Title: Like A Fairytale
Author: Stardrops
Genre: Romance
Rating: PG 13: Some violence and slash, precautions only.
Summary: Faced with difficult decisions about his future, Draco forms some unlikely friendships. A passionate romance is sparked – but is not as secret as he supposed. Someone is stalking Draco at Hogwarts – suddenly, keeping himself and Harry safe is more complicated than he imagined.
Chapter Five: A Beginning Attraction
Morning had risen again, pale sunlight shining through the open window onto Harry's face. He rolled over in bed and groaned. It couldn't be more than six o'clock in the morning, and he was exhausted. His late night was bad enough, but he'd been plagued with interrupted sleep as he was woken by unnerving dreams at regular intervals during his slumber.
Going back to sleep seemed impossible now, not only was his entire body begging to move, Neville was snoring incredibly loudly. Harry briefly considered throwing a pillow over at him, but decided at the last moment that that may not be the best plan.
He drew back the curtains and padded softly out into the middle of the dormitory, smoothing his hair out of his eyes as he went. It wasn't as unmanageable now as it had been – he had grown it down past his ears and it now hung between his chin and his shoulders. It was still messy, but more attractive – at least, that was what Hermione kept insisting. Surely she ought to know. Anyway, Harry didn't really care, it was easier to cope with now – if it got too annoying, he could pull it back in a ponytail.
He pulled on jeans and a shirt as quietly as possible, trying not to wake his sleeping roommates. Pulling on his cloak overtop, he exited the dormitory and went down to breakfast.
Professor McGonagall was in the Entrance Hall when he entered, and looked at him as he passed her. He offered her a weak smiled, and she blanched at the sight of the dark circles beneath his eyes.
"Potter, what on earth did you do last night after Hagrid brought you back?"
Harry creased his brows, thinking. "I attempted to sleep."
"Ah. You're up very early, it's only six thirty."
Harry sighed. Why hadn't he just stayed in bed?
"You saved me having to find you though, I needed to speak to both you and Malfoy, but I'm sure you can relay the message for me. You will both be doing your detentions tonight with the Potions master – and Professor Snape very much dislikes people being late, so I suggest you get there on time."
"Right."
Professor McGonagall gave him a curt nod and resumed walking towards the teachers staffroom down the corridor. Harry shuffled into the Great Hall, yawning. Grabbing some toast, he left the hall and went into the library. To his astonishment, Hermione was there.
"Hermione?"
"Harry! What on earth are you doing up this early in the morning? I thought you and Ron didn't believe in getting up before eight?"
Harry yawned hugely. "Yeah, tell that to Neville."
Hermione grinned sympathetically. "Snoring again?"
"Yep. Like you wouldn't believe."
"Well, you want to sit down and talk for a while?"
"Sure, why not." Harry took a seat next to Hermione and stretched his hands over his head. Hermione spied the toast he was carrying.
"You better hope Madam Pince doesn't see that. She'll throw you out if she does."
Harry looked around hastily. There was nothing he wanted to avoid more than an irate librarian first thing in the morning. When he saw no one, he turned back to Hermione, taking a huge bite out of his toast.
"Anyway, why are you here so early?" he asked Hermione through his enormous mouthful.
"I'm doing extra research for that homework Snape gave us yesterday."
"Oh, god." Harry dropped his head to the table with a clunk and rested it there. "I forgot to do that." His voice was muffled.
Hermione reached out and ruffled his long hair. "Well, get started then. I'll help you if you like."
"Can't I just copy off you?" Harry asked desperately.
Hermione just gave him a look that said 'not in your life.' He rolled his eyes and pinched some of her parchment and a quill.
They spent the next twenty minutes outlining the answers to the questions – Harry asking questions and letting Hermione do most of the work. When she at last sat up straight again, she informed him that he would have to do the rest himself.
"I have to go meet Hannah; I promised her and Parvati that I would help them with their Ancient Runes translations again." She gave Harry a quick hug and left him sitting by himself at a table, half asleep.
