Authoress' Note: Okay, first off I'd like to thank you all for your reviews! Next, I want to say that this is NOT going to be a slash story even though this chapter might make you want to disagree with me. I'm one of those crazy authors that are all hyped up on details and I don't put something in a story without a very good reason. Back to the whole 'slash' question, I don't have a problem with those kinds of stories, I just don't really agree with them because I highly doubt J.K. Rowling would write such stuff. Maybe I'm wrong, but she hasn't yet, so I'm going to stick with my previous thought. Another thing, I got a review on my chapters being so short. Being a Junior in highschool doesn't give me much time to do all the extra things that I want to. And in a few weeks I'm going to be getting very busy with school work, extra activities for school, and scholarships that I have to apply for. I'm not planning on abandoning this story or my other one, so if I don't post long chapters or if I don't post for a while don't think that I am abandoning you guys. Just please be patient with me.
Okay... Enough of that, and on with the Disclaimer so you guys can read the chapter.
Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own any of the HP cannon, so don't bother sueing me because you won't get much. Well, you probably could, but I advice you not to because you wouldn't have much of a case. I own all new characters that you don't recognize as well as all the little things and the plot.
Chapter Four: A Proposal
Stepping out of the shadows in all of his inhumane blond headed glory with a familiar smirk on his lips Draco Malfoy was a sigh for sore eyes, even if he was unwanted. Docked out in quality black velvet and equipped with what was sure to be a mahogani walking stick with a snake's head carved out of onyx with ruby encrusted eyes that glinted evilly at Harry. The harsh prison light that swung lethargically on the ceiling glinted off Draco's bleached hair and sent blinding bursts of light into Harry's eyes.
"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry growled, pushing himself up into a sitting position awkwardly, and then finally standing. The darkness and lack of provisions had weakened him to an extent such that it was difficult for him to do the most simplest of things.
"I wanted to merely talk to an old friend. Is that so wrong, Potter?" Draco asked, his voice had the same oily essence that his father had once possessed.
"We were never friends, Malfoy. You despised me when we were in school and after. And you still despise me now, especially-"
"Especially when you killed my father?" Draco spat, cutting Harry off.
"I didn't kill him! I didn't kill anyone except Vol-"
"Except Voldemort." Draco said calmly, once again cutting Harry off.
"Would you stop bloody cutting me off? I can finish my own sentences," Harry said hotly and launched himself violently to the bars that separated him from the outside world and prevented him from ripping Malfoy apart, limb by bloody limb.
"Easy there, Killer." Malfoy spoke smoothly as he stepped away from Harry. "No, I know you didn't kill Father. Nor do I believe that you killed Weasel's father either. You're too bloody noble to do anything like that."
Harry's breath slowed slightly and he loosened his grip on the bars, allowing the blood to flow back into his fingertips. Glaring at the man standing in front of him, he dared wonder if it was possible that Malfoy had changed for the better.
Draco, using Harry's uncertainties to his advantage, snaked a pale hand through the bars and lightly grazed his fingertips down Harry's cheek.
Shocked at the sudden coldness on his skin and the obscure gesture, Harry propelled himself backwards and away from the opening of the cell. Goosebumps spread like wildfire across his flesh and he desperately clawed at his face, determined to wipe away the weird sensation on his cheek that Malfoy had left.
"Get the hell away from me!" Harry shouted, pressing his starved body against the prison wall. His chest was rising and falling rapidly and his emerald orbs were flashing wildly in anger and distrust.
Draco Malfoy sighed audibly, shaking his head sadly at the pathetic sight before him. It saddened him to see what was once a prime specimen of the male species broken and visibly transformed into something ugly. Harry Potter had changed, and it hadn't been for the better.
"I want to help you, Harry. Let me help you." Malfoy said softly, trying to calm the wild boy back into the light.
"I don't want your help, Malfoy. I don't want anyone's help." He spat, glaring viciously through his thick scraggly bangs of raven hair.
"Whether you want help or not, Harry, you need it. Look at you, you're a wreck. You don't belong here."
