Chapter Two
*~*~*
Well I do my best to understand you
But you still mystify and I wanna know why
I pick myself up off the ground
To have you knock me back down
Again and again when I ask you
To explain you say…
~Cruel To Be Kind by Letters To Cleo~
*~*~*
Draco didn't end up going back to his dorm, but wandered out the main doors to the lawn instead. It was a beautiful night, the stars shining unusually bright. Their shine bounced off the lake like a million sparks from a fire. Fire… the fire than burned in him whenever he saw…
No! Draco shook himself physically. He had come out here to stop those kinds of thoughts, not encourage them.
Glancing over at the Whomping Willow, the tree seemed peaceful at first glance, but he knew what horrors it held. Running to catch a Frisbee in his second year, when he had actually tolerated Pansy, he had run right into the trunk of the horrid tree. His back still cracked when twisted the wrong way.
The tree was rather like Draco, in an opposite way. On the outside, Draco was horrid, but inside… well, there was more to him than people thought.
Thankfully enough for Draco, that one encounter in the halls was all he had with Potter so far. He saw the least of Potter he'd ever had. His father was lightening up on the stalking orders, so Draco actually had a chance to study once in a while. His grades were improving, except in Transfiguration. McGonagall really did hate him.
Quidditch practices had also started, keeping Draco on his toes. He had done nothing but train over the summer, wanting to be the best. Pansy had told him many a time he wasn't the greatest player Hogwarts had ever seen, and he was now determined to prove her wrong. Needless to say, Draco had all but forgotten about stupid Potter and the feelings he was harboring. In fact, they had seemed to disappear themselves. Seemed to.
* * *
Harry was extremely grateful Quidditch had started up again. Ron had, after much convincing, tried out for the team and made it, much to Harry's joy. Now he got to fly alongside his best friend, who just happened to be a spectacular Keeper.
"Harry?" It was Ron, breaking him from his train of thoughts. They were sitting in the common room a few days later, watching Hermione study.
"What's up?"
"Well, I just wanted to see if you were okay. You've been acting strangely ever since school started. Dazed, you know. What's going on with you?" Ron asked, worried. Hermione put her books aside for the first time all day and joined them.
"Ron's right, Harry. You seem out of place."
Harry shook his head. He couldn't tell them what was wrong, could he? "Just nerves, you know. Voldemort and all." Hermione glanced at Ron quickly and nodded.
"Harry, we've wanted to ask… I mean, you never told us… what happened last year during the third task? What happened with Cedric, and You-Know-Who?" Dumbledore had told the school the year before that Voldemort killed Cedric, but that was pretty much the extent of their knowledge. Out of concern and a little bit of fear, they had avoided questions about Voldemort's rebirth all summer.
"Do you really want to know?" he asked then darkly. Ron shook his head, but Hermione elbowed him in the gut.
"Of course Harry. You need to talk about things like that!"
Harry turned away from them and looked off into the fire. He was quiet for so long that Ron thought he had forgotten they were there. Then, he started to speak.
"I thought the third task would be easier than the first two, ya know? I'd gotten through obstacles before, even if it was with your help. I entered the maze with Cedric, and we went our separate ways… I didn't encounter anything for a while. Like someone was helping me. Of course, I didn't know it at the time, but Moody was helping me. So I kept walking, and all of a sudden I heard Fleur scream. It was horrible. As much as I wanted to find her, I couldn't help thinking she was one champion down. I felt so cruel…" Harry droned on about Krum attacking Cedric, and how they helped each other, and both reached the Cup and touched it at the same time. Then he stopped. This was where the memories were so vivid, yes, but so disturbing.
"The Cup had been turned into a Portkey. It brought us to a graveyard. Wormtail was there. He did some kind of spell. He took some blood from me, and cut off his hand… he put a tiny, wrinkled thing into the potion, and I can remember praying to God it would drown. It didn't. It rose up, and it was… it had turned into…" Harry couldn't remember it being this hard when he explained it to Dumbledore. That night, he had just started talking and it all had poured out. Why was it so hard now?
"You guys, I think I'm wiped out for the night. I'm going to go to bed. Goodnight." Harry left his two best friends, one with her hands covering her mouth, the other staring after him with his jaw wide open. He needed rest.
When he opened the door to his familiar dormitory, he first checked to make sure no one was there. Then he climbed into bed without even changing and just lay there for the longest time, trying not to think of anything. Even after Ron came in, quiet as a mouse, Harry lay there, just trying to block everything from his mind.
