Authors' note – This fic has been made for entertainment purposes only, and the authors, yes both of them, are not making any profit in any way. All characters (with exception to any original ones spawned of our own twisted imaginations) and the Harry Potter series belongs to J.K.Rowling. Not us, unfortunately.

  This fic is dedicated to ourselves and each other. We know who we are, you just enjoy the fic!

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Shedding Skins – Chapter Two

Coiled to Strike – Revolution of the Mind's Eye

Suddenly irrationally furious, Harry took a step forward and snarled

 'What are you doing here Malfoy'?

Draco's eyes darkened, and he seemed to be eyeing Harry with his usual dislike.

'None of you goddamn business Potter. Why don't you just run along now, and go back to doing whatever it is that you and your little Gryffindor friends do in your pathetic lives'.

Harry glared at back at him, not quite knowing what to say.
'Actually, us little Gryffindors tend to be asleep at such an ungodly hour.

So, instead of sleeping, why-are-you-here?' Harry emphasized the last of his sentence, hoping that it would sink in… It didn't.

'Maybe the same reason you're up here Potter, though I dread the thought of being on the same wavelength as you. Answer me this, Potter- why are you here?'

'Because… I'm not telling you that!' Harry snapped.

'Then I suggest you leave Potter, before I get irritated.'
'Well I'm not going to,' Harry said stubbornly. 'I have as much right to be here as you'.
Malfoy sighed. 'Why, Potter, do you always manage to turn up in the most inconvenient times possible?'

Harry remained silent, his eyes lingering on the tearstains covering Draco's cheekbones.

'Fine then,' Harry said, exasperated and weary from lack of sleep, and from putting up with Draco's stubbornness.

'How about I'll give you my reason, and in return, you give me yours?'

'How about you sod off, and mind your own fucking business for once? Or is that too hard for you?

Always have to be a hero, don't you Potter? Help the needy, save the weak? I'll have you know Potter; I am not like those worms you risk your neck for. I am not weak, and I don't need you, or your help.

So just walk away, and leave me alone.'

 However, by the end of Draco's unusually emotional speel, he had lost most of his ferocity.

His final words were almost a plea.

Harry wasn't quite sure how to react, the Draco he knew, would never act like this. Not even hint at it. It wasn't in him. This usual outburst almost made him seem human. Almost.

'Just leave' Draco whispered, his voice breaking.

Harry stared at him, stunned. What change had come over Draco Malfoy to make him act in such a bizarre way? He shifted uncomfortably on the balls of his feet. Should he just go?

'Malfoy', he said tentatively, 'has… has something happened? I mean…'

'Nothing has happened Potter. Life happened', Draco said coldly.

'Not that you would know anything about that, what with half the wizarding world fawning all over you.'

Harry stared at Malfoy squarely. 'If you think, Malfoy, that I don't know the hardships of life, then you are sadly mistaken. Everyone seems to think that I live some kind of fucking charmed existence!' he burst out, eyes flashing in frustration.

Draco was slightly shocked at Harry's outburst, not to mention his bad language, but he wasn't about to let Harry see that.

'Oh yes Potter, I can see it now, he sneered. It must be so incredibly difficult to deal with all that fame and admiration.

Not to mention your many fans practically dribbling all over themselves in their efforts to praise you'.

Harry looked straight at him.

'Is that what you really think my life is like?'

Draco paused, 'Why would I care what your life is like Potter? Even in the unlikely circumstance that it actually mattered to me, what difference would it make?'

I will still be the one who everyone loves to hate, and you will remain Harry Potter, the hero,' he scoffed.

'Oh sod off Malfoy! You know it's not like that.'

Draco didn't bother to answer, suddenly looking rather weary of the never-ending banter.

'We always push away the very ones who could save us…' He mumbled to himself.

'What!' Harry exclaimed, getting irritated again. 'What are you on about now Malfoy?'

'It really doesn't matter… nothing matters Potter. Good night' Draco said formally, walking past a flabbergasted Harry, and disappearing swiftly down the stairs.

Harry stared after him. 'Well!' he said out loud, shaking his head in amazement at what he had just witnessed.

Back in the comfort of the Gryffindor dorm, Harry considered his most recently appropriated item- Draco Malfoy's blood-stained dagger. It was beautiful, despite what it was.

Light danced over the carefully polished blade, highlighting the now dry blood. Its handle comprised of twin vipers intertwining and finally twisting out, as if to strike, forming the hilt of the weapon.

Now problems started to arise within Harry, now that his common sense was beginning to reform once again. How was he going to give this back? Where was he going to hide it until that time? But what seemed one question bothered him, a lot more than the others ricocheting inside his tired head.

Why had he taken it in the first place?

