A/N: OK, peeps, this chapter will be JUST Harry/Draco. Aren't I nice? *lots
of loud coughs from random people around the world* Yeah, well . . . I
actually typed this chapter up when I was supposed to be revising! Yes, I
know, naughty me! Oh yes, and ack ack ack ack ack! Translation: sorry for
the shortness of this chapter but, like I said before, I was supposed to be
revising! But anyway, thank you SO much for all the lovely reviews for the
last chapter! Sorry that I don't have any time to give out the personal
thank-yous, but I was revising! *yawn*
Please keep reviewing! They really mean a lot to me!
~~~~~~~~ There Is No Such Thing As Perfection ~~~~~~~~
Chapter 4 - Don't Tell Anyone
"I . . . I'm just gonna go look at some books, Father!" Draco yelled hurriedly, vaguely hearing his father mutter a, "Whatever," somewhere in the background as he ran out of Borgin and Burkes, and after Harry.
After he had run out of Knockturn Alley, and into Diagon Alley, Draco stopped for a few seconds, clutching his side and breathing heavily, before continuing to chase after the Boy Who Lived, who was, surprisingly, a rather fast runner.
After a few more seconds of running, Draco stopped to catch his breath. But suddenly he saw the light reflect off a familiar pair of glasses, just outside Flourish and Blotts.
So (ignoring his lack of breath and the stitch in his side), he ran towards Harry and grabbed him on the shoulder. Harry turned around quickly, making as if to run, but Draco pulled his shoulder a bit and spoke before Harry could run away again.
"Potter, wh-what you saw," he panted. "It . . . it wasn't . . . you can't tell anyone!"
"What, your father strangling the life out of the you is a regular occurrence and you don't want anyone to know, is that it?" Harry asked sharply.
"No. No, no, not at all," Draco said, a little too quickly for Harry's liking.
Harry noticed that the teenager in front of him was still panting, and holding his side.
"Are you . . . OK?" he asked carefully. "I mean, not like I care, but did you get so tired just after running a few yards after me?" Harry asked, a confused expression settling on his face.
Draco just shrugged, averting his eyes.
"I have a breathing problem," he said, looking down at the ground. He looked up at Harry. "Look, Potter, in Borgin and Burkes . . . don't tell anyone . . . please," the blonde-haired boy said quietly, a pleading tone in his voice.
Noticing the almost desperate look in Draco's eyes, Harry nodded slowly.
"Even if I did, it's not like anyone would care," the black-haired boy said coldly, making Draco look down at the ground immediately.
//Damn you. Why do you have to only state the truth?//
Seeing Draco looking so . . . so . . . guilty, being the only word to describe it, Harry softened.
"Sorry, Malfoy. I just . . . it's kinda hard to forget all the stuff you did and said to me and my friends," he said.
Draco nodded.
"I know. I know that I'm asking too much of you to keep a secret, no matter how stupid it is. But, please, promise . . . promise you won't tell anyone what you saw," the pleading in Draco's grey eyes was almost blinding.
Harry nodded numbly.
"I mean, not that it's ever happened before," Draco added quickly.
"Of course. Don't worry, Malfoy. I won't tell anyone," Harry said, sighing slightly.
Draco nodded, focused his gaze on the floor, and then seemed to fall into deep thought, eyebrows furrowing slightly.
"That's the Golden Boy we all know and love. Always so helpful and Saint- like," Draco suddenly said, with what sounded to Harry like bitterness, which quickly got him angry again.
"Yeah, well in my opinion, that's better than being an evil spoilt little bastard who would --deserve-- the torture of even Cruciatus for a few HOURS!" Harry yelled, a bit too loudly, causing quite a few people to look at him, and stormed off.
Draco then looked up, his soft grey eyes following Harry storm off through the crowds of Diagon Alley.
"I didn't mean it like that," he said softly, to himself. "I meant . . . why can't --I-- be like that?" he asked no one, and, as always, no one answered him back.
Draco sighed and started to make his way back to Borgin and Burkes, where Lucius would probably be waiting.
As he was walking, he suddenly caught sight of his reflection in the window, and frowned.