"You expect me to finish this?" he called after her halfheartedly.
"You'll be fine," Hermione replied over her shoulder before disappearing.
"Fine. I'll be just fine," Harry said to himself. "I'll just put my head down for a moment – not sleep or anything, just rest for a moment."
He did that, but sleep claimed him at last, and he lay there breathing lightly.
"Where're you going, Draco?" asked Crabbe sleepily.
It was about seven in the morning, and Draco was dressed and already heading outside. "Got to get to the library, didn't get the chance to do Snape's homework questions."
Crabbe simply flopped his head back down onto the pillow as a response, and Draco walked out.
He decided he really wasn't hungry, and went straight to the library. He couldn't help thinking it was strange just how easily he'd gotten back into the graces of the Slytherins. It was eerie – they'd seemed really venomous when he'd seen them on the train.
Shaking this thought from his head, he entered the library and headed for his favourite table at the back of the library, out of sight of anyone else entering. When he turned the corner, he noticed immediately that it was already taken. By none other than Harry Potter, in fact. Who was – Draco realized – fast asleep.
He stepped quietly over and peered at the parchment littering the table. Harry was obviously in the middle of doing the same assignment as he, although it looked more like Hermione's handwriting than Harry's.
Harry's hand still clutched a quill, though loosely. It rested against the knuckle of his index finger, and Draco traced his gaze slowly up Harry's cloaked arm and to his messy hair, spread untidily over the table. A lock was covering his face as well, and looked as though it might be tickling his nose. Involuntarily, Draco reached over and brushed it aside.
It was strange, having any contact with Harry that was not violent. The black hair that stretched over the table was shining and silky, though not brushed. Comparing the back of his own hand to Harry's, he saw a great contrast. Harry's skin was brown and tanned; his own was pale as milk.
Draco decided to seat himself next to Harry and try to steal some answers – Potions may be his best subject, but the homework was undoubtedly boring. He held a parchment in his hand, but his concentration did not last more than a few moments. His attention was drawn once again to the face of Harry, sleeping peacefully beside him.
Long, curly eyelashes fringed his closed eyes, and it occurred to Draco that if the eyelids were not shielding the colour behind them, the most vivid green would be staring back up at him. Draco shuddered at the thought of Harry waking and seeing him staring – possibly even admiring Harry. Wait – admiring? That wasn't right. He didn't admire this boy. This boy was someone he'd never mixed with, never even agreed with.
But still, he couldn't help wondering how Harry's complexion stayed so clear. Spoiled only by dark circles beneath his eyes, Harry's complexion was flawless and smooth. Draco reached out to touch it, but at that moment, Harry's eyes flickered open. He sat up suddenly, startled to see the Slytherin sitting beside him.
"Malfoy!" he barked, slightly embarrassed.
Draco's heart was pumping; he'd just gotten a shock. Imagine if he'd been tracing Harry's features when Harry woke – pure humiliation. He immediately put on his unconcerned expression – blank was the best way to go when you were feeling odd.
"Tired or something, Potter?" he asked, a hint of amusement plain.
"Shut up. How long have you been sitting there?"
"Long enough to get some answers. Thanks a bunch, Potter." He got up to leave, but Harry remembered Professor McGonagall's words.
"By the way, Malfoy, our detention tonight is with Snape – it ought to be good for you." Harry's tone was sarcastic; Draco could tell he was less than thrilled at the prospect.
"Just what I always look forward to – detention with Potter. My favourite time of day." Draco took his turn to be sarcastic.
"Bugger off, Malfoy." Harry turned back to his work. Draco smirked and left – as soon as he reached the corridor outside, he was relieved. What had come over him back there? He'd been – absurdly – captivated by Potter. It was ridiculous. He was probably hallucinating.
Back in the library, Harry watched from beneath his long lashes as Malfoy sauntered out of the room. The blonde's hair was shimmering as it always was. Even cloaked in the unflattering school robes, Draco's figure looked perfect, slim but not unattractively skinny. Probably from all those hours of Quidditch, Harry thought. He turned his attention back to his parchment, and completed the questions, but the entire time he worked, the thought of detention that night with the Slytherin was looming in the back of his mind.
