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Author: Black Heart
Title: Perplexed Alliance
Rating: PG 13+ - low level swearing
Author's Note: Will be H/D slash eventually, but not QUITE yet - almost! ^- ^;;
Disclaimer: Characters, names, places, etc belong to JK Rowling. Plotline belongs to ME.
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CHAPTER 4
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For the next few days, classes were bleak, Quidditch practice boring (even though he was the captain) and eating even worse. Harry just couldn't feel...happy. Nobody except him, Ron and Hermione knew Draco had changed for good, but Harry didn't even want to consider what would happen when Draco's head healed. Harry knew he and Draco would never hold an argument quite like their old ones ever again.
Changes... Changes. So many changes, so fast.
And so, one night, not even knowing why, Harry grabbed his Invisibility Cloak and made his way to the Hospital Wing, opening the portrait hole quietly.
He closed it, The Fat Lady snorting in her sleep and he treaded softly down the hall, taking care not to make too much noise. He was in his pyjama pants, his hair messed up after a few hours of uneasy sleep. But he didn't care. He just had to see for himself whether or not Draco was still human or had turned into a toadstool, which, because of all the oddities that were occurring recently, wouldn't surprise him.
He reached the double doors of the infirmary and eased them open silently, slipped through and let them bang close, the sound echoing softly through the walls of the castle. Harry didn't really care if anyone woke up or not, now that he had reached his destination.
Harry looked around the Hospital Wing, and the sight that met his eyes caused his heart to skip a beat.
There, lying on the bed, his arms to the side with his hair spread around him like a thick halo of platinum, was Draco Malfoy, no longer looking like an evil Slytherin, but a thing of beauty. The window above him was open, the white curtains blowing softly in the breeze, wafting a few locks of Draco's silver hair to and fro. Moonlight was streaming in and it bathed Draco in a pool of beautiful, pale-but-gleaming light.
Harry caught his breath and moved forwards slowly, hardly daring to believe his eyes, looking upon his old enemy with something close to astonishment. He looked so innocent.
((And he deserves innocence! He told me he doesn't want to be a Death Eater. He shouldn't have to be forced to do something like that. I wish I could help him.))
Those last thoughts shocked him terribly; why should he help someone who had made his last seven years miserable? Or attempted to, at least.
((But he's come clean. I know it. He...deserves my help, I guess.))
Harry pulled a chair up beside Draco's bed, and, gulping, grabbed the boy's hand, and started stroking it.
"It's so unfair," he murmured. "Why'd you have to be born into that family? Hell, why'd you have to listen and take the bullshit your father did to you? You stupid asshole." Harry sighed.
And suddenly, he heard voices, and footsteps, approaching.
Knowing he couldn't be seen, he laid down Draco's hand, but kept his hand resting on the Slytherin's arm, and kept quite still on the chair, biting his lip and making sure one of his feet weren't showing from beneath the Cloak. He then bowed his head and got ready to eavesdrop in comfort.
Madam Pomfrey entered the room, followed by - surprisingly - Dumbledore. Harry stared but kept his trap shut.
As Dumbledore passed, his eyes flickered over to Draco's bed and his step faltered - whether it was because he could see through Harry's Invisibility Cloak, or whether it was the sight of Draco, Harry couldn't tell.
Madam Pomfrey gave a sigh and poured Dumbledore a cup of tea after he had entered her office at the back. They didn't close the door.
"So what more news of his health?" Dumbledore asked heavily, sitting in a chair. Harry listened in.
"Well.he seems to be on the mend alright, but...the mark isn't fading, Dumbledore. It's quite worrying. I've tried everything - "
"Aah, no, you needn't have tried. That's the Dark Mark, Pomfrey. Yes, a Death Eater's mark."
Harry heard Pomfrey give a sigh and sit down heavily next to Dumbledore.
"You need to understand me, Pomfrey. I don't have much time to explain this, so you must listen. Lucius Malfoy, I believe, forced this upon his son, refusing to take 'no' for an answer... Yes, Pomfrey, Draco hates who he is; the way he's been put into Slytherin and been forced to act like it. His classmates call him the new Salazar, I have heard. Madam Pomfrey, that was exactly the reaction Tom Riddle had received when he was in school. But this situation is not one I am willing to let slip between my fingers. Draco, in his heart, does not wish to be a servant of the Dark Lord; he wants nothing to do with the Dark Arts at all. The boy's been landed with a very hard decision: he must either take my hand and my protection, or simply let himself be taken under the wing of Voldemort."
Silence. Shocked silence. Harry pulled off his Cloak, not knowing what he would do when the teachers came back, but he had to talk to Draco. Harry suddenly realized the arm beneath his hand had shifted slightly and saw that Draco was awake. One, single tear had tracked down his cheek, and as he looked Harry in the eye, unsurprised of Harry's being there, Draco put a finger to his mouth, requesting that Dumbledore's conversation should continue.
