Borderline

Part 2 - Ambiguous

Notes: Many thanks to lodestar for beta-ing. ^^ This is a slash Harry/Draco fic and it will eventually have a higher rating since the two lovies can't keep their paws off each other.

Disclaimer: The characters are not mine. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit fun.

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Father,

I've come to realize that Granger does not need to blow Snape for top grades. No. Potter more than happily does it for her.

Potter's gay.

I don't believe it.

No, I take that back, I do believe it, what I don't quite believe is the amount of gall that filthy bastard must have in order to exercise his rainbow colored disposition on me.

He called me cute, which I admit is only too true, but he said it like he meant it. He's out of his flipping mind. Did he expect me to whoop in joy because he has found his inner crooked self? Yippee for Potter.

Perhaps he thinks he could woe me with his non-existent boyish charm. Muggle-arsed Potter and Death Eater Draco; wouldn't we make a charming couple? I know you would love it sir; your only heir falling for your Lord's most hated nemesis. Most hated MALE nemesis. Something interesting to share at tea parties, hm? 'The Malfoy line ends with my son; he's a faggot and he's dating the muggle-loving boy who lived. Biscuits, anyone?'

It would be a match made in heaven if I didn't hate him with such a fervent homicidal passion.

I will owl you if there are any further developments. I must now go read up on lubricants. I find this gay thing intriguing and really I'd much rather avoid any soreness. I'm a Malfoy, my arse is tender.

Your (queer?) son,

Draco

-------

Distractedly, Draco offered his owl, Maia, some treats while he read over his letter. She nipped at his fingers with affection and picked at the offered snacks.

The letter helped a little.

Nothing was more gratifying to Draco than aggravating his father. Satisfied with a job well done, he tied the letter to Maia and watched as she stretched her wings once and flew off through the window quickly disappearing from view. He wondered vaguely whether the school owl he sent previously had made it to the Malfoy estate or if it had actually croaked and died before then. At least there wasn't anything terribly important enclosed in that letter.

Draco stood and crossed his arms as he leaned back against the cold stone wall. He glared at the door opposite him half-expecting Potter to burst through it at any moment.

Four weeks had past since the 'incident' as he referred to it.

He had longed to speak to someone about the Gryffindor's pursuit -- mainly for a chance to swap viscous Potter taunts. Perhaps then, if he made light of it, Potter's flirting would cease to affect him so thoroughly. It was unnerving how much it truly bothered him. Having no one to confide in, he decided on the next best thing for venting; writing a potentially self-hazardous letter and annoying daddy dearest.

Draco was careful, however. He held little respect for Lucius Malfoy but he restrained himself from going too far (not by much). No matter how idiotic and cowardly Draco believed his father to be, he knew full well how powerful a Dark Arts wizard Lucius truly was. He was conniving and he was merciless.

No mercy for anyone.

Including family.

Draco wanted to irk his father not get himself killed. He didn't want his father to really think that he had given Potter's advances much thought.

Malfoy needed an heir to continue the bloodline, however that took a back seat to his Dark Lord's cause. If Lucius Malfoy were to hold the suspicion that his heir opposed Voldemort's beliefs then the Slytherin would find himself at the lethal end of his father's wand within the blink of an eye.

Draco eyed the door warily.

Voldemort. He didn't care much about that foul, repulsive wizard. When he was younger he followed the Dark lord because his father raised him to do so. Now, he followed because Voldemort was powerful, he invoked fear in wizards everywhere and his goals coincided with Draco's own.

The door remained undisturbed. No daft Gryffindors barging in. He closed his eyes to regain his composure and berated himself for finding it necessary to do so. Draco should be impenetrable; Voldemort didn't faze him and neither should Potter.

He frowned as he thought of his father's blind adoration for the Slytherin heir.

Voldemort.

Something had to be inherently wrong with a leader who was defeated time and again by a mere muggle-raised boy.

Draco bit down on the inside of his lip. A sickening thought occurred to him; maybe Potter really was special. Maybe, he wasn't just another commonplace wizard, but something different and vastly more powerful.

