"Harry?" I try again to pull the boy's gaze back to my own.
He finally turns towards me, eerily slow, and I suddenly want to hit him to get that deadened look out of his normally expressive eyes. They're blank, as if there was nothing behind them; soulless.
"Damn it, Harry," I curse, frustrated. "Come on."
I grab him by the arm and bodily pull him away from the scene.
"We're going out to the yard," I yell back over my shoulder as one of the guards begins to protest our departure.
I continue to drag an unresisting Harry down the stairs, through the sterile and plain common room (used for the when the weather is too disastrous to venture out of doors), and through the steel doors to the cold and barren yard outside; one of the guards dogging our every step until we do in fact reach the safety of the yard, as per my promise. The guard turns and leaves us alone.
I lead Harry across to the opposite side of the yard, closest to the outer fence; the buzzing in the air indicating the presence of a strong magical barrier placed all around the prison.
I let go of Harry's arm and spin him around to face me. That uncontrollable urge to slap him once more boils up inside me as he merely gazes back at me with no visible emotion.
I draw in a steadying breath before speaking. "Alright, Harry. Talk."
I fold my arms over my chest and wait.
Harry turns and shifts his blank gaze out beyond the prison's shields. "What do you want me to say?"
I sigh inwardly with relief; at least he's speaking again.
"About anything you want," I encourage. "Maybe you should start with what's bothering you."
At first I don't think that he's going to answer, but a softly spoken voice carries across to me on the wind.
"Why do you care?"
I'm ready for this particular question, I just didn't know he'd get to it so quickly.
"Because like it or not, Harry, we're in this together; you look out for me and I look out for you."
I raise a brow in surprise as Harry snorts softly in disbelief. "You can't even bring yourself to say it, can you?"
"What?"
"That you're my friend," he says, turning towards me, his eyes still dull and lost looking.
"I thought it was implied," I hedge.
Harry's laugh is bitter. "Well, thank you for your reluctant friendship, Malfoy, despite the obvious pain it causes you to be civil to me."
"Now just a minute," I protest. "If wasn't for me, you'd still be in the infirmary, with much more severe injuries that the ones you had. I didn't have to go after you, you know."
"Oh, thank you," Harry bites out sarcastically. "My hero. I should've known you would hold that over me. Tell me, Malfoy, what is it that you want in return?"
I growl in anger and frustration. "I don't want anything, Potter. This isn't about repaying any kind of debt."
"Oh but I think it is." Harry's eyes sharpen, narrowing at me in dawning realization. "This is because I didn't take the easy way out when Dumbledore offered it to me. You think you owe me for that, don't you? Is that what this whole 'friendship' has been based on?"
"No – fuck, Harry, don't invent things to suit your deluded fantasies. Accept reality for once, even though you haven't been living in it for the past couple of days."
Finally some emotion flares into those emerald-coloured eyes. "Well, excuse me for not being bright and cheerful for you, Malfoy. I've been a little preoccupied. Let's see how well you do when everything is suddenly dumped on you at one time."
"You don't know anything about me," I whisper dangerously.
"And I don't intend to start now."
I stop and run an agitated hand through my hair. This is not how I wanted this conversation to go.
"Look, Harry," I try again. "Fighting with each other is not going to do either one of us any good. This 'friends' thing was your idea, and I am willingly going along with it, so stop being such a pessimist."
Harry opens his mouth, then closes it.
"Now," I say calmly, "why don't we start with the hanging man in our cell. Did it really bother you that much to find out that he was dead? He was insane, and I certainly never saw you trying to be his friend."
Harry copies my previous nervous movement, and runs a hand through his own tangled locks. "Not really. I feel horrible. I didn't even know his name. Yet I can't help but think that maybe he's in a better place."
Remus' warning is still in my mind as a little warning signal suddenly goes off in my brain. "Being dead is not better, Harry," I say carefully.
"Can you imagine being locked up in here for almost half of your lifetime?" Harry continues as though I hadn't spoken.
"No, I can't. Which is why I'm so grateful that we will not be trying to break his record."
"How do you know?" Harry asks, challenging. "There is absolutely no evidence to either support or damn us, Malfoy. We could be in here for the rest of our lives."
I try not to shudder at the thought. "Lupin came to visit me today," I tell him abruptly.
"Why?" Harry looks suspicious.
"He told me that it was looking really good that we would be allowed out on probation, and sent to stay at Hogwarts."
Harry's eyes flash with some kind of emotion that's too quick to put a name to, then fall empty once more. "I don't want to hear that," he says. "Until it's a sure thing, I don't even want to know how close we are to…"
"Harry." I step forward and place a hand on his arm. "I wouldn't tell you unless I believed it myself."
Harry raises his eyes to look into my own. "Don't touch me."
"Harry-"
"Stop pretending that you care!" he shouts suddenly. "We'll never be friends, Draco Malfoy."
I frown in confusion as Harry struggles to wrench himself out of my grasp. "Harry, stop."
