-1Hide With You

Chapter 2

Genre: Romance/Drama

Rating: T

Author: DarkTaoAngel

Summary: Draco had greatly upset his master, leaving him severely beaten and alone. Badly wounded, he used his remaining energy to disapparate. He had no way of knowing that he'd end up reappearing on the floor of his sworn enemy's bedroom. Post HBP (but there are no Horcruxes in this fanfiction).

Harry turned the page in his book, Advanced Transfiguration, with his bright green eyes only half open, his hands only barely holding the book open as he scanned the pages, not really taking in any of the information and re-reading the same sentences several times over without anything sinking in. He had been up all of the previous night keeping watch over Draco, and making sure that his aunt and uncle didn't come into his room for any reason. The bright sunlight streaming through the open window signaled that it was already morning, its rays casting eerie shadows against Draco's pale blood-stained hair and skin. Harry let his eyes close and his head tip forward slightly for a moment, before jerking himself awake and mentally shaking himself for letting only a single night's missed sleep get him so tired.

Draco moaned slightly in his sleep, and Harry, a bit less than reluctantly, tore his tired eyes away from his book -- which was now somehow turned to the first page again -- to see if he was at last waking up. The other boy had been occasionally coughing or groaning as he slept, but he hadn't woken up yet, which worried Harry because he'd been asleep for almost a day with no sign of getting any better. The scars on his face haunted the raven-haired boy, who thought of them as ghostly lines drawn across such an otherwise flawless face, and would rather not have to think about the pain that was caused as each curve was etched deeply into such pale flesh. There were several painted, rather long and sloppy compared to the ones on his face, down his arms as well, which were at some points of the night hanging limply over the edges of the bed, but were now resting neatly on top of the blankets in front of the silver-haired boy, delicately placed one on top of the other as Draco lay on his back, eyes closed restfully and mouth slightly ajar.

Harry frowned, eyes tracing the midnight black Dark Mark visible on Draco's left arm. He hadn't really paid it much attention the night before, nor in his rush to save the other boy, but there it was, burned into his skin like some disgusting scar. It was pure onyx in color, a large skull with a long, coiling snake protruding from its mouth; the blank stretches of skin within the shape shone brilliantly, almost white, against the shadowy tattoo. It was dark because Voldemort was back; because he was powerful again.

Had Draco gotten the mark by choice? With the threat of his entire family being killed, he had had no other option but to become a Death Eater. Harry rather doubted that he wanted to be, or ever had, because he'd run away from all of that after failing his master. But just how much pain had he had to endure before he was even able to flee from it?

Harry threw his Transfiguration book rather haphazardly onto the nightstand beside the chair he was sitting in and leaned forward slightly, his eyes still following the glimmering tattoo. Unconsciously, without even realizing it, he traced the serpent shape with his right index finger. A light pain twinged in his scar, but he ignored it -- it had been happening far too often for him to even notice it sometimes.

Harry thought he saw Draco's eyelids flicker somewhat, and he retracted his hand from his arm embarrassedly, but still didn't remove his gaze from the other boy. Just when he was about to give up hope that the young Malfoy was at last regaining consciousness, however, Draco's eyes opened completely, and Harry was left staring awkwardly into those light silver orbs and wondering what to say next.

"Potter?" Draco asked confusedly, his voice rather scratchy and soft, as he hadn't used it in more than a day. Harry nodded, and that action seemed enough for the Slytherin to gain back his snappish attitude. "What am I doing here?" he asked, with mild disgust that he hadn't even bothered to hide apparent in his cold voice.

Harry rolled his eyes, wondering for a moment why he had even bothered to help Malfoy, when he'd never showed a singled bit of caring toward the dark-haired boy.

"Because I saved you, that's why," he said, putting extra emphasis on the word 'saved' as though that was enough to end the conversation. For Draco, however, it was not.

"Save me?" he scoffed, "I could have just as easily saved myself without your help." But as he said this he tone of voice changed to one that suggested that he was racking his brain to find the next insulting thing to say to Harry, even though he couldn't possibly think of anything cruel to say to the person who so obviously had saved his life. Harry noticed, just barely, out of the corner of his eye Draco frantically covering his left arm with the bedcovers.

Harry, by now thoroughly annoyed with the other boy that he didn't even want to look at him, turned away and pretended to be instead extremely interested in the cabinet by his door, which in truth held no form of interest in him whatsoever.

