AN/ Woo hooo! I'm finally finished this next part. It's one-thirty in the morning but I finished. Yay! I hope it will be enjoyed by those who read it.
Let's see then, on to business.
Disclaimer first: I do not yet own Harry Potter and Co. If I ever do own them, I'll tell you.
Thanks to:
queen of sheba - For you exceptional kind review. Thanks. No one has ever called my writing beautiful before. It was quite nice to read and gave me a warm happy feeling. I'm rather sappy that way.
TJ - Thank you too. I'm glad you liked my fic. I wrote the next part so please don't wither up and die. I'd hate to have that on my conscience. Oh and I'm pretty sure this story will have a happy ending. I really hate sad ones and probably couldn't even write one.
Any way both of those reviews were probably the nicest I ever got. I'm glad you reviewed.
Thank you Catalyst for always Beta reading my fics. This one too, even if I had to force you to read it. I don't know what I'll do next year. *Sobs*
Thank you Jonovision (Boongar Girl) for annoying the hell outta me. Well no not for that but showing interest in this part. And, of course, for trying to help answer my pressing question about Draco.
Boongar Girl: That question being whether Draco wears boxers or briefs. Ha ha ha, sorry G.M, but while I was reading this I just HAD to put in something. You can erase it if you wish. *Sniff*
Blah blah blah. Etc etc etc. That is all. Please read and enjoy.
A Word is Worth a Thousand Pictures
*********
Look down, look down
Don't look 'em in the eye.
Look down, look down
You're here until you die.
- Les Miserables
******
Privet Drive. Never really what a certain boy who lived would call home but it had a bed and, on occasion, food. Eighteen and recent graduate of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Harry Potter stood in Number 4 Privet Drive, scrubbing windows, not quite what you'd expect from a fully trained wizard. To be honest, he hadn't expected it either. After his Hogwarts training, he had somewhat planned on getting a flat of his own. Maybe not right away but he had thought about it. He had also been offered a place for a few months with Ron, who still occupied the burrow. Harry had been thinking of taking the redhead up on his offer. The burrow was the closest thing he considered home except for Hogwarts itself.
He had not even considered returning to his uncle's. Dumbledore, on the other hand, had entirely different plans. While Harry had been more worried about his enjoyment and quality of life, his former school headmaster worried about his life in general. Dumbledore had talked to Harry's dreaded relatives and had gotten them to agree to house Harry a few more months longer then legally obliged. Harry had disliked the idea of returning to the Dursley's but Dumbledore had explained it in such a kindly, intelligent way that Harry had been inclined to agree.
"Harry, the protection your natural family provides is far greater then any charms that could be easily set up. It will only be a few months for you to...hmm, bask in the warmth of your muggle realities. By then, the top wizards, including Miss Granger, will have sent up a permanent protection around you. You should be inclined towards caution. Although Voldemort seemed to have stopped his attempts to kill you due to his inability to duel directly with you, he won't be discouraged forever. You will only be safe until he finds a way around that." Then the old wizard and frowned slightly, worry in his usual twinkling eyes, "Be on your best guard this summer, my boy."
Harry couldn't say he felt absolutely thrilled about the 'until' part. Dumbledore seemed far to certain that Voldemort would overcome the wand issue. The brother wands had kept Harry safe for a few years and it would be troublesome to lose it now. In conclusion, Harry was now scrubbing windows under Petunias strict dictatorship.
Spraying more cleaner on the window, Harry stopped wiping for a moment to push his glasses up. He still opted for the rather unattractive style he always wore, preferring comfort in familiarity. Not that he got much comfort from the familiarity of cleaning the Dursley's home. He could try to make the best of his horrid situation and just think how he'd be away from Privet drive in a few months, like he had when he was younger, but decided on wallowing in misery. Hell, no one he knew was around to see.
He wiped the cleaner off the window and peered outside. He though he caught a glimpse of something in the ever growing shadows of the dying day but passed it off on his boredom playing tricks on him. He wished he had seen an owl from his friends or something equaling appealing but he doubted it.
"Dinner!" Petunia's screech filled the house, making Harry wince. He dropped his cleaning rag with a relived sigh. He felt like he was starving, still not quite used to the meals he kept when at the Dursley's. Small breakfast, no lunch, skimpy supper, unlike the meals at Hogwarts. Harry sighed slightly and compliantly went to the kitchen like the call had indicated. Lucky for Harry, the Dursleys had stopped refusing him food altogether and he was always able to eat when a meal was prepared. The most likely reason was that he was a fully qualified wizard and was now aloud to use magic. Not much good that did him really, since the Dursleys said the only way Harry could still stay was if his wand stayed under the stairs. They were rather insistent on that part. Still, they were mostly freaked out about his presence and ignored him, except when telling him to clear off or clean the house.
