'A/N: So I guess this is my turn! Muchly smooshness to Divine Sublime for the first chapter (and the whole idea really!) so now it's up to me to continue…it's total fiction, everything belongs to J.K Rowling. You can sue us if you like, but all you're likely to get is a battered drum kit and several caged Australian men (",)  *the artist formerly known as Indefinable*

Rating-Still PG13 to be safe, but nothing naughty in this chapter..may be slashy in later chapters.

Summary-Harry ponders, and Draco pays a visit to Gryffindor Tower.

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Chapter 2-Further Meetings

After he returned to the castle, Harry's first instinct was to find his loyal friends Hermione and Ron to inform them of the news, but something inside him impeded him. Was it pity? He didn't think so, but he couldn't be sure. Instead, he silently made his way back to the Gryffindor common room stopping only to mutter "jiggery pokery" in order to be allowed to cross the threshold. Thankfully, the Hogsmeade excursion hadn't yet returned which gave Harry time and space to think.

 The rain had eased off slightly and was now only a delicate drizzle, still pattering against the window but not as rhythmically as before.  Normally after a rainstorm he felt so refreshed, so at ease with his surroundings. It cleansed him. Only today that unmistakable feeling that something was awry still filled him, leaving him with an uncomfortable knot in his stomach. It had shocked him to realise that Drac…Malfoy was just as defenceless as everybody else at Hogwarts. That wasn't the only reason for Harry's discomfort though, there was something there that he just didn't understand. Whereas usually he would rely on Hermione's sage advice and Ron's ironic humour, he was going to have to figure this one out by himself.

It wasn't that he had an objection to Malfoy's civility because it made a welcome change from his usual hostile and snide remarks. Harry actually liked the idea that they might grow to be friends, even though it was in tragic circumstances.

The death of his mother was something that Harry could empathise with in a way, but of course Harry's memories of his parents were few and far between. His experience with the Dementors had taught him that his mother sacrificed herself in an attempt to save him, and that was all he really needed to know. He started to realise that Draco would have suffered so much more, having his mother snatched away after being together for so many years. But still, surely Harry could empathise with the feelings of abandonment, and he was going to try. A weight was slowly being lifted of the seventh year's shoulders as he slowly worked out his feelings. A sense of pathetic fallacy washed over him as the rain halted, as though it was alerting him to the clearer thoughts in his head.

So he could be friends with Draco Malfoy, in fact he was going to be. He attempted to ponder why this notion seemed so appealing when he heard commotion in the corridor outside the common room. It seemed a little early for the Hogsmeade trip to be returning, but all the same Harry got ready to retreat to the library. The voice in the corridor was familiar and stopped him in his tracks.

"I told you, I don't know the password. Just let me in you useless, over glorified piece of paper!"

It was Malfoy, and he was battling with the fat lady to get in, which meant that he must have been looking for Harry. An involuntary smirk spread across his face causing Harry to chide himself and scuttle over to the portrait hole.

"Jiggery Pokery" he whispered, allowing Malfoy access to the unusually empty room. The two boys simply surveyed one another fleetingly, before Malfoy flounced towards the inviting fire.

"Did you want something Malfoy?"

"I just wanted to tell you that I was in a peculiar mood earlier. Please forgive my outburst, I don't need pity from anybody, especially not you Potter"

Harry felt a twinge in his chest, the unambiguous feeling of disappointment. Any thoughts of a friendship with Malfoy seemed to be temporarily shattered, but Harry was not one to give up that easily. His sometimes-erratic determination forced him to persevere with the blonde boy in front of him, so he timidly took a seat next to the fire, close enough to talk to Malfoy but far enough away not to be seen as a threat.

"If you want to talk Malfoy…Draco…you can talk to me. I might be able to help."

This was met only with a grunt of sarcasm, which was customary for Malfoy's superior behaviour. Maybe Harry could talk to him some other time, after all the Hogsmeade excursion would be returning soon, and Harry hated the common room when it was full.

"Well just remember that Malfoy" he said, with a heavy heart. "Perhaps you'd better go back to Slytherin?"

The blonde haired Slytherin didn't move. He didn't even look away from the lapping flames that had mesmerised him so wholly. He muttered something that was incomprehensible and Harry moved closer to him. He was shaken by what he saw. Malfoy was…crying.

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*So there we go, my attempt…please review, I'll love you forever if you do! Flames are welcome b'cos I know my writing sucks…Muchly cherry pie!*