But he wasn't a Pureblood. His mother was a Mudblood. He should be an insignificant Muggle born not fit for the Wizarding world.

But he was The Boy Who Lived. He was the boy who survived the impossible and nearly did away with Voldemort when only a few months old. Harry Potter, the boy who lived and continued to live. And if incapacitating the most powerful Dark Arts wizard before he had even learned to sit up wasn't enough, that very same boy defeated Voldemort year after year at the end of school terms like it were an ordinary part of boring routine. It was ludicrous. Voldemort was a joke.

Harry Potter, Harry Potter, Harry Potter.

Draco growled. He hated Harry Potter but now he especially hated him because Potter was playing games. He was awfully Slytherin for a dim-witted Gryffindor Draco mused.

The blonde had always been one-step ahead of everyone else (the Granger whore being the occasional exception) but this time he was the one being toyed with. Harry laughed and winked; holding the reins while Draco waded blindly through the dark. He didn't know what the Gryffindor was playing at.

His nails dug sharply into his skin. He hated him absolutely.

Why the sudden interest?

Potter flirted with an increasingly frustrated Draco any chance he had. He would catch his eye during class and wink, grinning impishly while Draco glowered. He ignored all of the Slytherin's threats and he had a jolly good time with the lashings he received from the razor sharp tongue.

In the halls he purposely brushed up against him, letting his hands linger on Draco as he passed by, leaving Draco annoyed and wound up. It was a baffling situation. In all his life he had never felt so not in control. So..

Helpless.

So he ran away from the helplessness. Draco avoided the Gryffindor at all costs, altering his routes to classes and eating alone in his dormitory so he wouldn't have to deal with Potter's pursuit.

He knew he wasn't going to be able to stand much more.

He tried concentrating on his studies but he couldn't. Potter was a puzzle his mind kept gnawing at. He didn't understand the Gryffindor's motives. He wanted answers.

Not that he didn't have the opportunity to be alone with Potter.

The few times Harry had managed to corner Draco, the Gryffindor had coaxed, threatened, even begged for a chance to talk in private. Draco would sneer at him and shove him out of the way. He sent letters by owl containing hours and places to meet with the Slytherin. Draco tossed them into his fireplace, still sealed. Watching them burn and shrivel into dust was a small comfort.

He wasn't going to play his game.

Running fingers through his hair, he exhaled sharply and began to pace. His room had become his prison/safe-haven from Potter. He was tired and foremost he was hungry. Last time he ate was during breakfast, which was over ten hours ago. Coming to an abrupt stop in front of his books, he glared down at his clock. There was still a quarter of an hour left before dinner was over.

The Slytherin picked up the quill and ink he had used and set them back in their proper place. Resolutely, he headed out of the dungeons. Hiding did not agree with him. He was sick of it. Draco was going to eat in the Great Hall even if it killed him. Potter was nothing. His flirting was nothing. Him daring to sit at the Slytherin table next to the startled blonde was nothing.

To hell with Potter. At all ends he was a low class wizard who had escaped death by sheer luck too many times. He was insignificant and Draco should not waste time or mind on bloody Gryffindors and their foolish antics.

-------

The corners of his lips tugged up, forming a tiny smirk as he finished off his dinner with pumpkin juice. The Great Hall was empty except for one or two students that lingered in their respective tables. His dinner was thankfully Potter-free.

Draco now more relaxed than he had been in weeks, took a lazy look around. Peace and quiet at last. Feeling an uncharacteristic yet genuine happiness he propped up his chin on his hand and practically beamed at the students around him. Almost unwittingly, his eyes slowly ran across the Gryffindor table.

The table was empty save for Finnigan and Thomas who were both blatantly staring at Draco in dumb shock. They had never seen Draco look so..happy with the world. It was extremely disturbing.

The Slytherin caught them gaping and smirked, even wriggling his fingers at the two causing Seamus to gasp and Dean to drop his fork. Draco snickered.