Harry made his way to the kitchen table and pulled himself out a seat. Vernon glared at him and Petunia humph at his presence before begrudgingly setting a plate down in front of him. His portion of food, although considerably smaller then his uncle's, wasn't small enough for him to look starved. In fact, it was quite generous compared to that one summer where he got almost no food at all. He leaned forward in his chair and quickly began shoveling food into his mouth, hoping to get out of the kitchen before his Aunt pinned him with more chores. He heard mutters of how disgraceful his table manners were and that his school taught him nothing. Harry ignored the remarks, having heard worse over the years.
With a heavy thud Dudley, the reason Harry was getting his extra portion of food, sat down. Mrs. Dursley immediately went over too her son, simpering and giving him a large plate. Dudley was no longer on his diet. In fact, Dudley had lost a lot of weight. Of course, not to be mistaken, Dudley was by no means thin. He just seemed less gigantic. Apparently what had happened was, sometime during Harry's fifth year, Dudley had gotten food poisoned (or something, Harry never bothered to get the story right because, in all actually, he could care less) and was stricken to bed for almost a month. By the time the boy got well he had lost a great deal of his volume, no longer getting stuck in doorways. He had stopped gorging himself on food, out of suspicion, and didn't gain it all back.
Then, by that time, he hit the teenage 'hate your parents stage' of his life and believed his mother had tried to murder him. He never lost in whole his paranoia and still kept the teenage anger bitterness and 'wish your parents were dead'. He got a truck too. He hated his mother since he thought her to stupid to feed him without killing him. He hated his father because well, Hell, why not. He still hated Harry, of course, but gave up tormenting him since it was less fun then tormenting his parents.
So, any way, now his twenty-year-old, two hundred sixty-five and some pound bulk had the perfect rebellious teenager look. His whiggish blond hair was now green and in spikes, which had made Petunia faint, Vernon bellow and Harry laugh uncontrollably when they first saw it. His heavy weight champion body was clothed in a leather jacket and baggy faded blue jeans. Gone was Petunias perfect little angel (ha) as he looked at his plate, promptly declaring the meal crap. Petunia seemingly obvious tried unsuccessfully to kiss her son's forehead. She then sat down at the table and brightly told Dudley about how nice her 'Iddy Biddy Dudlykins' was looking. Harry's Aunt was taking Dudley personality change with denial. Deep, deep denial. Dudley quickly listed off the closest food delivers and suggested that his mother learn to use them. Again, Petunia acted like he had said nothing the least bit rude. Uncle Vernon glared at Harry. He didn't take it with denial; he found himself a scapegoat. He believed that Harry had been a bad influence on Dudley and whenever possible blamed Harry for Dudley's change. Harry just shrugged and continued to shovel food in. He personally thought Dudley was more entertaining this way and, any way, his Aunt and Uncle deserved it.
Harry's seat at the table was parallel to the kitchen window. While he ate his dinner, he half observed his family and every once in a while looked at the sky wishing he could be flying. Leaning forward shoveling in another fork full, he stopped and stared straight at the window. This time, instead of a brief shadow he caught, a whole object move out of the corner of his eye. He got up from the table to investigate. It wasn't completely dark out yet. Most of Privet Drive was illuminated by the graying light from the setting sun that was hidden in a cloudy sky. He peered out, sure he had seen something. It wasn't an owl, either. He had seen a person.
"What are you staring at?" Harry's Uncle growled from his seat. Harry shrugged, then pointed to his full mouth showing he couldn't talk with his mouth full. Vernon just shot him a dirty look and went back to eating.
Harry boosted himself slightly on the sink to see more out the window. There it was again, definitely, in the house's shadow, quite certainly a person's silhouetted form. It was at an odd angle from the window and made the figure hard for Harry to focus on. It was a man's build and wearing robes. A wizard, then. The figure came out of the shadow slightly and Harry got a good look at the robe. He knew those colors. DEATH EATER! his mind cried. He sucked in a breath and immediately commenced choking on his mouthful of food.
"Stop making noise!" Petunia ordered.