"You shall be helping me the next three nights," Snape informed them. He turned and gestured to the storeroom. "If you can clean that up in three nights, you will be lucky. However, I expect it perfectly organized." He nodded them towards it. "You can leave at eleven thirty, not before."
He strode back to his desk at the front of the room, leaving Harry and Draco to enter and start.
Draco flicked the switch which flooded the room in a dull light. Harry blinked. The room was appalling. He'd never noticed just how untidy a room could be, but the prospect of cleaning this up was not enticing.
Ingredients were spilled on the floor, jars were left open and their substances were crusted around the tops. Some were tipped over, half their contents staining the shelves. Roots and plants were scattered here and there, mixed with each other and their name tags swapped. Containers of scales and power were mixed together in odd looking combinations.
Draco groaned. "This is awful."
Harry did not answer, but picked up the mop and bucket of soapy water Snape had provided.
"I don't understand why we can't use magic," grumbled Draco. "We'll never clean this crap off by hand."
"Stop complaining and get cleaning," ordered Harry. Draco threw him a glare, but Harry continued to mop. Mopping was not having a great effect, though, and he had to get down on his knees and scrub with a wooden scrubbing brush.
Draco picked up a glove and pulled it on his right hand. With his left, he picked up another brush and began to sweep the powder into the bin.
Harry stood half an hour later, wiping sweat from his brow. "God, scrubbing is hard work."
"What's the matter, never done a bit of cleaning before, Prince Potter?" sneered Draco.
Harry gave a sarcastic smile. "Yeah, right." He remembered all the hours he'd spent cleaning at the Dursley's. "If anyone's never done cleaning before, it would be you. Draco Malfoy – King of the purebloods, with the house elves and every wizard bending over backward to please."
Draco frowned. "It may be true that I don't have to clean, but don't think being a Malfoy is easy, Potter."
"Oh, right. Having a family who treats you like a little Prince is just the hardest thing for anyone to experience. How can you possibly feel sorry for yourself when so many people spend half their lives trying to ensure your eternal pleasure and comfort?"
"Is that really what you think?" Draco asked, amazed. "Life is not that simple for anyone, Potter," he spat. "No matter how easy you think my life might be, it's not. Just because I've never had to do housework before doesn't mean I don't have hard decisions and stuff. And what about you? You're the little Gryffindor saint who never puts a foot wrong. As if you can talk about anything like that."
"Oh, please Draco. Do you seriously think I enjoy being the celebrated Potter? Being famous for something I don't even remember doing, and that I certainly did not have to exert myself. It wasn't me who defeated Voldemort, it was my mother. She was the one who placed the spell on me which defeated him. I had no part in it, and yet I am the one who gets the praise. As if I wouldn't rather have my mother and father back than be the little celebrity," he replied bitterly.
"You never seem to mind it."
"What am I supposed to do? Throw a tantrum and refuse to speak to anyone until they stop praising me and giving me free stuff?"
"You get free stuff?"
"Shut up and start cleaning." Harry was thoroughly finished with the conversation, but Draco was finding it hard to stop talking about it.
"So you think I've got life easy because I don't have people hanging off me giving me free stuff? God, you're pathetic sometimes, Potter."
"So you want me to pity you?"
"Not really – do you want people to pity you?"
"God no. There's nothing worse than having people constantly being sympathetic towards you, treating you like a tragic little hero. No, if I could hand you all the attention I get and have a normal life, believe me, I would."
Draco sniffed. "So you don't want people to feel sorry for you?"
"Not particularly."
"You'd rather they left you alone?"
"More often than not. Sometimes getting special attention is good – I mean, I never complain if I'm getting free sundaes. But when it comes to most things, I'd rather be treated like a normal person."
"Well then."
There was silence for a moment. Harry was biting his tongue, wishing he'd not said as much as he had. Draco was digesting this new information. Both were scrubbing halfheartedly at the shelves, Harry occasionally picking up a root and tossing it into the pile he's collected on the top shelf.