Of course he was worried about Voldemort. That was just a given. He had actually seen Voldemort raise from a wrinkled nothing to stronger than he had been during his first rein of terror. All summer Harry had been having nightmares. His same old ones with his parents' voices, the bright flash of light, and high pitched laughter, but this time he actually saw his parents lying dead on the floor. Right next to them was Cedric, and Voldemort was standing over them. He had woken up each time in a cold sweat, shivering like he was mad. Of course he was worried!
But then, Ron had mentioned he had looked off since school started. Harry thought back to the train ride. Had anything happened that would make him uneasy? Then he remembered - Malfoy. If Harry had been acting strangely, Malfoy had certainly been weird the past two months. He hadn't gone out of his way at all to make Harry's life miserable. It was strange. Harry wondered what could be wrong, because there obviously was something wrong.
Rolling to his side, Harry resolved to not think about Malfoy tonight. He concentrated on having a dreamless sleep.
Three hours later, he still hadn't claimed his goal. Harry got out of bed, put on his Invisibility cloak, and left Gryffindor Tower. He wasn't sure where he was going; he just had to get out.
* * *
Draco quietly entered the main doors to the castle. Sneaking out was always so easy for him. It was sneaking back in that was difficult. Too much confidence. He had already snuck out; sneaking in should be easier, right? Wrong. He tiptoed slowly and softly across the seemingly empty hall, careful not to make a sound, until he crashed into something directly in his path and tumbled to the floor. When he glanced up to see what he had bumped into, he saw Potter's head floating inches from the stone. Draco yelled out involuntarily.
"What the bloody hell is going on in here?"
* * *
It was Harry's fault, really. He should have been paying more attention, but his mind was still upstairs, pondering over Voldemort and Malfoy. So, because he wasn't paying attention to where he was going, he didn't see Malfoy right in front of him. They collided and hit the floor. Harry felt the cloak slip off his head. Malfoy shouted, and then a voice behind Harry made his stomach drop to his knees.
"What the bloody hell is going on in here?" Filch's wheezing voice filled the entrance hall, and Harry couldn't move. He had been caught, and with his Invisibility cloak to add to the strange scene. He quickly shrugged off the cloak and sat on it, hoping Filch hadn't seen.
Malfoy's eyes left Harry and glanced up at Filch before sinking to the floor again.
"Well, well, well, boys, thought we'd have ourselves a little duel, eh? Thought we could get away with some fighting in the corridors at midnight? Ha! How soon you underestimate the intelligence of Argus Filch! No, you definitely will not get away with this one. Follow me, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter." Filch descended the stone steps to the dungeons, Harry and Draco shoving each other to go after him. Finally they gave up after a death glare from Filch and slumped their shoulders, both knowing they were to blame.
Filch directed them to two chairs in front of his desk when they entered his office. The familiar chains hung behind it, but Filch went straight to his filing cabinet of delinquents. "Let's see," he muttered, "where I put those files…" Filch straightened a moment later, triumphantly holding up two file folders. "Found them!" he grinned sardonically. Harry groaned.
Taking two pieces of paper out of his desk, he began to fill them out.
"Name… hmm, who shall be my first victim? How about Mr. Potter? Yes, that will do. Crime… out of bed after curfew, fighting in the corridors…"
"Mr. Filch, if it's any help to our case whatsoever, Potter and I were not fighting. Yes, we were out of bed with absolutely no reason, but we just happened to bump into each other in the hall. I know it seems unbelievable, given out history, but I swear on the life of Mrs. Norris that we were not fighting!" Draco pleaded.
Now, no one in their right minds would ever speak of Mrs. Norris the way Draco just had, and Filch knew it. Maybe that's why he went so easy on them; maybe he knew something they didn't. Either way, Filch only gave them detention and sent them off to bed with a "And don't let me catch you in the halls again or you will be out of here so fast…" Draco and Harry didn't stick around to hear the end of the threat.
They walked in silence, neither taking their eyes off the stone floor, when they reached the steps to the entrance hall. Harry stopped and turned to face Draco.
"Why did you do that?" he asked. Draco looked at him blankly.
"Do what?"
"Why did you just save both of our faces in Filch's office? 'I swear on the life of Mrs. Norris that we were not fighting' Why did you say that? You wouldn't have gotten in as much trouble as I, you have free rein around here, what with your dad and all, and Filch has had it out for me ever since our first year. Why did you do that?"
Draco thought for a moment. Harry could see he was trying to come up with something. His brow was furrowed, his eyes staring at nothing in particular, and his head was cocked to one side. Finally, he looked up at Harry.
"Sometimes, Potter, you are worth saving." Draco turned on his heel and retraced his steps to the Slytherin dorms. Harry stared after him. He could make neither heads nor tails of the cryptic explanation. Confused, Harry made his way to his own dorms and fell fast asleep, dreaming of nothing in particular for the first time all summer.
