A/N: I have a horrible feeling that Draco is becoming more and more OOC. *gah* I want to keep him cynical and perceptive as hell, but he's becoming softer by the moment! o I also have a feeling that this scene has been going on for EVER! *strangles self with mouse cord*
He broke down then. Utterly broke. Flung himself on his bed and started crying like I've never seen anyone cry before. And when your father is a Death Eater, you've seen people cry; seen them beg for mercy with tears streaming down their faces. But he was different; it wasn't not from the Cruciatius curse, it wasn't not from fear of death or pain or his family being dealt with. It was from inside himself, and I'd never seen anyone cry like that before.
I leaned over. "Potter?" He didn't answer. "Speak to me. Come on. If there's one thing I won't do, it's let any of your secrets go."
"And why should I trust you?" he asked me in between his sobs.
Sigh. So he didn't trust me, after all? And I thought we'd been making headway. Damn. Well, may as well try. . .
"Potter, I'm good at keeping secrets. It's a skill I've learned."
He kept crying, and crying, and I watched him continue crying into the bedspread. Finally he rolled over onto his back, his eyes red and swollen. "You know about the Dursleys. You know they're insufferable."
I nodded, and waited.
"So I don't need to say much more about that. I can put up with them, I'm used to them. But. . ."
I waited again.
"Damn them! Damn them to HELL!" His voice - the emotion, the pure anger - shook me. I wasn't expecting it.
"Damn who, Potter?"
"Ron and Hermione."
Ah. The Weasel and the Mudblood. So he was missing his friends, was he? Or the people he used to call friends. I doubted that's what he would call them now. Not after a year of growing apart from them, and a summer of no contact. Not that I know very much about friends, but it's nice to theorize.
Potter went on about what he felt was a betrayal by his "friends." I felt almost lucky to have never had any. If friendship was really that troublesome, and ended with that much pain, I guess I was lucky to have never worried about it.
Although I wouldn't have minded feeling that pain. Just once, I would've liked to feel it.
Potter told me about how worried he was about Sirius, although he still wouldn't use Sirius's name. Spontaneous trust does not extend so far as to reveal that your godfather is really a wizard on the run from Azkaban. He told me about writing to Snape, and how Snape had been so. . . pleasant.
"What do you think about Snape, Malfoy?" he asked me.
"Snape?" I paused for a moment. "Loyal and intelligent. Cunning. And very, very secretive."
"Why do you think he likes you so much?"
I really haven't a clue why he asked me that. Where in his twisted little brain had it come from? Why would he care, after all - what did my relationship with a professor matter? But, you always try to answer someone who's gone mad the way Potter had.
"He's known me since I was a baby. He and my father were. . . well, you know that story, don't you?" He nodded his head. "They're colleagues, and friends. I've always been around him, and he's just sort of like a second father to me."
"But he left Voldemort before you were born - how could he and your father still be friends?"
Curious question, that one. I gave him the only answer I could fathom.
"I think he's the one person my father genuinely likes and trusts."
"He doesn't trust you?"
"Would you trust me?"
He paused. "I told you about all this, didn't I?"
My eyes blinked spontaneously. I think that moment was when I started developing the annoying eye twitch I've had ever since. Whenever I'm surprised, my eyes start blinking rather quickly. Damn Potter, gave me a *twitch* of all things. . .
So, he did trust me. My enemy. . . my bloody enemy, of all people. Although if you looked at the situation, it didn't seem as if we were enemies anymore.
So, naturally, I asked him.
"We still enemies, Potter?"
"No. . . I don't think so."
I didn't say anything for a minute. I didn't know what to, considering we were officially no longer enemies. It was all too tense. I hate it when the air gets like that - crackles and sparks and you can just feel the awkwardness swirling around you.
So I decided to try and lighten things up a bit.
"Good. Now I don't have to use your secrets as blackmail." I gave him a grin, and he hit me over the head with a pillow.
"Shut up, Malfoy." He was laughing. Although he was trying not to, he was laughing.
I couldn't help laughing along with him. Soon we were rolling on the bed, holding our sides. I fell off the edge with a thump, and Potter followed me and landed right on top of me. Boy was surprisingly heavy - he looks so thin and weak, but he nearly squashed me.
It was at that moment, while Potter was lying on top of me and laughing madly, that his damn cousin Dudley had to open the door and walk in.