Harry lets out a howl of pain when he wrenches his arm too hard, and I suddenly realize that I had been inadvertently holding his injured arm, still tender from the attack.
I quickly let go. "Are you alright?" I ask in concern.
"Just leave me alone." With that final request, Harry turns and strides away from me, holding his arm to his body as if to shield it from further harm.
"Fuck," I mutter under my breath.
I follow him across the yard to where Jack and the others are now standing in a small group, conversing intently.
"Harry." Jack looks up with a smile, greeting the seething teenager.
I roll my eyes at the dark-haired convict as he glances at me when Harry fails to respond.
"We heard about your cellmate," Jack says sympathetically, glancing curiously at Harry. "That must've been quite a shock."
Again Harry ignores him; his arms wrapped protectively around himself, and those blank eyes gazing off into the distance.
"It was," I answer, turning away from the moody Gryffindor. "It's pretty disturbing seeing a dead body hanging from your window."
"Yeah right."
I stop and turn to Harry, my eyes boring right through him. "What was that, Potter?"
He doesn't even look at me. "How many dead bodies have you seen, Malfoy? I would've thought that you were pretty used to it by now, or was it because you didn't actually kill him yourself that's bothering you?"
I frown at him; more astounded than angry.
"Hell, it must've reminded you of home," Harry continues, oblivious to our incredulous stares. "You were probably expecting your father to come waltzing in at any moment."
With an angry cry, I launch myself towards him and shove him to the ground.
"Don't you ever talk about my father, Potter!" I snarl into his face. "You don't know a fucking thing, about me or my family. I fucking hate you!"
I roughly slam his body down into the ground once more before Jack finally intervenes and pulls me off of him.
"Cut it out," he demands harshly. "If the guards notice, they'll send you both to the Box."
I rip myself from Jack's grasp and I lean over with my hands resting on my knees, panting heavily, my eyes still trained on Harry sitting in the dirt.
Harry rubs at his sore arm unconsciously as he glares right back.
"Come on, Bakari," Jack says firmly. "Let's take a walk."
Harry's face takes on a pained expression for a brief second, then returns to normal. He immediately relaxes his tense posture, his shoulders dropping and fists unclenching; he looks defeated and tired.
Jack helps him to his feet and they start off around the yard together.
I straighten my shirt and try to regain my composure. Why is that every time I try to help the guy out, he always acts like a complete prat?
"How's he doing?"
I look up into Little Slick's concerned brown eyes and shake my head. "How do you think?" I ask, without any real rancour.
"Poor guy," Harshad murmurs, watching the pair.
"He's just replacing his pain with defensiveness," I explain, feeling tired and worn myself. "He's done it his entire life. He doesn't want other people to ask him if he's okay, and he doesn't want them to pity him, and he doesn't want them to think that he's not okay. So basically, he doesn't want to admit that he's human. He's not some all-powerful hero that's destined to save the world, he's just a lonely seventeen year old boy that's been imprisoned for a crime he didn't commit. He was abused as a child, he came face-to-face with Voldemort at the age of eleven, his parents were murdered – that's more than enough pain and suffering for one lifetime, and he's still in his teens. Plus, he's having a hard time dealing-"
I stop. I had almost forgotten that I had an audience as I rambled on and on, mainly trying to figure the boy out for myself. I had almost told them that he was also having trouble dealing with his sexual identity, but I have enough sense to know when to not divulge something that would send the Gryffindor into another fit of anger and silence.
"Dealing with what?" Harshad asks.
"The attack, of course," Little Slick answers for me, sending Harshad a withering look.
Harshad was the only one of the group who hadn't aided me in Harry's rescue, as he was busy doing kitchen duty at the time. I don't even know if Harry knows that Jack and Little Slick were there helping him that day. I guess it's not that important, but if he is harbouring feelings for the tall, dark-haired criminal, then perhaps Harry would like to know that Jack had been there.
I shake off the strange pang in my chest that that thought strikes in me. Sadness? Regret? Jealousy? All of the above…?
"You know him well, Draco," Harshad observes.
I smile ruefully. "No I don't. That's what I think I know because, although he would never admit it, we're a lot alike. And then there are times when I just don't understand him at all."
"They're coming back," Little Slick announces, glancing up.
I carefully school my features into a neutral look as Harry and Jack return.
Harry looks much calmer, and I forgo my look of neutrality in exchange for a glare when I see a lit cigarette hanging from between his lips.
Jack pushes Harry towards me a little and I'm surprised to see that the boy looks embarrassed.
"I'm sorry, Malfoy," he says, looking at his shoes. "You were just trying to help and I shouldn't have said those things about your family."
I would've felt better had he been looking me in the eye and not sounding like he'd memorized the damn speech from a manual.
"Wow, I'm impressed that he remembered it all and you didn't even have to write it down for him, Jack," I drawl.
Harry jerks his head up, finally looking me in the eye. I sigh when I see that all previous emotion has once again disappeared and been replaced with that vague look of nothingness.
"Malfoy," Jack says warningly.