"I used to envy you," Draco said suddenly.
Harry arched a brow. "You did? Why?"
Draco shrugged. "You were the beloved child of the wizarding world. Is there a single kid who didn't want to be you at some point? You're a celebrity. People look up to you – at least, provided Rita Skeeter isn't writing articles about you." He grinned.
"I always thought you hated me."
"Hate isn't the right word Potter. You were my arch nemesis. You were more a rival than an enemy. I had to compete, and to do that, I had to know your strengths and weaknesses. It's difficult to hate someone you know so much about."
Harry was taken aback. "I am so incredibly lost. Why on earth would you want to know stuff about me?"
"It's simple, Potter. I wanted to be better than you."
"I always thought you had the easy way of it."
"But you really did hate me."
Harry grinned. "For a time, yes. But it's like you said, you can't hate someone you constantly try to defeat."
Draco snorted. "You never beat me."
"Wanna bet? What about the Quidditch Cup? What about the fact I'm Head Boy and you're not? What about - "
"All right, all right. I get the point," Draco interrupted in irritation. He knelt beside Harry to sort the Shrivelfigs from other various leaves and plant fragments.
Harry stared down at him. "So you don't hate me?"
"No. I don't hate you. I don't particularly like you, but I don't hate you." Draco trying to ignore the gnawing sensation in his stomach as he said this. He didn't like Harry. So then why on earth were his insides shriveling up? He wasn't lying – was he?
Harry nodded, trying to digest this new information.
"And you – you don't hate me?" Draco's throat was suddenly dry, and he licked his lips nervously. Why should he care if Harry didn't like him? It was only Potter. It wasn't anyone he really cared about. But he knew that somehow, and for some absurd reason, if Potter told him that he hated him, he would feel...weird. Sort of empty. He shook this. It was probably something everyone felt – no one liked to be told they were hated.
Harry thought long and hard for a moment. "No. No, Malfoy, I guess I don't."
Draco leaned back on his heels, breathing deeply in an attempt to restore calm in his brain. It couldn't be normal for him to feel so relieved simply because Potter had said that he didn't hate him. "Right," he said, his old drawl back, though somewhat diminished. "Well, that's settled then. I think it's nearly time for us to go."
Harry looked at his watch. "Yeah, you're right." He picked up his bucket and vanished it with a wave of his wand.
"I thought we weren't allowed to use magic out of school hours," said Draco, mockingly. "Head Boy shouldn't abuse his power."
"Shut up, Malfoy. You're an imbecile."
Snape poked his head through the door irritably. "Have you boys done anything except gossip this detention?"
Draco nodded. "Look, we made some progress – not much, but definitely some."
Harry took a quick look and realized Draco was right. There was a slight improvement. Snape just shook his head and told them they could leave.
"See you in detention tomorrow then, Potter."
Harry nodded and they parted.
TBC
A/N: Hehehehe. This is astoundingly hard to write – I think next time I write a fic involving Draco, I'll start it from after he decides he likes whoever he's going to fancy. It's too hard to make him fall in love. Oh well, he's getting there.
If you keep reading, in the next chapter, I'll try to work in a little more attraction between the two (it's the central focus for the next two chapters I think) and if I'm being nice, you may even get a kiss. But if I don't get reviews, I'll be mean and make you wait.
Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, though! It's great to get your comments, and they are taken into consideration. Mostly I change my story to suit what people want, and I will continue to if possible. Just drop me a line and tell me what it is you want.
Til next time!
Piper 13: thanks for your review! I know, isn't it great?! They can be civil to each other. Watch this story for more fluff...
HpAzn: Thanks for following my story so far! It means a lot to me. I hope you still like it. I can't make him sick...yet...that's a hint, yes. :P so anyway! There's fluff to come, don't worry.
ImmortalTearsOf: oh my god, your name is awesome. I love it! Thanks for reviewing, I'm glad you liked my story!
To everyone else – review this story! Please! They keep me going!