Harry swallowed hard, his mind whirring. How could Death Eaters get here? Dumbledore had said he was protected while with his family. He strained for another look at the figure but it had left his sight. That wasn't good. 'I have to leave the house,' he thought. He looked over at his relatives and voiced this opinion to his relatives.
"What?" Petunia screeched.
"We have to get out of here." Harry repeated, moving way form the window worriedly, "Right now!"
Vernon stood up and glared at his smaller nephew. "Now see here boy. I won't have any of your insanity stop me from finishing my dinner."
"You can't finish dinner if you're dead." Harry warned, searching around for a weapon. Butter knife? No, I'd like to live, thank you very much. Fork? Maybe, a little lame though. His uncle? Good shield but no. Oh, why had he let them lock his wand under the stairs?
"Is that a threat?" Vernon bellowed. Petunia stood by her husband and glared at her nephew. Dudley, uninterested, helped himself to a roll.
"No, of course not. Come on, we have to leave there's a Death..."
A thunderous banging on the door brought silence to the room for a moment, 'til half a second passed and Vernon bellowed again. "If you invited any of your freak friends into my home, boy, you will be sorry!"
"I didn't invite him, you bloody idiot." Harry cried as his uncle moved towards the door, most likely planning on screaming at the wizard behind it.
"Don't open the door!" Maybe the Death Eater didn't know anyone was home.
Luckily Vernon bellow about Harry calling him a bloody idiot and ordering him around in his own house was cut off by the Dursley's front door slamming open. Come to think of it, that wasn't lucky at all.
"We have to leave now!" Harry whispered, desperately hoping his thick skulled uncle would get the right idea and be silent. "Quick, all of you out the back door. We might have a good chance if there is only one."
Vernon faced darken into a reddish purple.
"Dad, don't you think we should listen to him?" Dudley asked, quietly mimicking Harry's voice. He already up from the table, fear evident on his face. Petunia had also gone pale and had her hands clasped over her mouth as she did and odd little jig jumping from one foot to the other. Vernon shook his head.
"Quiet! Of course, we aren't listening to him. He's probably broke one of the freaks laws and is going to freak jail. Good riddance!"
"Shh" Harry hissed. It was too late. He heard a laugh from the front door and footsteps coming down the hall. He grabbed the first thing that looked like a weapon (a frying pan) and held it high above his head.
"You three out the back door. Now!" Harry growled.
"There's no reason to be afraid of freaks." Vernon reasoned but started to look afraid any way.
"Yes, there is." Harry rebutled. The Death Eater in the hall chortled.
"Yes, Potter. Be very afraid of the Death Eater." A familiar voice snickered. Harry dropped the frying pan with a clatter. His eyes narrowed.
"Malfoy."
The blond stepped fluidly into the Dursley's kitchen. The immediate contrast of the feature as both of Harry's worlds collided would be laughable, if it hadn't been so dangerous. The Dursleys shied away from the man who paced the kitchen, slightly keeping his eyes on the other wizard. Harry just crossed his arms. Green eyes that glared from behind his glasses didn't betray the sliver of fear that coursed up his spine. Not for the last time his desperate wish was that his wand was not in a cupboard under the stairs.
Grey eyes hit emerald as the slender man leered back at him. Death Eater robes hung tightly around his shoulders, mud and blood spattered on its bottom edge. The robe hood was down and the man's ever platinum hair stuck damply to his head and face giving him an ungroomed appearance that Harry wasn't used to. His eyes were like steel and unreadable, his mouth twisted into a smirk. His left hand was extended, gripping his wand, which pointed straight at Harry.
"One would think it would be much harder to find the famous Harry Potter. Shouldn't someone with so many enemies be better guarded." Draco's sneered. Harry recognized it as the same voice the blond had used when mocking him at school. Ah, memories. But that was the then and now and a Death Eater had him at wand point. His face twisted into a sneer of his own. He wouldn't let Draco's taunts get to him.
"I would think it be simple to find a house if you knew the address." Harry retorted, slowly moving forward so he was face to face with Malfoy. Even though he disliked his relatives, he wasn't happy about them dying because he made a poor choice in lovers. He should have realized Drac...Malfoy would know his address. He should have insisted the Dursleys moved when he came home this summer. He never had thought of this threat. Not on the same track as his mind, his mouth moved almost on his own.
"Or is this considered a great tracking feat by one of Voldemort's posses?" 'Ooh, smart move Potter,' he muttered in his head. 'Please antagonize the man who looks ready to kill you.'
