I do not own them. I just spend too much money on their merchandise.
~~
Harry left Mrs. Figg's comfortable house with a heavy reluctance weighing upon his heart.
He may not have been feeling better about his situation on the whole, but just being able to say those things aloud, albeit having been done in a slightly aggressive and angry manner, had cleared his mind. And she hadn't really told him those same words that everyone else had, all that "You'll be fine, you're Harry Potter, after all" way of thinking. While she didn't support his current state of mind, she was willing to give him time to rethink everything.
After Harry's initial outburst, the two talked about many things, from Hogwarts all the way down to Quidditch and the current workings of the Ministry. Malfoy was not mentioned other than Mrs. Figg's short insistence that Harry not pester him. But, oh, Harry's shock over finding his babysitter was a witch, Mrs. Figg's surprise at discovering Hermione was no one's satin doll....the afternoon was over far too quickly, for sure.
Yes, he would definitely be spending quite a good deal of time this summer at Arabella's house.
**
*Thank bloody MERLIN they're leaving before dinner....*
Draco smiled didn't even pretend to smile as he waved mechanically at the departing car. *If they ever come back again, I'm smashing that bloody video system over their bloody heads!!*
"Wow, that was so much fun!!" Dudley called from his position in front of the TV, from where he'd barely moved all day. "Can't wait for the next time, huh? There's a new video game coming out next week that I want!! They can all come back and we can have a video game Battle Royal! How about it, Drake?"
Draco stared disbelievingly at Dudley. "Um.....I'm just going up to my room to get ready for dinner, now, how about you?"
Dudley shrugged and went back to the TV. "Suit yourself. Sure you don't want a rematch?" He grabbed a video controller off the arm of the couch and waved it in what he assumed was an inviting manner. Draco just turned around and headed for the stairwell. *If he EVER calls me `Drake` again, it's the Avada for him, illegal or not.*
Just as he jumped the first step, the front door opened a crack and a face framed by black hair peeked in. Draco knew secrecy when he saw it, and so...
"He's back, finally!!" Draco shouted. Harry drew back, his eyes wide open. In the living room, Dudley jumped with a loud, "Who? Piers?"
"Nah, just the servant boy."
Draco went on in an undertone, grinning at the deep scowl on the discovered Harry's face. "You are so dead. If you ever leave me with Muggles like *that* again, I'll make sure that the first thing to go when I blow up the house is your beloved Firebolt. Then I'd like to see you beat me in Quidditch. By the way, we're still on for tonight." It was a statement, not a question.
Harry nodded slightly, though still glowering both at Draco and at having been caught, then crept into the house and towards the kitchen where his assistance would most likely be required.
**
*`Assistance` my arse...* Harry was scrubbing away at bowl previously filled with dip, the fourth of its kind so far. Naturally, he wasn't assisting - Aunt Petunia sat at the kitchen table reading some fashion magazine, sipping from a wine cooler, and generally relaxing under the icy blast from the air conditioner. His stomach growled loudly - the pumpkin juice was all he'd consumed that afternoon?and washing platters and bowls once filled with food, yet still reeking of it, was not doing a body good.
Without looking up from her questionable reading material, Petunia snorted, "Now, if you weren't lazy this afternoon, you would have been done with that already and would be cooking dinner for us. If either Duddydums or Draco get hungry before dinner is ready, you won't eat."
Harry muttered mutinously, "What else is new, Captain Obvious?"
Luckily, she didn't hear him. He hoped.
**
The book was an old one, for sure. Not many wizards of common blood would care for, nor be able to understand, its tales, but for a pureblood of a family intent on some sort of global domination, the tome was a godsend, passed down through the family's history, finally coming to rest in Draco's hands.
He'd been very young when Lucius had presented him with this book. A stern expression on his face, Lucius had instructed him to study its contents, as his predecessors had done. This book was one of many that held the key to the Malfoys' success, a success that lay on Draco's shoulders to bear and pass on.
Casually flipping the well-thumbed pages, silver eyes fell on the chapter devoted to aura, its history, properties, and of course how to detect it.
One might be surprised to find aura only in Dark Arts books. The reason for this was so simple that it most certainly was below the thinking of one Hermione Granger, unless she'd already read the reason in another book.
The ability to detect another's magical power, or *ki*, was essential in both the subterfuge and the spying, not to mention the fighting, of the wizarding world because the ability to sense where another was, or even your enemy, allowed the wizard in possession of such power direct advantage.
Imagine a Wizard's Duel between the likes of two Albus Dumbledores. Their invisibility powers, if used, would render the other unable to know from which direction spells would come. Thus, the Albus Dumbledore with the ability to sense ki would most likely triumph, being able to feel where his opponent was.
And so, the power had been labeled a Dark Art and was not to be taught at Hogwarts, lest the students use it to their advantage against such as Filch and his evil prowling fuzzball.
