"Malfoy, hey Malfoy!" Harry called smacking his head with a pillow.
Draco blinked slowly, waking up, and burrowed his head beneath the covers, "What the fuck do you want, you insane, tick infested mongrel?"
"I just thought-"
"I wasn't talking to you, Potter; I was talking to your hair. Now get out of my room," he mumbled sleepily.
Harry rolled his eyes and hopped on the bed, jumping on it until Draco threw off the covers and tried to literally kick him off, "Why are you so energetic in the mornings?"
"It's snowing," Harry explained plopping down on the bed in a sitting position.
Draco hit his head against his headboard, "You woke me up because of fucking snow? What color is the sky in your world, Potter?"
"Will you kindly shut up and go outside with me?" Harry asked instead, jumping off the bed.
Draco glanced at the clock on his bed stand and let out a pained sound, "Potter, it's seven in the morning. Why don't you go chew on a bone for another three hours and come back then?"
"Get up, you lazy arse."
"I can't," Draco responded burrowing under the covers again. "I might have a reaction to you. I'm allergic to stupid."
"Come on, Malfoy. It's our last day before school starts. Don't be a ninny," Harry grabbed the covers and pulled them back.
Draco stared up at the ceiling and shook his head, "I hate you."
"Glad to see things haven't changed; now get up off your arse and move," Harry said throwing the covers down on the bed again.
Draco rolled his eyes and stood up, removing his shirt as he walked towards his wardrobe. His slender fingers revealed a long, smooth line of pale skin before he picked out a black button up and put it on. He grabbed a pair of slacks and went into the bathroom, decided on at least brushing his teeth. When he emerged, Potter was by the window watching the snow flakes fall like a puppy. He was unbelievable, Draco decided. There was just no way that someone could be this excited over a little snow.
"Alright, Potter. I'm ready," Draco announced.
Harry turned around and shook his head, pulling on his gloves, "Honestly, Malfoy. You look like you're going to a funeral. Don't you have anything other than slacks and button up shirts?"
"No."
"Oh."
"Your verbal wisdom astounds," Draco said dryly.
Harry led the way out into the hall, "Just as much as your bad attitude."
They rushed downstairs thanks in large part to Potter's impatience without bothering to say goodbye to a still sleeping Remus. It had annoyed Draco that the man was still in bed, and he had been tempted to order a House Elf to wake him rather than let him know once he woke that they were going to be on the grounds. Out in the gardens, Potter plopped on the ground on a particularly fluffy mound and began making the movements or a retarded, drowning fish. Draco watched with worry as he continued to do it, until he could no longer contain himself, "Potter, what exactly is it that you are doing?"
"Making a snow angel, of course. When I was little, I used to watch all the other kids in the neighborhood do it, but I wasn't allowed to join them. My cousin Dudley would always come home sick the first time it snowed and acted like a bloody terror for weeks," Harry answered.
Draco frowned with confusion, "Why would your cousin be allowed to play and not you?"
"Oh, you know," Harry shrugged it off, "the Dursleys lacked holiday spirit. You will be happy to know that you are not the only individual on the planet who is impervious to my charming personality and blinding good looks."
"Potter, I think you're running a fever. How else could you say such foolish lies. Here," Draco said picking up a ball of snow and flinging it at his face. "Why don't you cool down?"
iIiIiI
It was January third, and in one day's time they were to return to Hogwarts. They had spent the night at Grimmauld Place on New Years Eve, celebrating with everyone the coming of a new year. To Harry's surprise, Ron had come up to Draco and apologized without any coercion until an uneasy truce was reached. All of the teens had regarded the interaction with sidelong glances until it was over, prompted by Mrs. Weasley's look to include Malfoy in their conversation. They had all sat and talked about school and how long was still left for them all to finish. Draco regarded Potter with curiosity, noting that while everyone seemed happy about the prospect of ending school, even Granger who talked animatedly about going into secondary training, Harry didn't say much on the subject, choosing instead to listen and pass off his turn to speak with a wave of his hand. Ron had gone on to explain in great detail how he was going to become the greatest keeper in the Cannon's history only to smack Fred on the back of the head when he pointed out that wasn't a hard task to manage. Ginny did not yet know what her future plans were; she admitted with a happy smile that she was too busy living her todays to worry about her tomorrows. Though no one asked him, Draco couldn't agree with her more.