Author: Stardrops
Genre: Romance
Rating: PG 13: Some violence and slash, precautions only.
Summary: Faced with difficult decisions about his future, Draco forms some unlikely friendships. A passionate romance is sparked – but is not as secret as he supposed. Someone is stalking Draco at Hogwarts – suddenly, keeping himself and Harry safe is more complicated than he imagined.
Chapter Five: A Beginning Attraction
Morning had risen again, pale sunlight shining through the open window onto Harry's face. He rolled over in bed and groaned. It couldn't be more than six o'clock in the morning, and he was exhausted. His late night was bad enough, but he'd been plagued with interrupted sleep as he was woken by unnerving dreams at regular intervals during his slumber.
Going back to sleep seemed impossible now, not only was his entire body begging to move, Neville was snoring incredibly loudly. Harry briefly considered throwing a pillow over at him, but decided at the last moment that that may not be the best plan.
He drew back the curtains and padded softly out into the middle of the dormitory, smoothing his hair out of his eyes as he went. It wasn't as unmanageable now as it had been – he had grown it down past his ears and it now hung between his chin and his shoulders. It was still messy, but more attractive – at least, that was what Hermione kept insisting. Surely she ought to know. Anyway, Harry didn't really care, it was easier to cope with now – if it got too annoying, he could pull it back in a ponytail.
He pulled on jeans and a shirt as quietly as possible, trying not to wake his sleeping roommates. Pulling on his cloak overtop, he exited the dormitory and went down to breakfast.
Professor McGonagall was in the Entrance Hall when he entered, and looked at him as he passed her. He offered her a weak smiled, and she blanched at the sight of the dark circles beneath his eyes.
"Potter, what on earth did you do last night after Hagrid brought you back?"
Harry creased his brows, thinking. "I attempted to sleep."
"Ah. You're up very early, it's only six thirty."
Harry sighed. Why hadn't he just stayed in bed?
"You saved me having to find you though, I needed to speak to both you and Malfoy, but I'm sure you can relay the message for me. You will both be doing your detentions tonight with the Potions master – and Professor Snape very much dislikes people being late, so I suggest you get there on time."
"Right."
Professor McGonagall gave him a curt nod and resumed walking towards the teachers staffroom down the corridor. Harry shuffled into the Great Hall, yawning. Grabbing some toast, he left the hall and went into the library. To his astonishment, Hermione was there.
"Hermione?"
"Harry! What on earth are you doing up this early in the morning? I thought you and Ron didn't believe in getting up before eight?"
Harry yawned hugely. "Yeah, tell that to Neville."
Hermione grinned sympathetically. "Snoring again?"
"Yep. Like you wouldn't believe."
"Well, you want to sit down and talk for a while?"
"Sure, why not." Harry took a seat next to Hermione and stretched his hands over his head. Hermione spied the toast he was carrying.
"You better hope Madam Pince doesn't see that. She'll throw you out if she does."
Harry looked around hastily. There was nothing he wanted to avoid more than an irate librarian first thing in the morning. When he saw no one, he turned back to Hermione, taking a huge bite out of his toast.
"Anyway, why are you here so early?" he asked Hermione through his enormous mouthful.
"I'm doing extra research for that homework Snape gave us yesterday."
"Oh, god." Harry dropped his head to the table with a clunk and rested it there. "I forgot to do that." His voice was muffled.
Hermione reached out and ruffled his long hair. "Well, get started then. I'll help you if you like."
"Can't I just copy off you?" Harry asked desperately.
Hermione just gave him a look that said 'not in your life.' He rolled his eyes and pinched some of her parchment and a quill.
They spent the next twenty minutes outlining the answers to the questions – Harry asking questions and letting Hermione do most of the work. When she at last sat up straight again, she informed him that he would have to do the rest himself.
"I have to go meet Hannah; I promised her and Parvati that I would help them with their Ancient Runes translations again." She gave Harry a quick hug and left him sitting by himself at a table, half asleep.
"You expect me to finish this?" he called after her halfheartedly.
