Disclaimer: Idea only I own, characters belong to J.K. Rowling they do and weird ideas belong to Chiho Saito and Bepapas, they do.

Notes: I am quite aware of how many Utena-movie elements there are. It's a little disappointing, because I was kind of hoping for an equal blend of both the series and the movie. Oh well.

Gates of Roses

By Spinny Roses

Chapter 4

Harry sighed softly, perfectly aware he was in the library, and looked over at his study mate. After that duel a few days ago, Malfoy had been his shadow outside classes.

"Why don't you spend time with the other Slytherins?" Harry had asked the first day as he watched Ron walk off, not even noticing that his friend had been stopped.

Malfoy's grey eyes had dropped. "Because you are my Master," he had replied, his posture betraying his matter of fact voice.

After trying to pull himself from his thoughts, Harry threw his quill down and started to leave. He sighed inwardly as he heard Malfoy's chair scrape on the ground as the blond stood to follow him.

"Why are you following me like this?" Harry hissed as soon as they were out of the library. "I am not your Master, or whatever. I'm not ordering you to stay with me."

Malfoy blinked. "Just like a Gryffindor," he said, emotions trying to fill his bland voice. He reached out and took Harry's hand, gently tracing the crest on the ring. "I am yours; the ring says so."

He seized this chance. "What do you mean? Flint mentioned something about the importance of this ring too. What is it?"

The blond hesitated. "I... I..." He battled with himself, visibly attempting to speak the truth. "The ring..."

"Out late, boys?"

Harry yanked his hand away from Malfoy's as he heard the oily Potion Master's voice. "Yes, Professor. Studying."

Snape looked down at Malfoy. "Curfew is approaching," he said almost kindly. "I would like to see you in my classroom before you have to be in the dorms."

Malfoy looked over at Harry, silently asking his permission. "If the professor wants to see you, you don't have to ask for my permission," he told him irritably. He started to leave when Snape called out.

"Potter. You will be moving soon to a new dorm." Harry hesitated, listening. "With Draco."

"Fine," Harry replied, cringing internally. Not only would Malfoy be with him every day between classes, but now every day after classes and as he went to bed. He sighed, going up to the Gryffindor tower.

Ever since that duel, life sucked.

***

"There. Is. Only. One. Bed."

"Is that a problem?" Malfoy asked, emotionless.

"Of course it is!" Harry snapped back. "I barely know you, and we're going to sleep in the same bed?"

"If it's a problem, I'll sleep on the floor."

Harry sighed. "Malfoy, it's perfectly okay to argue with me."

Horror spread across Malfoy's angular face, only to be mixed with a sort of hope. "But you..."

"No, I'm not." Harry sat down on the bed, sighing. "You are a person, Malfoy. No one owns you. You can argue with me. In fact, you should. You should argue with me. And insult me. It proves you're human, not this emotionless machine!"

"I can't," Malfoy murmured. "You won the duel... won me... I am supposed to follow the will of the winner..."

"And this is my will," Harry said firmly. "I want you to be human. I want you to have friends. I want you to be free from... these duels."

Malfoy looked down at his shoes, then sat down on the bed. "Move over... Scarface." A ghost of a smirk lurked on his lips.

Harry blinked, then smiled. "No."

***

"I will never get this," the raven haired boy moaned, his head thudding against his book.

"It's not that hard, Scarface," Malfoy told him. At the beginning, Malfoy had been incredibly reluctant to insult Harry. A few weeks later, near Christmas, he had finally become comfortable with speaking informally with the boy.

"Oh, and everyone knows you're Snape's little Potion Brat," Harry snapped. It had been a particularly bad day in Potions. Ever since Snape had seen Malfoy and Harry talking, he had stepped up his harassment of Harry Potter. He lifted his head to glare at the blond studying Charms on the bed.

"You have ink on your nose now," Malfoy pointed out, a malicious little smile on his face.

"Oh, and of course you notice it because you're so perfect." Harry knew distantly that he was raving, but it didn't matter. "A little ink on the Boy Who Lived! How horrible!"

Malfoy shut his book with a loud clap. "What the bloody hell is wrong with you?"

