I'm loving this story! Is it different than When Hate Turns To Love? I'm trying to keep it different, but certain themes are just, I don't know, attractive or something. :) Anyway, enjoy, and please give me feedback!

When Emotions Run High

Harry's palms were sweaty, but only because it was sweltering outside. He was dressed in his finest suit, his hair carefully styled by Hermione. Kingsley Shacklebolt himself had written to Harry the day after the Golden Trio had been subpoenaed, and advised him to dress sharply, in an effort for the jury to take his testimony more seriously. He hadn't dressed this nicely since Bill Weasley's wedding, and he wasn't even himself then.

Ron looked downright uncomfortable in his suit, tugging at his sleeves and pulling his collar away from his neck. Not only were the suits constraining, but the heat was overwhelming. Harry looked at Hermione, and felt weirdly jealous that she could go in a simple summer dress with a light cardigan. She looked at the boys, and pursed her lips. "You both look simply dreadful," she said simply, and then flicked her wand. Suddenly, it was as if Hermione had dropped a bucket of smooth, fresh, cold air over Harry, and his body was enveloped in coolness, and he felt very comfortable.

"Whoa, Hermione, what was that?" Ron asked, holding out his arms, trying to find the source of the cold. Hermione smirked a bit, tucking her wand into her little beaded bag. The same bag that had been their saving grace the whole time the three had been hunting-"So should get we leaving, then?" Harry said, one foot out the door already.

Hermione, though a bit startled, nodded, and took hold of Ron's hand. The three of them walked outside, stood in the sun, Harry relishing in the fact that he felt impossibly comfortable despite the boiling sun beating down on him. Harry took hold of Hermione's free hand, and then they were spinning away towards the Ministry.

I should of have taken those pills. Should've taken those pill dammit, Harry thought to himself, as he sat in the small little alcove where the sequestered witnesses were sent. He was one of the first to arrive. Hermione tried to make small talk, but Harry was so afraid that she might say something that would trigger an episode that he threatened to put a silencing charm over her if she didn't shut up, which of course made Ron angry, but one look from Hermione shut him up too.

Harry was actually delighted to see some of the people who had also been summoned by the Ministry to testify. Neville Longbottom, along with Luna Lovegood, Justin Finch-Fletchley, and to Hermione's upmost delight, Professor McGonagall herself. "Professor!" Hermione said, jumping up. McGonagall looked as stern and strict as always, but she did smile softly at the sight of Harry, Hermione, and Ron. "Very nice to see you three, as always," she said, taking a seat opposite of them. Neville and Luna gathered closer. They had not seen each other in months. "How's Hogwarts?" Hermione asked, of course. Ron waved her hand. "Never mind Hogwarts, Professor, what're you going to say about Umbridge?!" Ron waited expectantly, but McGonagall pursed her lips at Ron, and Harry smiled brightly at the memories it brought along. Happy memories, for once.

"Mr. Weasley, why on earth would I tell you what I am going to say about Ms. Umbridge? You must remember that she was a teacher at Hogwarts, and therefore we must respect her, no matter how difficult that may be," McGonagall trailed off, and before Harry or Ron could ask her more questions, the door opened again, and Harry's heart dropped into his stomach. Apparently, so did Ron's. Hermione's jaw dropped.

Only McGonagall managed to keep her composure. "Ah, Mr. Malfoy, I see you've been subpoenaed too," she said calmly. Malfoy looked striking, Harry couldn't deny that. He was tall and slender in a suit that accentuated all of the, er, finer details of his body. His hair was styled the same way, and when Malfoy passed Harry to sit on the far opposite side of the room, Harry could not have missed the clean scent of aftershave. But before Malfoy moved quickly away from the former Gryffindors he froze.

Harry could feel Ron tense up beside him, but Hermione lay a hand on his leg. Malfoy tried to keep his face blank, but Harry saw the anxiety in his eyes, and the way his hands seemed to stretch tight, as if he was trying to prevent them from rolling up into fists. His eyes flitted to Neville, Luna, Justin, and the others before finally resting on Harry's. Harry stared back, but it wasn't a glare, there was no hatred in his stare. How could he hate him, after the huge sincere apology? No, it was more of a gaze, a calm gaze that one would give a passing stranger.

At McGonagall's words, Malfoy gave a curt nod, before gliding to the other side of the room, to sit down with some of the other sequestered witnesses that were less likely to have the desire to kill him. Ron turned to look at Harry. "Mate, he stared at you for a solid ten seconds," he whispered, while Luna worked her magic distracting the others. "Yes, Professor, just there, behind your earlobe," Harry heard her say vaguely, dreamily. Harry responded to Ron.