When they had returned to Draco's home the following day, Harry had apologized belatedly for not asking him about his plans, remembering only then about the conversation that had been dropped in favor of counting in the new year. Remus had turned into bed early after drinking a bit too much wine, and they were left to talk alone in the living room. Draco had looked at Potter calculatingly for a moment before asking him to follow. They walked to the third floor, into a large office whose every wall, save one, was covered in large books. The wall directly opposite the dark cherry desk boasted a large tapestry with several buildings scattered all around a large, cursive M. As Harry drew near, he saw that every building had the same letter stamped on the lower right corner. He put his finger on one, jumping back in surprise when the large M disappeared in favor of a haughty picture of Draco, gazing down on him with a cold glare.
"They are all mine," Draco said, sitting behind the desk on a handsome, leather chair. "They are businesses all across the spectrum, ranging from magical artifacts to economic investment; there is even one directly connected with Gringotts. Those six are mine alone, to do with them as I please. I also have shares in my father's businesses, though I don't realistically think that I will ever have access to that money again, except the largest one we co-own immediately connected to bank itself. No one, not even the Dark Lord, could tamper with galleons handled by the goblins."
"So is this what you're going to do after Hogwarts?" Harry asked glancing back at the tapestry.
Draco considered that statement, "If I am not killed, than yes, probably."
"Don't say that, Malfoy. Is this to build up your own fortune, then?" Harry asked, having assumed Draco must have been disowned but now not so convinced.
Draco smirked, "No, Potter. I don't have to build up anything. I am a trust fund, baby; I am a Malfoy. I have money set aside for me, money older even than Dumbledore himself. No, these are just for me to play. They're to test out my luck, as it were, so that I can add to the Malfoy name."
"Well, that's neat," Harry said turning away to look at some of the books.
"Yes, neat," Draco said sarcastically, unused to having someone disregard money in such a manner.
Purebloods and Slytherins especially were ambitious from the making, looking to surpass one another in every way every time. It was strange, once a conversation was begun on inheritance, to have someone be more curious about books than his money. His friends had been his friends in large part, because they were aware of the importance of good networking. Of course, there was also pride and the need for numbers that instigated the friendship, and even real interest at times, but it always went back to what you could offer with a Slytherin. It was how they were brought up; it was practically in their blood. Yet, Harry had been more interested in asking him about several spell books he had found, asking him questions about when they were written and if he could perhaps borrow them. In some ways, it had unnerved Draco, to know that there was nothing he possessed that really mattered to Potter.
With a Slytherin, such a trait would mean that he would be a person who would easily turn on a rival, especially if there was nothing you could offer. Potter, though, was not like that. It left Draco confused, unsure of where he stood with the Gryffindor. If he couldn't put up wealth or power, what then was going to assure that Harry stuck by his side when the moment came for someone to strike?
iIiIiI
They had finished the last of their remaining day by attempting to skate again, this time with Remus along for the ride. Harry had admitted to Remus he had a great holiday, even if he would have preferred to spend a little more time in Grimmauld Place. It was surprising to him to figure out how funny he found Malfoy to be. Though there had been some tense moments when it looked like Draco was going to snap at him and some when the blond had answered some innocent questions disagreeably, they had gotten through them, going around the house to places where Draco had fond memories. He had taken Harry into the forest and showed him the tree house, still intact, that had been built for him one summer while he and his parents were vacationing there, the same spot, incidentally, where he had broken his arm coming down the steps. They had laughed at stupid jokes, even forgetting to insult each other until Draco made some reference to Harry's appearance or Harry insinuated Draco reminded him of a slug.
