Ok this chapter came a bit quickly for my liking . . . generally because I have a hugely important exam I'm supposed to be revising for.

Funny how revision inspires you to write so much.

Thanks everyone who reviewed! It means loads to me.

Just a couple of notes.

Wintermoon – hey! I'm so glad you're still reading this! Am absolutely loving your new fic and I'm so glad you like this one too!

Venilia- Ok to clear this up cuz it's a bit confusing. Draco killed Harry because he realised that Harry was not the person he thought he was – aka not like the real one. Draco doesn't really have that much against killing people in general, it was more the fact that Harry did it. Any screams he remembers merely serve as a reminder of what Harry became. And he's joining the Order of the Phoenix now hoping that it'll make a difference and Harry will never become that. His guilt means that he's trying to make up for what he did and this is the only thing he can think of to protect Harry. Understand? I'm not sure I do now I explained it! Thanks for reviewing!



Enjoy!!!





Chapter 4

I take it back.

Two hours wasn't hard – it was bloody torture

Please please please let them almost be up.

I glanced at the clock

Well would you look at that; I've only been in here fifteen minutes.

The implications that arrived with that suddenly sank into my brain. Fifteen minutes? Fifteen minutes????

I hated my life.

Me and time just did not get on very well. I screw with it, it screws with me. A balanced relationship but probably not a healthy one.

It was the only way to explain time going this slowly.

I banged my head softly against the desk, trying not to attract too much attention. I really was abusing my poor head. First Dumbledore's door and now my Potion's desk. Who knew where either of those items had been?

And this bloody spy business? Sucked.

I always imagined that the side of light wouldn't give you assignments guaranteed to disturb and destroy you beyond your imagination.

Well at least my life can't get any worse.

I froze, realising what I had just thought.

Why. In the name of all things magical did I think that???

That settled it. I had advanced beyond the word 'idiot' in all possible ways. It didn't even come close to describing me. I would get full marks in any exam for idiots I took – in fact, scratch that. I could write any exam for idiots.

"Mr Malfoy?" Snape's voice made me jump out of my seat slightly, landing with a wince. Those creaky wooden chairs were not half as comfy as I pretended.

"Yes professor?" I chorused sweetly.

"Did you hear what I said?"

I blinked.

Was that apart from 'Mr Malfoy'???

"Of course I did, sir. But... ah...I don't think Granger did, maybe you should say it again." All this was delivered in my 'I'm the bestest student in the entire world and you know you love me more than any other Slytherin' voice.

Granger shot me a glare from the corner of her eye but it was lacking a certain something that was usually very abundant in Granger's glares. I shifted in my seats realising that even though I'd returned to the real world, everything had changed.

"Five points from Gryffindor for making me repeat myself unnecessarily." Snape snapped immediately.

Well it was nice to know some things never changed.

The again his willingness to go along with that horrifically weak excuse showed he was obviously still holding quite a large amount of hostility towards the Gryffindors in general since finding out about my feelings for . . . the guy with the glasses.

And that was definitely new.

"Professor I hardly think that –" Granger started indignantly.

You'd think such a smart girl would know when to give up and play dead.

"Silence!" Snape bellowed, glowering at her until she reluctantly shut her mouth. "Now if I may continue." he paused dramatically and I rolled my eyes, fully aware of my godfather's issues with drama. "Potter and Malfoy."

He needn't have bothered with the pause.

"Uhh . . . sir." I interrupted immediately, feeling my throat constrict slightly. "What exactly are we talking about?"

"I thought you were listening Mr Malfoy." Snape replied with more than a touch of sarcasm.

"For the benefit of those people who weren't." I ground out, hating having to continue with this game but not wanting to give in to the challenge in his eyes.

"I," he paused, obviously drawing out the torment I was experiencing, "was reading out the list of Potions pairs that you will be working in from now onwards."

My face paled.

"For the rest of year." he continued, watching my reaction smugly.

I felt sick. Very very sick. In fact, I was going to be sick right there and then; all over Snape.

He carried on regardless, every word filled with a manic kind of glee. "Every lesson. Every joint project and joint piece of homework I set from now until summer."

I stared in numb shock at my godfather who looked as close to amusement as I'd ever seen him.

Sadistic git.

And he was supposed to like me.

He couldn't do this.

He couldn't!

I could not spend the next year working with Potter; I could barely even get through a two hour lesson with him.

It hurt to even look at him.

This had to be a joke. Then again my godfather didn't do jokes that often. So this could be . . . a dream. Yeah that had to be it.