"You'll be fine," Hermione replied over her shoulder before disappearing.
"Fine. I'll be just fine," Harry said to himself. "I'll just put my head down for a moment – not sleep or anything, just rest for a moment."
He did that, but sleep claimed him at last, and he lay there breathing lightly.
"Where're you going, Draco?" asked Crabbe sleepily.
It was about seven in the morning, and Draco was dressed and already heading outside. "Got to get to the library, didn't get the chance to do Snape's homework questions."
Crabbe simply flopped his head back down onto the pillow as a response, and Draco walked out.
He decided he really wasn't hungry, and went straight to the library. He couldn't help thinking it was strange just how easily he'd gotten back into the graces of the Slytherins. It was eerie – they'd seemed really venomous when he'd seen them on the train.
Shaking this thought from his head, he entered the library and headed for his favourite table at the back of the library, out of sight of anyone else entering. When he turned the corner, he noticed immediately that it was already taken. By none other than Harry Potter, in fact. Who was – Draco realized – fast asleep.
He stepped quietly over and peered at the parchment littering the table. Harry was obviously in the middle of doing the same assignment as he, although it looked more like Hermione's handwriting than Harry's.
Harry's hand still clutched a quill, though loosely. It rested against the knuckle of his index finger, and Draco traced his gaze slowly up Harry's cloaked arm and to his messy hair, spread untidily over the table. A lock was covering his face as well, and looked as though it might be tickling his nose. Involuntarily, Draco reached over and brushed it aside.
It was strange, having any contact with Harry that was not violent. The black hair that stretched over the table was shining and silky, though not brushed. Comparing the back of his own hand to Harry's, he saw a great contrast. Harry's skin was brown and tanned; his own was pale as milk.
Draco decided to seat himself next to Harry and try to steal some answers – Potions may be his best subject, but the homework was undoubtedly boring. He held a parchment in his hand, but his concentration did not last more than a few moments. His attention was drawn once again to the face of Harry, sleeping peacefully beside him.
Long, curly eyelashes fringed his closed eyes, and it occurred to Draco that if the eyelids were not shielding the colour behind them, the most vivid green would be staring back up at him. Draco shuddered at the thought of Harry waking and seeing him staring – possibly even admiring Harry. Wait – admiring? That wasn't right. He didn't admire this boy. This boy was someone he'd never mixed with, never even agreed with.
But still, he couldn't help wondering how Harry's complexion stayed so clear. Spoiled only by dark circles beneath his eyes, Harry's complexion was flawless and smooth. Draco reached out to touch it, but at that moment, Harry's eyes flickered open. He sat up suddenly, startled to see the Slytherin sitting beside him.
"Malfoy!" he barked, slightly embarrassed.
Draco's heart was pumping; he'd just gotten a shock. Imagine if he'd been tracing Harry's features when Harry woke – pure humiliation. He immediately put on his unconcerned expression – blank was the best way to go when you were feeling odd.
"Tired or something, Potter?" he asked, a hint of amusement plain.
"Shut up. How long have you been sitting there?"
"Long enough to get some answers. Thanks a bunch, Potter." He got up to leave, but Harry remembered Professor McGonagall's words.
"By the way, Malfoy, our detention tonight is with Snape – it ought to be good for you." Harry's tone was sarcastic; Draco could tell he was less than thrilled at the prospect.
"Just what I always look forward to – detention with Potter. My favourite time of day." Draco took his turn to be sarcastic.
"Bugger off, Malfoy." Harry turned back to his work. Draco smirked and left – as soon as he reached the corridor outside, he was relieved. What had come over him back there? He'd been – absurdly – captivated by Potter. It was ridiculous. He was probably hallucinating.
Back in the library, Harry watched from beneath his long lashes as Malfoy sauntered out of the room. The blonde's hair was shimmering as it always was. Even cloaked in the unflattering school robes, Draco's figure looked perfect, slim but not unattractively skinny. Probably from all those hours of Quidditch, Harry thought. He turned his attention back to his parchment, and completed the questions, but the entire time he worked, the thought of detention that night with the Slytherin was looming in the back of his mind.