*~*~*
Well I do my best to understand you
But you still mystify and I wanna know why
I pick myself up off the ground
To have you knock me back down
Again and again when I ask you
To explain you say…
~Cruel To Be Kind by Letters To Cleo~
*~*~*
Draco didn't end up going back to his dorm, but wandered out the main doors to the lawn instead. It was a beautiful night, the stars shining unusually bright. Their shine bounced off the lake like a million sparks from a fire. Fire… the fire than burned in him whenever he saw…
No! Draco shook himself physically. He had come out here to stop those kinds of thoughts, not encourage them.
Glancing over at the Whomping Willow, the tree seemed peaceful at first glance, but he knew what horrors it held. Running to catch a Frisbee in his second year, when he had actually tolerated Pansy, he had run right into the trunk of the horrid tree. His back still cracked when twisted the wrong way.
The tree was rather like Draco, in an opposite way. On the outside, Draco was horrid, but inside… well, there was more to him than people thought.
Thankfully enough for Draco, that one encounter in the halls was all he had with Potter so far. He saw the least of Potter he'd ever had. His father was lightening up on the stalking orders, so Draco actually had a chance to study once in a while. His grades were improving, except in Transfiguration. McGonagall really did hate him.
Quidditch practices had also started, keeping Draco on his toes. He had done nothing but train over the summer, wanting to be the best. Pansy had told him many a time he wasn't the greatest player Hogwarts had ever seen, and he was now determined to prove her wrong. Needless to say, Draco had all but forgotten about stupid Potter and the feelings he was harboring. In fact, they had seemed to disappear themselves. Seemed to.
* * *
Harry was extremely grateful Quidditch had started up again. Ron had, after much convincing, tried out for the team and made it, much to Harry's joy. Now he got to fly alongside his best friend, who just happened to be a spectacular Keeper.
"Harry?" It was Ron, breaking him from his train of thoughts. They were sitting in the common room a few days later, watching Hermione study.
"What's up?"
"Well, I just wanted to see if you were okay. You've been acting strangely ever since school started. Dazed, you know. What's going on with you?" Ron asked, worried. Hermione put her books aside for the first time all day and joined them.
"Ron's right, Harry. You seem out of place."
Harry shook his head. He couldn't tell them what was wrong, could he? "Just nerves, you know. Voldemort and all." Hermione glanced at Ron quickly and nodded.
"Harry, we've wanted to ask… I mean, you never told us… what happened last year during the third task? What happened with Cedric, and You-Know-Who?" Dumbledore had told the school the year before that Voldemort killed Cedric, but that was pretty much the extent of their knowledge. Out of concern and a little bit of fear, they had avoided questions about Voldemort's rebirth all summer.
"Do you really want to know?" he asked then darkly. Ron shook his head, but Hermione elbowed him in the gut.
"Of course Harry. You need to talk about things like that!"
Harry turned away from them and looked off into the fire. He was quiet for so long that Ron thought he had forgotten they were there. Then, he started to speak.
"I thought the third task would be easier than the first two, ya know? I'd gotten through obstacles before, even if it was with your help. I entered the maze with Cedric, and we went our separate ways… I didn't encounter anything for a while. Like someone was helping me. Of course, I didn't know it at the time, but Moody was helping me. So I kept walking, and all of a sudden I heard Fleur scream. It was horrible. As much as I wanted to find her, I couldn't help thinking she was one champion down. I felt so cruel…" Harry droned on about Krum attacking Cedric, and how they helped each other, and both reached the Cup and touched it at the same time. Then he stopped. This was where the memories were so vivid, yes, but so disturbing.
"The Cup had been turned into a Portkey. It brought us to a graveyard. Wormtail was there. He did some kind of spell. He took some blood from me, and cut off his hand… he put a tiny, wrinkled thing into the potion, and I can remember praying to God it would drown. It didn't. It rose up, and it was… it had turned into…" Harry couldn't remember it being this hard when he explained it to Dumbledore. That night, he had just started talking and it all had poured out. Why was it so hard now?
"You guys, I think I'm wiped out for the night. I'm going to go to bed. Goodnight." Harry left his two best friends, one with her hands covering her mouth, the other staring after him with his jaw wide open. He needed rest.
When he opened the door to his familiar dormitory, he first checked to make sure no one was there. Then he climbed into bed without even changing and just lay there for the longest time, trying not to think of anything. Even after Ron came in, quiet as a mouse, Harry lay there, just trying to block everything from his mind.