He stretched languidly and with a wink meant to shock the duo into cardiac arrest, turned away from them. Closing his eyes and breathing deeply, Draco drank in the quiet, soothing environment. He couldn't be happier.

His contentedly fuzzy mood was short lived however. He felt a ghost of warmth brush against his cheek and his eyes fluttered open instinctively to find the source. His heart seized, plummeting down to his toes and he bit down hard on his tongue to stifle the scream that threatened to come forth and embarrass him. Keeping Draco company was Harry Potter's body-less but very amused floating head.

It took Draco several long minutes to regain his composure. Momentarily incapable of speech, he hunched in on himself defensively and glowered at Potter defiantly. His face twisted and flushed with anger as he regarded Potter through narrow furious eyes.

"You don't mind, do you?" Said Harry.

Draco had never been more earnest than at this moment. "I. Hate. You." He gritted through clenched teeth.

Harry smiled in response.

The smile made Draco's temper flare out of control. He could feel his blood boiling, threatening to scorch his skin from the inside out. He wanted to claw off that smile and torture Harry until he squealed in agony. Hurt him badly enough to make the Gryffindor regret ever laying eyes on Draco. Visions of himself tearing into Harry and scattering the blood drenched remains came to mind.

Wordlessly, he sprang forward, reaching out for the body obviously hidden beneath an invisibility cloak. His hands came in bruising contact with Harry's shoulders. He squeezed, digging his nails in convulsively, making Harry wince. The Gryffindor's eyes widened in surprise and he looked down at the pale searching hands running down the silky material of the cloak. Fingers encircled his nipples and Harry looked up questioningly at Draco who stared back angrily.

The few students nearby who had noticed the pair stared at the Slytherin table in disbelief.

Draco smiled cruelly and pinched one of Harry's nipples. He twisted ruthlessly and pulled the Gryffindor closer by it. Harry grimaced but stifled his yelp and leaned into Draco to ease the sharp pain.

"Cover your head, Potter." Draco whispered dangerously. "We're leaving." He cleared out of the room, dragging Harry along by the nipple. Perplexed looks were cast his way as Draco walked briskly towards the dungeons with one hand firmly latched on an invisible Potter. He didn't know where he was going exactly but he needed to do this.

They reached an empty classroom where Draco reeled the Gryffindor inside. Harry stumbled; colliding with several upturned chairs and forcing years old dust airborne making him cough violently.

The room was small but with an extremely high ceiling. It was cluttered with old school furniture most covered in worn black tapestry. The air was thick and stale weighing heavily on Draco. Dim light came from tiny windows high up, flooding the room with an eerie soft glow.

It was not the most comfortable of places to interrogate Potter. Maybe the atmosphere will work for him and keep the Gryffindor off balance.

He locked the door with a spell and faced Potter who had removed his invisibility cloak. He was seated on top of a desk, hands relaxed at his sides, facing Draco. The room's lighting made the cool emerald eyes appear to glow as they watched Draco somberly. The black messy hair was parted slightly, allowing a partial view of the lightning bolt scar. The young man in front of him was the only one to ever come close to killing Voldemort. Who, of the two, was the worthless one?

Draco scowled. They regarded each other for long tense minutes. Finally, Harry rolled his eyes and broke the silence.

"Can't we just talk?"

Draco's answer came on automatic. "No, we can't just talk." He mocked. "There is nothing to talk about."

Oddly enough, Harry brightened and flashed a smile. "Are you kidding? There's plenty to talk about." He spoke in a teasing tone of voice that Draco had only heard him use among friends.

Draco raised an eyebrow and leaned back against the door. "Is that so?" He said blandly.

"Yes." Was the immediate reply. "Look, a cut." Still smiling, he raised his index finger so Draco could see the tiny healed cut. He continued, "I accidentally hurt myself in Care of Magical Creatures but it's all better now." His smile broadened.

He's insane. Potter has finally cracked.

"Allow me to conjure an owl and mail somebody who cares, Potter."

Harry laughed noiselessly. Draco felt that he was being taunted. His eyes narrowed.

"What do you want from me?" He asked evenly.