Draco flinched visibly but moved closer to Harry, the wand nearly at his throat."
"Tisk, tisk, Harry. Can I still call you Harry, Harry?" Draco's lips pursed as he asked this, as thought they were having a simple conversation. Harry just glared in response. Draco shrugged.
"Fine, be that way Potter. I must say, I'm shocked you think that 'he' sent me. I'm here for my own reasons."
What the Hell was Draco playing at? What own reasons? "Why are you here then, Malfoy?" Harry asked with a snarl.
Harry was taken back when Draco's mouth opened but instead of retorting let out a series of high pitched giggles. He moved slightly away from the unbalanced seeming blond. Noticing, Draco quite his giggling and tighten his grip on his wand.
"Stay where you are Potter." The blond threatened. "Unless you want to see how powerful I can cast the Cruciatus curse."
"Whatever you say, Draco." Harry snapped. It took him a second to process his words before freezing.
Draco. That was a name he vowed he would never say again after their breakup. After Draco had punched Ron, unprovoked, and had shown no remorse. Harry had meant it as an empty threat but Malfoy could have cared less. Outside the infirmary, when Harry had told Malfoy he never wanted to see him again all Malfoy had said was "Whatever you say, Potter."
That was it. The boy he had fallen in love with and had made love with for a year ended it like that. Malfoy could have cared less. The next year, even though it hurt, they didn't talk. Well hardly. They had once, when they were forced to be partners in potions and then they had called each other Potter and Malfoy. No argument. No chit chat. Then they went their separate paths; Malfoy left to be a Death Eater, Harry to be an Auror.
It was the sight of the blond that brought his name back up with the memories he held. Draco. The first time he had said that boy's name to his face was after their first kiss. It had been fast, hot and clumsy, leaving them both breathless. The first time Harry called him Draco was the same moment the boy who lived was called Harry by Lucius Malfoy's son.
The name stilled rolled easily off his lips as it had the first time. As easily as all those nights together. It shouldn't have though. Malfoy had become his enemy. Harry's love for the blond was smothered by his hate for the Dark Arts and Voldemort. Dra.. Malfoy was one with the dark lord now. A Death Eater.
Then why did Harry call him Draco? No love could be left for that boy. None. Harry frowned. None!
Draco on the other hand lost his sneer for the briefest second and grinned. For that brief time, his face lighted up and his eyes shone. Harry could see the boy he he'd used to be. Then it was gone and Malfoy had a mocking sneer directed at Harry.
"So, you do remember my name, Harry. Here I had thought you forgotten it. How sweet. What a nice reminder of the past. It's a pity but I have no time to reminisce before I do what I came to do." Draco took a step forward eyes glittering, painful to look into.
Harry stood his ground, not even thinking of backing down or showing fear. One of his relatives let out a whimper behind him. Harry supposed it was Aunt Petunia but it could have been Dudley or Uncle Vernon. He couldn't really tell and wasn't breaking eye contact with Malfoy to look. They probably thought that as soon as the insane blond man killed their nephew, they were next. Harry grimaced. They were probably right. It was the worst place to be a muggle, in the way of a Death Eater's rampage. The only hope Harry could think to send their way was that after Malfoy Avada Kedavra him out of existents, that he didn't practice his Cruciatus curse on them. Red coals flared up in his stomach. How could Malfoy just come to his house like this? How dare he? Harry's red-hot anger was snuffed out by cold infuriating rage. It made him tremble as his eyes lay on the pale man.
"You know what Malfoy," Harry declared suddenly. "I don't think you're actually gonna do it."
Malfoy froze for a moment, unsure really of what Harry had said.
"I don't think you can actually take that wand and kill me. I mean, look at you." Harry sang out suddenly in a deep mocking voice. "Poor little Malfoy, alllll alooooone." He stopped singing and just glared "You never did any thing without your two goons at school did you? Who's gonna to protect you now, huh? Crabbe and Goyle aren't here; neither is daddy."
Malfoy's face twisted in rage and the Dursleys gasped behind him. Probably because he broke that important rule - don't taunt would be killers. Of course, Harry would never give Malfoy the pleasure of going down without a fight or begging for his life.
"Shut up." Malfoy growled.
Harry didn't. His mouth twisted in a devilishly smile. He continued.
