It was a quiet night, Harry recalled. He was running after Ron with Hermione, the bushy-haired brain. He had just seen the black dog that had been haunting him for Merlin knows how long snatch up Ron by his collar and pounce off without skipping a beat.
Ron cried, "Help! Hermione, please! Harry! DO SOMETHING!" Harry just ran, hoping for his life to save Ron. He saw the destination of the dog's travel and froze. The Whomping Willow. Harry had known of its existence for a time, but never knew its secret.
The Whomping Willow let the dog pulling Ron quietly past, no objection, not even a mere rustle in its branches. Is it asleep? Harry thought. Hermione looked confused, but she stepped forward, not chancing the time to think when Ron was in danger. Harry was allowed a moment of awe in her rash behavior before the Whomping Willow forcibly stole Hermione from the ground. Harry screamed in agony as he too was thrown feet away, writhing in a shocking pain.
Malfoy heard an unmistakable scream. Harry. He thought. He ignored the wail with effort. Even down in the dungeon, he could not help but hear the grimy git. I am trying to sleep, Potter. He sneered inaudibly in his mind. Still, the sounds of struggle were clear. It seemed he was the only Slytherin to hear these cries and hollers.
Reluctantly, he obeyed his body's orders and rose to his feet. He slipped on his robe and shoes, slipping out of his chamber, through the common room, and out into the dark passage.
The further he rose, the more crisp the sound of battle became. With every step, Malfoy became more and more concerned. When it came to Harry, he was considered an enemy. When it can to Harry, he knew he could never hate such a brilliant source of magic and... spirit.
Harry felt the bruises beginning to form. Blood was splattered on his robes. "Harry!" Hermione cried. Harry could not see her, for his glasses had fallen off. He rose once more, thrashing and running about in search of his glasses. Once found, he saw a thick tree limb bounding toward him. Instinctively, he dove.
He had not hit the ground or fallen. He landed upon a soft, cool surface. The surface became rigid and threw him to the ground. He looked up, seeing none other than Malfoy.
"Malfoy" he spat, "what is the snake doing out of his dungeon so late? Come to beat me more than the Whomper here?" Without a word or a characteristic sneer, Malfoy knelt beside Harry.
"Last year," Malfoy whispered as Hermione wailed into the darkness, where neither Malfoy or Harry were visible, "I remember what you did." Harry froze in shock. Why was Malfoy talking about last year? How did he know? Why was Malfoy there with him? Why was he not sneering and jeering as usual?
"Potter, I can never thank you enough for not leaving me alone that day. I am sorry for the results of Weasley's stupidity." he mumbled, hardly louder than a soft breeze. Harry didn't know what to say. He looked down at his scars, in which there were many. He remembered then his real task and rose.
Malfoy had expected something else, at least an answer from Harry as he slipped away. Hermione figured a way to get herself down and once Harry was in view, she scolded him and quickly relayed the plan of enter to the hallow under the tree. Before Malfoy could come into sight, Harry and Hermione had vanished.
Harry was distracted from the time on, trying to remember what he was there to do. Once he found Ron with the black dog, things became clearer. The black dog transformed and became the dark and feared character, Sirius Black.
It seemed like days, minutes, hours went by before all of the confusion and the pain and the emotional trauma of the situation with Sirius was made clear. He understood, by the end of it all, that Sirius was his godfather, Wormtail was the true killer of his parents, and that the Shrieking Shack was named after Lupin and his wails as a werewolf.
Even with everything clear to him, Harry felt confused by something else, something that seemed to be more dire of importance. He saw Hermione embracing Ron in a tight hug and a pain hit him square in the chest.
Malfoy waited on the grass, in the shadows. He waited for hours. He laid on the grass, cold and aching in his heart.
He was told many a time that he had no heart. What was it inside of him that was about to burst then? He waited in the dark longer than he had ever waited for anything. He thought more and more about what happened back in the first year to Harry Potter.