Of course he was worried about Voldemort. That was just a given. He had actually seen Voldemort raise from a wrinkled nothing to stronger than he had been during his first rein of terror. All summer Harry had been having nightmares. His same old ones with his parents' voices, the bright flash of light, and high pitched laughter, but this time he actually saw his parents lying dead on the floor. Right next to them was Cedric, and Voldemort was standing over them. He had woken up each time in a cold sweat, shivering like he was mad. Of course he was worried!
But then, Ron had mentioned he had looked off since school started. Harry thought back to the train ride. Had anything happened that would make him uneasy? Then he remembered - Malfoy. If Harry had been acting strangely, Malfoy had certainly been weird the past two months. He hadn't gone out of his way at all to make Harry's life miserable. It was strange. Harry wondered what could be wrong, because there obviously was something wrong.
Rolling to his side, Harry resolved to not think about Malfoy tonight. He concentrated on having a dreamless sleep.
Three hours later, he still hadn't claimed his goal. Harry got out of bed, put on his Invisibility cloak, and left Gryffindor Tower. He wasn't sure where he was going; he just had to get out.
* * *
Draco quietly entered the main doors to the castle. Sneaking out was always so easy for him. It was sneaking back in that was difficult. Too much confidence. He had already snuck out; sneaking in should be easier, right? Wrong. He tiptoed slowly and softly across the seemingly empty hall, careful not to make a sound, until he crashed into something directly in his path and tumbled to the floor. When he glanced up to see what he had bumped into, he saw Potter's head floating inches from the stone. Draco yelled out involuntarily.
"What the bloody hell is going on in here?"
* * *
It was Harry's fault, really. He should have been paying more attention, but his mind was still upstairs, pondering over Voldemort and Malfoy. So, because he wasn't paying attention to where he was going, he didn't see Malfoy right in front of him. They collided and hit the floor. Harry felt the cloak slip off his head. Malfoy shouted, and then a voice behind Harry made his stomach drop to his knees.
"What the bloody hell is going on in here?" Filch's wheezing voice filled the entrance hall, and Harry couldn't move. He had been caught, and with his Invisibility cloak to add to the strange scene. He quickly shrugged off the cloak and sat on it, hoping Filch hadn't seen.
Malfoy's eyes left Harry and glanced up at Filch before sinking to the floor again.
"Well, well, well, boys, thought we'd have ourselves a little duel, eh? Thought we could get away with some fighting in the corridors at midnight? Ha! How soon you underestimate the intelligence of Argus Filch! No, you definitely will not get away with this one. Follow me, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter." Filch descended the stone steps to the dungeons, Harry and Draco shoving each other to go after him. Finally they gave up after a death glare from Filch and slumped their shoulders, both knowing they were to blame.
Filch directed them to two chairs in front of his desk when they entered his office. The familiar chains hung behind it, but Filch went straight to his filing cabinet of delinquents. "Let's see," he muttered, "where I put those files…" Filch straightened a moment later, triumphantly holding up two file folders. "Found them!" he grinned sardonically. Harry groaned.
Taking two pieces of paper out of his desk, he began to fill them out.
"Name… hmm, who shall be my first victim? How about Mr. Potter? Yes, that will do. Crime… out of bed after curfew, fighting in the corridors…"
"Mr. Filch, if it's any help to our case whatsoever, Potter and I were not fighting. Yes, we were out of bed with absolutely no reason, but we just happened to bump into each other in the hall. I know it seems unbelievable, given out history, but I swear on the life of Mrs. Norris that we were not fighting!" Draco pleaded.
Now, no one in their right minds would ever speak of Mrs. Norris the way Draco just had, and Filch knew it. Maybe that's why he went so easy on them; maybe he knew something they didn't. Either way, Filch only gave them detention and sent them off to bed with a "And don't let me catch you in the halls again or you will be out of here so fast…" Draco and Harry didn't stick around to hear the end of the threat.
They walked in silence, neither taking their eyes off the stone floor, when they reached the steps to the entrance hall. Harry stopped and turned to face Draco.
"Why did you do that?" he asked. Draco looked at him blankly.
"Do what?"
"Why did you just save both of our faces in Filch's office? 'I swear on the life of Mrs. Norris that we were not fighting' Why did you say that? You wouldn't have gotten in as much trouble as I, you have free rein around here, what with your dad and all, and Filch has had it out for me ever since our first year. Why did you do that?"
Draco thought for a moment. Harry could see he was trying to come up with something. His brow was furrowed, his eyes staring at nothing in particular, and his head was cocked to one side. Finally, he looked up at Harry.
"Sometimes, Potter, you are worth saving." Draco turned on his heel and retraced his steps to the Slytherin dorms. Harry stared after him. He could make neither heads nor tails of the cryptic explanation. Confused, Harry made his way to his own dorms and fell fast asleep, dreaming of nothing in particular for the first time all summer.