I was trapped in some awful nightmare and any second now I'd wake up and –

"That's not fair Professor!"

I found myself rather hoping that the voice hadn't been mine.

"Excuse me Mr Weasley?" Snape rounded on him.

I rather wished he was going to come up with some good points that would prevent the partnership.

"Well –" Weasley had obviously not planned to speak and he looked extremely flustered. "Malfoy – Harry – it – it's just not fair!"

Ok so my hopes were dashed.

"20 points from Gryffindor for the worst argument I've ever heard."

Personally I'd have made it 30.

"Ron I can take care of myself." Potter broke in, quietly, looking his friend in the eye.

"But Harry . . . it's Malfoy! I mean of all the times to put you with that stupid poncy – "

"If you're going to insult me Weasel at least do it to my face. I'm right here." I snapped.

Weasley turned to me defiantly. "Ok I will then. Just because your father – "

"Ron." Granger cut in, her eyes darting towards me nervously.

He ignored her. "Just because your father's dead that doesn't mean that I'm just going to sit here and pretend that you've changed. You're still exactly what you've always been."

"And what, exactly," I bit out, "have I always been?"

"Ron leave it." Potter put a soothing hand on Weasley's shoulder as Snape and Weasley simultaneously opened their mouths – one to call me something tragically predictable like 'ferret face' and the other to subtract points as quickly as the other could insult. "He's not worth it."

My heart constricted, pain flooding through me. I think I would have preferred ferret-face

Granger looked at me sympathetically but I barely noticed.

'He's not worth it'.

His words echoed through me, causing a fresh wave of heart-ache each time they repeated in my head.

I was nothing to him. Nothing.

Loathing I could take. The bitter rivalry was attention, filled with passion. But dismissal . . .

I didn't think I could take that.

Potter sat next to me. His body was screaming of reluctance and yet he smiled reassuringly at Weasley and Granger, sitting far behind us in the classroom.

With a quiet sigh he turned in his chair until he was facing forwards.

"Don't speak to me and I won't speak to you, understand?" My voice was aggressive, having decided that offence is the best defence.

"Like I'd want to speak to you." Potter snapped, antagonism in his voice.

"Well same here." I snarled.

Weak Malfoy. Really weak.

"I on the other hand," Snape's voice startled me for the second time that day with the same painful results, "would like to speak to you Mr Potter."

Potter's face fell and he grudgingly clambered to his feet. I watched him leave out of the corner of my eye, relaxing slightly as I realised that I could no longer feel the heat from his body.

I hated it.

There were moments I really hated it- that he was alive and hated me whereas the Harry who'd loved me deeply enough to sacrifice everything for me was dead.

I couldn't stand it. Any of it.

It hurt so much- I was in a constant battle with myself not to pin him down and punch him until he didn't look recognisable as Harry Potter. Until the blood coated his skin, covering up that damned scar. Until his features crushed so they were no longer associated with him. Until his green eyes clenched shut in agony. At least that way there wouldn't be a constant reminder of what I'd done.

But he (unlike me) hadn't done anything wrong – you can't hate someone for not loving you.

Or at least you shouldn't.

It would be so easy to blame him – to think that everything that had happened to me was all his fault; so much easier to hate than to suffer the torture of unrequited love. If he'd loved me then I wouldn't have changed time, the other Harry wouldn't be dead and I wouldn't hate myself.

I hated it. But at the same time I loved it. Even after everything that had happened my heart still skipped a beat when I looked at him. Even after everything I still . . .still . . .

Potter dropped back into his seat and I switched my attention to the Potions recipe, focussing on pretending that I was not aware of his presence.

Time passed.

Seconds ticked away and my eyes began to rebel; they itched from being forced to stare at the same page for so long when they just wished to watch him.

I snuck a quick look at him. Now that his anger had faded he seemed nervous; extremely uncomfortable in my presence as though I was going to – well ok to be fair as far as he knew I pretty much could and would to anything to him.

He really was nothing like the other Harry. That didn't really come as much of a surprise but Merlin how I'd wanted him to be. The other Harry I understood – this one I didn't know how to even have a civil conversation with when sober.

"Malfoy I just wanted to say that I'm sorry about your father."

His voice startled me and I gazed at him blankly for a few seconds, wondering whether Snape had given him some sort of personality transplant that meant he was going to attempt niceness.

"What I said the other night was – "

"Potter," I fought to keep my voice level. "Don't ever mention him again do you understand?"

My father. There was a thought that still caused my blood to boil. He may be dead in this world but that didn't mean that the hatred I'd developed in the other reality was dead too.