What if Draco had come back for it? He could have been spotted; caught by Filch. Leaving a dagger in the possession of someone that deranged could never be a good thing. He could hurt himself further, assuming that the blood was indeed Draco's. The murder theory would seem unrealistic, even to Ron. Well, maybe not, pondered Harry turning his gaze toward his friend the hint of a smile playing across his features.

Distracted, I'm being distracted… holding his face, as if to hold himself together, he recollected his thoughts. Think like Hermione, think like Hermione, he mentally commanded himself. He needed to figure this out; being analytical seemed the best way. But whichever way he looked at it, no matter which way, it always seemed as though he were doing this for Draco's sake.

Finally he came to a solution. The kind that comes when one is too sick of thinking and just agrees with the one thought that has floated by one time too many. He had done it because he wasn't the same as Draco, and he was the one helping him. Not the other way around, something Draco had hinted at earlier. He was not the kind to leave something so incriminating around, hoping in vain it will be found, just to watch in perverted glee as 'justice' was brought down upon them.

That would become his reason, until morning, when his thoughts would be relentlessly resorted and his head somewhat cleared. Morning, it would be morning soon. And with that thought, Harry stopped twisting in turning, and eventually calmed as sleep took him over. As he fell prey to dreamless slumber.

Being unconscious had done what Harry had predicted. He felt slightly rejuvenated, he could think clearly and… the previous night still made no logical sense. Being surrounded by incessant chatter and noises too loud for someone freshly woken, weren't helping him in the slightest. But that was always the way, in the Great Hall of Hogwarts.

'… and then the Cannons' seeker did the Wronskei Feint. It didn't work though, but it looked brilliant! Until he smashed into the pitch and they had to forfeit… Hey Harry? Are you listening at all?' A groan and a mumble were the only responses Ron Weasley received. The second youngest Weasley waved his hand in front of his non responsive friend's face. ''Ello? Anyone in there? Why are you looking over at the Slytherin table so intently anyway?'

'Huh?'

'Finally, I was starting to think that you had entered into a state of torpor,' Hermione huffed, exasperated. 'Ron has been attempting to gain your attention for a good four and a half minutes now, did you know?' Ron nodded briskly, in accordance to the statement. 'So why are you so dazed, Harry? You haven't been sleeping again, have you?' Hermione's ability to be so perceptive was definitely a double edged sword. It either worked for you, or against you. 'No, I haven't been sleeping that well, it's really nothing. Don't worry so mu….'

'Is it your scar? Has it been hurting again? Maybe you-know-who is out and about again…' And Ron, how quickly that boy could jump at conclusions was beyond him. But it was an endearing trait, albeit a little trying. 'Don't worry Ron, Hermione…' He acknowledged his two best friends accordingly. 'I just have a little on my mind. It really is nothing to worry about. Really.' He repeated himself, mainly for Ron's benefit, and to sound convincing enough for Hermione. 'And guys… thanks.'

I just need a little time.

As fate would have it, he didn't even need that. It was time for mail, and the many owls owned by the collective students and their families bombarded the recipients with letters, and packages of all sorts. Harry was used to not getting mail. He despised his relatives, and the only people he wished to see, he could, on a day to day basis.

That in itself would explain why surprise had shown so clearly on his face, when a large, stark-white, albino owl hovered before him. It nipped at the bindings on its wing, freeing the note fastened there. Before long if had already turned and left.

'Smart owl,' Ron attempted to say with a mouth full of various foods-which-must-not-be-named. Harry agreed but saved a response in order to collect the neatly rolled parchment. Unrolling it curiously, he peered down at the elegant cursive awaiting him.

'I want my blade back, Potter.'

Harry scowled, lifting his head ever so slightly to glance over at the Slytherin corner of the hall.

Icy steel eyes stared back at him unflinchingly, daring him to outright refuse the order.

Harry, face unresponsive, slowly crushed the parchment into a ball in his clenched fist. Tucking it into his pocket, he casually resumed eating his well-buttered toast.

Ron and Hermione, who until this point had been busy arguing about Ron's eating manners, or lack thereof, now turned to Harry with questioning looks on their faces.

'Snuffles?' Hermione asked in low undertone, deliberately ignoring Ron's noisy chewing.

'No', Harry muttered 'Nothing important'. Or rather no-one important he thought pointedly to himself.

For a brief moment, he felt a stab of guilt for keeping the true nature of the note from his two best-friends. He just didn't feel like explaining to them this early in the morning his rather unusual encounter with Malfoy the previous night. He promised himself, that as soon as he figured out what the hell was going on, he would explain it all to them. But until then… well there were just too many confusing thoughts going through his head. It just didn't make sense…