See, I wasn't lying this time, I've updated again already! Jamie, Falafel,
Serpent of Light, SheWolfe7 and Sandalino Silvio Leif, thank you for your
kind words of encouragement. They're all I need in order to keep going!
*
Harry stared at Malfoy. Malfoy turned to stare at the fire, his hand still shielding his eyes from Harry's gaze. Neither of them was willing to break the silence. The crackling of the flames, the ticking of the clock and the soft sound of materials sliding together as Harry shifted position on the chair were the only sounds in the room, and they sounded unnaturally loud in the wake of the fight.
"I thought I told you to fuck off?" Malfoy muttered a moment later. He spoke so softly that, for a moment, Harry thought his ears were playing tricks on him. Harry just shrugged, and remained seated. Malfoy shook his head and crossed his arms. His eyes were unusually bright, and his hands were still shaking.
"Why are you here, Malfoy?" Harry asked softly. "If you're not a spy then there must be some reason why you're hanging around. I mean, this isn't the first time I've seen you here and I'm pretty sure I saw you at last Tuesday's DA meeting. What's going on?"
"Why should I tell you anything?" Malfoy shot back. "When I last wanted to talk, you refused to listen. Why do you suddenly care now?"
"Why do you want to talk to me?" Harry countered. "I mean, we've never seen eye-to-eye. Can't your Slytherin mates help you out?"
"Yeah, sure, have you ever tried talking to Crabbe and Goyle about anything that wasn't related to food? And Parkinson's so irritating, she's all 'Oh, Draco, you're looking so incredibly gorgeous today!' and 'I hope that my nail varnish matches the bleach in my hair!" Anything else goes straight over her head." Harry chuckled. Malfoy shot him a withering look. "I'm glad you find it so amusing, Potter!"
"Sorry." Harry stifled another wave of giggles. "But what about, I don't know, Zabini or anyone? Why do you want to talk to me?" Malfoy sighed and began inspecting his fingernails. Finally, he spoke, in rather a strained voice.
"I can't talk to anyone else because they've got links with Voldemort. Zabini's about to join the Death Eaters once he comes of age in February, and it'd make his year if he could dob me in, which is what he'd do if he found out what I'm about to tell you. Which he won't, right? This information stays within this room." Malfoy's gaze met Harry's and Harry was sure, for a fleeting second, he saw panic reflected in Malfoy's steel grey eyes.
"I won't tell a soul," Harry promised.
"Not even Weasley and Granger?"
"Not even them."
"Right. Glad that's sorted." Malfoy lowered his gaze back to his fingernails and took a deep breath. "Voldemort . . . isn't exactly my favourite person at the moment. In fact, right now I'd even snog Weasley if it meant I didn't have to join the Death Eaters." Malfoy scowled. Harry raised his eyebrows, surprised at this information. Malfoy raised his eyes back to Harry's. "I want to fight them," he spat, venom dripping from every syllable. "I want to pay that bastard back for . . ." He tailed off.
"For what?" Harry asked gently. Malfoy bit his lip and said nothing for a long while. .
"This is hard for me, Potter," he whispered eventually. "Us Malfoys generally aren't permitted to pour out their feelings."
"There's no-one here but me and I'm not going to tell anyone," Harry reassured. He smirked suddenly. "I don't think anyone would believe me anyway if I said that I saw Draco Malfoy cry."
"I did not cry," Malfoy muttered sullenly.
"You just had something in your eye. Sure." Harry grinned at Malfoy as the blond shot him a cold glare.
"Whatever, Potter. I believe I was trying to have a serious conversation?"
"Sorry. Go ahead." Malfoy nodded, and folded his arms, an odd, closed expression appearing on his face.
"You know, of course, that my father was sent to Azkaban at the end of last year." Harry nodded his confirmation. "Well, in the summer holidays, he . . . came back . . ." Malfoy turned back to the fire, so that Harry couldn't see his face. "He . . .he'd . . . changed . . ."