There was a small pause of stunned silence. "I just wanted to – "

"Well don't." I snapped, my fists connecting with the table with a bit too much anger for either of our likings. "I told you not to talk to me or was your poor Gryffindor brain not able to understand that? Just shut the fuck up and let me get on with my work."

"Malfoy – "

"Are you deaf as well as stupid Potter? SHUT UP!" I snapped, turning back to the empty parchment in front of me, instantly resuming my calm appearance.

"Do you have to be such a git?" he was starting to look seriously annoyed.

"Yes Potter I do." I calmly wrote the title onto the parchment with fluid motions, trying to dispel the trembling of my fingers.

"Why?" he exclaimed through gritted teeth.

I put my quill down and stared at him coolly.

"Because you're Harry Potter and I'm Draco Malfoy- you're a Gryffindor and I'm a Slytherin. That's how its meant to be."

Comprehension dawned in his eyes as he realised his own words were being thrown back in his face.

"Malfoy I – "

"Save it Potter." I brushed my fringe away from my eyes, trying in vain to read the recipe we were preparing. "You're the one who wanted it this way."

"I didn't want you to – " he sighed. "Nevermind."

I grabbed a handful of ingredients. "No Potter do tell me – what didn't you want me to do? Actually do what you wanted? Listen to you? Carry on with my life without obsessing about every detail of our conversation?" My chopping of the ingredients became more vicious with every second.

"I didn't want you to hate me." he snapped. "That wasn't what I wanted."

"Well it's what you got." I turned away huffily. "Now if you'll excuse me I have a potion to make and I can't do it whilst you're jabbering on at me. In fact why don't you just sit there and be quiet. At least that way there's nothing you can do to mess this up."

"I'm not Neville, Malfoy." he spat, unusually put out by my unusually weak, (though . . . can you blame me?) taunts.

"Potter what did I say about talking?" I asked coolly, throwing an ingredient into the cauldron and ignoring the expression of anger on his face.

"Well you can just go fu – "

"Problem Potter?" Snape interrupted, threatening him with complex eye signals that I'd never seen from anyone except him.

"None whatsoever Professor." Harry's face screwed up bitterly.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for your tone." Snape was just dying to tear him to pieces and possibly subtract points from Gryffindor until their total was in the minus figures.

And whilst a part of me really did not mind that, another part of me knew that Potter was yet again having the repercussions of my feelings taken out on him. Therefore I signalled a warning to my godfather with my eyes and watched as he reluctantly walked away.

Potter was fuming. Actually fuming. I could almost see the steam coming out of his ears.

And I couldn't resist it. With a smirk I turned to him and injected a cool drawl into my voice.

"I told you you should have been quiet Potter."

"SHUT UP"


"Professor Snape can I talk to you?" The words left my mouth the second the other students left the room.

"No."

"Professor – " I hissed.

"No. If it's about me pairing you with Potter then I don't want to hear a word about it."

I paused with an irritable sigh, deciding to try a new approach. "Sev I need to talk to you."

"No. You need to go to your next lesson."

"What kind of godfather would you be if when I needed you the most you weren't there to talk to me. My father's dead. I'm making sacrifices I never knew were possible. I'm struggling with a broken heart and on top of that you think it's really funny to make me and Potter partners!!!" by the end of the speech I was fuming, even myself convinced by my attempt at self- righteous rage. There was a note of despair and desperation in my voice that I tried valiantly to ignore. I just hoped that my godfather would ignore it too.

"How much do you think I can take?" I added in a slightly softer tone. Snape was not the only one with an aptitude for drama.

Snape's lip curled in a way that signalled he'd been defeated and with a frown he turned to me. "Draco look. I have many reasons for you and Potter to be partners. Your task is to watch Potter correct? How much more of an excuse do you need for spending time with him if not working on unavoidable classwork?"

"I wasn't even aware he actually did Potions homework." I muttered bitterly.

Snape ignored me (something which had been happening an awful lot that day). "And even if that had not been the case you cannot just sit and watch him from afar, constantly taunting yourself with what you cannot have. He's not perfect Draco and maybe if you actually spent some time with him then you would work that out."

"And if I realise he's even more wonderful than I thought and I fall even further in love with him?"

"Well . . . " he paused for a moment, a devious smirk on his face, "you were late for class. Consider this your punishment."

And as I stepped out of the classroom, scowling, I began to wonder if it still counted as punishment if I wanted it more than anything.
It was of course, turning into a day of trials and tribulations for me. Mostly tribulations actually . . . but who's counting?