Draco's knowledge of aura had been ingrained in his mind, and so it was for Harry's sake alone that he refreshed his memory, his measure of the Potter boy being good enough for Draco to realize that Harry would want to know more about the subject, not just how to pull off the actual stunt. After all, Harry did spend quite a bit of time in the library with the Mudblood Incarnate - he would most likely be used to getting the theory of what he was about to do, not just the magic.
**
And so the boys whiled away the hours till dinner - Draco reading, checking to make sure every once in a while that his door was still locked (he didn't trust these Muggle things at all); Harry cleaning and preparing food.
Some sort of fish that Harry had found in the freezer, plus mixed vegetables and wild rice ended up as perfectly healthy meal. Shortly beforehand, Uncle Vernon had marched into the kitchen in high spirits after work - some new contract that he'd managed to get signed without his nephew botching up with a couple of house elves and owls. Dudley himself waddled in, plopped himself down at the table, and with a swish and flick, the TV was on. There was a short squabble as Vernon commanded that the news be put on, much to Dudley's dismay.
Harry, having worked around Dudley to get the four place settings on the table, was just laying the platter of baked fish with herb seasoning on the table when Draco meandered in. Harry shot him quick glower before grabbing his own plate and sitting down on the kitchen stool by the sink to eat, having been exiled from the kitchen table since Malfoy's unexpected arrival.
Dinner passed uneventfully...until *that* report came on. The news reporter's voice hardened.
"An explosion rocked a small village in Wales in the early hours of the morning today. A house was destroyed, killing all of its sleeping inhabitants." The screen flashed, showing a scene of firemen battling with fierce flames. "The cause of the blast is unknown, although it is believed that fireworks may have exploded within the buildings." The scene of firemen moved upward to the area above house, where faintly sparkling green lights were still etched in the sky in the dim shape of -
Harry and Draco choked. They shot each other worried glances as Aunt Petunia cooed over both the report and Draco's second choking spree in one day.
*Voldemort.* Harry couldn't believe this - school hadn't been out a week yet, and Voldemort was already attacking. *How come I didn't feel anything last night? That attack must have happened around two in the morning...yet I was fine...*
Utterly lost in thought and worry, he finished his small portion, and immediately began washing his dish and the pots. Eventually the other plates and bowls from the table ended up in the sink, and Harry found himself alone in the abandoned kitchen.
**
He stared out at the moon, gaze slightly hindered by his curtains billowing in the breeze. The moon was in its first phase, only the slimmest of crescents. Vaguely he wondered how Lupin was faring...in about two weeks it would be time for his change. He wondered where Sirius was...He wondered how Ron and Mione were doing - he had neither received nor sent letters...He wondered what Dumbledore was planning.....and what Voldemort was planning.
His wondering was cut short when a swish announced the midnight arrival of his rival and now fellow prisoner, as he was beginning to think of Malfoy, never realizing how similar their thoughts were.
There were no exchanges of "Hello" or "Are you ready to go?", just a nod, a broomstick being picked up from the bed, and two figures zooming silently out over Privet Drive.
**
Facing each other, the two boys sat in what they'd dubbed their clearing. It hadn't been disturbed since last night - the fruit basket was still lying at the edge of the small pool, the water itself still calm.
"So...um," Draco wasn't sure what to say. *How do you teach some you hate? Is this how Severus feels every time he has Gryffindors in his class?*
Harry rolled his eyes exasperatedly. "Just get on with it, Malfoy. What's aura?"
Regaining composure, Malfoy smirked. "It *is* a Dark Art, Potter, are you sure you want to learn it?"
"Parseltongue is a Dark Art, Malfoy."
"Got me there, Potter."
"Just get on with it already! Stop being coy! Bloody what is aura?"
"Ok, ok, calm down! Aura is ki, Potter!"
"What kind of key? Key to what?"
"Wrong ki, Potter. The *ki* I'm talking about it Japanese for *life force*. It's the power naturally in your body. It's partly what keeps you alive."
"What does it do?"
"It doesn't do anything in the sense you mean. It is our power. It's our stronger ki that makes us wizards. The ability to do magic is derived from our ki." Trying his best to be patient, Draco gave time for Harry to put some of this together himself.
"So you're saying that if someone has a strong ki, they immediately become a wizard?" Harry was getting quite confused.
"Not necessarily. Look at Longbottom. He's got a decent-sized ki, but he's nearly a Squib. Even some Muggles have stronger ki than normal. It usually makes them better leaders, even if their goals aren't the best. Ki is just power. We use our ki when we do our magic. The stronger the ki, the stronger the magic," he said, getting frustrated at Harry's slow understanding at the moment.
Harry was actually not as lost as Draco assumed him to be. In truth, Harry was just thinking about the end of the Last Task, when Barty Crouch had taken him away from the Quidditch pitch...how Professors Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagall had stunned Crouch...how Harry had sensed the power radiating off of Dumbledore...
With new resolve, Harry asked, "How do you sense it? I've felt it before, I think, so I know I can do it, but I just don't know how."
"You're not going to like it. Being able to sense ki starts with finding your own power. Meditation and concentration."
Harry groaned.