"How?" asked Harry gently. Malfoy gave a small cough that might have hidden a sob.
"He'd been given the Dementor's Kiss," Malfoy whispered. "Because he failed to get the Prophecy, and he failed to get you, he . . . he was . . ." Malfoy trailed off and bit hard on his lip to stop himself from sobbing. Harry stared at the floor, completely shocked. Voldemort was evil, that was a given, but he'd do that to his own followers? He looked up at Malfoy as he fought to keep control, and saw a completely different person. He didn't see Malfoy, the snooty git who'd tried all he could to make Harry's life at Hogwarts misery; rather, he saw Draco, a boy who'd lost his father, a boy who felt just as lonely and miserable as Harry himself had felt all summer.
"The Kiss? But he was right in the inner circle . . ." Malfoy's resolve crumbled completely and without thinking, Harry got out of his chair and strode over to the blond, his arms wrapping tightly around Malfoy's shoulders as the tears started to fall. "I'm so sorry, Malfoy, I didn't know . . ." he said helplessly, his insides squirming with guilt as he remembered his words about Malfoy's father earlier in the evening.
They sat in silence for a while, Harry rocking Malfoy soothingly as the blond cried quietly. After a few minutes Malfoy pulled away, wiping at his eyes, and smiled awkwardly.
"Thanks," he said thickly, and forced a laugh. "Tell the truth, I'm surprised you didn't tell me to bog off." Harry smiled back.
"No-one should have to go through that kind of thing alone."
"Thanks for listening. I feel better for telling someone. And at least you know how I'm feeling," he added. Harry nodded, his stomach tightening as he thought of Sirius. "If you want to talk, you know . . . You're quite entitled to after witnessing that little display."
"I . . ." Harry shrugged. "I don't know where to begin," he admitted.
"Try," suggested Malfoy.
"Okay... so, short version. I'm just getting to know my godfather after he spends twelve years in Azkaban for betraying my parents to their death, which he didn't do, when he gets killed thanks to my stupidity. And then I find out he didn't actually die, but he's in another world with the rest of his family, who have allied themselves to Voldemort, who by they way I'm in a kill-or-be-killed situation with." Harry sighed heavily. "It's great being the famous Harry Potter. Dumbledore's golden boy! Gets special treatment just for having a stupid scar! Which he doesn't actually deserve because he's an attention-seeking tragic little hero who's probably made up half the stories about Voldemort because he's not got on the front page of the Daily Prophet for a while! He's mad, he's deranged, he'll bite! Quick, stop talking, he's coming this way! They think I don't hear half the things they say about me," he added angrily.
"Who says that about you?"
"Students. Your lot. Snape."
"Wow. I never realised it was like that, you know. I always thought you enjoyed playing the celebrity," Malfoy admitted. He glanced at the books lining the walls. "So that's why you're studying Sipstrassi? It has something to do with Black?" Harry nodded. "I could help you there. We've got thousands of books in the library at home, stuff you can't get anywhere anymore. I could bring some back after the Christmas holidays if you want."
"Why would you do that for me?" Harry asked, surprised yet touched by the offer. Malfoy smiled.
"We're on the same side now, aren't we? And if my helping you in any way helps bring about the downfall of Voldemort, then I'm more than willing." He stuck out his hand. "I think we should start again, don't you? Hi, I'm Draco Malfoy, I'm sixteen and I'm an angry little bastard hell-bent on revenge." Harry laughed and shook Draco's hand.
"I'm Harry Potter, I'm also sixteen, and I'll join you on the revenge thing." He released Draco's hand, and started to gather up his things. "I'd better go, Ron and Hermione will be sending out a search party soon."
"Just one more thing . . . Harry," Draco added as Harry moved towards the door.
"Not a word to anyone, I know," Harry smiled. "So you'll still be a slimy Slytherin git in public but when we're alone I'm allowed to be civil?"
"Something like that," Draco admitted. "So I'll see you in Potions tomorrow then, you bastard!"
