Chapter 8: What Is And What Is Not

Harry and Ron found Hermione in their usual compartment on the Hogwarts Express. When she looked up, her eyes fixed on Ron, and this time she was the one to blush, though Ron, of course, joined her. Harry stood for a moment, then pushed Ron into the compartment and closed the door, moving on to find a different compartment. He threw himself down into a seat in the most remote and unoccupied compartment he could find, and settled in for a miserable and lonely ride. He toyed with his phone, the phone with the messages he was still refusing to reply to. Messages such as:

'As dreadful as I, too, find this, Potter, talking to you has become something of a habit.'

'This is very rude, Potter. Has being raised by Muggles utterly stunted you in the area of basic manners? The least you could do is acknowledge that I know who you are, that you know who I am, and that we should probably discuss this before returning to school.'

Or:

'Honestly, Potter, you call yourself a Gryffindor?'

Harry dropped his head into his hands, digging his fingers painful into his scalp. Infuriating. Of course he wouldn't respond. Not acknowledge this in any way. He wasn't an idiot. And this served him right for not cutting off this…ridiculous flirtation…the moment he had discovered the other was a Slytherin.

And a boy, yeah. He shouldn't have gone there either. Stupid, really. All of it. Stupid. And for the rest of the year he would be waiting for the whispers, the Daily Prophet headlines, the shocked, and probably disgusted, looks from his friends.

The compartment door slid open. Harry lifted his head with a jerk, eyes wide, somehow already knowing what to expect. He cursed himself for not putting on his invisibility cloak and just hiding until he got to school.

It was Draco. His eyes were cold, his white-blonde hair in that just-shagged look he'd adopted this year. His lip was curled into that familiar sneer as he stared down at Harry. Harry looked away.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" He asked, cringing a little when his voice came out more shaky than annoyed.

There was no answer. He looked up. Malfoy was staring down at him still, his head tilted to one side. His eyes were still cold.

"I know I'm not wrong. I know." Malfoy said.

Harry looked away again, and said nothing.

"Coward." Draco turned, and walked away down the corridor.

Harry sat, stunned and immobile, and realized he was shaking.

He met up with Hermione and Ron at the Hogwarts platform, and they chatted away happily on the way to the school, barely noticing Harry's silence.

It all got worse after that. Draco stepped up his nastiness to them in the hallway, picking fights with Harry, though he barely even gave Ron or Hermione a second glance these days. To Harry, it only reassured him that he'd done the right thing not to fall for those last few messages, messages that pretending Draco Malfoy would ever talk to Harry Potter, ever be friends, every be anything more than friends. Ever be anything like what they had been before they had discovered that awful, awful truth on the train.

Every day, Harry sat with his back to the Slytherin table so he didn't have to watch Malfoy's pale face twisted into that sneer, see how his hair tended to fall into one eye, and the way he tilted his head back in a little jerk to get it out of his face. He didn't have to watch his lip curled into disgust when Harry met his eyes. That single word still hung between them. Coward.

But, of course, Harry wasn't a coward. He was smart. He'd taken to leaving his phone in his trunk. Just to avoid looking at it, checking for more messages, though there hadn't yet been any.

Not that Harry cared, of course. He didn't need to play into any more of the Slytherin's games. Obviously, the only reason the Slytherin boy hadn't already told the whole school about it already was because it would be equally damaging to his own reputation. They were locked in a strange shared secret. And the worst, the very worst part, was the memory of the shared laughter over all the ridiculous nonsense they'd spoken. He still found himself looking at the staff table and imaging some hilarious soap-opera drama between the teachers and instinctively thinking he should share it with…with…not Draco Malfoy, son of a Death Eater, bully, enemy.

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Harry was walking down the corridor alone when Draco and his friends walked past him, Draco's shoulder slamming with bruising force into Harry's, sending him into he wall, his books flying.

"What the fuck is your problem Malfoy?!"

Malfoy whirled on him.

"My problem? What the fuck is your problem, Potter? The Gryffindor fucking golden boy. What's your problem? Are you mad that a filthy Slytherin dared to brush passed you? Afraid we'll tarnish you?" Harry's reply died on his lips at that. There was a moment of silence, where Draco's eyes held something other than fury.

"What's the matter, Potter? Cat got your tongue? Or are you just too good to talk to a Slytherin?" Draco turned, and walked away, his friends following, with backwards smirks at Harry where he still sat surrounded by his belongings, and the sick feeling that Draco hadn't just been taunting him with the usual insults for the usual reasons. His words had…had they held double meanings?

oooooooooooooooooo

The next time Draco slammed into him, again, definitely on purpose, he feigned disgust.

"Argh! Potter! Stop touching me! Honestly, I swear you must be in love with me seeing as how you are all over me all the time." His friends' laughter rang in Harry's ears as he silently walked away, looking back to see Draco staring after him with burning eyes, the smile gone from his face, his lip curled just slightly. Hermione congratulated him on not rising to Draco's bait.

The next time they passed each other in the corridor, they were both alone, and Harry was ready. Draco veered away from his path and slammed his shoulder into Harry, Harry caught his arm, spun him, and slammed him against the wall.

"Why can't you leave me the fuck alone, Malfoy? Just leave me alone!"