"So, why are you really here Malfoy? Who really sent you? Don't think I believed that whole you came here on you own thing. You couldn't of. You never think for yourself. You're a big brainless soulless puppet. Did Voldemort send you to finish me off? Did he?"
Harry took a gleam of pleasure at the fact Malfoy shivered when the Dark Lord's name was voiced. Chuckling slightly, he went on.
"It wasn't him, then? It must have been your father's idea then. Right, Malfoy? Draco'd do anything Daddy tells him to do because he's just a stupid pawn in...."
"Shut up!" Malfoy cried, stepping close to Harry, nose to nose. But Harry was too far-gone to stop. All the bottled up rage at Draco was flying out. All the insults he could think of swirled around his mind before landing on his tongue as a complete thought.
"Maybe it was your idea to come after all. Since I'm the only one in the whole world who knows all your horrible secrets. What would you father say if he learned what you really were? I suppose you can justify killing me because father would be pleased."
Harry gasped as though he had just come to a great realization.
"What would your Lord think if he found out the truth about you. I'm sure he wouldn't allow filth like us in his perfect little pureblood sect. It's a terrible thing to do, sleeping with the enemy. Isn't it, Drake?"
Harry's nickname for his former lover slid from between his teeth like petrol. With it went his rage leaving him weak and quivering. That rage seemed to have transferred to Draco, who went red in the face.
"SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!" The blond screeched like a dying banshee. He rushed at Harry and knocked the boy-who-lived hard into the kitchen wall. Harry barely avoided hitting Aunt Petunia who scampered away into the living room with Uncle Vernon and Dudley. Harry felt slightly relieved. At least they were out of the direct line of fire. Draco held him tightly against the wall, still screaming for Harry to shut up.
Harry just smiled and asked, "The truth hurts, doesn't it?"
Malfoy drew away from Harry as if he had been burned.
"Like you know any thing about truth Potter." The blond retorted hoarsely, wand hand again going high.
Harry closed his eyes in defeat. He could see the headline in the Daily Prophet all ready: "Harry Potter Found Dead in Muggle Home. Dark mark seen floating above." 'Who will do my eulogy,' he wondered. 'I don't even have a will. Who would get my stuff? Surely the Dursleys, if they even survive, wouldn't want it.' Hopefully, Dumbledore would see fit to have it split between Ron and Hermione. 'Thanks to above,' Harry added to himself as an after thought, 'they're not with me right now. Malfoy would kill them too.' Ron and Hermione were two of the few people he cared for more than anything. Funny how he had once considered Draco on that list. And now Draco was going to kill him.
In the surprisingly short period of time it took Harry to have these thoughts, he still wasn't dead. He had heard no death curse uttered. Harry opened his eye to see if Draco really had chickened out of killing him.
Harry noted that the grey eyes weren't even on him any more. Instead they were squeezed shut and the blond man's face was set in a painful grimace. A second later, Harry noted that Malfoy's wand hand was down digging its nails into Draco's right wrist. With a start he realized that Malfoy's break in concentration might be his only chance to live through this experience.
All at once, without calculating, he pounced. The blond was down in a second, slammed onto the floor with only a gasp of shock. Harry landed half on Draco, half on the floor. He fought the struggling man to put his whole weight on the former Slytherin. One of Malfoy's flailing limbs hit him upside the head knocking his glasses askew. Harry let out a grunt as his world went blurry. One hand pushed up his glasses while the other groped for the man's wand. His fingers encircled it and he tore it from Draco's grip. Spinning the wand around, Harry pushed the end in the blonde's throat.
"Be still!" Harry commanded as Malfoy still writhed beneath him.
As the point of the wand pressed into his flesh, Draco stopped moving. He stared up at Harry, eyes filled with disbelief. He let out a small pitiful sound before letting his head fall back against the floor. His blond hair splayed behind his head, creating a false halo appearance. Harry's hand shook as he beheld his former lover. So like he used to be. Harry opened his mouth.... to do what, he wasn't sure. Gloat? Accuse? Regardless, he was interrupted by his Uncle stumbling back in the room and Petunia frantically asking him where he was going.
"I'm calling the police. That's what I'm doing. I won't be attacked in my own house. Boy, you're in a lot of trouble." Vernon glared at Harry as he made his way to the phone. Petunia stared tentivly from the doorway.