"My dear Madam, you need to tell this to the other Professors, because I am hiring fifteen ministry wizards to guard the school."
"B-But is that really...necessary, Dumbledore?" Pomfrey asked, her voice quavering.
"Yes. Voldemort, I have heard, is pulling all the strings possible to persuade the young Malfoy that the way of Dark Arts is his true fate. This...could be another plot for Harry Potter's death. I do believe Voldemort wants an inside helper. Draco is his key. The boy needs to realize he is not alone."
Harry tuned out the rest of the conversation, and turned to Malfoy.
"What are you doing here, Potter?" Malfoy whispered.
"Trying to save your life, is all," Harry whispered. "Draco, is it true? Is all this true?"
After a pause, "...Yes. Why do you call me that?"
"What?"
"You called me Draco. Why? Why not Malfoy?"
"Because I'm sick of being your enemy, I'm sick of calling you Malfoy. You were named Draco, so that's what I'll call you."
"Okay...why are you sick of being my enemy?"
He sounded like a child, questioning a mathematics equation. Harry winced slightly at his calm acceptance. This certainly wasn't the old Draco Malfoy.
"Because, after what I just heard...I think you need a friend, more than an enemy."
"Quite right, Harry," a soft voice said from behind. Harry didn't need to turn to know he was there.
"Why is it so unfair, sir?" Harry asked, still watching Draco's eyes.
Draco gave an uncharacteristic whimper, and suddenly grabbed Harry's arm, looking the Gryffindor in the eyes.
"I've told you before, Harry. You're the only person that can...give me freedom. I don't want to be a Death Eater, and befriending you would give me...a sense of protection."
Harry leaned in and looked Draco squarely in the eyes.
"I would never be your friend for a cause like that," Harry said softly, "but I WOULD be your friend, if my friendship was what you wanted, not protection."
"So let it be so. We have a.lot.to catch up on," Draco said softly and suddenly cried out in agony as a scarlet light burst from his sleeve. He started sobbing, clutching his arm just above his elbow. It was the Mark. Draco threw his arms around Harry's neck, begging, "let it stop, let it stop!!" Blood had starting oozing from the Mark, staining the sheets.
And Harry, with a confused glance at Dumbledore, knew that a very strong bond was slowly forming between the opposing house leaders. He calmly put his arms around Draco's waist and held the boy near, trying not to feel too weird about it. After a few minutes, when the teachers had left, seeming to not care about Harry's wandering around the castle, Harry laughed and said to Draco:
"Well, you silly bastard, now what're the gossips gonna say when they see us talking to one another like humans?"
The tears dissolved into laughs and Draco pulled away. The mirth lit up those grey eyes, and the grin of his peachy lips made Harry's heart flutter. He clasped wrists with Draco and said that if he didn't get better soon, he'd belt him one.
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The next day, Harry didn't know what to do. He walked around nervously, wondering if last night had been some big joke played on him. He couldn't quite believe Draco had just asked to be Harry's friend: a few days ago, less than a week, he and Malfoy had nearly gotten into a punch-up at the ball. And now they were on a first name basis, had already hugged one another and...
Harry stopped walking toward the Great Hall for lunch. His mind had shut down as he remembered the hug. He could almost still feel the slender arms around his neck, the soft, creamy face pressed against his chest, the feeling of the waist in his arms. The warmth they shared. Hotness flared up through Harry's face and he slid down the wall to sit on the floor in a now- deserted Transfiguration corridor.
What the hell was going on? A few days ago, he would have leapt at the chance to kill the damn Slytherin, and now he was acting like some gay guy? Sure, the friendliness could be accepted, if he gave a wide berth around the fact it happened so suddenly, but that hug made him feel like...he almost wanted a relationship with the guy.
Harry put his head in his hands. ((STOP RIGHT THERE, POTTER. There is no way in frickin' hell you're falling in love with that white-faced freak. Friend or not, he's a GUY. A GUY. Guys like girls. Guys don't like guys. You can't do this, you stupid bastard!))
He rubbed his eyes, not wanting to believe what his heart was requesting. And against everything he wanted, an image formed in his mind. He could feel his lips against Draco's, feel his tongue against the other's: the bodies pressed together and the feeling of Draco underneath him... as their bodies became one... Harry's body got tighter as electric shot through his veins, swimming through every limb, until he stood up shakily and stalked off to lunch, fighting back the lust with an anger that overpowered any wanting of a relationship with Draco.
((But you DID promise to be his friend.)) ((Yeah, I will be. Just not romantically.))
But a last voice, almost inaudible to Harry's mind, whispered: ((The heart wants what it wants.))
------- Please review!