**
It was black inside of his mind. He'd had know idea that one's subconscious was so deep - he'd never had the incentive to actually learn this art in Divination class, even though he was supposed to. Grumbling about Trelawney, he delved deeper.
It was as if he'd turned a corner, or was a miner just discover gold - the blackness erupted into light, crimson laced with silver. *That's strange...crimson and silver?* His inner mind stared at the well bubbling there, this red mass forked by silver lightening. *This is my ki? My power?*
A tendril of silver snaked up to him, not at all shy. Harry felt it connect briefly with what he called his "inner face", right where his scar would be. There was no pain, but rather a gentle warmth tickling his face, licking like an overenthusiastic puppy greeting his master.
Suddenly, Harry flew backwards into the darkness and out again, opening his eyes to the clearing.
Draco cocked his head with the question, "Well?" written all over his face.
Harry spoke excitedly, "I saw it!! It touched me - is it supposed to do that? It's too cool...all crimson and silver!"
"Red and silver? Not exactly what I expected."
"You mean - every ki has a different color?"
Draco gave Harry the clairvoyant-crystal-ball look again. "Each coloring is unique to the witch or wizard. I expected yours to be pure Gryffindor colors, you being the Golden Boy after all, all that Godric Gryffindor business from Second Year. The silver surprises me."
The Gryffindor's face became impassive. Entertaining the idea of telling Malfoy that the Sorting Hat had wanted to put Harry in Slytherin was no easy decision. However, Malfoy cut off the need for further argument in Harry's brain on the subject.
"Good enough for your first try. Not many wizards would be able to find their center that quickly, but you *are* Harry Potter, after all..."
"Stop saying that."
Harry's voice was little more than a whisper. "I'm not what everyone thinks I am. I want to be normal, Malfoy. Even now, I'm not learning this `aura` thing for myself....I'm learning it so I have a better chance of not disappointing the wizarding world. All those people looking to me, and what am I? I've *killed* before, Malfoy. And the world needs me to kill again. I don't know how you can call a person like me *Golden*."
Malfoy felt his temper rise.
"We look to you because you've got the power. You're being selfish now - there are plenty of people out there who'd kill to have what you have. You may not understand why you got stuck as number one on the Dark Lord's hit list, but you can't deny all those people out there what they want, Potter. Either shut up and fight whatever hopeless battle you have to, or watch as everyone dies sooner rather than later" The volume of his voice escalated as he spoke.
What would you know, Malfoy? All you care about is Voldemort!" Harry shouted as well. "Not even four days ago, you stood in my compartment on the train, crowing with glee that Voldemort had risen again! And now you think you have the right to lecture me on the fact that I've got the whole world breathing down my neck, clamoring for me get rid of their nasty little nightmare? That just doesn't add up!"
Both boys were standing by now, flushed from anger, bellowing for the night to hear them. Taking menacing paces towards each other, they continued.
"You're so naïve, Potter! Do you think the world revolves around you and your happy little world? You're not the only one fighting! You're not the only one without parents! You're not the only one suffering just because of one bloody Dark Wizard!!"
They faces were close together as they yelled, their angry words melding.
"Just go back to your stupid Pureblood Manor and serve your precious Voldemort, Malfoy!"
"Shut up, Potter!"
"Make me," Harry hissed.
It happened in a glimmer of pale moonlight on translucent hair. Draco had always left force to Crabbe and Goyle, but now Potter had insulted his honor, his family name, and everything that Draco stood for now, besides being just an insufferable Golden Prick. Without thinking, he'd launched forward, knocking Harry to the ground, ignoring the wounds on his back.
Both boys grappled furiously on the grass, lost in the moment, only knowing that the most important thing was to do as much injury as possible to the other.
Harry winced and spat out some blood when Malfoy's fist connected with his lip; Malfoy's pale hair was falling around his face, hiding the glaring blackened eye.
Practically kneeling on the other boy's chest, Malfoy sent out a hand to the grass down the side of Harry's neck to steady himself before raising his remaining hand for a punch. Harry took the chance and slammed his head backwards onto the hand by his neck. Malfoy recoiled instantly in pain, pulling the wounded hand and Harry's head up. And then...
Draco lost balance, falling forward to meet Harry's head.
Their lips brushed softly for the merest of moments, but it was enough.
They froze in the shock of the moment, held forever in time. It wasn't a kiss, as one would think. It didn't carry any meaning, nor did emotions pass through the two eyes staring wide-eyed at each other, emerald and silver.
Something lurched in Harry's stomach. Was this-?
And then it was over. Draco had broken the contact first, always the first to regain sense of self and reality. With a fleeting, startled, deer-in-the- headlights look at Harry, he jumped up and dashed for his broom.
Harry didn't watch him go. He sat up, panting, staring at his hands. After the tell-tale whoosh of a Nimbus taking off, Harry moved towards the pool and gazed at his bruised reflection, blood still oozing sluggishly from his cut lip. The blood had been smeared slightly by Draco's salty light touch...Utterly disgusted with Malfoy, Harry leaned forward and dunked his entire head in the pool.