Harry shook his head. It wouldn't help to have the house crawling with Muggle policemen. That would mean more of a mess the ministry would have to clean up. What was needed now was a professional Auror or two. The dark haired man slowly stood up from the other man wand still trained on him. He kept his knees bent slightly in case Draco made any offensive moves. It didn't seem that Harry needed all the caution though as Draco just lay on the floor in a passive almost subdued manor.
"Leave the phone alone. You're not calling the police." Harry ordered. Vernon face turned his usual rage purple.
"How dare you boy! Don't tell me what to do in my own home! An insane murderer attacked me. I'm calling the Police!" Harry's enraged uncle spit while continuing moving towards the phone.
"I'm telling you what to do because you obviously have no clue as to what's going on, Uncle." Harry answered coldly, hardly looking at his uncle. Whenever Uncle Vernon got mad, he looked the same, so why bother? "I'm taking care of this the right way."
Vernon took a step towards Harry and looked ready to smack his nephew. This, of course, is the only response of the crude and the boorish when situations they didn't like arise. Harry planned that if his uncle neared enough to assault him he would just stupify him. He didn't revile in the thought of going hand to hand with his uncle. Vernon out weighed Harry's seeker figure by an abundant amount.
"And how would a freak like you take care of this situation?" Vernon waved a hand over the whole scene before clenching it into a fist.
"Yes, pray tell Potter. How will the amazing golden boy solve this?"
Harry's gaze went downward again as soon as the Death Eater spoke. The blonde man had sat himself up and had tucked his knees to his chest. Gone was the passive look. In its place was the look a kicked cat would give its abuser. Draco glared up at Harry with a calculating look and hate in his eyes.
Harry glared back. "What else should I do with you, Draco? You're no use to anyone now. Not the Death Eaters and not me. I'll just owl a few Aurors to come take you away, never to be seen again. The only one who will have you now are the Dementors."
If Harry's threat or assessment of the future worried Draco in anyway, it wasn't apparent. The man's drawl still came biting back.
"I love how you can just say anything to me and it still has the under tones of Death Eater scum." Draco smirked then, turning his gaze from Harry to admired his nails.
"I'm sure the Dementers will enjoy your wonderful intellect and cutting barbs, Malfoy."
The blonde's eyes flashed angry though not moving to look at Harry. "Isn't it just like you to ignore your mistakes, Potter. Just hide them away and hope no one will notice."
Harry's green eyes clouded in confusion as he tried to understand what the blond meant. As he processed Draco's words, Harry noticed Vernon moving and picking up the phone receiver out of the corner of his eye. Harry let out a grunt of anger.
"I told you to leave the phone alone! " Harry shouted exasperated, as though to a three year old. Vernon angry face looked as though the man was wanting a fight. Harry sighed. He had no time for that. He took the wand off Draco for a second and pointed it past Vernon.
"Accio Phone." As soon as the phone hit his hand Harry flung it aside into a corner. The wire tore from the wall making the police very inaccessible for Uncle Vernon, not that he really wanted to stay in the kitchen to make the call now. He ran back through the door to cower with Petunia.
Harry felt the man below him shift and quickly trained the wand back on him. He need not have bothered really. Malfoy still wasn't attacking him. Like before the man was grimacing in pain, pinching his right arms flesh with his left hand. He didn't even acknowledge it when Harry leaned closer to him.
"Malfoy?" Harry asked irritated, wondering if this was just a ploy so the Death Eater could get his wand back. The other man voiced no response, tightening his grip on his wrist letting his nails sink deeply in his robe. The blonde's breath came fast and labored. Harry's brow wrinkled as he frowned. The man beneath him seemed to be in considerable pain and not bent on duping his captor.
"Malfoy?" Harry asked again slowly. Had Harry wounded the man in their struggle? He didn't think so. That didn't stop the fact that man was in pain or at least seemed to be. It also didn't quite look like Malfoy was faking it. A bead of moisture appeared in the corner of one of Malfoy eye's before streaking down as a tear. Harry breathed in slowly, trying to ignore the shards of pity and worry he felt for the man. He didn't still care about Draco! He couldn't!
"Draco?" Harry asked, hoping the blond would respond to his given name. He didn't even appear to have noticed. Regardless of his muddled emotions, Harry reached for Draco with a trembling hand. His fingers lightly brushed Draco ever-silky hair with a gentle caress. No matter how gentle the caress was though Draco noticed. The blonde's wet grey eyes snapped open and his mouth made a horrified O.
"Don't..." The man's voice hitched in his throat. He pulled himself away from Harry with his arms. A difficult task seeing that his right hand didn't want to function. Harry followed worriedly ready with a curse on the back of his tongue.