Harry did the same, and stood from the little study table. "What does it matter to you? Any other flaws you want to point out? Maybe the scar on my forehead from when I lived from Voldemort's curse!" He ignored Malfoy's flinch. "Or my hair, and how it doesn't go with a Miracle Boy like me!"

Malfoy stood, and grabbed Harry's arms. "What is wrong?" he asked, his voice returning to his former emotionless inflections.

"Nothing. Nothing! The Boy Who Lived can't have anything wrong with him, can he!"

The blond looked into Harry's eyes, then up to the scar. Slowly, he released one arm to trace the raised flesh. "Does this have to do with this?" he asked, index finger lightly rubbing the scar.

Harry looked away from Malfoy's emotion-free face. "I never wanted to be a wizard," he muttered. "I never wanted this kind of praise and worship just because my parents... my parents died when I..."

"Harry."

He stopped, closing his eyes painfully. "Malfoy..."

"Let's go to the Astronomy Tower," Malfoy said abruptly. "We should be able to find an empty room." He let go of Harry's arms, and started to leave their room.

"Wait... Malfoy, what... oh, bugger it." Harry followed him. "Why the Astronomy Tower?"

Malfoy didn't answer him.

"Well, this is great. Won't the teachers catch us?"

"They won't."

"Well, I'm glad you're still listening to me." Again, Harry's words were ignored. "Augh."

Malfoy seemed to know exactly which room would be empty. "Here, Harry," he said as he opened room 3. "Look out of the windows from here."

Harry looked up at the windows. "Stars."

Malfoy stood next to him, and guided his hand up to point at some stars. "You see that one? It didn't appear until my mother died. And that one? That one is my father. It's dimmer because he's technically still alive."

Harry looked at the stars. "What are you trying to say?" he whispered.

"Watch the stars. Two of those are your parents looking down at you."

Harry's hand curled around Malfoy's. "Malfoy... Draco... what made you say that?"

Draco looked over at him. "When my mother died, I was sad. The circumstances... caused more than a few people to poke fun at me. But if I look up at the sky, I see her star. She's still there, watching over me."

Harry smiled slightly, and pointed up at the stars. "What's that one?"

Draco followed his gaze. "That's the North Star..."

***

"I said it before. I will never get this," Harry groaned, looking down at the potion ingredients. "Which goes in first, the foxglove or thistle?"

"Thistle," Draco said automatically. "Foxglove isn't even a part of this potion, Scarface."

"Right, right..." Harry worked silently for a while, then looked over at Draco. "You haven't said anything about your mother since you showed me the stars."

"She..." Draco looked to be at a loss for words. "I loved her. She was my mother, after all. My first week here, she sent me all sorts of sweets to let me know I still had her support. When I was having problems in Charms, she encouraged me never to give up."

Harry absently stirred his potion. "How did she die?"

Draco froze, and shut the book he was studying. "Why does that matter?" he asked harshly, his voice quivering with emotion. "She's dead. She's dead, and Father's rotting in Azkaban. Other than my uncle, I have no family left."

"Draco..."

"Which way are you stirring?"

Harry blinked. "Uh... clockwise?"

"Good." Draco stood up and started putting away ingredients they didn't need.

"Draco, why is your mother's death such a touchy subject for you?"

"Because it was suicide," he snapped out. "Suicide that looked like my father put that knife to her throat to kill her in a Muggle way. Both my parents are disgraced." Draco slumped against the wall. "Are you happy?" he asked listlessly. "You know the Malfoy disgrace."

Harry stopped stirring, and got up. "Yes, I'm happy." He walked up behind Draco, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I promised to free you."

"When did you promise that?" Draco muttered.

"I promised to free you," Harry repeated sternly. "And I will... even from these memories."

"You're just thinking of a way to thank me for stopping your childish rant."

"That's not it, Draco." Harry pulled his hand away. "It's because... you're a friend." Draco turned around, mouth open to protest. "I mean it, Draco. We live together... talk about serious stuff... insult each other playfully... we're friends."

Draco looked uncomfortable. "Friends... huh?" He tugged on the hem of his robe sleeve, glancing away from Harry's face. "The dueling winner... my friend." He looked back up at Harry, smiling a little. Suddenly, he darted forward, clumsily pressing his lips against Harry's.