Author: Black Heart
Title: Perplexed Alliance
Rating: PG 13+ - low level swearing
Author's Note: Will be H/D slash eventually, but not QUITE yet - almost! ^- ^;;
Disclaimer: Characters, names, places, etc belong to JK Rowling. Plotline belongs to ME.
-------
CHAPTER 4
-------
For the next few days, classes were bleak, Quidditch practice boring (even though he was the captain) and eating even worse. Harry just couldn't feel...happy. Nobody except him, Ron and Hermione knew Draco had changed for good, but Harry didn't even want to consider what would happen when Draco's head healed. Harry knew he and Draco would never hold an argument quite like their old ones ever again.
Changes... Changes. So many changes, so fast.
And so, one night, not even knowing why, Harry grabbed his Invisibility Cloak and made his way to the Hospital Wing, opening the portrait hole quietly.
He closed it, The Fat Lady snorting in her sleep and he treaded softly down the hall, taking care not to make too much noise. He was in his pyjama pants, his hair messed up after a few hours of uneasy sleep. But he didn't care. He just had to see for himself whether or not Draco was still human or had turned into a toadstool, which, because of all the oddities that were occurring recently, wouldn't surprise him.
He reached the double doors of the infirmary and eased them open silently, slipped through and let them bang close, the sound echoing softly through the walls of the castle. Harry didn't really care if anyone woke up or not, now that he had reached his destination.
Harry looked around the Hospital Wing, and the sight that met his eyes caused his heart to skip a beat.
There, lying on the bed, his arms to the side with his hair spread around him like a thick halo of platinum, was Draco Malfoy, no longer looking like an evil Slytherin, but a thing of beauty. The window above him was open, the white curtains blowing softly in the breeze, wafting a few locks of Draco's silver hair to and fro. Moonlight was streaming in and it bathed Draco in a pool of beautiful, pale-but-gleaming light.
Harry caught his breath and moved forwards slowly, hardly daring to believe his eyes, looking upon his old enemy with something close to astonishment. He looked so innocent.
((And he deserves innocence! He told me he doesn't want to be a Death Eater. He shouldn't have to be forced to do something like that. I wish I could help him.))
Those last thoughts shocked him terribly; why should he help someone who had made his last seven years miserable? Or attempted to, at least.
((But he's come clean. I know it. He...deserves my help, I guess.))
Harry pulled a chair up beside Draco's bed, and, gulping, grabbed the boy's hand, and started stroking it.
"It's so unfair," he murmured. "Why'd you have to be born into that family? Hell, why'd you have to listen and take the bullshit your father did to you? You stupid asshole." Harry sighed.
And suddenly, he heard voices, and footsteps, approaching.
Knowing he couldn't be seen, he laid down Draco's hand, but kept his hand resting on the Slytherin's arm, and kept quite still on the chair, biting his lip and making sure one of his feet weren't showing from beneath the Cloak. He then bowed his head and got ready to eavesdrop in comfort.
Madam Pomfrey entered the room, followed by - surprisingly - Dumbledore. Harry stared but kept his trap shut.
As Dumbledore passed, his eyes flickered over to Draco's bed and his step faltered - whether it was because he could see through Harry's Invisibility Cloak, or whether it was the sight of Draco, Harry couldn't tell.
Madam Pomfrey gave a sigh and poured Dumbledore a cup of tea after he had entered her office at the back. They didn't close the door.
"So what more news of his health?" Dumbledore asked heavily, sitting in a chair. Harry listened in.
"Well.he seems to be on the mend alright, but...the mark isn't fading, Dumbledore. It's quite worrying. I've tried everything - "
"Aah, no, you needn't have tried. That's the Dark Mark, Pomfrey. Yes, a Death Eater's mark."
Harry heard Pomfrey give a sigh and sit down heavily next to Dumbledore.
"You need to understand me, Pomfrey. I don't have much time to explain this, so you must listen. Lucius Malfoy, I believe, forced this upon his son, refusing to take 'no' for an answer... Yes, Pomfrey, Draco hates who he is; the way he's been put into Slytherin and been forced to act like it. His classmates call him the new Salazar, I have heard. Madam Pomfrey, that was exactly the reaction Tom Riddle had received when he was in school. But this situation is not one I am willing to let slip between my fingers. Draco, in his heart, does not wish to be a servant of the Dark Lord; he wants nothing to do with the Dark Arts at all. The boy's been landed with a very hard decision: he must either take my hand and my protection, or simply let himself be taken under the wing of Voldemort."
Silence. Shocked silence. Harry pulled off his Cloak, not knowing what he would do when the teachers came back, but he had to talk to Draco. Harry suddenly realized the arm beneath his hand had shifted slightly and saw that Draco was awake. One, single tear had tracked down his cheek, and as he looked Harry in the eye, unsurprised of Harry's being there, Draco put a finger to his mouth, requesting that Dumbledore's conversation should continue.