The next day, they were escorted by Remus back to Hogwarts where Harry said goodbye to Draco and met up with his friends. Classes didn't start until the following day, so everyone was gathered in the Gryffindor common room sharing stories about their holidays and telling each other what they had all gotten. It was a friendly atmosphere that Harry was glad to be back in. Though he didn't necessarily think that Draco was the scum of the earth now, it didn't change the fact that he missed his friends. He had almost forgotten how nice it was to have a conversation where no one made fun of one another. Seamus was as hilarious as always and entertained them by cracking jokes about his Irish relatives and the drunken spectacles they had created. After a bit of a tense beginning, he and Ron started talking as normal and the evening carried out to its eventual close with everyone in good spirits.
"Aren't you cheery," Draco said opening the door, allowing it to close on Harry's face.
Knocking, Harry waited outside tapping his foot, "Malfoy, stop being a prat."
"Fine, fine," Draco sighed and conceded. "You have a horrible sense of humor."
"No, you just don't have one at all," Harry said. "What have you been up to?"
"Just unpacking," Draco responded going over to sit on the couch where an open book rested. "I'm also reading up on excruciating ways witches and wizards have died over the years."
Harry shook his head in pity, catching a glimpse of Draco's stuffed dragon on the bed, "You hate me that much?"
"Yes. I haven't done my Divination homework yet," Draco explained.
Harry closed his eyes and sighed; he hadn't done it either. They were got keep in contact with their partners over the holidays and let each other know about the dreams they had. Harry guessed that he would just make some foolish stuff up about Draco getting dangerously hurt, although recuperating. It made sense that he was going to be killed several different ways in Draco's paper before tomorrow. He guessed that if his partner didn't write about his impending doom, he would fail. After all of this time, he sincerely wished that he could see the humor in the situation, but all he could manage was annoyed acceptance.
"Have I been decapitated yet?"
"Last month," said Draco. "How would you fancy being mauled by a duck?"
"That happened?" Harry asked with concern glancing at Draco's book.
"What?" Draco grinned. "No, it didn't happen, you dolt. I'm using my imagination."
"Malfoy, as ridiculous as I think Professor Trelawney is, and believe me, I do think she's ridiculous, I sincerely doubt even she's going to believe that someone could be mauled by a duck," said Harry.
"What about a strangulation by a common house plant?"
Harry cocked his head and thought about it, "Better. Just make it sound like a battle, alright?'
"I don't know," said Draco. "Your dream didn't say anything about you not acting like a girl."
"Well yours insinuated you have sex with small farm animals."
"An epic battle with a house plant it is."
"Thank you," Harry smiled his triumph.
iIiIiI
"I thought we made a deal that if I wrote you were engaged in battle, you were going to scrap that rubbish about me and the animals," Draco said coldly with a firm grasp on Harry's journal.
"I don't remember having said that," Harry grinned.
Draco chucked the journal at his head, going completely ignored by Professor Binns as he continued to drone on about the Wizard and Vampire treaty of 1405, "Just for that, you're going to get eaten by a mosquito next time."
"It got me full marks, so I won't complain," said Harry backing away as Draco threatened to throw a quill at his head.
Draco put his fingers to his head and looked off into space, "I see you getting gang banged by a couple of banshees in your near future."
Harry mimicked him and said, "You get friendly with weird things quite easily, don't you? Though, I must admit, choking on a toe attached to Snape's foot is weird even for you."
"Potter, just why did you have McGonagall's knickers on your head before she murdered you?"
Harry winced, "That's horrible and below the belt."
"Know your opponent, Potter. Oh, look, a tragic story. You and Professor Trelawney...and Peeves. My, oh my; I think I better start writing this down," said Draco.
Harry narrowed his eyes, "Why are you so mean, Malfoy?"
"You were the one that said I had sex with a duck!"
"Hey, the duck is your fault. Shouldn't have put ideas in my mind," Harry held up his hands in response.
"Mauled by a duck," Draco nodded assertively.
"Oh, come on."
"Twice."
iIiIiI
They had been back at Hogwarts for two weeks, and Draco was getting worried. No one, literally no one, had attempted to kill him yet. It was terrifying. Harry had tried to calm him down, telling him he should be happy that no one was trying to kill him, just like a blithering idiot of a Gryffindor. This was not natural; after weeks away from the castle, Draco had returned ready to face at least another stupid poisoning attempt, or something, anything really. The lack of activity had him going insane, something that Harry could attest for. They would sit up late at night when even Potter's presence wasn't enough to calm him, and Harry would listen to him go on and on about what he would have done if he were in the Slytherins' position. It was Draco's belief that he would do much better at the other end.