"So, Potter," Draco spat Harry's last name as though it was painful to say it, but with not nearly as much contempt as he'd used with him before, "who mended my cuts, then? Certainly it can't be you, you're not even of age yet." he said, and Harry thought it was painfully obvious that he'd been trying to make what had happened to him seem like nothing by calling them 'cuts' instead of wounds or gashes.

"Dobby the house-elf healed them," Harry stated simply.

"Gross, you let that thing near me?" he sneered, but Harry could see a glimmer of thankfulness behind his disdain for his former family servant.

A few minutes went by in total silence, broken only once by a bloody cough from Draco, which caused a slight ripple of worry to well up inside Harry, but it was gone before he was even aware of what it really was. And then, as though making up his mind about something, the silver-haired boy pulled back the blankets, swung his legs over the edge of the bed so that he was in a sitting position and, wincing greatly, attempted to stand.

"Malfoy, what are you doing?" Harry asked incredulously, watching as Draco swayed on his feet, pushing himself away from the bed to stand weakly, cringing all the while in pain.

"Leaving; what did you think?" he retorted, a gasp following his remark as he leaned over slightly, moving his hand so that it rested over his now-healed rib, which was still stinging as though it had just been broken again.

"Look at you! You can't even stay on your feet for more than a minute; how are you supposed to apparate?"

"Look, Potter, you may not be able to stand any amount of physical pain, but I'm not you." And to prove his point, he spun clumsily on the spot, as though to disapparate, but only managed to stumble over his own feet, his legs trembling. Harry leaned forward about a foot and, sticking his hands in front of him as though the whole scene had been rehearsed many times over, caught Draco with one sweeping motion.

Harry spun around -- much more gracefully than Draco had done -- and looked down at Draco, who he was still holding tightly in his arms, at least two feet above the ground, and a triumphant smirk settled itself on his face at the sight of his growing glare. Neither of them seemed to notice at first the awkwardness of their position -- Draco, who was still in only his boxers, being held up by Harry, his sworn rival -- until after a few seconds Draco spoke.

"Put me down, will you?" he growled, a light pink creeping on his cheeks, which he dismissed as his rage showing on his face. Harry complied, gently, though not as much so as he had been when Draco had been unconscious, setting him on the bed once more and smiling down at him.

Draco hurriedly pulled the blanket over himself and turned so that he was facing the wall opposite Harry.

"Whatever," he said angrily, settling himself more comfortably in bed and shifting occasionally to avoid positions that caused him the most pain, mumbling under his breath something along the lines of "Could've done it myself."

"G'morning to you, too, then."

(Page breaker)

Draco kept to himself most of the day, remaining in bed, huddled closer to the side Harry wasn't sitting by. He wasn't awake half the time, but when he was he refused to talk to Harry, and muttering things under his breath that Harry couldn't hear. Harry was rather horribly reminded of Kreacher.

Harry kept to his room for the majority of the day, occasionally poking some owl treats into Hedwig's cage -- as she had returned just hours after Draco had woke up -- and paging through his schoolbooks, though not making an effort of work on any of his homework. He'd only left his room to use the bathroom and eat whatever poor meals the Dursley's would let him have. He'd been thinking of ways to sneak food the Draco, who had insisted that he wouldn't have eaten anything from Muggles if he'd been paid to do it, and had managed to grab a bit of food from the fridge while the Dursley's were away and Draco, going against his word, had eaten it anyway.

"So," said Harry, looking over his old Charms book at Draco, who had just a minute before had his back to him, but was now facing his direction, though avoiding his gaze. It was almost nighttime; the sun was already sinking low over the horizon, and the silence was finally starting to bother Harry, "feeling any better?"

Draco raised an eyebrow; why should the 'Chosen One' care whether or not his enemy was alright? He glanced quickly at the Dark Mark on his arm before nodding, still looking anywhere but Harry.

"Does it hurt?" Harry asked, and in answer to Draco's bewildered look he gestured to the dark tattoo that he had been looking at only a few seconds before.

"No," he said definitely, but added in an undertone that Harry wasn't supposed to hear, but did, "No physically, anyway…"

"Um…" Harry said, racking his mind for something to say that would get Draco's thoughts away from Voldemort, but he was beat to it.

"Listen," Draco's voice was full of seriousness, "I don't know why you're helping me, but you should know that, after I'm better, we're still enemies. This doesn't change anything."

Harry nodded, a sinking feeling in his stomach. Why was that? Why did he feel like, by Draco leaving, he would be losing a dear friend? It wasn't as though the two had ever really been on speaking terms, but Draco had been the first wizard of his own age that he'd met, and it wasn't as though they completely detested each other. Draco hadn't ever really meant anything important to Harry, but at least he had cared about him when he'd accidentally hit him with the Sectumsempra curse the year before. In fact, Harry couldn't even remember why they'd become rivals in the first place.

