Disclaimer: Not J.K.R…:sigh: tragically.

Warning: SLASH…yummy

A/N: Thank so, so, so, so, much to my beta, truthfulchaos, you rock, love ya doll.

Summary: It's like every story you've ever read…but totally different…

A/N: SORRY! Once again it took me forever to update. I love you all so much if your still reading this, I will get it all posted and back on schedule soon, I promise.


Twisted: Two People


"Draco Malfoy!" Hermione yelled, barging into the sixth year boy's dormitory.

Neville looked up from where he was reading by the window and Ron hastily pulled on a pair of pants over his boxers, his ears blushing. Dean rolled over in bed, covering his face with a pillow, and Seamus sat up to see what the fuss was about.

It was Sunday morning the week after the Hogsmeade trip; Draco rolled his eyes and pulled the curtain closed around his bed.

"I've had it up to here, Draco," she yelled, ripping the curtain down. "You've not said one word to anyone in a week, nor have you gotten out of bed! You've skipped classes and meals. What in Merlin's name is going on?"

Draco glared at her and rolled out of bed, grabbing a pair of baggy jeans off the floor, he pulled them on as well as a gray t-shirt that offset his eyes. Then he headed for the door.

"Don't you dare walk away from me, Malfoy, not without telling me what's wrong," she threatened.

Draco gritted his teeth and looked back at her, then turned the door handle.

"Draco, I'm serious."

He pulled the door open and took a step out.

"Draco!"

"I don't want to fucking talk about it Hermione!" Draco snapped back at her before slamming the door and exiting Gryffindor tower.

Hermione closed her eyes, taken aback. Ron walked over and placed a hand on her shoulder. She gasped and turned towards him, burying her face in his chest. "I just want to help him," she sobbed.

"I know, 'Mione." Ron rubbed her back. "I know..."


Harry groaned, pulling himself out of bed. There was a persistent knocking on his bedroom door. "I'm bloody coming, he muttered, opening the door to find a very troubled looking Draco. "Malfoy?"

"You have my jacket," Draco mumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking at his feet, which Harry noticed were bare.

"I guess I do. Would you like some shoes as well?" Harry sneered, but Draco only glared at him and followed him in the room. "Rough morning?" Harry asked, the comment lacking in the sincerity he wished was there.

Draco didn't say anything as Harry pulled the jacket from his closet.

"Come to think about it, I haven't seen you since Saturday." The blonde reached for his jacket, but Harry pulled it just out of his reach. "Not since you talked about what happened with Severus." He reached for the jacket again. "Draco, don't close yourself off, if you do that every time you talk about things that hurt you, or mean a lot to you you're going to have a severely screwed up future."

"Give me my fucking jacket, Potter."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Getting testy, are we?"

"Potter."

Harry shook his head and tossed Draco his jacket. "Think about what I said, will you?"

The Gryffindor slipped his arms into the worn leather of his coat. "Already have."

"And?" Harry called after him.

"Future can't be severely screwed up, if I don't have one."

Harry took a moment to register what Draco had just said, before taking off after him. He grabbed the blonde's arm. "What do you mean?"

"Let me go, Potter."

"Draco, what do you mean?"

Draco tried to twist free of Harry's grasp.

But Harry, being the stronger of the pair, clutched his arm tighter and hauled him back into the Slytherin's bedroom. He threw Draco on the bed.

"Talk to me, Malfoy."

Draco sat up, blonde hair that he'd been growing out since fourth year veiled his face.

"Draco?" Harry took a step closer to the bed, but the Gryffindor still didn't speak. When he was close enough, Harry reached out and pushed the hair away from Draco's face. The blonde jerked his head away, but not before Harry saw the tears streaking his face. "Draco," Harry whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed. "What's happened?"

Draco pulled at his hair, sniffled, and slapped his hands down on the bed in front of him. "I yelled at Hermione this morning," he finally said. "And all she was trying to do was help. But I just can't listen to it anymore, I can't listen to people who claim they care and then cast me off for another person like I'm not even there. Like I'm not even hurting this much." He sobbed. "Because I am, Harry, I'm hurting more than they could ever know. They keep telling me that it wasn't my fault and to stop blaming myself. Well then who's bloody fault was it? I feel like I have to blame someone. Severus is dead! That's got to be someone's fault!" He slapped his palm on his forehead.

"Draco, don't." Harry grabbed his wrist.

"What else am I going to do?" He bawled as Harry pulled him closer and held him to his chest.

The Slytherin didn't really know what he was doing, cradling his worst enemy. Maybe he felt like he owed it to him. For stopping me from killing myself?

Suddenly something Draco had said that first night came back to him.

"Two people who hate each other confiding in the other person because there was no where else to turn, and it felt right..."

It felt right.

And it did, nothing in Harry's empty life, full of abuse and regret, had ever felt so right.

He pushed back Draco's white-blonde hair and wiped his cheeks. Draco didn't seem to realize what was going on. And maybe Harry didn't either.

Maybe Harry couldn't see the way that Draco was clutching him, like if he let go the world would shatter at his feet. Maybe Harry didn't realize that Draco hadn't gotten out of bed in a week because he was afraid that someone might recognize that something was different about him. Maybe Harry didn't see it, see that Draco needed him more than he'd needed anyone in his life before.

He needed to talk to him, to listen to him talk, to watch his face when he smirked, to be around him. He needed to touch him, and he needed Harry to need him too.

And maybe Draco didn't see the way Harry was looking at him, mapping out every crease and blemish on the blonde's gentle face, or maybe he didn't feel the Slytherin stroking his soft hair.

No, maybe neither of them could see that the other was falling in love with them, and maybe they didn't realize that they were falling in love right back...


Please Review.

Much love and kisses,

Simone