Disclaimer:      Surprisingly, all the characters belong to J.K. Rowling

Author:            Minstrel

Pairing:           Draco/Harry

Summary:        Distrust leads to distorted relationship.

Rating:            PG-13

Feedback:       Most welcome

Note:               Italics are used to denote thoughts. Both Draco's and Harry's.

To be a lightning that strikes

Chapter one: Excoriations

Sharp, exploding pain was the only thing he could sense when he woke up. Unable to handle the pain he lay still, in the zone between burning consciousness and sweet, consoling darkness.

Then it struck him like a lightning. Actually, like a thousand little thunderbolts. He had killed Voldemort. It had been tough, but he had done it. Defeated the Dark Lord. And as a memory of the incident he had got his body carved with a thousand more lightning-shaped scars radiating the intolerable pain he was experiencing at the moment.

This must be what it feels like to be struck by lightning, he thought. Or, to be a lightning that strikes. With these thoughts he blacked out.

Lot of things had happened lately. Just when the Aurors had got sure of capturing all the old Death Eaters the situation had suddenly gone worse. Voldemort had stricken with enormous power of unknown source, taking over Azkaban and even attracting numerous new supporters from the rows of young Slytherin and Durmstrang students. The most shocking thing had probably been the former students of Gryffindor turning into fanatic supporters of the Dark Lord. The fear of not knowing who is in which side rose again. Instability of the situation had caused closing of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Instead, it had been transformed into a safe haven for needy.

Harry's closest friends had sufffered a lot. Sirius had been captured –first by the Ministry of Magic, later by the Death Eaters- and he had been experiencing another period among the Dementors in Azkaban. After Percy's change to the other side all the Weasleys had been continuously alert but still they hadn't managed to protect Ron from being abducted and imprisoned to lure Harry to peril. Harry had no information of Hermione; she had disappeared at the time of a battle where both sides had had great losses. The message about Lucius Malfoy's death was a relief, but unluckily he had hexed Albus Dumbledore lethally in the battle before departing this life. After that, everything had fallen to pieces.

It was more than miracle that Voldemort was defeated. It was impossible.

Harry dreamed of silver. Silver beams of moon, flowing through his hands. Beams condensing into silvery fluid, covering his wounded body with its revitalizing force. The silver stream ran above his face, over his neck and then descending down his chest. It felt wonderful. He reached to touch the silvery matter which reminded him of the healing tears of Dumbledore's pet phoenix, Fawkes.

His hand hit something very solid creating a wave of sparkling pain to go through his arm. He felt like swearing. "Darn," he managed to sigh. It took him several seconds to open his eyes and realize what he had hit. The graceful silver materialized into his hair. His worst enemy, his nightmare. "You."

"Isn't it delightful to meet again?" Draco Malfoy asked.

The pain made Harry numb, unable to respond.

"I've always known that expressing yourself is not one of your best sides. Mighty and valiant Potter, worshipped and wonderful. Not at any rate because of your speech skills, only of your silly reputation---"

Harry closed his eyes, pretending passing out.

The final battle had taken place in Azkaban. Harry had tracked Voldemort there, aiming only at rescuing Ron. Still, he had been thinking about Voldemort for long hours. What would it be like to meet him again? Could he finally revenge his parents' death? He had simply wised for destroying him. Once and for all. And now when he had done it, it just seemed unbelievable. It couldn't be true. But what was true, then? Harry forced himself to deal the pain and confront Malfoy. Gathering all the strength he could he flung out first insult he could come up with.

"You've done something to your hair. It looks like an overgrown brush," Harry said noting Malfoy's renewed hairstyle, but it didn't reach anything that would match the word insulting, even in Harry's own opinion.

"Yeah. I preferred to have it in the way my father used to have his hair. It has proven out to be a total girl-magnet."

Harry answered only with a look of disgust.

"You know, I'm cooler than ever before. And the fact that you wiped the big one out of my way, so, frankly speaking, I have the power. I'm in charge now. I rule the whole wizarding society." Malfoy said with total self-confidence. A sparkle flickered in his eyes when he continued. "And above all, I rule you."

This time Harry had had enough of Malfoy and let the darkness take him over.

The pieces of the puzzle started to fit. That's why it was so easy. Malfoy had helped him; Malfoy had prevented Voldemort to have the aid of his servants. Malfoy. The one always picking on me, the one making my life hell. Now he's got me.

His mind wandered to the time before he had come to Azkaban. It hadn't been a surprise when Percy had changed the side in his thirst for power if one had listened to his rhapsodies. Even though his late idol, Mr Crouch, was an Auror, famous for his upright methods to catch the Death Eaters, Percy couldn't see a single thing holding him. So-called good side was definitely losing this time. All his brothers –especially those mocking, disgusting twins- would see that he had guts and he could reach something that others could only dream of. As a token of his loyalty, Percy had captured his youngest brother Ron. A bait for Harry.