"See you tomorrow, you scumbag!" Harry laughed, as he left the room.
*
Harry stared at Malfoy. Malfoy turned to stare at the fire, his hand still shielding his eyes from Harry's gaze. Neither of them was willing to break the silence. The crackling of the flames, the ticking of the clock and the soft sound of materials sliding together as Harry shifted position on the chair were the only sounds in the room, and they sounded unnaturally loud in the wake of the fight.
"I thought I told you to fuck off?" Malfoy muttered a moment later. He spoke so softly that, for a moment, Harry thought his ears were playing tricks on him. Harry just shrugged, and remained seated. Malfoy shook his head and crossed his arms. His eyes were unusually bright, and his hands were still shaking.
"Why are you here, Malfoy?" Harry asked softly. "If you're not a spy then there must be some reason why you're hanging around. I mean, this isn't the first time I've seen you here and I'm pretty sure I saw you at last Tuesday's DA meeting. What's going on?"
"Why should I tell you anything?" Malfoy shot back. "When I last wanted to talk, you refused to listen. Why do you suddenly care now?"
"Why do you want to talk to me?" Harry countered. "I mean, we've never seen eye-to-eye. Can't your Slytherin mates help you out?"
"Yeah, sure, have you ever tried talking to Crabbe and Goyle about anything that wasn't related to food? And Parkinson's so irritating, she's all 'Oh, Draco, you're looking so incredibly gorgeous today!' and 'I hope that my nail varnish matches the bleach in my hair!" Anything else goes straight over her head." Harry chuckled. Malfoy shot him a withering look. "I'm glad you find it so amusing, Potter!"
"Sorry." Harry stifled another wave of giggles. "But what about, I don't know, Zabini or anyone? Why do you want to talk to me?" Malfoy sighed and began inspecting his fingernails. Finally, he spoke, in rather a strained voice.
"I can't talk to anyone else because they've got links with Voldemort. Zabini's about to join the Death Eaters once he comes of age in February, and it'd make his year if he could dob me in, which is what he'd do if he found out what I'm about to tell you. Which he won't, right? This information stays within this room." Malfoy's gaze met Harry's and Harry was sure, for a fleeting second, he saw panic reflected in Malfoy's steel grey eyes.
"I won't tell a soul," Harry promised.
"Not even Weasley and Granger?"
"Not even them."
"Right. Glad that's sorted." Malfoy lowered his gaze back to his fingernails and took a deep breath. "Voldemort . . . isn't exactly my favourite person at the moment. In fact, right now I'd even snog Weasley if it meant I didn't have to join the Death Eaters." Malfoy scowled. Harry raised his eyebrows, surprised at this information. Malfoy raised his eyes back to Harry's. "I want to fight them," he spat, venom dripping from every syllable. "I want to pay that bastard back for . . ." He tailed off.
"For what?" Harry asked gently. Malfoy bit his lip and said nothing for a long while. .
"This is hard for me, Potter," he whispered eventually. "Us Malfoys generally aren't permitted to pour out their feelings."
"There's no-one here but me and I'm not going to tell anyone," Harry reassured. He smirked suddenly. "I don't think anyone would believe me anyway if I said that I saw Draco Malfoy cry."
"I did not cry," Malfoy muttered sullenly.
"You just had something in your eye. Sure." Harry grinned at Malfoy as the blond shot him a cold glare.
"Whatever, Potter. I believe I was trying to have a serious conversation?"
"Sorry. Go ahead." Malfoy nodded, and folded his arms, an odd, closed expression appearing on his face.
"You know, of course, that my father was sent to Azkaban at the end of last year." Harry nodded his confirmation. "Well, in the summer holidays, he . . . came back . . ." Malfoy turned back to the fire, so that Harry couldn't see his face. "He . . .he'd . . . changed . . ."
"How?" asked Harry gently. Malfoy gave a small cough that might have hidden a sob.