He lost so much blood. Malfoy thought. He teared up, but did not cry. Malfoy do not cry. Malfoy's do not love either. Even so, he could not help but feel trapped in a bind to Harry Potter. He wanted to love him, but he was to be the boy's enemy according to his parents and according to his family's past. He dared not risk his family for the feelings brewing within him, or Prof. Snape would return to him a force of anger and reprimand beyond belief.
But he waited.
Ron was back, holding Hermione. Wormtail escaped the hands of his captor. Lupin was to transform, so he ran quickly away from the premises at the moment of return to the school. Sirius remained behind, going into hiding in a way which he would not relay to Harry at the time.
Harry was alone. He walked back the way the way he came, thinking unwillingly about Malfoy. How did he remember? How did he know?
Harry's thoughts were interrupted by an unseen clearing of the throat. Harry knew exactly who it was. "Malfoy" he whispered. Malfoy drug him to the ground without a word into the shadows, covering his mouth with one hand. Harry became wildly alert of Malfoy's hands.
"Potter. I don't want you to talk right now, just listen." Malfoy ordered in a softer version of his crisp, sure voice. "That day when the Weasley threw me out, I remember you flying down by me. I wasn't sure it was you, but once I heard Weasley and Snape round the bend, I knew you were the only other it could have been." he took a deep breath and continued, "I remember wanting you to stay." He looked physically ill, but continued forth, "I saw bandages around your arms the next day, red stained bandages. I know exactly what happened. Someone threatened me with that punishment when I dishonored the Malfoy name a while back. Only the signature of the man at hand was shown in your case."
Malfoy took Harry's arms gently and pulled back Harry's sleeves. Harry shuttered, but allowed Malfoy to touch his scars that riddled his arms. "Po- Harry, I am sorry for what he has done to you. It was my fault." Harry froze; Malfoy had never called him Harry. He became again aware of Malfoy's touch.
Malfoy looked into Harry's eyes and ordered quietly, "Say something." Harry could think of nothing to say. He was finally letting himself feel the feeling he had always felt underlying his hatred. He felt the power of his mother's protection flow through him. He knew nothing better than to be who his mother stood for and represent her power: love.
Malfoy was taken aback as Harry suddenly leaned in, closing the small distance between them, and resting his lips upon Malfoy's own. Harry's lips were soft and warm, but slightly chapped in comparison to Draco's perfectly smooth ones. Draco did not move or breathe; he felt paralyzed. Harry, after a few moments leaned back and, slightly pink, said, "Draco, I'm sorry. I shouldn't ha-"
Draco slammed his lips upon Harry's. He closed his eyes and came closer to Harry. His tongue pressed into Harry's mouth like a snake into a cave. He kissed Harry with a ferocity that had built within himself for the past two and a half years. Harry was rigid and became relaxed as he returned Draco's kiss feverishly.
The touching and the kissing were soft and crazed all at once, abruptly ended by a sudden pain in Draco's chest. "Gah!" he shouted, falling upon his back. He couldn't move.
Harry had been kissing Draco in a sudden passionate embrace, which was quickly ended by Draco's obvious pain. He knew not to ask what was wrong. He looked into Draco's eyes and saw a tear fall from the pale Slytherin's eye. He became overridden with feeling, but pushed it aside, knowing that Draco's health was the top priority.
Without a second thought, he lifted the apparently paralyzed Draco Malfoy to Madame Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing. Pomfrey determined him cursed and looked to Harry in a reproachful way, regretting it as soon as she did so, seeing him pivot quickly to shed tears he rather her not have seen. He was away before she could apologize.
He began to run up the stairs, trying to get to the common room in Gryffindor tower. He need think of Draco any longer. They were enemies. The kiss was an accident. But he knew better than that.
Just as he was about to cross a staircase, he fell, plummeting to the floor far below. He lay barely breathing and unable to shout his pains. He lay there awake and tear-ridden, writhing in pain. His whole body bled within and he felt he would not live to see the next day. Where was his help when he needed it most? Who was there?
Just as Snape thought, Draco and Harry confided in each other. This set off his plan a bit early, but anything to show the two students their way into eternal hate for one another was fine by him. If one should be killed, so be it. He thought with a small grin across his face, laughing dully at his own thought of himself killing the Boy Who Lived.