"I know," he said quietly, again searching for a change of subject, but when none came, he said, more firmly, "I know. I felt like helping you this once, because the alternative would have been letting you die, and I promised myself a long time ago that I would not let anyone else die because of me. But we are in no way friends." he added, shooting Draco a glare that didn't seem to fit, when what he really wanted to do was smile and tell him otherwise. Draco seemed to catch this, because he added, in an extremely cold voice,

"This changes nothing."

"Fine," Harry said, in what he thought was an end-of-the-conversation voice. Draco turned away from him, and Harry turned to his book again as though nothing had happened, though this time he couldn't even focus on a single word.

(Page breaker)

Draco was sitting up in bed, four days after his arrival in the middle of Harry's bedroom, reading the Quidditch book Flying with the Cannons with only mild interest. Harry had let him choose any book he wanted to read to avoid conversation and, after mocking several of Harry's reading materials, he had picked the only one that was about the sport that they could both agree was the best. He had been able to sit up for almost a day, though standing was still out of the question. The scars still coated the flesh on his face, arms, and chest, but there was no longer blood in his hair or on his face; Harry had supported him to the bathroom sink while the Dursley's were out shopping and had helped him wash his hair, which Draco had defiantly said he could most certainly have done on his own. Harry had also borrowed him some clothes -- a long, dark blue t-shirt and grey sweat pants, which were far easier to put on than jeans, especially considering Harry had to help him get dressed as well -- and they had fit him very well, though they were rather baggy, having been Dudley's old clothes.

Harry had given up on trying to read with no success, and was instead playing wizard chess against the opposing game-pieces, who seemed to have minds of their own. He had offered to play with Draco, who seemed to be far above playing games with a Gryffindor, and he had so rudely turned him down. He scowled as one of his pawns was taken by the red team (he was playing for white) and looked up at Draco, who looked at him from over his book with his eyebrow raised yet again.

"What?" he asked, though he didn't seem to find it in him to say it with hatred or anger; he and Harry had been getting along a bit better just by not saying anything to each other, and he didn't want to admit it, but he couldn't even stand without Harry's help, so he didn't exactly want to kicked out before he got better.

"Did I say something?" Harry asked innocently, mimicking Draco by raising an eyebrow himself.

"Whatever," Draco said, and returned to his book, which he would never admit he found interesting, though he did. Draco had finished reading the entire book already, though, and was too stubborn to ask for another one, so he'd been letting his mind wander for the past few hours. What would he do once he was feeling better?

Voldemort would never accept him as his Death Eater, not after he had fled to the home of his enemy (accidentally, of course). He couldn't return to his family, because his father was a Death Eater already, and his mother was a follower of Voldemort as well, and even if they accepted him back into their family, they would be put in danger by protecting him. He needed a place to stay, and was even slightly happy that Harry was letting him stay for so long. He was grateful, he really was, even if he had a hard time showing it.

But just when Draco was about to throw away his pride and ask -- demand -- another book to read to take his mind off of things, something appeared in the window that did that for him.

A large, brown tawny owl swooped gracefully through the open window, a small scroll rolled tightly and tied around its leg. It hooted strangely dolefully, and it stretched out its leg to Draco, who removed the parchment with a surprised look on his face. Who would be sending him a letter?

Hedwig gave the intruding owl a haughty look as it soared back through the window, and Harry found her on his shoulder a second later, demanding attention. Harry, who was too busy watching the other boy open the letter with a shocked look etched on his features that he paid her no mind, and she clicked her beak impatiently and she, too, soared out the open window.

Draco unrolled the parchment and read the name on the front in silence, his eyes widening with each word. He hadn't even begun reading the letter itself, and was already dreading what it might say. It was from a Death Eater that was looking for him: his father, Lucius Malfoy.

Author's notes: This chapter was better than the last, I think. I'm not going to skip straight into romance, because I have to write a plot, too. I got the Deathly Hallows today (after waiting at the bookstore for four hours to get it) and I'm trying not to read it all at once, so don't tell me how it ends if you already know. I don't want to finish it too soon or I'll have nothing to do for the rest of the summer (though I'll read it at least twice before reading another book), and I want it to be a surprise. Thanks to everyone for their reviews; I'm going camping tomorrow, so I don't know if I'll be able to update for the next few weeks, so review lots while I'm gone so I have something to look forward to when I get back!