Harry blinked as Draco pulled back, and touched his lips. "That was... weird."

"You didn't like it."

Even after pulling Draco out of his shell that much, he still took the worse possible connotation. "I'm not sure what I thought of it," Harry admitted. "It wasn't gross or anything, but... you're a boy."

"I... just wanted to try it." Draco looked nervously over at Harry.

Harry touched his lips again. "Why?"

Surprised, Draco looked at Harry full in the face. "Why what?"

"Why did you want to try it?"

The blond hesitated, then smirked. "Because you didn't ask for it. Because you didn't want it."

Harry just looked at the boy, then pulled Draco close to him in a firm hug. "Even if you think I won't like it, do what you want," he murmured. "It's still kind of weird for a boy to kiss another boy, you know?"

"I know." Draco slowly slid his arms up and around Harry to hug him. "Do you want to see if you can find your parents' stars?"

"What about the..." Harry let go and turned around to see his potion bubbling over. "Ack! No!" He rushed over and started to take the cauldron off the fire.

"Don't!" Draco picked up a vial, and handed it to Harry. "Get a sample first, then take it off the heat."

Harry looked over at the boy, but complied. He held the vial of the clear potion up, looking at it. "Is it supposed to look like this?"

"Yes, actually," Draco chuckled. "Look at the cauldron now that you took it off the heat."

Harry looked down, and raised an eyebrow, nudging the cauldron. "If I poke it, will it jiggle like Jell-O or will it be solid?"

"Jell-O?"

"It's a Muggle snack," Harry explained hastily. "It wiggles when you move it."

"A wiggling Muggle snack. Now I've heard everything," Draco deadpanned. "And no. It's pretty solid. It won't stick to the sides, though. And once you put it back on the heat, it liquefies pretty quickly."

"Ah. Okay." Harry looked at the vial, and tried to make the potion inside wiggle.

Draco snickered at his antics. "I told you it was pretty solid."

"Yeah, yeah." He started to put away the materials. "Thanks for helping me, Draco."

"Snape knows I'm tutoring you," Draco told him with a snort. "If you failed a simple potion like this, he would not be happy with me."

"You talk with him a lot," Harry noted absently.

"You remember that uncle I mentioned?"

"Yes, but..." Harry's eyes opened wide. "Wait a minute..."

Draco smirked, and took the vile of common bile from Harry's hands. "Yes, he's my uncle. He takes care of me now that my father's in Azkaban."

"What's Azkaban?"

Draco looked at the Gryffindor with incredulous disbelief. "It's the prison."

Harry felt very stupid at that. "Oh." He picked up the sample of his potion and placed it on Snape's desk. "Uncle Snape, huh?"

"Uncle Severus, actually. It's not polite to call family by their last name." Draco finished cleaning up. "The tower?"

"Of course." Harry smiled at the blond. "Maybe you call tell me more about your mother on the way up?"

Draco's lips tightened. "I'd rather not," he said tightly.

Harry just looked over at him, then hugged Draco. "You can tell me anything, okay? I want us to be friends like that."

"Friends like that...?" Draco pulled away, not looking at Harry. "It's... just a sore spot, talking about my mother. But..."

"Oh." Harry reached out for his shoulder. "Then I won't force you. But if anything is bothering you, don't hesitate to tell me. I don't want us to keep secrets from each other."

"Harry..." Draco looked up at him, grey eyes shattered under the force of emotions. "Let's go. To the tower."

Harry smiled, and opened the door.

And stopped.

In the narrow hallway, a small group of students stood. All of them had the Slytherin badge shining proudly on their robes. "Are you Harry Potter? The Gryffindor that won the duel?" a whiny female voice asked, putting disgusted emphasis on "Gryffindor."

"He has to be," a low male voice drawled out. "He has the scar and the ring."

"That boy won the duel?" a pompous girl's voice sneered. "Impossible. He's little more than a bean pole."

Harry could hear Draco coming up beside him. "Who are you people?" Harry asked, moving to protect Draco.

A boy stepped forward, his red hair combed neatly into place to frame a nasty and spiteful face. "There you are, Draco," he purred, reaching out. "We've come to take you back to where you belong."