"You shall be helping me the next three nights," Snape informed them. He turned and gestured to the storeroom. "If you can clean that up in three nights, you will be lucky. However, I expect it perfectly organized." He nodded them towards it. "You can leave at eleven thirty, not before."
He strode back to his desk at the front of the room, leaving Harry and Draco to enter and start.
Draco flicked the switch which flooded the room in a dull light. Harry blinked. The room was appalling. He'd never noticed just how untidy a room could be, but the prospect of cleaning this up was not enticing.
Ingredients were spilled on the floor, jars were left open and their substances were crusted around the tops. Some were tipped over, half their contents staining the shelves. Roots and plants were scattered here and there, mixed with each other and their name tags swapped. Containers of scales and power were mixed together in odd looking combinations.
Draco groaned. "This is awful."
Harry did not answer, but picked up the mop and bucket of soapy water Snape had provided.
"I don't understand why we can't use magic," grumbled Draco. "We'll never clean this crap off by hand."
"Stop complaining and get cleaning," ordered Harry. Draco threw him a glare, but Harry continued to mop. Mopping was not having a great effect, though, and he had to get down on his knees and scrub with a wooden scrubbing brush.
Draco picked up a glove and pulled it on his right hand. With his left, he picked up another brush and began to sweep the powder into the bin.
Harry stood half an hour later, wiping sweat from his brow. "God, scrubbing is hard work."
"What's the matter, never done a bit of cleaning before, Prince Potter?" sneered Draco.
Harry gave a sarcastic smile. "Yeah, right." He remembered all the hours he'd spent cleaning at the Dursley's. "If anyone's never done cleaning before, it would be you. Draco Malfoy – King of the purebloods, with the house elves and every wizard bending over backward to please."
Draco frowned. "It may be true that I don't have to clean, but don't think being a Malfoy is easy, Potter."
"Oh, right. Having a family who treats you like a little Prince is just the hardest thing for anyone to experience. How can you possibly feel sorry for yourself when so many people spend half their lives trying to ensure your eternal pleasure and comfort?"
"Is that really what you think?" Draco asked, amazed. "Life is not that simple for anyone, Potter," he spat. "No matter how easy you think my life might be, it's not. Just because I've never had to do housework before doesn't mean I don't have hard decisions and stuff. And what about you? You're the little Gryffindor saint who never puts a foot wrong. As if you can talk about anything like that."
"Oh, please Draco. Do you seriously think I enjoy being the celebrated Potter? Being famous for something I don't even remember doing, and that I certainly did not have to exert myself. It wasn't me who defeated Voldemort, it was my mother. She was the one who placed the spell on me which defeated him. I had no part in it, and yet I am the one who gets the praise. As if I wouldn't rather have my mother and father back than be the little celebrity," he replied bitterly.
"You never seem to mind it."
"What am I supposed to do? Throw a tantrum and refuse to speak to anyone until they stop praising me and giving me free stuff?"
"You get free stuff?"
"Shut up and start cleaning." Harry was thoroughly finished with the conversation, but Draco was finding it hard to stop talking about it.
"So you think I've got life easy because I don't have people hanging off me giving me free stuff? God, you're pathetic sometimes, Potter."
"So you want me to pity you?"
"Not really – do you want people to pity you?"
"God no. There's nothing worse than having people constantly being sympathetic towards you, treating you like a tragic little hero. No, if I could hand you all the attention I get and have a normal life, believe me, I would."
Draco sniffed. "So you don't want people to feel sorry for you?"
"Not particularly."
"You'd rather they left you alone?"
"More often than not. Sometimes getting special attention is good – I mean, I never complain if I'm getting free sundaes. But when it comes to most things, I'd rather be treated like a normal person."
"Well then."
There was silence for a moment. Harry was biting his tongue, wishing he'd not said as much as he had. Draco was digesting this new information. Both were scrubbing halfheartedly at the shelves, Harry occasionally picking up a root and tossing it into the pile he's collected on the top shelf.