Harry had listened with patience, wanting to throttle him half of the time but nodding along when he described a particularly gruesome murder idea. Draco was worried about someone not trying to kill him yet, but Harry was afraid that he would just take the job out of the Slytherins hands and get it done with. By the way Malfoy was talking, it was as if he derived some sort of sick pleasure for being able to outsmart his classmates about how to go about killing him. In the end, Harry had to change the subject. He was never particularly keen on thinking about how the people in his life were going to die, and it was especially irksome that it was spoken of in such a casual manner.
"As much as it is music to my ears to hear you describe how you may possibly die, don't you think this conversation could wait until the morning?" Harry asked in the darkness.
There was shuffling and Draco walked from his bed to the living room, taking a seat on the armchair, "You have to admit that I'm coming up with particularly ingenious ideas."
Harry cracked an eye open from the couch, where he was lying down, and said, "You are a morbid human being, Malfoy."
"Thanks, Potter."
"It was not a compliment," Harry mumbled.
Draco rolled his eyes, "Soft heart and a head to match. What would you like to talk about then?"
"I want to sleep, actually," said Harry.
There was a moment of silence when Draco contemplated whether or not to give in to his curiosity. "Hey, Potter," he cleared his throat, "How exactly are you related to the Durksveys?"
Harry laughed, "The Dursleys are my family on my mum's side. It's her sister, my aunt's husband, and the small elephant of a son they have named Dudley. Why?"
"You just never describe them with much warmth. I would have thought you would go on about them the way you go on about Granger and Weasley. What's the story there?" Draco asked noting carefully the way Potter's face hardened.
"No story. They just took me in after my mum and dad passed away."
"Did you guys go to fun places when you were young?" Draco asked testing the waters.
Harry grinned, "Yeah, right. They left me with our neighbor any time they went anywhere. They weren't particularly fond of me."
"Hmm," Draco said. "Did they treat you well?"
"Why so many questions?" Harry asked defensively sitting up.
"Just wondering."
Harry stared hard at him for a moment before looking away with a frown, "No, not particularly. You know how you always say I must have been raised in a box? Well, I wasn't. I was raised in a cupboard."
"Potter, stop joking," Draco said, deciding to drop it if he wasn't going to be serious.
Harry looked into his eyes and flopped down, throwing an arm over his eyes, "I'm not."
Draco looked at him for a second, trying to figure out what to make of that sentence. Potter was obviously not going to say anything further, so he stowed away that piece of information for later perusal and instead asked, "You know what would be exciting?"
"What?"
"Death by the Womping Willow. It would be a smashing event, don't you think?" Draco smirked.
"Malfoy!"
iIiIiI
Late on a Thursday the third week of school after their return, Draco opened the door to a displeased looking Potter. He had asked what was wrong, seeing the annoyed way that Harry dropped his bag by the door and landed heavily on the couch. Harry had scratched his head in frustration and had given a vague answer about the Slytherin Quidditch Team giving them a hard time, making them turn in from practice early and return to the castle with a note from Snape. Apparently, he had been walking down the hall when he started to feel uncomfortable, but he thought it was just a headache. Draco had nodded but kept his distance, knowing that an annoyed Potter usually didn't mean anything good, especially when he was tired. It would just be his luck for the Gryffindor to lose control of his magic a second time while in his room.
"Potter, do you mind if I read your Divination homework for inspiration? As crazy as it sounds, even to me, I have run out of interesting ways to kill you," Draco said putting his hand on Harry's shoulder to get his attention. The next thing he knew, Potter had sent him flying towards the back wall, luckily hitting the arm chair before he crashed into one of the bookcases. "Potter, what the hell is your problem? That hurt."
"I'm sorry," Harry said, shaking his head. He didn't know what had happened, but Draco had put his hand on him, and it had made him so angry.