A/N: The angst was too much; I had to add in some comic relief. Can anyone say "Draco uke?" Which means Harry is seme. . . hmmm. Should Harry pounce Draco, or should Draco pounce Harry? Whaddaya think? Review and tell!
He broke down then. Utterly broke. Flung himself on his bed and started crying like I've never seen anyone cry before. And when your father is a Death Eater, you've seen people cry; seen them beg for mercy with tears streaming down their faces. But he was different; it wasn't not from the Cruciatius curse, it wasn't not from fear of death or pain or his family being dealt with. It was from inside himself, and I'd never seen anyone cry like that before.
I leaned over. "Potter?" He didn't answer. "Speak to me. Come on. If there's one thing I won't do, it's let any of your secrets go."
"And why should I trust you?" he asked me in between his sobs.
Sigh. So he didn't trust me, after all? And I thought we'd been making headway. Damn. Well, may as well try. . .
"Potter, I'm good at keeping secrets. It's a skill I've learned."
He kept crying, and crying, and I watched him continue crying into the bedspread. Finally he rolled over onto his back, his eyes red and swollen. "You know about the Dursleys. You know they're insufferable."
I nodded, and waited.
"So I don't need to say much more about that. I can put up with them, I'm used to them. But. . ."
I waited again.
"Damn them! Damn them to HELL!" His voice - the emotion, the pure anger - shook me. I wasn't expecting it.
"Damn who, Potter?"
"Ron and Hermione."
Ah. The Weasel and the Mudblood. So he was missing his friends, was he? Or the people he used to call friends. I doubted that's what he would call them now. Not after a year of growing apart from them, and a summer of no contact. Not that I know very much about friends, but it's nice to theorize.
Potter went on about what he felt was a betrayal by his "friends." I felt almost lucky to have never had any. If friendship was really that troublesome, and ended with that much pain, I guess I was lucky to have never worried about it.
Although I wouldn't have minded feeling that pain. Just once, I would've liked to feel it.
Potter told me about how worried he was about Sirius, although he still wouldn't use Sirius's name. Spontaneous trust does not extend so far as to reveal that your godfather is really a wizard on the run from Azkaban. He told me about writing to Snape, and how Snape had been so. . . pleasant.
"What do you think about Snape, Malfoy?" he asked me.
"Snape?" I paused for a moment. "Loyal and intelligent. Cunning. And very, very secretive."
"Why do you think he likes you so much?"
I really haven't a clue why he asked me that. Where in his twisted little brain had it come from? Why would he care, after all - what did my relationship with a professor matter? But, you always try to answer someone who's gone mad the way Potter had.
"He's known me since I was a baby. He and my father were. . . well, you know that story, don't you?" He nodded his head. "They're colleagues, and friends. I've always been around him, and he's just sort of like a second father to me."
"But he left Voldemort before you were born - how could he and your father still be friends?"
Curious question, that one. I gave him the only answer I could fathom.
"I think he's the one person my father genuinely likes and trusts."
"He doesn't trust you?"
"Would you trust me?"
He paused. "I told you about all this, didn't I?"
My eyes blinked spontaneously. I think that moment was when I started developing the annoying eye twitch I've had ever since. Whenever I'm surprised, my eyes start blinking rather quickly. Damn Potter, gave me a *twitch* of all things. . .
So, he did trust me. My enemy. . . my bloody enemy, of all people. Although if you looked at the situation, it didn't seem as if we were enemies anymore.
So, naturally, I asked him.
"We still enemies, Potter?"
"No. . . I don't think so."
I didn't say anything for a minute. I didn't know what to, considering we were officially no longer enemies. It was all too tense. I hate it when the air gets like that - crackles and sparks and you can just feel the awkwardness swirling around you.
So I decided to try and lighten things up a bit.
"Good. Now I don't have to use your secrets as blackmail." I gave him a grin, and he hit me over the head with a pillow.
"Shut up, Malfoy." He was laughing. Although he was trying not to, he was laughing.
I couldn't help laughing along with him. Soon we were rolling on the bed, holding our sides. I fell off the edge with a thump, and Potter followed me and landed right on top of me. Boy was surprisingly heavy - he looks so thin and weak, but he nearly squashed me.
It was at that moment, while Potter was lying on top of me and laughing madly, that his damn cousin Dudley had to open the door and walk in.
A/N: The angst was too much; I had to add in some comic relief. Can anyone say "Draco uke?" Which means Harry is seme. . . hmmm. Should Harry pounce Draco, or should Draco pounce Harry? Whaddaya think? Review and tell!