**
Draco flew at the most break-neck speed that his Nimbus offered, heading for whatever comfort being under the Muggle covers of a Muggle bed in a Muggle home could offer him. The wind played across his wet lips, provoking a tongue to swipe over them.
And he tasted blood. Harry's blood.
*What the hell happened?* One minute, they'd been in the middle of a verbal sparring match, the next trying to kill each other, and the last, they'd...they'd *kissed*. Kissed?
And Draco had felt something. Something that wasn't right. And he knew Harry had felt it too.
*Yes, I felt something. Revolt.* But he knew something wasn't right about that thought, either.
He muttered darkly to himself, soaring through the air under the thin curve of the moon, all the way back to the Dursleys' house.
**
It was some time before Harry followed Draco, and it was at a much slower pace, to boot.
After his little episode with Malfoy, after he had dunked his head in the pool, after he had cursed himself and Malfoy for everything that had happened, Harry had sat down on the grass and tried meditating again, just to be doing something that didn't involve thinking. Thinking led to traitorous thoughts about Malfoy and whatever had happened between them.
He found the gittering ruby-red and silver much faster this time. Tentatively, he reached out an invisible inner finger, returning the gesture that the little silver piece had done earlier. This time, a myriad of silver strands rushed up to meet this so-called finger, and Harry calmed at their touch.
Harry's subconscious began to ponder. When Dumbledore had burst down the door to Moody-Crouch's office, Harry could feel the power outside of Dumbledore's body, as if he'd brought the power out. Curious, Harry decided to try.
Watching as the tendrils poked at his finger, Harry slowly let one or two curl around before closing a grasp on them. Carefully, he began to retreat from the well, drawing the silver stuff with him. It felt as though an eternity had passed before he opened his eyes, a warmth in his hands.
Glancing down in amazement, he watched as silver lines of sheer ki twisted around his upturned, unclenched hands, playfully chasing each other. Reluctantly, Harry let his concentration lower, conscious of the beads of sweat dripping into his eyes, not to mention water from his wet hair. The threads encircling his hands faded, until Harry found himself staring at plain work-worn hands.
If nothing else, Malfoy was a good teacher.
**
Harry floated above Four Privet Drive, not wanting to retire just yet.
He'd have a lot of explaining to do tomorrow when both he and Draco came down for breakfast with a swollen lip and a black eye, and that was going to be the fuss without the reappearance of the fruit basket.
Circling the house like a hawk, he noticed that Draco's window was still open. *Should I apologize? To a Malfoy?*
Placing the decision firmly in the "Spur-of-the-Moment" category, the Gryffindor swooped in without invitation. Alighting in the room, he cast around in the dimness for his prey.
Malfoy was fast asleep, chest rising in rhythm, looking extremely peaceful, yet more refined than the peacefulness usually whispered about over a sleeping child's head.
Harry glowered. *Is he allowed to look so perfectly Pureblood and stuck-up even when he sleeps?*
Harry watched as Malfoy heaved a sigh and rolled to his other side, leaving his back open.
Through the thin white T-shirt, Harry could make out numerous patches. *What the-?*
He reached out a hand and in what he termed a light manner, though it was more wistful, trailed a hand down the Slytherin's back, feeling the bandages. Malfoy let out a hiss of pain and opened his eyes.
Seeing no one in front, he rolled over again, until Potter came into sight on the other side, backing away.
They stared at each other, each lost for words. Harry stuttered, "What...wha-what happened?"
Malfoy hissed vehemently, "Are you satisfied, Potter? You're not the only one who won't bow to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. This is why I'm here. You really want to pry?" Draco's eyes narrowed.
Mute, Harry nodded and settled himself on the rug at the side of Draco's bed.
~~
Reviews are nice. So are all you people. I'm kinda sad that I can't please everybody, but if I could, then I'd be perfect and my name would be Draco Malfoy.
Anyways, I may have chapter seven up sooner than I thought - I have a lot of free time now because I came down with appendicitis and may have to have an operation, thus I'm not allowed to go to school. Not good because end-of- year exams are two weeks away. Ugh, it can only happen once in your life and it had to happen to me while I was in Japan.
Any way, most thanks coming out!!
Zeynel: Ok, so there's not much slash in this chapter, sorry!! But it's definitely coming, I swear!! Chikau yo!! Keep reading!!
Heather: I can't believe you find my story so nice!! It's a great feeling when I get such nice reviews! I'll continue to try my best!
Schulyr: I updated as soon as possible. Ready to read more?
Fanny Chan: *Takes a bow* Thank you, thank you, no applause, just throw paper airplanes made from Draco pictures!
Miseryslilwench: I'm sure you're not the only one confuzzled by my blatant overuse of my Japanese skills in a rather boastful manner....the titles are in order, Let the Story Begin/ Let's Begin the Story, The Game Continues, No Way!!, Midnight Walk, A Little Depression, and The Lost Romantist
Well, that's all for now. Jaa!!