"My dear Madam, you need to tell this to the other Professors, because I am hiring fifteen ministry wizards to guard the school."
"B-But is that really...necessary, Dumbledore?" Pomfrey asked, her voice quavering.
"Yes. Voldemort, I have heard, is pulling all the strings possible to persuade the young Malfoy that the way of Dark Arts is his true fate. This...could be another plot for Harry Potter's death. I do believe Voldemort wants an inside helper. Draco is his key. The boy needs to realize he is not alone."
Harry tuned out the rest of the conversation, and turned to Malfoy.
"What are you doing here, Potter?" Malfoy whispered.
"Trying to save your life, is all," Harry whispered. "Draco, is it true? Is all this true?"
After a pause, "...Yes. Why do you call me that?"
"What?"
"You called me Draco. Why? Why not Malfoy?"
"Because I'm sick of being your enemy, I'm sick of calling you Malfoy. You were named Draco, so that's what I'll call you."
"Okay...why are you sick of being my enemy?"
He sounded like a child, questioning a mathematics equation. Harry winced slightly at his calm acceptance. This certainly wasn't the old Draco Malfoy.
"Because, after what I just heard...I think you need a friend, more than an enemy."
"Quite right, Harry," a soft voice said from behind. Harry didn't need to turn to know he was there.
"Why is it so unfair, sir?" Harry asked, still watching Draco's eyes.
Draco gave an uncharacteristic whimper, and suddenly grabbed Harry's arm, looking the Gryffindor in the eyes.
"I've told you before, Harry. You're the only person that can...give me freedom. I don't want to be a Death Eater, and befriending you would give me...a sense of protection."
Harry leaned in and looked Draco squarely in the eyes.
"I would never be your friend for a cause like that," Harry said softly, "but I WOULD be your friend, if my friendship was what you wanted, not protection."
"So let it be so. We have a.lot.to catch up on," Draco said softly and suddenly cried out in agony as a scarlet light burst from his sleeve. He started sobbing, clutching his arm just above his elbow. It was the Mark. Draco threw his arms around Harry's neck, begging, "let it stop, let it stop!!" Blood had starting oozing from the Mark, staining the sheets.
And Harry, with a confused glance at Dumbledore, knew that a very strong bond was slowly forming between the opposing house leaders. He calmly put his arms around Draco's waist and held the boy near, trying not to feel too weird about it. After a few minutes, when the teachers had left, seeming to not care about Harry's wandering around the castle, Harry laughed and said to Draco:
"Well, you silly bastard, now what're the gossips gonna say when they see us talking to one another like humans?"
The tears dissolved into laughs and Draco pulled away. The mirth lit up those grey eyes, and the grin of his peachy lips made Harry's heart flutter. He clasped wrists with Draco and said that if he didn't get better soon, he'd belt him one.
-------
The next day, Harry didn't know what to do. He walked around nervously, wondering if last night had been some big joke played on him. He couldn't quite believe Draco had just asked to be Harry's friend: a few days ago, less than a week, he and Malfoy had nearly gotten into a punch-up at the ball. And now they were on a first name basis, had already hugged one another and...
Harry stopped walking toward the Great Hall for lunch. His mind had shut down as he remembered the hug. He could almost still feel the slender arms around his neck, the soft, creamy face pressed against his chest, the feeling of the waist in his arms. The warmth they shared. Hotness flared up through Harry's face and he slid down the wall to sit on the floor in a now- deserted Transfiguration corridor.
What the hell was going on? A few days ago, he would have leapt at the chance to kill the damn Slytherin, and now he was acting like some gay guy? Sure, the friendliness could be accepted, if he gave a wide berth around the fact it happened so suddenly, but that hug made him feel like...he almost wanted a relationship with the guy.
Harry put his head in his hands. ((STOP RIGHT THERE, POTTER. There is no way in frickin' hell you're falling in love with that white-faced freak. Friend or not, he's a GUY. A GUY. Guys like girls. Guys don't like guys. You can't do this, you stupid bastard!))
He rubbed his eyes, not wanting to believe what his heart was requesting. And against everything he wanted, an image formed in his mind. He could feel his lips against Draco's, feel his tongue against the other's: the bodies pressed together and the feeling of Draco underneath him... as their bodies became one... Harry's body got tighter as electric shot through his veins, swimming through every limb, until he stood up shakily and stalked off to lunch, fighting back the lust with an anger that overpowered any wanting of a relationship with Draco.
((But you DID promise to be his friend.)) ((Yeah, I will be. Just not romantically.))
But a last voice, almost inaudible to Harry's mind, whispered: ((The heart wants what it wants.))
------- Please review!