Pick apart,

The pieces of your heart,

And let me peer inside.

Let me in,

Where only your thoughts have been.

Let me occupy your mind,

As you do mine.

You have lost,

Too much love,

To fear, doubt and distrust.

(It's not enough)

You just threw away the key,

To your heart.

You don't get burned,

('Cause nothing gets through)

It makes it easier.

(Easier on you)

But that much more difficult for me.

To make you see...

Your heart's a mess.

You won't admit to it.

It makes no sense,

But I'm desperate to connect.

And you, you can't live like this.

Chapter 25

"Best seven of twelve!" Harry panted, "Come on!"

Draco laughed maniacally, "You've never lost a race before, have you?"

"You only won three of five! Don't get cocky!" Harry chuckled, giving chase to just keep up with Malfoy's walking pace.

"I won four out of five, actually," Draco corrected.

Harry laughed, "No, you won three out of five and grabbed my broom from under me when I got too close to getting ahead of you on the fourth,"

"You're all about the small print, Potter!" Draco complained jokingly while waving his hand in dismissal.

"Putting my life in danger to win a broom race that literally has no consequence to anyone is not small print!"

Harry's brows sprang up his sweaty forehead in surprise at Draco abruptly falling to the grassy ground. Dexterous hands let go of his broom and he stretched, tensed and then laid comfortably on his stomach. Harry knelt down, placing his broom beside him and lying down next to Malfoy, though, on his back. Draco looked up to him upon hearing his weight crunching the grass below him.

"Do I really walk loudly?" Harry wondered.

"It's not about volume, it's about how you carry yourself,"

"What do you mean?"

Draco paused thoughtfully and Harry watched the grey clouds in Draco's irises swirl and change shade; Harry was able to tell that his question would not be answered.

"Come here,"

Harry leaned more closely to Malfoy, "Why? What is it?"

A lanky hand rose to his face and Malfoy's spidery fingers brushed some of Harry's hair from his forehead; revealing his scar.

"Do you mind if I…?"

"No, no," Harry answered, flustered, "No, go right ahead, it's fine,"

While Draco's fingers moved delicately around Harry's scar, he thought on how long it had been since someone was so fixated on it. He had grown used to people asking to see it after his first two years at Hogwarts, but attention towards it died down as the Magic community grew more familiar with him. It occurred to him then that it was possible that Malfoy saw his scar, maybe once or twice. He gasped involuntarily when Malfoy's index finger applied slight pressure to the indented skin, which scared his probing hand away.

"Oh, no, it's okay, I just – I don't really know what…"

"I-it's fine, really,"

Quiet swept over them until Harry asked, "So…what do you think?"

"I still think it's a stupid scar that's not special from anyone else's scars,"

Harry scowled, but felt the strange pang of disappointment. Ron's first reaction to seeing his scar was much more emotionally rewarding. He wasn't certain why he led himself to believe that Malfoy would react similarly, but perhaps it was wishful thinking.

"Malfoy…" Harry started.

His silver eyes lazily moved to Harry's ivy, "Mm?"

"Do you…do you still believe in Voldemort?"

Draco quirked a brow, nonchalantly, "Believe in? He was certainly real,"

"You know what I mean,"

Only a second of silence came, but to Harry it was an eternity. His heart pumped nervously; a wrong step on this road would condemn him. He wanted to build a bridge between himself and Malfoy, but the Slytherin made it so difficult to connect. He knew his question was not unbiased and that if he rejected Malfoy, no matter his response, that it would slow, if not completely end, any emotional progress.

"Why are you asking me this?"

"I need to know,"

"Why?" Draco pressed angrily, "What'll you do if I say yes? Or no? If I say yes, will you turn me in? Will you kill me?"

"Why do you keep accusing me of that?" Harry asked defensively.

"Because that's who you are!" Draco snapped, eyes suddenly lit and blazing while he sat up to meet Harry's stare, "You're a hero – you're their idol! You're a monster-slayer, Potter. And I'm just another mon –"

"Shut up, Malfoy! I haven't killed anyone!"

"Liar!" Draco screamed, "Liar! You're a goddamn liar! Are you out of your fucking mind?!"

"You know what I mean!" Harry yelled.

"No! No, I don't actually, Potter. You mean, what? That you didn't kill anyone who… what? Didn't deserve it?" Malfoy seethed.

Harry blanched and stood quickly, fists balled.

