct morals and standards.
2: Rose Maylie was a character in Oliver Twist, written by Charles Dickens. After a series of events, she becomes Oliver's nurse.
3: Edvard Grieg is a famous Norwegian composer and pianist.
AN:
Thank you: Faery Goddys, Spideria, Lith, Anashek, digitalMuse, Bibilein, PaddycakePadfoot, glassedvase, whateveryea, and BaroqueIsabella! Those were all very wonderful and inspiring reviews. :)
I hope you all enjoyed this latest chapter, which focused more on developing Harry's character and explaining Harry's past. In the next chapter, the conflict – which I'm sure is slightly predictable – will appear. Until then…