Harry shrugged. "Well, you're cute and I-" He began but Draco interrupted.

"Yes, I'm cute, I'm a Pureblood and I'm smart. Smarter than you are. And I have more money than you'll ever have and I have everything going for me while you don't. My parents are alive and Voldemort isn't after me. I'm a Slytherin and you're a Gryffindor. I'm your enemy. From the start Potter you chose me as your enemy. I hate you, you hate me." He paused and moved closer to Harry. He hissed, "Why oh why the sudden interest."

"I already told you. I want to get to know you better. I-"

"Bullshit." Draco snapped.

For a brief moment Harry's bright permanent smile faltered and a steely glare took its place.

Aha. I'm getting somewhere.

Draco smiled grimly. He advanced even closer and leaned into Harry, bringing his arms up on either side of the Gryffindor. They were almost nose to nose. Harry's smile was back and firmly in place.

Still playing Potter? Fine, I'll play your game.

Harry's smile didn't quite reach his eyes. It seemed frozen. Draco studied the guarded green gaze thoughtfully. He was millimeters away from those smiling lips. He could feel Harry's body heat intermingle with his own. Warm moisture tickled his lips each time Harry breathed out. Harry's smell, soap along with musk, assaulted his senses. Draco's heart rate was speeding up.

Pale thin lips traveled across Harry's cheek and brushed against his ear. They were soft, pliable, tempting. Draco idly dragged a fingernail across the warm skin. He wet his lips and exhaled slowly through his mouth making Harry's spine shiver.

He whispered, "What do you want from a Death Eater, Harry?"

Harry's body grew rigid. His reply was immediate and adamant. "You're not a Death Eater."

The angry hushed tone echoed loudly around the room.

Draco observed his reaction vacantly. His hand kept caressing and was now tracing Harry's waistband.

"That is only temporary. I will be a Death Eater before I leave Hogwarts. We're going to face each other during the war, Potter. You've escaped through the cracks too many times. I promise you that it won't happen again. I'm going to kill you, Harry. Your side can't win."

With a jolt, Draco suddenly noticed Harry's hand wrapped tightly around his wrist. The grip tightened painfully, enough to bruise the milk-white skin. Harry pulled Draco's hand away from his waist and with sudden force, yanked the Slytherin forward, knocking him off balance.

Draco stumbled and landed bodily on Harry. He was being entirely supported by the Gryffindor. Draco could feel the calm rise and fall of Harry's chest against his own unsteady one.

He became acutely aware of the unmistakable hard bulge that was pressed against his thigh. To his consternation, he felt an answering one blossom from his own traitorous body.

No one had ever dared to treat Draco in such a manner. Harry made no attempt to hide his arousal from the Slytherin instead he pulled him closer. Draco had lost control of the situation. To his disbelieving horror, he felt his face grow warm and his ears begin to burn.

After wasting precious seconds recovering from shock, Draco began to struggle. Harry took a firm hold of his hair and pulled, forcing Draco to crane his neck back. He winced.

"The Dark Arts poster child is very cocky, isn't he? What makes you think that you'll do any better than Voldemort has in trying to kill me?"

He scowled and glared up defiantly at Harry. "Let me go."

A very ugly look came across Harry's face. All humor had dissipated along with the smile that was long gone. The Slytherin watched this transformation in morbid wonder.

"Why the sudden interest, Malfoy? I'll tell you. I want to save you. I hate you but I'm going to try and save you anyway. If I can't then at least I want to understand you. Know your enemy and all that. You won't be able to kill me."

They glared at one another, each sizing the other up.

Then, Harry let go. Draco dropped unceremoniously on the floor. He didn't attempt to get up, he just watched Harry warily.

The Gryffindor slid off the table and made his way to the door. He took a sharp breath and faced Draco one last time.

He smiled. There was an edge to his voice. "See you tomorrow, then?" He didn't wait for an answer. Draco watched as he did the counterspell for the lock and left the room. Draco then stood up and swept out of the room. His feet brought him to the Slytherin common room, where he sat down and stared at the fireplace.

He had a lot to think about.