"If you're so keen on my innocence, then why didn't you say something at court? I saw you so don't you dare tell me that you weren't." Harry growled.
"Your so called friends didn't even speak up for you! So why should I? Do you realize how bad that would've looked when my father had been a known Death Eater?" Malfoy chuckled satanically and threw his head back mockingly. "The son of a Death Eater speaking up for the innocence of a man who killed the Dark Lord. Why on Earth would I do that?"
"You make no sense, Malfoy. So just get the Hell out of here." Harry spat angrily."You wouldn't want to be here when the Dementors come."
Malfoy stiffened slightly and paled under the lights even more so, which seemed almost ridiculously impossible.
"This won't be the last you'll hear of me, Harry. I want to help you. And I always get what I want." He sneered before turning sharply on his heel and vanishing from sight.
Harry let out a sigh of relief and collapsed back onto the slimy floor, his arms spread out and his chest rising and falling slowly. He hated Malfoy with a passion, and thought that Malfoy had the same feelings. He didn't doubt that Malfoy still hated him, but there was something about the boy that he just couldn't put his finger on. He seemed more... More evil.
"Evil son of a bitch, that one," said a voice. Harry lifted his head up unsteadily and squinted at the figure in front of him. When the figure registered in his brain of that of a female's he groaned and slammed his head back onto the floor, cursing when it caused a shock of pain.
The woman snorted and through closed eyes he could imagine a smirk on her face.
"Whoever you are, leave. I have no more strength to deal with people, especially reporters." Harry grumbled, and was surprised to say the least that the woman understood him and the reply that she commenced.
"I don't care if you have the strength of Hercules. Nor do I care if you have the attitude and respect of a Death Eater." Her voice was femininely husky and tainted with a strict perseverance.
Sighing, Harry sat up and leaned his back against the side wall, staring at her through critical eyes. Her dark locks were pulled back into a tight McGonagle bun fashion and her face was round with sharp well defined angles. Lips painted a dark red and in a straight line and dark eyes that stared back unblinkingly at him gave her a more professional look; one that showed she wasn't one to be messed with. He wouldn't quite call her ugly, but she wasn't the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen, either. She had an average height, but her attitude and self appearance made up for any lack of height that she had.
"Who are you?" He rasped, pushing himself up more to get a better look at the young woman before him.
She answered him straightforward without beating around the bush and giggling insanely like all the other female reporters that had flocked to his cell before.
"For starters I'm going to tell you right now that I'm not a reporter. And next I'm going to calmly and tell you specifically what I want. But before I do that I'm going to ask if I'll have you full cooperation. I'm not here to your time, Mr. Potter. And I don't intend to waste mine, either." She spoke quickly and articulately. She had more to say. "Also, if we're going to do this, you have to be one hundred percent with me. Got it?"
"No. Why would I agree to do anything with you when I have no idea who you are or what I'm getting myself into?"
"I'm here to help you, Mr. Potter. It'll be a great risk, but if you want your freedom and innocence known then it'll have to be a risk you'll have to take. Now, do we have a deal?"
"What makes you think that I'll accept help from you when I wouldn't even accept help from a man who is one of the richest of them all?" He spat. He was tired and wasn't in the mood for this.
"Because unlike him, Mr. Potter, I'm willing to go at great lengths to prove your innocence. And unlike him I don't have a bad reputation with the ministry and the rest of the wizarding and muggle world alike." She stopped talking and allowed her words to settle into Harry's mind, watching his every move like a hawk, anticipating a reaction of some sort. If she saw what she was looking for, she didn't let on.
"Well... I guess I better be going now. I'll come back once you've thought things through. Good day, Mr. Potter." And with that she turned and slowly walked away. But before she completely vanished from sight, she paused. Without turning around she spoke softly, but loud enough for him to just barely hear her.
"I'd think long and hard at my proposal, Mr. Potter. If you won't do it for yourself, do it for those who don't get that second chance at freedom."
And with that, she was gone.