"He'd been given the Dementor's Kiss," Malfoy whispered. "Because he failed to get the Prophecy, and he failed to get you, he . . . he was . . ." Malfoy trailed off and bit hard on his lip to stop himself from sobbing. Harry stared at the floor, completely shocked. Voldemort was evil, that was a given, but he'd do that to his own followers? He looked up at Malfoy as he fought to keep control, and saw a completely different person. He didn't see Malfoy, the snooty git who'd tried all he could to make Harry's life at Hogwarts misery; rather, he saw Draco, a boy who'd lost his father, a boy who felt just as lonely and miserable as Harry himself had felt all summer.
"The Kiss? But he was right in the inner circle . . ." Malfoy's resolve crumbled completely and without thinking, Harry got out of his chair and strode over to the blond, his arms wrapping tightly around Malfoy's shoulders as the tears started to fall. "I'm so sorry, Malfoy, I didn't know . . ." he said helplessly, his insides squirming with guilt as he remembered his words about Malfoy's father earlier in the evening.
They sat in silence for a while, Harry rocking Malfoy soothingly as the blond cried quietly. After a few minutes Malfoy pulled away, wiping at his eyes, and smiled awkwardly.
"Thanks," he said thickly, and forced a laugh. "Tell the truth, I'm surprised you didn't tell me to bog off." Harry smiled back.
"No-one should have to go through that kind of thing alone."
"Thanks for listening. I feel better for telling someone. And at least you know how I'm feeling," he added. Harry nodded, his stomach tightening as he thought of Sirius. "If you want to talk, you know . . . You're quite entitled to after witnessing that little display."
"I . . ." Harry shrugged. "I don't know where to begin," he admitted.
"Try," suggested Malfoy.
"Okay... so, short version. I'm just getting to know my godfather after he spends twelve years in Azkaban for betraying my parents to their death, which he didn't do, when he gets killed thanks to my stupidity. And then I find out he didn't actually die, but he's in another world with the rest of his family, who have allied themselves to Voldemort, who by they way I'm in a kill-or-be-killed situation with." Harry sighed heavily. "It's great being the famous Harry Potter. Dumbledore's golden boy! Gets special treatment just for having a stupid scar! Which he doesn't actually deserve because he's an attention-seeking tragic little hero who's probably made up half the stories about Voldemort because he's not got on the front page of the Daily Prophet for a while! He's mad, he's deranged, he'll bite! Quick, stop talking, he's coming this way! They think I don't hear half the things they say about me," he added angrily.
"Who says that about you?"
"Students. Your lot. Snape."
"Wow. I never realised it was like that, you know. I always thought you enjoyed playing the celebrity," Malfoy admitted. He glanced at the books lining the walls. "So that's why you're studying Sipstrassi? It has something to do with Black?" Harry nodded. "I could help you there. We've got thousands of books in the library at home, stuff you can't get anywhere anymore. I could bring some back after the Christmas holidays if you want."
"Why would you do that for me?" Harry asked, surprised yet touched by the offer. Malfoy smiled.
"We're on the same side now, aren't we? And if my helping you in any way helps bring about the downfall of Voldemort, then I'm more than willing." He stuck out his hand. "I think we should start again, don't you? Hi, I'm Draco Malfoy, I'm sixteen and I'm an angry little bastard hell-bent on revenge." Harry laughed and shook Draco's hand.
"I'm Harry Potter, I'm also sixteen, and I'll join you on the revenge thing." He released Draco's hand, and started to gather up his things. "I'd better go, Ron and Hermione will be sending out a search party soon."
"Just one more thing . . . Harry," Draco added as Harry moved towards the door.
"Not a word to anyone, I know," Harry smiled. "So you'll still be a slimy Slytherin git in public but when we're alone I'm allowed to be civil?"
"Something like that," Draco admitted. "So I'll see you in Potions tomorrow then, you bastard!"
"See you tomorrow, you scumbag!" Harry laughed, as he left the room.