"So? He was probably just embarrassed. It was pretty awkward," Ron gave him a pointed look, as if he didn't believe it was an innocent stare. What, does he think Malfoy has a crush on me? Ridiculous, Harry thought. Thankfully, having his friends around him seemed to help keep his thoughts happy and content. He'd just have to keep that frame of mind when he was on the witness stand.

Suddenly, the door to the courtroom opened, and an official-looking Ministry employee entered the room. She held a piece of parchment, and called out two names. "Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger," she said. Ron and Hermione stood up, gave Harry a worried look, and then followed the employee into the court room, hand in hand. And that's how it went, two by two, until the only people left in the small alcove were, of course, Harry and Malfoy.

Harry wondered fleetingly how he and Malfoy kept winding up together, when Malfoy spoke. "They're going to charge me," he said. Harry, not expecting Malfoy to start a conversation, flinched a little, before turning around and facing Malfoy. Malfoy was sitting with his head in his hands, and his eyes looked tortured. "What?'' Harry said stupidly. Malfoy stared at him. "Don't you get it? This is just a way for them to admit that I was a part of an illegal activity when I was fifteen, and then they'll charge me with that, and then they'll go on to charge me for crimes against humanity," Malfoy went on and on, listing off every single awful thing he had ever done, and it was making Harry sick.

"Malfoy, stop it," he said, but to no avail, Malfoy did not seem to hear him. He had entered a realm where he was reliving all of his mistakes, his past. The deeper he went, the madder Malfoy's eyes became, until he was quite literally hitting himself on the head. Harry, worried, rushed over and caught Malfoy's hand. It clung tight to Harry's, and it was cold, as if it had no blood supply. That seemed to bring Malfoy out of his episode. He was breathing heavily, and as he locked eyes with Harry, Harry clearly saw into that void, that fear, and behind it, the desperation. Malfoy was broken like Harry, but unlike Harry, he didn't have anyone to put him back together. He was alone.

"Are you okay?" Harry said, looking down at his hand that was still clutching Malfoy's. He was beginning to feel a bit strange. Malfoy took a deep breath, and ran his free hand through his hair. When he did, his sleeve caught a bit, and Harry caught a glimpse of what he knew to be Malfoy's Dark Mark. He ignored it.

"You know what my therapist diagnosed me with?" he said, not looking at Harry, but not dropping his hand either. Harry sat down next to Malfoy. He felt sorry for him, and he felt the least he could do was listen. "What?" Harry prompted. Malfoy turned to face him, and his face was crumpled in pain. "Survivor's guilt," he said. It made sense, really. If Harry were on the opposite side of a war that he didn't want to be a part of, and he watched his friends and former classmates die for an unworthy cause, and he didn't die, he'd feel awful every second of every day. That's what Malfoy was going through. It may not be PTSD, but it's just as damn painful.

"I should've died, Harry, don't you get that?" Malfoy looked away from Harry, his hand still clutching Harry's. "I'm sure you wish I had," Harry felt a bit frustrated at that. He didn't want anyone to die, not even Malfoy. In a move that shocked even him, he took his free hand and pulled Malfoy's face towards him. Malfoy didn't protest. "Draco," he said Malfoy's first name, and it felt weird rolling off of his tongue. "I'm glad you didn't die," he said. Malfoy looked shocked, taken aback, but he didn't lean away. His eyes became misty, and Harry had never seen nor expected to see Malfoy in this state.

It was strange, the emotions running through him. Nowhere could he find an ounce of hatred or contempt for this boy, despite what kind of person he had been. Instead he felt pity, or maybe sympathy, but it was something different. It felt familiar. It felt like an animal in his chest, an animal that was clawing his way out, attempting to make himself known.

And then it dawned on Harry. This animal was the same one that reared it's head sixth year when Harry was in love with Ginny. But why was it making a reappearance now? Harry certainly did not have romantic feelings for Draco Malfoy. How could he? He had never identified as gay, but then, again, he never really noticed girls much, Ginny being the exception. And as he focused on Draco's eyes, he did feel a stirring deep down. What was happening.

And Draco was staring back at him, and before Harry knew it, he was lying face up on the couch he had been sitting on, and Draco Malfoy was on top of him, and his lips were pressed against Harry's. Harry's eyes were wide open, and he didn't know what to do. He didn't kiss back, his heart was racing, he was so damn confused. And so he did the only thing he could think of.

He shoved Draco Malfoy off of him. Malfoy flew back, startled, and took a moment to react. When he did, his face became extremely red, and a look of pure embarrassment rested on his face. Harry rubbed his mouth, trying to rid the pressure of Malfoy's lips, but it was impossible. He could still feel them. "What the hell was that?!" he cried.

He was so shocked, he couldn't even wrap his brain around what had just expired. Just as Malfoy opened to his mouth to hopefully explain, the door opened again, and the Ministry employee summoned Malfoy and Harry into the courtroom.