So it was only fitting that when I stepped out of the potions classroom Potter and his friends were still there.

Now, I don't know how it takes that long to walk down the corridor but I did know that I was faced with one of those 'stay and watch Potter or leave' situations that were becoming oh so familiar.

So of course . . . I lurked.

I didn't actually know why I was lurking. It wasn't even my normal 'hide in the shadows and spy on people who can't see me and have no idea I'm there' lurking. It was more 'stand in broad daylight watching Potter gormlessly, with my mouth open enough to catch flies' type of lurking.

It was such terrible lurking in fact that both Granger and Weasley had picked up on the fact that I was standing there at least five minutes ago.

Hermione was giving me curious looks that contrasted greatly to Weasley's own hate filled glares.

Potter on the other hand . . . well . . . Potter hadn't even realised I was there and had blithely proceeded to tell his friends information that I could have used so well if I still hated him and didn't want to throw him down and have my wicked way with him right there in front of –

Hmm.

Anyway I digress.

"I'm failing potions." Potter told them both dejectedly.

"How can you be failing Potions Harry?"

"That test we did yesterday . . ." he trailed off, "I uhh . . . sort of . . . got them all . . . " he paused, "wrong." he said finally after great deliberation.

"Wrong?" Granger repeated in a way that implied she though she'd misheard him.

"All of them?" Even Weasley was astounded, his mouth opening and closing like that of . . . a fish that was an extremely vivid red/ginger colour.

"Pretty much." Potter nodded slowly, going on to clarify his statement. "Yeah."

There was a moment of stunned silence whilst they all (and me as well in fact) deliberated that.

"Oh." Granger said finally, stunned.

"Thanks for that show of support Mione." Potter's sarcasm showed even on his face.

"I'm sorry Harry it's just . . . " she scrambled for words, "There were 20 questions – how could you not have even got one right? I know for a fact that you knew that answer to question 13."

"Question 13?" Potter looked at her blankly.

"Yes question 13, the one about the elixir of – " she stopped, watching his face carefully, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Harry you did answer question 13 didn't you?"

A pause. "Not exactly."

Granger leaned forwardly slightly in a manner one might suspect that Voldemort interrogates in. Actually, one didn't suspect; one (me) knew for a fact. "Did you even reach question 13?"

"I was . . . distracted."

Way to dodge an answer Potter.

"Harry," Granger's teeth were gritted, "how far exactly did you get?"

By now even the spiders on the ceiling were hanging on to their every word in suspense.

"Question 6." he replied finally. "But – "

Question 6. That was quite impressive come to think of it.

"Question 6? Question 6?" Granger looked like she was about to have some sort of fit. "How could you only get up to question 6? You knew that doing well in that exam was the only way you were going to keep passing Potions. I do not have time to tutor you Harry and I really would think that you would have the sense to – "

I tuned Granger out, watching Potter carefully.

Despondency flickered in his eyes and I felt something inside me lurch with sympathy. What was it about Potter that called out to me to such a degree?

Unseen by him, 20 feet away I could still feel him; feel the emotions that flitted inside him as though they were mine. I could feel his pain and despair.

Merlin I wanted to help him, wanted to enfold him into my arms and hold him until the world ended.

I felt myself melting, at the thought of touching him. Kissing each of his problems away. Tasting every inch of his skin. I was melting. Melting into him.

Malfoy's don't melt. Think ice. Cold and impenetrable. That is what you are and – hang on a minute.

Why was I walking towards them?

Oh no. Oh no.

What was I doing?

Feet stop it. Now. Please?

Just because I may have wanted to help him does not mean that you have the right to try and act on that.

It was a split second of madness!

And yet I was still walking. Still walking. Still –

Just turn around and go away you stupid twat. You do not owe him anything.

Please just stop!

My feet stopped and I inwardly breathed a sigh of relief, closing my eyes briefly. That had been close.

My eyes fluttered open and with a jerk I realised exactly how close it had been.

Ah ok.

My feet had stopped an inch in front of where Potter and his friends stood.

That couldn't be good.

Granger's eyes had widened in a way that seemed to suggest she was about to watch a tragedy occur. I of course was taking every possible measure to ensure that said tragedy did not occur, namely indulging in ferocious mental instruction.

Do not open your mouth. No. Just don't do it. There is nothing that could possible be gained through saying a single word right now.

No! No!

Shut your mouth immediately!

I'm warning you.

Not a word. Not one single –


'Potter.'

Oh crap.









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