~~
Harry left Mrs. Figg's comfortable house with a heavy reluctance weighing upon his heart.
He may not have been feeling better about his situation on the whole, but just being able to say those things aloud, albeit having been done in a slightly aggressive and angry manner, had cleared his mind. And she hadn't really told him those same words that everyone else had, all that "You'll be fine, you're Harry Potter, after all" way of thinking. While she didn't support his current state of mind, she was willing to give him time to rethink everything.
After Harry's initial outburst, the two talked about many things, from Hogwarts all the way down to Quidditch and the current workings of the Ministry. Malfoy was not mentioned other than Mrs. Figg's short insistence that Harry not pester him. But, oh, Harry's shock over finding his babysitter was a witch, Mrs. Figg's surprise at discovering Hermione was no one's satin doll....the afternoon was over far too quickly, for sure.
Yes, he would definitely be spending quite a good deal of time this summer at Arabella's house.
**
*Thank bloody MERLIN they're leaving before dinner....*
Draco smiled didn't even pretend to smile as he waved mechanically at the departing car. *If they ever come back again, I'm smashing that bloody video system over their bloody heads!!*
"Wow, that was so much fun!!" Dudley called from his position in front of the TV, from where he'd barely moved all day. "Can't wait for the next time, huh? There's a new video game coming out next week that I want!! They can all come back and we can have a video game Battle Royal! How about it, Drake?"
Draco stared disbelievingly at Dudley. "Um.....I'm just going up to my room to get ready for dinner, now, how about you?"
Dudley shrugged and went back to the TV. "Suit yourself. Sure you don't want a rematch?" He grabbed a video controller off the arm of the couch and waved it in what he assumed was an inviting manner. Draco just turned around and headed for the stairwell. *If he EVER calls me `Drake` again, it's the Avada for him, illegal or not.*
Just as he jumped the first step, the front door opened a crack and a face framed by black hair peeked in. Draco knew secrecy when he saw it, and so...
"He's back, finally!!" Draco shouted. Harry drew back, his eyes wide open. In the living room, Dudley jumped with a loud, "Who? Piers?"
"Nah, just the servant boy."
Draco went on in an undertone, grinning at the deep scowl on the discovered Harry's face. "You are so dead. If you ever leave me with Muggles like *that* again, I'll make sure that the first thing to go when I blow up the house is your beloved Firebolt. Then I'd like to see you beat me in Quidditch. By the way, we're still on for tonight." It was a statement, not a question.
Harry nodded slightly, though still glowering both at Draco and at having been caught, then crept into the house and towards the kitchen where his assistance would most likely be required.
**
*`Assistance` my arse...* Harry was scrubbing away at bowl previously filled with dip, the fourth of its kind so far. Naturally, he wasn't assisting - Aunt Petunia sat at the kitchen table reading some fashion magazine, sipping from a wine cooler, and generally relaxing under the icy blast from the air conditioner. His stomach growled loudly - the pumpkin juice was all he'd consumed that afternoon?and washing platters and bowls once filled with food, yet still reeking of it, was not doing a body good.
Without looking up from her questionable reading material, Petunia snorted, "Now, if you weren't lazy this afternoon, you would have been done with that already and would be cooking dinner for us. If either Duddydums or Draco get hungry before dinner is ready, you won't eat."
Harry muttered mutinously, "What else is new, Captain Obvious?"
Luckily, she didn't hear him. He hoped.
**
The book was an old one, for sure. Not many wizards of common blood would care for, nor be able to understand, its tales, but for a pureblood of a family intent on some sort of global domination, the tome was a godsend, passed down through the family's history, finally coming to rest in Draco's hands.
He'd been very young when Lucius had presented him with this book. A stern expression on his face, Lucius had instructed him to study its contents, as his predecessors had done. This book was one of many that held the key to the Malfoys' success, a success that lay on Draco's shoulders to bear and pass on.
Casually flipping the well-thumbed pages, silver eyes fell on the chapter devoted to aura, its history, properties, and of course how to detect it.
One might be surprised to find aura only in Dark Arts books. The reason for this was so simple that it most certainly was below the thinking of one Hermione Granger, unless she'd already read the reason in another book.
The ability to detect another's magical power, or *ki*, was essential in both the subterfuge and the spying, not to mention the fighting, of the wizarding world because the ability to sense where another was, or even your enemy, allowed the wizard in possession of such power direct advantage.
Imagine a Wizard's Duel between the likes of two Albus Dumbledores. Their invisibility powers, if used, would render the other unable to know from which direction spells would come. Thus, the Albus Dumbledore with the ability to sense ki would most likely triumph, being able to feel where his opponent was.
And so, the power had been labeled a Dark Art and was not to be taught at Hogwarts, lest the students use it to their advantage against such as Filch and his evil prowling fuzzball.
