Happy New Year everyone!

Thank You so, so much for your reviews and favourites - they really get my muse's lazy bum off the couch, ha ha. I'm truly sorry I took so long to update. I'd hit myself with the lamp if it wasn't fixed to the ceiling.
I'll be good and focus on this one now (New Year's resolutions, yay!), since I've finished my silly Christmas story, so you can look forward to more regular updates.

Also, sorry for this chapter.

Chapter 10

Harry hated hiding.

It was stressful to the point of where he thought he'd have to charm his hands to keep them out of his hair and, even worse, it made him feel like a bloody coward.

Half-heartedly, he tugged at his Invisibility Cloak, making sure it still fully covered his feet.

He knew he wasn't usually a coward, he'd done a lot of things people thought of as brave, venturous even. And he was a Gryffindor, regardless of the Sorting Hat's opinion. But it still didn't make him feel better about the way he was sneaking around Hogwarts with the Maurauder's Map in his pocket, more often cloaked than not.

Slughorn appeared and entered the classroom he was currently standing next to and before the door could shut, he quickly pulled the fabric off, stuffed it in his bag and slipped into the room.

"Mr Potter", he'd turned, his brows drawn into a frown.

"Sorry, Professor. I, er, forgot my book." He ducked under Slughorn's puzzled gaze, hurrying to his seat next to Hermione. Keeping his own eyes on the floor, he didn't have to see the grey ones follow him.

He could still feel Malfoy watch him, though, as he plopped down and got out his textbook, dropping it on the desk, while inconspicuously stuffing the Invisibility Cloak further down his bag. The hairs on the back of his neck tingled like they had done this morning at breakfast. Ginny had whispered to him that Malfoy had stared at him back then, too. And he hadn't known what to do but to get away quickly, telling Ron and Hermione something about how he'd fought with him and that he was tired of keeping it up.

Obviously, he couldn't talk to the git.

Last night Malfoy had made it perfectly clear that there would never be anything other than hatred between them. That he didn't want it to change. And until that moment Harry hadn't even realised he'd harboured any feelings of hope. He must have, though, all whilst knowing that it was impossible and unbelievably stupid. Because this miserable feeling in his chest was similar to the one he'd experienced as a child, when Uncle Vernon had nailed the letter-box shut.

"Why don't you watch the cauldron, Harry?" Hermione said softly, taking the knife from him and he looked at the mess of Gurdyroot in front of him that looked nothing like the equal squares he'd meant to cut. He sighed, pushing the chopping board to her side of the desk, muttering "Sorry."

Hermione glanced at him briefly before focusing on the instructions for their Potion again. "It's alright."

He hadn't told her about his conversation with Malfoy, but she must already have put together something. And Harry was glad she'd decided not to pry. He didn't really want to talk about how he spent his time cowering under his cloak.

The first paper-crane hit his forehead before he plucked it out of the air. It was still fluttering its wings in his palm when he tipped his wand to it. The second one landed in his hair and pulled on it somewhat harshly. He vanished it, too. The third one actually hacked at his neck with its little paper beak and by then he didn't need Legilimency to know that Malfoy didn't like being ignored.

Sure enough the Slytherin was right at his heels after class ended and Harry barely managed to turn a corner, throw the Invisibility Cloak over himself and press into the wall, holding his breath, as Malfoy strode past. He decided to skip lunch in the Great Hall, visiting the Kitchens instead and when he noticed the blond in the 4th corridor he told Ron he very urgently needed the loo and ran, disguising himself behind a gargoyle which blinked in confusion when he disappeared.

Surprisingly, Quidditch practice went well, but he spotted the little ink feet with Malfoy's name next to them in front of the Changing Rooms again, when it had ended. Droplets of water fell from his hair with his hand running through it and he groaned in frustration.