"Leave you alone?" The words were almost a purr, and could have been pleasant if not for the dangerous look in Draco's eyes, though he was still, submitting to Harry's grip. "Why would I do that? We've become such good friends, such close companions. All those lovely little conversations…"

"Let's…let's just…" Harry's grip slackened. "Let's just forget it ever happened. It was a mistake, obviously."

Draco's face twisted into a snarl, and he shoved Harry violently off him.

"Yes. It was a mistake. It should be obvious I would never purposely have anything to do with you, Potter." His gaze raked Harry from head to toe, taking in his perpetually mussed hair, crooked robes, loosely hanging school tie. He turned and walked away, and Harry felt cold, the remembered warmth of Draco's robes still on his hands. To his horror, he felt tears threatening. Tears. Over Draco Malfoy, or the friend it felt like he had lost.

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Ron and Hermione had their heads together when Harry entered the common room. They separated, looking furtive, and he barely suppressed an eye roll. As if it wasn't completely obvious that they were talking about him and his MOODS and his NIGHTMARES, which no matter how many times Harry insisted were only dreams, and nothing to do with his scar, made Ron uneasy. But Harry couldn't talk to them, he couldn't tell them what was going on, couldn't tell anyone.

He slouched down into the couch, grateful when neither of his friends brought up their new favourite topic of "What Is Going On, Harry? We're Your Friends, You Can Talk To Us. Don't Shut Us Out, Harry, We Want To Help You." But the discussions about Quidditch and homework left him feeling restless, his nerves felt abraded, the noises in the common room were too loud, too jarring, and he found he really just wanted to be alone.

It hit him then. The answer. To being alone, to having someone to talk to.

He stood.

"I'm going to go for a walk."

"Harry, it's almost curfew!"

Harry shot Hermione a look. "You still say that? After all these years of us breaking curfew? And you do recall I did learn how to tell time in recent years."

Ron sighed. "Just take the cloak, Harry."

Harry nodded. He had it in his bag, anyway.

He was at the Room of Requirement, the corridor was deserted, and Harry paced and thought of what he needed.

Someone to talk to, someone who could help him, give him advice. Someone who would keep a secret, and to absolutely not be disturbed.

When he went into the room, he was momentarily horrified to find it little changed from the room he'd met his unknown friend in, Draco Malfoy, under the Dissimulo spell. He flushed, and found it a little harder to draw breath. The memories came flooding back in all their detail, now with Draco Malfoy's face, leaning over him in the firelight, bending to kiss him, Draco touching him, sliding his hands over Harry's stomach, and lower. Draco Malfoy gasping as Harry knelt before him.

Knelt before Draco fucking Malfoy.

Harry crossed to the couch and sat, his head in his hands, fingers fisting into his hair.

"You again!" He looked up. Broderick the Batty was there, across from him, his round, red face beaming out at Harry from his portrait frame. "Harry, wasn't it?"

"Uh…yeah. I…" Harry trailed off. Now that he was here, he didn't know what to say. "I need more advice, I guess." He looked down at his hands, his fingers twining and twisting together nervously.

"Hm. I am to take it the last bit of advice you got from me didn't go so well, then?"

"It…didn't not go well." Roddy chuckled, sounding pleased.

"I am glad to hear it!"

"But…there were…unintended consequences. It turned out the guy I'd been talking to is…well let's just say he'd the worst possible person in the school that it could have been."

"Oh. I'm sorry. That ugly, then?"

"What?" Harry looked up, startled. "No."

"Old? A teacher disguising himself as a student?"

Harry's brow furrowed.

"Your long-lost twin brother?"

Harry glared. "No. That's…he's someone I hate. Someone I've hated from years."

"Why?"

It was a simple question, really, and should have had an easy answer.

"Because he hates me. He's treated me like shit since we met. He's an arrogant prat. He thinks he's…well…he's an arrogant, slimy prat who only known how to insult people and probably came to school knowing more dark spells than most of the teachers."

"And yet you liked him perfectly well before you knew it was him."

"I thought you were here to give me good advice, not defend him."

"It just seems that there may have been more to this boy than met the eye, and that perhaps you saw a different side of him than his public face. I don't know all your history, Harry, so I won't tell you what to do. But think about that at least. Think about the boy you know now, and the friend you knew, and see if maybe you can't find some of that friend still there."

Harry sat in silence for a long time after that, and it was long past curfew when he finally snuck past into his dorm room, and crawled into bed for another night of disturbed dreams.

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This fic is drawing to a close! I have an extensive list of ideas for future fics, but I will allow some input here!

-Another chapter in my "Silken" oneshot.

-"The Permanent Sticking Charm". This one is already in progress actually, and we all already know exactly what this kind of fic is all about. A duel in the hallway goes rather badly wrong. Drarry of course!

-An as yet unnamed fic with Malfoy deciding he needs to become friends with Harry about going about it in the absolutely logical Malfoy way. He has lists.

-Another Muggle Studies fic focusing on a different project or field trip in each chapter.

-A non-Drarry fic with other characters and pairings. Snape? The Weasley twins?

-A Hermione slash fic. Sometimes the ladies need some love, too!

Please feel free to give me suggestions! I don't know how much is left on this story, I initially even considered ending it in this chapter, differently of course! But I couldn't resist adding a bit of angst and confusion, since that's basically what Harry is all about.

Ta,

Loony Luiny