"Why don't you go cool off with the Gryffindors and come back later, or tomorrow, or never for fuck's sake," Draco let out with a wince, moving his arm gingerly. He moved to open the door for Harry, but the wand pointed at his face stopped him. Potter didn't look like himself just then; his face was flushed and his eyes weren't focused, almost as if he didn't know what he was doing. "Potter," Draco said slowly, "take off your clothes."
"No," Harry said before firing off a spell.
Draco ducked just in time, turning and running to find shelter behind one of the pillars separating his bedroom from the living space. He had no idea what was making Potter act this way, but he was almost positive it wasn't the Gryffindor's bad temper. Draco tried to stun him, only to have a hex rush by his cheek cutting as it missed any other part. "Fuck," he said under his breath and took shelter again. Harry was behind the couch, aiming to hurt, seemingly trying to break down the column so he could get at the Slytherin. Sudden panic hit Draco's chest when he heard the pillar grumble as it started to give way, adrenaline pumping through him as he rushed to take shelter in the hall leading to the bathroom. The design of building gave him just enough space to hide behind the wall where a door had been before he had come to live there.
"Potter! Put your wand down and take off your clothes right now," Draco yelled out.
"Bombarda," Harry shouted in response blasting a hole on the wall opposite Draco.
"Potter, what are you doing?" Professor Snape called out coming through the door.
"Professor, no!" Draco yelled. "It's not his fault." He looked out in time to find Snape take shelter outside the room, his wand drawn. Potter seemed completely unaware that he was shooting at a professor and instead turned his attention to Draco, set to finish what he had started.
Different voices joined Professor Snape outside the room, barely heard over the spells being fired his way. Potter kept up the wand power without taking a breath, moving to get a more advantegous shot without regard for his own safety. Draco tried to knock him out again but failed; he accidentally left his arm exposed and felt it burn when a hex hit him close to his shoulder. Through the pain, Draco heard Snape and McGonagall fire spells at Harry at the same time, halting the onslaught. He hurried out of his spot in time to catch Harry falling in Snape's arms. He was put on the ground with little care, with everyone still pointing their wands at his unconscious figure.
"Stop," Draco said. "This isn't, Potter. Headmaster, take off his robes."
"What has happened here?" Professor Dumbledore asked coming through the door.
"Potter complained about the Slytherin team making him turn in early from the Quidditch pitch. He said his head hurt, and when he started attacking he didn't look like himself. I think something is making him do this," said Draco.
Dumbledore settled his eyes on Snape, "Take off his robes, Severus."
With clinical efficiency, Harry was unrobed, left only in his boxers. "There," Draco pointed at the piece of string securely curled around his ankle. "What is that?"
The Potions Master reached for it, only to have it jump at his wrist, saved from it by Professor McGonagall's spell. The string caught fire and curled into itself with a shriek before disappearing. On the ground, Harry began stirring. He sat up and looked down at his bare chest in confusion, "Why am I half naked?"
Draco gave a heavy sigh and shook his head, raking his eyes over Harry, "How do things like this only happen to you, Potter?"
iIiIiI
"Merlin, Potter! Put it away. No one wants to see that," Draco blushed in surprise, catching Harry coming out of the bathroom in only a pair of sweat pants.
Harry rolled his eyes and said, "Sorry, Malfoy. I forgot my shirt."
His hair was wet and water trailed down his neck and onto his chest as he walked further into the room. He bent over the arm of the couch, stretching the smooth length of his back to try and reach his bag on the floor. After having gone to the infirmary to get checked by Madame Pomfrey, he had spent some time with Professor Dumbledore, discussing everything that he had done on the way from the Pitch to Draco's rooms. In the end, he had given over his memories so that they could be studied over to try and figure out which family and what students were behind the attack. It took him forever to make it from Gryffindor Tower to Draco's room, not the least of all because of Ron and Hermione's worried questions. He had described everything in detail to them and had finally been allowed to leave when he had repeated the story three times. Hermione had gone off to the library to try and figure out what the piece of string could have been, dragging Ron behind her.