Draco's knowledge of aura had been ingrained in his mind, and so it was for Harry's sake alone that he refreshed his memory, his measure of the Potter boy being good enough for Draco to realize that Harry would want to know more about the subject, not just how to pull off the actual stunt. After all, Harry did spend quite a bit of time in the library with the Mudblood Incarnate - he would most likely be used to getting the theory of what he was about to do, not just the magic.
**
And so the boys whiled away the hours till dinner - Draco reading, checking to make sure every once in a while that his door was still locked (he didn't trust these Muggle things at all); Harry cleaning and preparing food.
Some sort of fish that Harry had found in the freezer, plus mixed vegetables and wild rice ended up as perfectly healthy meal. Shortly beforehand, Uncle Vernon had marched into the kitchen in high spirits after work - some new contract that he'd managed to get signed without his nephew botching up with a couple of house elves and owls. Dudley himself waddled in, plopped himself down at the table, and with a swish and flick, the TV was on. There was a short squabble as Vernon commanded that the news be put on, much to Dudley's dismay.
Harry, having worked around Dudley to get the four place settings on the table, was just laying the platter of baked fish with herb seasoning on the table when Draco meandered in. Harry shot him quick glower before grabbing his own plate and sitting down on the kitchen stool by the sink to eat, having been exiled from the kitchen table since Malfoy's unexpected arrival.
Dinner passed uneventfully...until *that* report came on. The news reporter's voice hardened.
"An explosion rocked a small village in Wales in the early hours of the morning today. A house was destroyed, killing all of its sleeping inhabitants." The screen flashed, showing a scene of firemen battling with fierce flames. "The cause of the blast is unknown, although it is believed that fireworks may have exploded within the buildings." The scene of firemen moved upward to the area above house, where faintly sparkling green lights were still etched in the sky in the dim shape of -
Harry and Draco choked. They shot each other worried glances as Aunt Petunia cooed over both the report and Draco's second choking spree in one day.
*Voldemort.* Harry couldn't believe this - school hadn't been out a week yet, and Voldemort was already attacking. *How come I didn't feel anything last night? That attack must have happened around two in the morning...yet I was fine...*
Utterly lost in thought and worry, he finished his small portion, and immediately began washing his dish and the pots. Eventually the other plates and bowls from the table ended up in the sink, and Harry found himself alone in the abandoned kitchen.
**
He stared out at the moon, gaze slightly hindered by his curtains billowing in the breeze. The moon was in its first phase, only the slimmest of crescents. Vaguely he wondered how Lupin was faring...in about two weeks it would be time for his change. He wondered where Sirius was...He wondered how Ron and Mione were doing - he had neither received nor sent letters...He wondered what Dumbledore was planning.....and what Voldemort was planning.
His wondering was cut short when a swish announced the midnight arrival of his rival and now fellow prisoner, as he was beginning to think of Malfoy, never realizing how similar their thoughts were.
There were no exchanges of "Hello" or "Are you ready to go?", just a nod, a broomstick being picked up from the bed, and two figures zooming silently out over Privet Drive.
**
Facing each other, the two boys sat in what they'd dubbed their clearing. It hadn't been disturbed since last night - the fruit basket was still lying at the edge of the small pool, the water itself still calm.
"So...um," Draco wasn't sure what to say. *How do you teach some you hate? Is this how Severus feels every time he has Gryffindors in his class?*
Harry rolled his eyes exasperatedly. "Just get on with it, Malfoy. What's aura?"
Regaining composure, Malfoy smirked. "It *is* a Dark Art, Potter, are you sure you want to learn it?"
"Parseltongue is a Dark Art, Malfoy."
"Got me there, Potter."
"Just get on with it already! Stop being coy! Bloody what is aura?"
"Ok, ok, calm down! Aura is ki, Potter!"
"What kind of key? Key to what?"
"Wrong ki, Potter. The *ki* I'm talking about it Japanese for *life force*. It's the power naturally in your body. It's partly what keeps you alive."
"What does it do?"
"It doesn't do anything in the sense you mean. It is our power. It's our stronger ki that makes us wizards. The ability to do magic is derived from our ki." Trying his best to be patient, Draco gave time for Harry to put some of this together himself.
"So you're saying that if someone has a strong ki, they immediately become a wizard?" Harry was getting quite confused.
"Not necessarily. Look at Longbottom. He's got a decent-sized ki, but he's nearly a Squib. Even some Muggles have stronger ki than normal. It usually makes them better leaders, even if their goals aren't the best. Ki is just power. We use our ki when we do our magic. The stronger the ki, the stronger the magic," he said, getting frustrated at Harry's slow understanding at the moment.
Harry was actually not as lost as Draco assumed him to be. In truth, Harry was just thinking about the end of the Last Task, when Barty Crouch had taken him away from the Quidditch pitch...how Professors Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagall had stunned Crouch...how Harry had sensed the power radiating off of Dumbledore...
With new resolve, Harry asked, "How do you sense it? I've felt it before, I think, so I know I can do it, but I just don't know how."
"You're not going to like it. Being able to sense ki starts with finding your own power. Meditation and concentration."
Harry groaned.