"Fuck you, Malfoy."
Even that is said with little emotion, taking any sting out of the words and making them sound sad and meaningless.
"And stop blowing smoke in my face, Potter." I wave a hand in front of me to dissipate the wisps of smoke from his cigarette. "That's a disgusting habit. No one's ever going to willingly kiss you if you keep that up."
Harry bites his lip and turns away, absently holding his fag between two fingers as he walks back into the building and out of sight.
"Nice one, Malfoy," Jack says sarcastically.
"Shut-up," I say darkly. "Why don't you go kiss him and make it better?"
"Huh?" Little Slick frowns, confused. "Where did that come from?"
Jack levels me with a look that makes me suddenly feel like a petty child.
"Come on, boys," he says evenly. "It's time for dinner."
I grudgingly trudge behind the others as we make our way into the packed dining hall and sit down.
I look around for Harry, but just as I suspected, the boy is nowhere in sight. I sigh and try to ignore the foul smell of the food as I lift my fork to my mouth. That boy has been skipping way too many meals lately.
I quickly shove some of my dinner into my pockets for him to eat later.
"I don't get you, Malfoy."
"What?" I reply, slowly retracting my hand from my pocket as nonchalantly as possible.
Jack raises a brow at my blank face. "You obviously care for him, why do you treat him like shit on a regular basis?"
"I don't-"
"Oh come off it, Malfoy. You treat him like scum and you know it."
I set down my fork. "I was going to say, that I don't treat him any differently than he treats me."
"I don't want to get into semantics but, did you ever stop to wonder if maybe you start it?"
Harshad smiles. "Remember you said that you and he are a lot alike, and that he reverts to a defence mechanism when feeling vulnerable?"
"Yes, but-"
"So when two people who always go on the defence when feeling vulnerable try to have a conversation about serious things, it obviously is going to turn into a fight unless one of you takes the high road."
"So you want me to just sit there and take his abuse?" I say sceptically.
Jack smirks. "Yes."
"What? You can't be serious."
"Until he realizes that you're not going to attack him in the worst possible way, then he'll stop to think, and just maybe, he'll tell you what he's truly feeling."
"Fat chance," I mutter.
"Try it," Jack urges, sounding very sombre. "If he can't talk to someone, then he'll keep repressing his feelings until…"
He lets the sentence hang, and that little warning bell once again begins to chime in my head.
"Fine," I say, keeping my own worries about my cellmate carefully hidden. "I'll try talking to him."
"No, Draco," Harshad says with a smile. "Don't talk – listen."
I almost roll my eyes, then force myself to stop.
Merlin, the natural response to act sarcastic is so ingrained that I never even noticed it until now. I mean, really noticed it. Someone tries to be helpful and my natural response is to brush off their advice and belittle them.
How could I be so blind? That's just like my father…
I turn on my heel and leave the loud chatter of the dining hall behind me.
That little voice in your head - the one you're not really sure where it comes from - is now whispering at me to hurry and find Harry. I should never have left him alone, especially in the state he's in right now. Lupin is going to kill me…
I race up the stairs and across the deck on level three; the stationed guard's beady gaze following my every move.
The closest guard gives me an exaggerated look, like he's so put out at having to unlock my cell door for me. I get to the door just as he's sliding it open, and rush right on past him and inside.
I sigh out loud in relief when I see Harry, still alive and breathing, by the window.
Harry doesn't look up as I enter. In fact, he doesn't seem to have even noticed that I'm there.
It's then that my heart races in fear. Harry's right hand is slowly moving across his throat; back and forth. And he's not looking out of the window, he's looking at the bars of the window.
It doesn't take me long to realize just what it is the stupid boy is thinking about.
Without a second thought, I rush right over to him and haul him off of where he was sitting on the rim of the sink.
Fear and panic and anger, and a million other emotions flood through me as I stare into those dull green eyes.
I can't slap him again, that doesn't work. He'll retreat back into defence mode. But how can I listen to him if he isn't saying anything?
But he did say something once; he said that I was attractive, protective, smart, loyal and…he said that he liked being with me. He likes…me, despite the way I've treated him, despite the verbal abuse and sarcastic digs.
Harry Potter said that he likes me, and now I'm finally allowing myself to listen to him.
I smile at Harry as he regards me warily, my hands still clutching onto his biceps for dear life.
Merlin, I've been such an idiot.
I pull him towards me and kiss him full on the lips.
Harry squeaks in surprise, but I don't stop until he relaxes his tense body and allows the gentle contact.
I pull back and almost want to faint as the relief and pent-up emotion is finally released. I feel free.
Harry still looks wary. "Malfoy…?"
I smile and wrap my arms around him, pulling him into my embrace. "It's Draco."
Harry shudders for a moment, then wraps his own arms fiercely about my body, laying his head to rest on my shoulder.
"I don't want to fight anymore," Harry is whispering into my neck.
I smile and place a soft kiss to his temple. "It's alright, Harry, you're not alone anymore. I'm here...I'm here..."