"What? Running away already? Why don't you just admit it? You only kill people if it's convenient, right? If they've earned it, right?"

"If you speak like that to me again, I'll punch you,"

Draco was momentarily stunned. Harry met his eyes again, glaring strongly against Malfoy's scowl.

"I mean it. If you go on like that, I will punch you. I don't want to jump you again like last time, so I'm warning you. I don't need you to make me feel guilty, Malfoy. I've got that under control, thanks,"

Harry watched cautiously, muscles tense with fear as the blonde stood; always so much taller than Harry.

"Just because my side lost doesn't mean that I have stopped believing what we fought for,"

Harry felt bile rise in his throat, "What? You mean believing a raving lunatic who would've killed you!? Killed you and your mother and father at a drop of a hat!?"

Draco's shoulders sat against his ears, his posture anxious and cornered,

"Voldemort didn't need to kill them! You and your precious Ministry seemed all too happy to watch them die!"

"Oh, but you've never killed anyone, Malfoy, have you? You wouldn't know anything about –"

"I killed someone! I have! I did!"

Harry gasped, unable to form a coherent thought before Malfoy took a dangerous step forward and he took one back.

"Muggles have their place, Potter. I don't think it's in mass graves, but I do think that it is damn well far from Hogwarts – or any magical place. They need to mate with their own and stop dirtying the blood of truly magical families,"

Harry's hands moved on their own; his right hand into Draco's ribcage and his left immediately following, into Draco's abdomen. The air knocked out of him, it took Draco a second to comprehend that he'd finally snapped Harry again. His first swing missed, but his strong, lean legs flew high enough to land a throbbing pain into the side of Harry's head. Knocking off his glasses, Draco was able to temporarily disable Harry's violence, at which time he tackled Harry to the ground and continued to punch his stomach.

"Get off!" Harry coughed and moaned in agony, "Get off, Malfoy! Get off!"

"Or what?!" He spat.

"Please," Harry begged reluctantly.

The plea stopped Draco's hammering fists, but he still straddled Harry, looming over him with dignified fury. No longer a sociable, likable prince – he had become an angry, vengeful king. Harry gasped and coughed, attempting to catch his breath. Draco watched his torso flex and bounce under him; suddenly hot and bothered. He tried to keep his mind far from the twisted war of his head that battled fantasies of strangling Potter or kissing him. He reached over Harry's head to retrieve his glasses and held them until Harry had evened his breathing and quieted.

"You know exactly how to fire me up," Malfoy sneered.

"That's right. I become irate at your narrow-minded hatred to upset you, because everything everyone does is all about you,"

Malfoy's glower intensified, "You don't want your glasses, then?"

"Not if you're actually going to use them as a bargain for me to pretend you're right,"

"And how do you know I'm wrong?"

"Because hatred is never the answer," Harry told him, still slightly winded.

Draco swallowed a lump into his chest, "What if hatred's the only way to keep a person safe?"

"It's never the only way,"

Malfoy scoffed, dropped Harry's glasses onto his face unceremoniously and pushed off Harry's chest to rise to his feet; more violently than he needed to. He swiped his broom from the ground and began to walk off. He only made it a yard or so before he heard steps jogging to keep up with him. He stopped and turned to see Harry catching up to him.

"What? What do you want?"

Harry rubbed a friendly hand onto Draco's shoulder, reassuringly.

"Friends fight sometimes. It's natural. Doesn't mean we're not still friends,"

He watched in amazement as Malfoy's face turned pink and shocked. He started to smile, but Malfoy shoved his chest and mumbled something about him never saying anything like that again. He walked away again and Harry gave chase.

"Why are you angry?" Harry teased.

"I don't need your forgiveness, Potter," He hissed.

"I never said you had it,"

Malfoy whipped around to Harry, obviously battling whether or not to concede and make peace, or to throw another fist. He reached his arm out and patted Harry's shoulder. Harry glanced to the hand on his shoulder then back to Draco's stare.

"You can treat me to dinner tonight,"

Harry barked a laugh, "Fantastic. That was precisely what I was hoping to do with my evening,"

"If I could take me out to dinner too, I would," Draco announced regally.

Harry laughed again, "I have no doubt about that,"

Draco chuckled a little and they walked in companionable silence until Harry asked gently, "Will you teach me how to walk nicely?"

Draco looked at him from the corner of his eye, in a way that made Harry's heart bump and squirm. He smiled genuinely and answered,

"Gladly,"

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