**
It was black inside of his mind. He'd had know idea that one's subconscious was so deep - he'd never had the incentive to actually learn this art in Divination class, even though he was supposed to. Grumbling about Trelawney, he delved deeper.
It was as if he'd turned a corner, or was a miner just discover gold - the blackness erupted into light, crimson laced with silver. *That's strange...crimson and silver?* His inner mind stared at the well bubbling there, this red mass forked by silver lightening. *This is my ki? My power?*
A tendril of silver snaked up to him, not at all shy. Harry felt it connect briefly with what he called his "inner face", right where his scar would be. There was no pain, but rather a gentle warmth tickling his face, licking like an overenthusiastic puppy greeting his master.
Suddenly, Harry flew backwards into the darkness and out again, opening his eyes to the clearing.
Draco cocked his head with the question, "Well?" written all over his face.
Harry spoke excitedly, "I saw it!! It touched me - is it supposed to do that? It's too cool...all crimson and silver!"
"Red and silver? Not exactly what I expected."
"You mean - every ki has a different color?"
Draco gave Harry the clairvoyant-crystal-ball look again. "Each coloring is unique to the witch or wizard. I expected yours to be pure Gryffindor colors, you being the Golden Boy after all, all that Godric Gryffindor business from Second Year. The silver surprises me."
The Gryffindor's face became impassive. Entertaining the idea of telling Malfoy that the Sorting Hat had wanted to put Harry in Slytherin was no easy decision. However, Malfoy cut off the need for further argument in Harry's brain on the subject.
"Good enough for your first try. Not many wizards would be able to find their center that quickly, but you *are* Harry Potter, after all..."
"Stop saying that."
Harry's voice was little more than a whisper. "I'm not what everyone thinks I am. I want to be normal, Malfoy. Even now, I'm not learning this `aura` thing for myself....I'm learning it so I have a better chance of not disappointing the wizarding world. All those people looking to me, and what am I? I've *killed* before, Malfoy. And the world needs me to kill again. I don't know how you can call a person like me *Golden*."
Malfoy felt his temper rise.
"We look to you because you've got the power. You're being selfish now - there are plenty of people out there who'd kill to have what you have. You may not understand why you got stuck as number one on the Dark Lord's hit list, but you can't deny all those people out there what they want, Potter. Either shut up and fight whatever hopeless battle you have to, or watch as everyone dies sooner rather than later" The volume of his voice escalated as he spoke.
What would you know, Malfoy? All you care about is Voldemort!" Harry shouted as well. "Not even four days ago, you stood in my compartment on the train, crowing with glee that Voldemort had risen again! And now you think you have the right to lecture me on the fact that I've got the whole world breathing down my neck, clamoring for me get rid of their nasty little nightmare? That just doesn't add up!"
Both boys were standing by now, flushed from anger, bellowing for the night to hear them. Taking menacing paces towards each other, they continued.
"You're so naïve, Potter! Do you think the world revolves around you and your happy little world? You're not the only one fighting! You're not the only one without parents! You're not the only one suffering just because of one bloody Dark Wizard!!"
They faces were close together as they yelled, their angry words melding.
"Just go back to your stupid Pureblood Manor and serve your precious Voldemort, Malfoy!"
"Shut up, Potter!"
"Make me," Harry hissed.
It happened in a glimmer of pale moonlight on translucent hair. Draco had always left force to Crabbe and Goyle, but now Potter had insulted his honor, his family name, and everything that Draco stood for now, besides being just an insufferable Golden Prick. Without thinking, he'd launched forward, knocking Harry to the ground, ignoring the wounds on his back.
Both boys grappled furiously on the grass, lost in the moment, only knowing that the most important thing was to do as much injury as possible to the other.
Harry winced and spat out some blood when Malfoy's fist connected with his lip; Malfoy's pale hair was falling around his face, hiding the glaring blackened eye.
Practically kneeling on the other boy's chest, Malfoy sent out a hand to the grass down the side of Harry's neck to steady himself before raising his remaining hand for a punch. Harry took the chance and slammed his head backwards onto the hand by his neck. Malfoy recoiled instantly in pain, pulling the wounded hand and Harry's head up. And then...
Draco lost balance, falling forward to meet Harry's head.
Their lips brushed softly for the merest of moments, but it was enough.
They froze in the shock of the moment, held forever in time. It wasn't a kiss, as one would think. It didn't carry any meaning, nor did emotions pass through the two eyes staring wide-eyed at each other, emerald and silver.
Something lurched in Harry's stomach. Was this-?
And then it was over. Draco had broken the contact first, always the first to regain sense of self and reality. With a fleeting, startled, deer-in-the- headlights look at Harry, he jumped up and dashed for his broom.
Harry didn't watch him go. He sat up, panting, staring at his hands. After the tell-tale whoosh of a Nimbus taking off, Harry moved towards the pool and gazed at his bruised reflection, blood still oozing sluggishly from his cut lip. The blood had been smeared slightly by Draco's salty light touch...Utterly disgusted with Malfoy, Harry leaned forward and dunked his entire head in the pool.