Harry had known all this, but still he went after his best friend. Met Voldemort again. On his ground. Face to face. It hadn't been as horrifying as earlier, but still... There was the excruciating pain. Agony. But he hadn't bent. Keeping his mind he had resisted all the curses and jinxes. They had fought, and he had won. He wasn't even sure what he had actually done to overcome Voldemort, or was he even the one who had done it… He had no memory of doing anything crucially violent, anything able to kill. It must've been Ron.

"Ron," he breathed out.

"Not here," said the cold voice.

"Where… is he?"

"Not here. Nothing outside this door exists to you. I'm here, you're here, and you're weak. Nothing more in your world now."

"You irritating git! I'm… not… WEAK!"

Irritating? Uh?

 "But you are, darling."

Draco caressed Harry's wounded chin. Unable to escape his touch, Harry closed his eyes and gathered strength to resist. The soft, slender fingertips felt so caring, just like the touch by Sirius once long ago… What was he thinking? Malfoy's touch pleasant, even desirable? He must have lost it. Mentally injured in the battle.

"Feels good, doesn't it?"

"No-"

"Don't even try to deny it, Potter. I can read your expressions. Who could ever not understand that countenance?"

"Don't-"

"But I do. Did I hear you asking for more?"

Draco lay down next to Harry on cold stone floor. For the first time Harry got grasp on place where he was. It was still Azkaban, the place where they had kept Ron. The place full of Dementors, backing Voldemort since his second rise to power. This must be one of the numerous cells, he deduced. Windowless, dark, magically locked. Nevertheless he could distinguish Malfoy. Malfoy, who lay next to him shimmered pale, silver light. People like him made themselves visible when needed. And the other way round as well.

Harry felt uncomfortable. Not only because of slim boy close to him trying to touch, but also because he lay on something sharp. His first reaction was to reach for it, displace the object beneath him. Then he realized that he didn't want to find out what there was on floor. In this kind of places it's better not to know.

The floor radiating cold and the bleeding of all the wounds made Harry shiver. His muscles were strained, exhaustion invaded his body. He couldn't resist the ease he got from Malfoy warming him. The touching part was a little pest if he could feel any better.

Harry allowed himself relax as he understood that there was no way escaping in such a condition. He noticed Malfoy becoming more familiar when he let the tension of his muscles pass. His hands on Harry's abdomen, his chest, his neck. His long hair tickling his ear. Everything started to feel right. Malfoy was warming him, his parents' death was revenged, life would be fine. He moved closer to Malfoy, intending to find more room from his lap. He wished to feel Malfoy's arms around him. Harry was so cold.

Please, come closer. No one has been so kind to me as you are now…you bring me joy. Consolation. Comfort.

He suddenly felt sad about not realizing the effect of the physical contact before. He was plainly happy and involuntarily shad a tear.

Instantly he could sense Malfoy's touch change. The grip of his arms loosened a bit, the arms moved correcting their position and the grip firmed again. His arm was around Harry's body and another went through the black hair. His head was close to Harry's, and their hair mixed. Silvery tracks on soot. Ornaments on a cover of a spellbook. Sudden flash of affinity passed by.

As Malfoy withdrew from him, Harry began to question his motives. The reality struck him when their eyes met. Malfoy was behind the victory. He had planned Voldemort's fall. As a matter of fact, he would now take the position of the Dark Lord. He would rule the world and humiliate Harry. He would humiliate me. This is only a way to ridicule me. A way to make me feel vulnerable. Weak. He made me feel dependent.

From the another direction, Draco was experiencing a bunch of whole new emotions. He had known for ages that he was physically attracted to the boy who hated him. For him it was gorgeous how Potter had reacted to his touch. First unwilling and resisting, then surrendering and yarning for more. He had shed a tear. Shown his feelings. Only if Draco knew how to interpret them. Sorrow? Sadness? Pain? Things you cry for. But the trace of smile he had noticed on Potter's lips… it couldn't be due to negative feelings, could it? He had heard of tears of joy, but never believed in them. Could Potter rely on him enough to show his emotions? In Malfoy family feelings were never shown, neither pain nor happiness. Going even deeper into his thoughts, Draco after all found Harry extremely cunning. Faking the fear, meant to confuse, he thought. Damn that almighty Potter.

"Any of your deceitful schemes can't save the world this time. I know your tricks, so knock it out," Draco said with authoritative tone.

Harry was astonished. He closed his eyes and let it all flow through his mind. He gathered all his strength and acting skills.

"Draco."

Sudden sensitivity could be noted.

"It's not a trick. Come to me."

It was Malfoy's turn to be astonished. Suspicion could be seen from his eyes.

"You think I'd do something you ask me to? I don't quite agree. I have no reason to obey you. I can ignore you. Hate you, envy you, love you… whatever I like. But nothing you'd like."

He closed the door behind him leaving Harry in complete darkness.