"What's wrong with you?"
"Don't." Draco choked again. The blond took a breath then seemed to have found his voice again. "Don't fucking touch me. Keep away from me!" He shrieked quite hysterically.
Harry started. Why did Malfoy act as though Harry was attacking him? It was the opposite. For a moment he had actually felt the same old gentleness he always felt for the man. He had let his guard down for a moment. He chastised himself for that. This whole thing was probably a trick. He steeled his heart. He wouldn't fall back in love. He couldn't.
"What are you trying to pull?" Harry asked glaring trying to grab on of the blonde's arm. Malfoy dogged the grasp by pulling himself to his feet and staggering away.
"Stay away Potter. You said it yourself. Just keep away from me." The man's grey eyes were wide and had a wild look to them.
Harry took a cautious step forward. "I don't know what you're trying to do. Whatever you're trying to prove, it isn't working."
Malfoy pulled at his hair looking very much like a little boy on the verge of a temper tantrum. "Of course it isn't working. I've lost my wand, haven't I? It is so pathetic. The one thing I wanted to do before I died. I hate you. This all your fault."
Draco was the perfect picture of himself at school. He had the same look he had whenever he tattled, trying to frame Harry. His eyes seemed to say, 'Every thing that is wrong is your fault.'
Harry's face went red in rage almost perfectly matching his uncles. "My fault? Nothing in your life is my fault Malfoy! It's all yours! I can't believe I never saw it at first. You're a horrible person that fits perfectly in Voldemort's pureblood society. You did whatever it is you're upset about."
"I did not!" Draco snapped back fingers curling into fists. "I told you, I was sorry. You wouldn't say anything back. You chose for me. Like I would even consider choosing your side after that!"
Harry shook his head, hair puffing up even more. "What are you talking about? You left to join his side. I never chose for you or affected your decision in anyway!"
Draco said nothing, just covered his face in his hands. He slowly sank onto the kitchen floor and sat there silently. Harry crouched down directly in front of the silent man staring dazed. He got the sinking feeling he was missing something and had been missing it for a year now. Harry pried the man's hands from his face forcing him to look at Him. The grey eyes stared dully ahead, looking almost past Harry.
"My father had been pestering me all year. He wanted me to join with the Dark Lord as soon as possible. Be one of the youngest Death Eaters. Do you have any idea of the things I had to do to prove I wanted to join? Do you? I needed you the most then. You were supposed to support me. You were the only person who never told me exactly how to live my life. And then you left. You shunned me and you left me all alone. So this IS all your fault. You and your pride."
"My pride! My fault!" Harry screamed insulted, "I left because you were a heartless, unemotional git. You never were kind to me or anyone. You were and still are your father's little puppet. My pride? My pride has nothing to do with this. You nearly took my pride until I finally realized what you were doing to me. I was afraid one day you would turn me over to Voldemort and you know what? I was right! You never showed remorse for anything. You hurt me and my friends and I hate that I loved you!"
He heard his Aunt exclaim behind him and winced inwardly. He hadn't yet told his relatives his sexual orientation and wasn't ever planning too. Well, at least, it would be an overly entertaining way to learn for her before he was banned from this house. He felt anger surge but wasn't sure to whom. Why was today so confusing?
"Why did you do that to me?" Harry looked again as Draco started talking. The man's fogs colored eyes were piercing into him. Harry struggled with his inside so not to fling himself on the man and either kiss or kill him.
The man was completely pitiful. The strength and cool aloofness was still there but his eyes were that of a little boy who saw his puppy get hit by a car.
"What did you want? Did you want me to cry? Beg? Did you really never want me again? You can't say I showed no remorse." Here the blond let forth a bitter laugh. "I showed the most remorse I ever had in my life. For the first time. For you. I was sorry. I poured my Fucking heart and soul into that letter and you just left me."
After the charge Harry opened his mouth. He still wanted to kiss or kill the man. He wanted to hurt him for his pain. He wanted petty accusations to stop. He wanted Draco to stop pulling tactics. To take his capture like a man. To stop making Harry care and have a ghostly shadow of love flit in his heart. Nothing made sense. Not his hormones. Not his life. Not his feelings. He wanted to yell and make his own accusations. But he was still confused by the odd statements that Draco kept making. He cocked his head really only wanting to know one thing.
"What are you talking about? What letter?"
*******
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