**
Draco flew at the most break-neck speed that his Nimbus offered, heading for whatever comfort being under the Muggle covers of a Muggle bed in a Muggle home could offer him. The wind played across his wet lips, provoking a tongue to swipe over them.
And he tasted blood. Harry's blood.
*What the hell happened?* One minute, they'd been in the middle of a verbal sparring match, the next trying to kill each other, and the last, they'd...they'd *kissed*. Kissed?
And Draco had felt something. Something that wasn't right. And he knew Harry had felt it too.
*Yes, I felt something. Revolt.* But he knew something wasn't right about that thought, either.
He muttered darkly to himself, soaring through the air under the thin curve of the moon, all the way back to the Dursleys' house.
**
It was some time before Harry followed Draco, and it was at a much slower pace, to boot.
After his little episode with Malfoy, after he had dunked his head in the pool, after he had cursed himself and Malfoy for everything that had happened, Harry had sat down on the grass and tried meditating again, just to be doing something that didn't involve thinking. Thinking led to traitorous thoughts about Malfoy and whatever had happened between them.
He found the gittering ruby-red and silver much faster this time. Tentatively, he reached out an invisible inner finger, returning the gesture that the little silver piece had done earlier. This time, a myriad of silver strands rushed up to meet this so-called finger, and Harry calmed at their touch.
Harry's subconscious began to ponder. When Dumbledore had burst down the door to Moody-Crouch's office, Harry could feel the power outside of Dumbledore's body, as if he'd brought the power out. Curious, Harry decided to try.
Watching as the tendrils poked at his finger, Harry slowly let one or two curl around before closing a grasp on them. Carefully, he began to retreat from the well, drawing the silver stuff with him. It felt as though an eternity had passed before he opened his eyes, a warmth in his hands.
Glancing down in amazement, he watched as silver lines of sheer ki twisted around his upturned, unclenched hands, playfully chasing each other. Reluctantly, Harry let his concentration lower, conscious of the beads of sweat dripping into his eyes, not to mention water from his wet hair. The threads encircling his hands faded, until Harry found himself staring at plain work-worn hands.
If nothing else, Malfoy was a good teacher.
**
Harry floated above Four Privet Drive, not wanting to retire just yet.
He'd have a lot of explaining to do tomorrow when both he and Draco came down for breakfast with a swollen lip and a black eye, and that was going to be the fuss without the reappearance of the fruit basket.
Circling the house like a hawk, he noticed that Draco's window was still open. *Should I apologize? To a Malfoy?*
Placing the decision firmly in the "Spur-of-the-Moment" category, the Gryffindor swooped in without invitation. Alighting in the room, he cast around in the dimness for his prey.
Malfoy was fast asleep, chest rising in rhythm, looking extremely peaceful, yet more refined than the peacefulness usually whispered about over a sleeping child's head.
Harry glowered. *Is he allowed to look so perfectly Pureblood and stuck-up even when he sleeps?*
Harry watched as Malfoy heaved a sigh and rolled to his other side, leaving his back open.
Through the thin white T-shirt, Harry could make out numerous patches. *What the-?*
He reached out a hand and in what he termed a light manner, though it was more wistful, trailed a hand down the Slytherin's back, feeling the bandages. Malfoy let out a hiss of pain and opened his eyes.
Seeing no one in front, he rolled over again, until Potter came into sight on the other side, backing away.
They stared at each other, each lost for words. Harry stuttered, "What...wha-what happened?"
Malfoy hissed vehemently, "Are you satisfied, Potter? You're not the only one who won't bow to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. This is why I'm here. You really want to pry?" Draco's eyes narrowed.
Mute, Harry nodded and settled himself on the rug at the side of Draco's bed.
~~
Reviews are nice. So are all you people. I'm kinda sad that I can't please everybody, but if I could, then I'd be perfect and my name would be Draco Malfoy.
Anyways, I may have chapter seven up sooner than I thought - I have a lot of free time now because I came down with appendicitis and may have to have an operation, thus I'm not allowed to go to school. Not good because end-of- year exams are two weeks away. Ugh, it can only happen once in your life and it had to happen to me while I was in Japan.
Any way, most thanks coming out!!
Zeynel: Ok, so there's not much slash in this chapter, sorry!! But it's definitely coming, I swear!! Chikau yo!! Keep reading!!
Heather: I can't believe you find my story so nice!! It's a great feeling when I get such nice reviews! I'll continue to try my best!
Schulyr: I updated as soon as possible. Ready to read more?
Fanny Chan: *Takes a bow* Thank you, thank you, no applause, just throw paper airplanes made from Draco pictures!
Miseryslilwench: I'm sure you're not the only one confuzzled by my blatant overuse of my Japanese skills in a rather boastful manner....the titles are in order, Let the Story Begin/ Let's Begin the Story, The Game Continues, No Way!!, Midnight Walk, A Little Depression, and The Lost Romantist
Well, that's all for now. Jaa!!