He had no doubt that she would find something. Whether or not she figured it out before the Headmaster and the professors was something else completely. The young girl responsible for the attack on Draco was conspicously missing when they returned from the holiday, though neither knew whether it was by design or because of Professor Dumbledore. Draco thought, and Hermione fully agreed, that without concrete evidence, there was no way anything could be proven. It was most likely that this had been a part of the plan all along, set in motion from the beginning. Draco had no doubt that his young attempted murderess was having the time of her life, getting whatever she wanted for having done her best for her family's advancement with the Dark Lord. Hermione had wasted no time on letting both of them know how despicable she found the entire thing, but Draco had merely smirked and shook his head at her naivety.
If he was honest, Harry was actually quite relieved to return to Draco's place, where he would be insulted but not harassed overly much as would happen under Hermione's supervision. He focused on the task at hand and dug out a white cotton t-shirt only to frown, "Damn it. It's dirty."
"Throw it here," Draco instructed walking over from his desk. "I will throw it in the laundry with the rest of my things," he took the shirt and went over to a drawer of his wardrobe where Potter's things had begun mixing with his own. He grabbed one of Potter's shirts and threw it at him.
"Ouch," Harry hissed having to bend to pick it up when it landed on the ground. "I feel so sore."
Draco nodded, dragging his eyes away, "And you will hurt for some time to come. That type of magic is Dark and heavy. I wouldn't want to know what sort of ritual they went through to make it override your own decisions and manipulate your body."
"Sorry about that," Harry said pulling on the shirt and sitting down, "about having tried to kill you and all."
Draco joined him and leaned back on the wall by the fireplace with crossed arms, "I'm just glad it's over. Now, there will be some time in between attacks once they see that it didn't work. I have to admit the sophistication suprised me, though."
"Malfoy, come here," Harry said making the blond sit next to him on the couch. He trailed an apologetic finger softly over Draco's wounded cheek, "Shit, did I do this?"
"It's nothing," Draco turned his head away.
Harry allowed his hand to drop to his lap, biting his lip, "Great job I'm doing of helping protect you."
"It's true," Draco nodded, "You suck."
"Shut up."
"Then stop acting like a girl, Potter. This happens; it's going to keep on happening. Do you honestly believe it's going to do anyone any good to have you feeling sorry for yourself?"
Harry shook his head, "Thanks, Harry. You have done a great job. Don't worry; this could happen to anyone, but, you know, I'm sorry that you feel like a jet ski barrelled you down."
"I sound nothing like that, and I would never call you by your name. I also have no idea what a jet ski is, so if you were trying to make an effective metaphor, consider that a fail," said Draco.
Harry rolled his eyes and reached for his bag again, "Shut up. Anyway, I brought you something to apologize."
"What is that?"
"Candy," Harry grinned.
Draco leaned forward, "Chocolate?"
Harry cocked his head, "You like it?"
"Yes," Draco said before snatching a chocolate frog away.
Harry watched in silence as Malfoy went through the chocolate as if he was a man on a mission, barely pausing to chew. Who would have thought that he, of all people, had a sweet tooth? It certainly came as a surprise to him. Harry took out a carrot cake pastry and took a bite; that hit the spot. After a horrible day, nothing felt better than having some well deserved sugar. It was obvious Malfoy agreed with him.
Draco licked the tip of his finger and thought for a second, "Death by chocolate. That would be a glorious way to go."
"Consider it done. Our new Divinations assignment is due soon."
"Oh, I have thought of new ways to do you off. Care to hear?"
Taking a bite of his cake, Harry shrugged. They sat like that for some time, forgoing dinner to eat candy instead. By then end, both looked like they were going to be sick, but regardless of how he might have felt, Draco kept eating chocolate describing with merriment his plan to have Harry fall off a broom, like an idiot, as he put it into a pit of snakes.
iIiIiI
Wow! You guys have outdone yourselves. I'm not going to ask for a number and will just let you all surprise me. PLEASE REVIEW and let me know what you think. I appreciate that you are all willing to wait for the process to happen naturally. I will do my best to give you the best form of interaction between Harry and Draco as I can.
Cyber hugs and mucho love,
Aly