"He's still after you?" Ron was leaning over his shoulder. Being half a head taller he could easily see what Harry was looking at. "What's his bloody problem anyway? Can't he find someone on his level to fight with? Like Smith's sister in 2nd year. Ginny said she likes pulling other girls' hair."

He slipped his arms through the sleeves of his robe, leaving it hanging slanted, with the left side almost touching the ground, while the right ended above his ankles. "Dimwit should've gotten by now that you're not interested."

Harry shifted. "Hmm."

"You're sure you don't want me to curse him, Harry?" Ron grinned. "Hermione doesn't need to know I'm not as mature as I let on."

Harry laughed, shaking his head and stuffed the map into his robe. "Thanks, Ron. But I've got it."

He left the Changing Rooms, wrapped tightly in his Cloak and, holding his breath again, tiptoed around Malfoy, who was all but staring down the door. Harry was amazed it hadn't yet budged under his gaze. The Slytherin looked positively pissed off, probably imagining cutting it into little pieces.

Studying Malfoy's face, his foot caught on a root and he almost tripped, regaining his balance at the last moment. The blond whipped his head around at the sound, for a moment staring right at him and Harry froze. But then he door opened again and Malfoy turned back, making Harry silently release his breath.

How had Ron believed he had anything under control?

The next morning picked up where the day before had ended. He almost ran into Malfoy and Parkinson on his way to snag breakfast from the Kitchens, managing to dive out of the way just in time. They were bickering about something, yet again, the girl sniggering and Malfoy frowning.

"Would you stop being ridiculous?", he said, sneering, but Parkinson just giggled. They'd passed him and Harry couldn't see their expressions any more, but Malfoy's voice sounded irritated and he imagined the crease between his brows to have deepened.

"If you mention the fucking line one more time ..."

Parkinson just patted his shoulder, much like Ron sometimes did to him. It seemed an odd gesture for a couple. But then she rose to her toes and leaned on his shoulder, whispering something into his ear and Harry turned his back on them.

Sneaking into the Transfiguration classroom was more tricky than it had been in Potions, but somehow he managed, only flinching a little under McGonagall's scrutinizing gaze. The lesson was disastrous, of course, since he couldn't concentrate on transfiguring his Puffskein with Malfoy still glaring at his back and it covertly started to nip at his pocket with its tongue, tearing off scraps of the pancakes he'd stuffed in there.

"Sorry about that", he told Ron after grabbing his hyperactive Paperweight, which had almost jumped on his friend's hand. It still felt a bit fuzzy and Harry was quite sure he'd heard it humming, when he put his palm over its back to keep it confined.

"No worries", Ron said. But that was hard to do with McGonagall's disapproving gaze on him.

Charms passed in a blur and Harry found he actually did a decent job when no-one stared at the back of his head. He stayed in his seat a bit longer, happy at Flitwick's praise, for once not having to jump and run since he knew Malfoy was currently busy on the other side of the castle, studying numeric charts.

"Me mum says The Chudley Cannons couldn't win against the Kestrels if half the Team was down with Dragon Pox." Seamus grinned. He was in a good mood, too, since he hadn't yet blown anything up today.

Ron had his arms crossed in front of his chest. "Could too", he said. "Did you see their new Chaser? He's wicked. Scored a goal against the Harpies last week."

Seamus just snorted. "You mean the accident, where the Keeper got hit with the Beater's bat, 'cause he lost hold of it?"

Ron's ears had gone red. "All's fair in Quidditch. He scored, didn't he?"

They left the classroom, still arguing and Harry looked after them, wistfully. Just once he wanted to not worry about anything else than his favourite Quidditch Team. But that just didn't seem to work out for him, did it?

He noticed his hand reach for his hair again and grabbed his textbook instead, throwing it into his bag on top of the Invisibility Cloak. Then he got up and left the room, deep in thought, dragging his feet a little.

Afterwards, Harry couldn't say if it was reflex or if it was because he'd just been thinking about the times when he'd fought Voldemort, but when he felt someone grab him, roughly pulling him to the side, he instantly was at war again.