Manky fair-blonde hair that looked like it hadn't been washed for weeks, eyes too cold and grey, lips too thin, cheekbones too high, face too fat . . .
"I think I'm gonna be sick," Draco muttered to himself, before running into the nearest loo and throwing up.
~ TBC ~
Please keep reviewing! They really mean a lot to me!
~~~~~~~~ There Is No Such Thing As Perfection ~~~~~~~~
Chapter 4 - Don't Tell Anyone
"I . . . I'm just gonna go look at some books, Father!" Draco yelled hurriedly, vaguely hearing his father mutter a, "Whatever," somewhere in the background as he ran out of Borgin and Burkes, and after Harry.
After he had run out of Knockturn Alley, and into Diagon Alley, Draco stopped for a few seconds, clutching his side and breathing heavily, before continuing to chase after the Boy Who Lived, who was, surprisingly, a rather fast runner.
After a few more seconds of running, Draco stopped to catch his breath. But suddenly he saw the light reflect off a familiar pair of glasses, just outside Flourish and Blotts.
So (ignoring his lack of breath and the stitch in his side), he ran towards Harry and grabbed him on the shoulder. Harry turned around quickly, making as if to run, but Draco pulled his shoulder a bit and spoke before Harry could run away again.
"Potter, wh-what you saw," he panted. "It . . . it wasn't . . . you can't tell anyone!"
"What, your father strangling the life out of the you is a regular occurrence and you don't want anyone to know, is that it?" Harry asked sharply.
"No. No, no, not at all," Draco said, a little too quickly for Harry's liking.
Harry noticed that the teenager in front of him was still panting, and holding his side.
"Are you . . . OK?" he asked carefully. "I mean, not like I care, but did you get so tired just after running a few yards after me?" Harry asked, a confused expression settling on his face.
Draco just shrugged, averting his eyes.
"I have a breathing problem," he said, looking down at the ground. He looked up at Harry. "Look, Potter, in Borgin and Burkes . . . don't tell anyone . . . please," the blonde-haired boy said quietly, a pleading tone in his voice.
Noticing the almost desperate look in Draco's eyes, Harry nodded slowly.
"Even if I did, it's not like anyone would care," the black-haired boy said coldly, making Draco look down at the ground immediately.
//Damn you. Why do you have to only state the truth?//
Seeing Draco looking so . . . so . . . guilty, being the only word to describe it, Harry softened.
"Sorry, Malfoy. I just . . . it's kinda hard to forget all the stuff you did and said to me and my friends," he said.
Draco nodded.
"I know. I know that I'm asking too much of you to keep a secret, no matter how stupid it is. But, please, promise . . . promise you won't tell anyone what you saw," the pleading in Draco's grey eyes was almost blinding.
Harry nodded numbly.
"I mean, not that it's ever happened before," Draco added quickly.
"Of course. Don't worry, Malfoy. I won't tell anyone," Harry said, sighing slightly.
Draco nodded, focused his gaze on the floor, and then seemed to fall into deep thought, eyebrows furrowing slightly.
"That's the Golden Boy we all know and love. Always so helpful and Saint- like," Draco suddenly said, with what sounded to Harry like bitterness, which quickly got him angry again.
"Yeah, well in my opinion, that's better than being an evil spoilt little bastard who would --deserve-- the torture of even Cruciatus for a few HOURS!" Harry yelled, a bit too loudly, causing quite a few people to look at him, and stormed off.
Draco then looked up, his soft grey eyes following Harry storm off through the crowds of Diagon Alley.
"I didn't mean it like that," he said softly, to himself. "I meant . . . why can't --I-- be like that?" he asked no one, and, as always, no one answered him back.
Draco sighed and started to make his way back to Borgin and Burkes, where Lucius would probably be waiting.
As he was walking, he suddenly caught sight of his reflection in the window, and frowned.
Manky fair-blonde hair that looked like it hadn't been washed for weeks, eyes too cold and grey, lips too thin, cheekbones too high, face too fat . . .
"I think I'm gonna be sick," Draco muttered to himself, before running into the nearest loo and throwing up.
~ TBC ~