"I used to envy you," Draco said suddenly.
Harry arched a brow. "You did? Why?"
Draco shrugged. "You were the beloved child of the wizarding world. Is there a single kid who didn't want to be you at some point? You're a celebrity. People look up to you – at least, provided Rita Skeeter isn't writing articles about you." He grinned.
"I always thought you hated me."
"Hate isn't the right word Potter. You were my arch nemesis. You were more a rival than an enemy. I had to compete, and to do that, I had to know your strengths and weaknesses. It's difficult to hate someone you know so much about."
Harry was taken aback. "I am so incredibly lost. Why on earth would you want to know stuff about me?"
"It's simple, Potter. I wanted to be better than you."
"I always thought you had the easy way of it."
"But you really did hate me."
Harry grinned. "For a time, yes. But it's like you said, you can't hate someone you constantly try to defeat."
Draco snorted. "You never beat me."
"Wanna bet? What about the Quidditch Cup? What about the fact I'm Head Boy and you're not? What about - "
"All right, all right. I get the point," Draco interrupted in irritation. He knelt beside Harry to sort the Shrivelfigs from other various leaves and plant fragments.
Harry stared down at him. "So you don't hate me?"
"No. I don't hate you. I don't particularly like you, but I don't hate you." Draco trying to ignore the gnawing sensation in his stomach as he said this. He didn't like Harry. So then why on earth were his insides shriveling up? He wasn't lying – was he?
Harry nodded, trying to digest this new information.
"And you – you don't hate me?" Draco's throat was suddenly dry, and he licked his lips nervously. Why should he care if Harry didn't like him? It was only Potter. It wasn't anyone he really cared about. But he knew that somehow, and for some absurd reason, if Potter told him that he hated him, he would feel...weird. Sort of empty. He shook this. It was probably something everyone felt – no one liked to be told they were hated.
Harry thought long and hard for a moment. "No. No, Malfoy, I guess I don't."
Draco leaned back on his heels, breathing deeply in an attempt to restore calm in his brain. It couldn't be normal for him to feel so relieved simply because Potter had said that he didn't hate him. "Right," he said, his old drawl back, though somewhat diminished. "Well, that's settled then. I think it's nearly time for us to go."
Harry looked at his watch. "Yeah, you're right." He picked up his bucket and vanished it with a wave of his wand.
"I thought we weren't allowed to use magic out of school hours," said Draco, mockingly. "Head Boy shouldn't abuse his power."
"Shut up, Malfoy. You're an imbecile."
Snape poked his head through the door irritably. "Have you boys done anything except gossip this detention?"
Draco nodded. "Look, we made some progress – not much, but definitely some."
Harry took a quick look and realized Draco was right. There was a slight improvement. Snape just shook his head and told them they could leave.
"See you in detention tomorrow then, Potter."
Harry nodded and they parted.
TBC
A/N: Hehehehe. This is astoundingly hard to write – I think next time I write a fic involving Draco, I'll start it from after he decides he likes whoever he's going to fancy. It's too hard to make him fall in love. Oh well, he's getting there.
If you keep reading, in the next chapter, I'll try to work in a little more attraction between the two (it's the central focus for the next two chapters I think) and if I'm being nice, you may even get a kiss. But if I don't get reviews, I'll be mean and make you wait.
Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, though! It's great to get your comments, and they are taken into consideration. Mostly I change my story to suit what people want, and I will continue to if possible. Just drop me a line and tell me what it is you want.
Til next time!
Piper 13: thanks for your review! I know, isn't it great?! They can be civil to each other. Watch this story for more fluff...
HpAzn: Thanks for following my story so far! It means a lot to me. I hope you still like it. I can't make him sick...yet...that's a hint, yes. :P so anyway! There's fluff to come, don't worry.
ImmortalTearsOf: oh my god, your name is awesome. I love it! Thanks for reviewing, I'm glad you liked my story!
To everyone else – review this story! Please! They keep me going!