He didn't realise when he'd whipped out his wand or who it was he threw against the wall, pressing his body against theirs and the tip of his wand to their throat. And it didn't matter. Because he needed to fight. To survive. He had to get them before they got him. He couldn't hesitate. He had to –

His frantic heart stopped for a second, his eyes going round, lips parting.

"Malfoy."

It was odd how quickly one's perception could change. Because all of a sudden Harry was very aware of how warm the body, he was pushing against, felt. Their chests were aligned, he had one foot between Malfoy's legs, one hand braced on the wall next to his head, the other one on his wand, still at his throat. They were very close. So close, he could count the light specks in the grey eyes, he hadn't realised were there before. So close he was sure Malfoy must have felt the huff of air on his skin when he'd said his name just now. So close he could tell he'd applied his cologne to the left side of his neck.

And he jerked back at once.

"Why did you let go? Scared to finish the Death Eater off?", Malfoy asked. His voice was cutting. Harry hadn't heard him talk like that for some time now. It was hard not to flinch.

"I didn't mean to … " The words came out whispered and he swallowed to get his vocal chords to work. "You shouldn't have jumped me like this."

Slowly sliding his foot over the stone floor, he started to take a step back.

"Oh, no, Potter, you're not getting away."

The hand closed around his wrist at almost the same instant as he registered the words and his gaze snapped down to his lower arm, where Malfoy's hand was wrapped around tightly, his fingers digging into his skin. It was a harsh grip, almost painful, so Harry already knew it was futile to tug. He tried anyway and failing, sought out the other boy's face again, trying his best to rid himself of stupid thoughts.

"What do you want, Malfoy?"

With the small, crooked smile on his lips he looked as if his Draught had just bested Hermione's. Harry didn't know what exactly he'd thought he'd won, but it probably wasn't good news. "I thought I needed to remind you of your end of our deal, since it must have slipped your small brain."

Oh.

Harry's hand twitched, instinctively trying to reach his hair. He was still holding his wand with one and had Malfoy grasping the other so he just closed and opened his eyes in resignation.

This was about their stupid deal. Of course. That was why Malfoy was so angry about being ignored. Right.

"Look, Malfoy, I don't know what gave you the idea that Hermione did what you think she did, but you're wrong. There's nothing I can do", he said.

He'd already known the Syltherin wouldn't like his answer before his smug look made room for a scowl.

"Maybe you'll reconsider, if Weasley joins our little discussion. See, I think he's heading our way."

And Harry tensed. "Listen here, Malfoy", he hissed, "Hermione didn't impersonate your girlfriend and didn't kiss you and that won't change even if you tell Ron all of my darkest secrets. So you better learn to live with disappointment and get it into that insufferable head of yours. You. Are. Wrong."

Malfoy mustn't have expected him to get angry, because he felt his grip loosen and instantly pulled free, taking a few steps back.

"So, by Merlin's beard, just leave me alone", Harry cried. He realised it sounded more desperate than it probably should have. But if Malfoy wondered about it, he didn't show.

His face was oddly blank, Harry thought, already whirling around to meet Ron halfway down the corridor. All things considered this had gone rather well.

"You okay?", Ron blurted, glaring over his shoulder to where Malfoy probably still stood. "Did the ferret do something?" He looked ready to throw himself at the Slytherin and Harry put a hand on his shoulder, pulling him with him.

"It's fine", he said, shaking his head. "I took care of it."

"Oh. Good."

Ron's shoulders had slumped and Harry watched him tuck his wand away. He had been ready to fight, he realised.

His friend turned, red brows raised. "What?", he asked, when he noticed him looking. "Is there something on my face?" He rubbed the side of his nose.

"Ron, there's something I want to talk about."

Harry ignored the weight on his chest, that felt like his transfigured Puffskein had finally decided to settle there.

It was time to be a Gryffindor again.