Crossing the Line by GiddyGirl15.
Warning: This story will contain slash! Harry/Draco in particular.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter…that honor belongs to J. K. Rowling. Please oh please don't sue!
Summary: WIP: This story takes place during Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts. While Harry copes with the fresh loss of his beloved Godfather, Sirius Black, he begins to notice a change in his onetime arch nemesis, Draco Malfoy. Upon looking further into the issue, Harry discovers that there is more to Draco than he lets on, and, strangely, he feels compelled to help this so-called 'Dark' wizard. As both boys soon discover, there is a very fine line between love and hate. Read on! PG-13 for future m/m slash.
Author's note: This is my first ever story and I have absolutely no idea how it's going to turn out! Bare with me as I attempt to write my very first original rendition of how I think Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts should go! ;) Thank you so much for reading and I will love you forever if you review! Enjoy!
P.S. I plan on updating this story once a week as long as there are at least three reviews …so review, review, REVIEW!
Crossing the LineChapter One: More than Meets the Eye
Harry Potter stared longingly out of the Hogwarts Express compartment. God, how he missed his Godfather. Aside from Molly Weasley, Sirius Black had been the closest thing to a parent that Harry had ever had, and now he was gone. And it was all thanks to him. Despite everyone's efforts to console him with assurance that Sirius' death was just another to be blamed by the war, he could not help but hold the fault. He felt completely and utterly alone.
"Hey Harry!"
The compartment door slid open, snapping Harry out of his dismal thoughts. Ron Weasley stood in the doorway. He had now grown so tall that he barely cleared the ceiling of the tiny compartment. Other than height however, he had not changed one bit. He had the same red hair, lean body, and freakishly abundant freckles as always. Flashing a 'good to see you' smile in Harry's direction, he took a seat.
"Sorry it took so long, mate, me an' Hermione had to help out some First Years," said Ron, helping himself to some of Harry's chocolate frogs.
Glad to divert his thoughts from those of Sirius, Harry asked, "Where is Hermione?"
"McGonagall held her back. Wanted to talk to her about something," Ron shrugged. Professor McGonagall always seemed to be planning something. He was very surprised when he found that she was going to be directing the Prefect meeting. He guessed she considered anyone else too inadequate to carry on the message that now that Voldemort would surely target Hogwarts next, all the students were in constant danger and Ron and Hermione must, 'by any means necessary, keep the children from harm.' She was probably outfitting Hermione with some magical armor or something right now. Ron chuckled to himself. McGonagall, although a wonderfully brilliant and skilled witch, sometimes lacked rational thought in the time of crisis.
Harry had returned to staring mournfully out of the now rain-soaked window. Due to the events of the previous year, he had not been able to leave his aunt and uncles house even for his annual brief visit to the Weasley home. His summer had been monotonously horrible and his anger with Dumbledore had all but evaporated. Aside from himself, Harry blamed Dumbledore for his Godfather's death. If he had only been straight with him in the first place, Sirius would be alive and well. Just stop thinking about it, Harry, he ordered himself, what's done is done. Sirius is dead and never coming back. There is nothing anyone can do now. Just then Hermione entered the room, followed closely by her mangy cat, Crookshanks.
"Hello Harry, dear. How are you?" she said tiredly, taking a seat next to Ron. Unlike Ron, Hermione had changed quite a bit. Her once incorrigible mane of bushy brown hair had calmed down slightly, falling gracefully at her shoulders, and her eyes sparkled with an even greater intelligence and wisdom than the previous year. She smiled encouragingly at Harry.
"I'm great, you?" said Harry with a falsely cheery voice. By the way Hermione's eyes seemed to delve into him, pulsing with deep pity, he knew she wanted to discuss Sirius, or, at least, how Harry was dealing with the loss of Sirius. He thought it best to steer the conversation away from that topic, at least for the time-being. He wasn't quite ready yet.
Catching on to the fact that Harry didn't want to talk about Sirius, she let the matter drop and decided it best not to mention it until Harry, himself, brought it up. "I hope your summer wasn't completely horrid. I was blue in the face trying to convince Dumbledore to let you come out to the Burrow, but he wouldn't budge," she said sadly.
"Oh well, it doesn't matter anyway," said Harry grumpily. His original respect for Dumbledore had been completely demolished, and even thinking about him burned his insides like hot coals. Still, he had saved Harry's life, and that was something.
Suddenly a loud thump was heard just outside their compartment. Swinging the door open the trio peered outside…only to see a very disgruntled-looking Neville who seemed to have tripped over his own feet.
"Hello Neville. Had a good summer?" said Hermione, helping him to his feet.
"Not bad, I guess," he said. "Gran nearly flayed me alive when I told her about Dad's old wand," he laughed shakily. "But then I just told her all that happened and she starting crying and hugging me." Everyone in the room fell into an eerie silence, in which they all revisited horrible memories from that fateful night last June.
Just then, Draco Malfoy slumped - yes slumped – past the open compartment door. With barely a glance at the occupants, he walked on with total and complete indifference.
"What's up with Malfoy?" Ron inquired bewilderedly, staring after the departing figure. He shrugged and returned to stuffing his face with an abnormal amount of sweets.
Harry, however, didn't shrug it off. Something was definitely different about Malfoy. His normally perfectly kept hair fell loosely all over his face, while his blue-gray eyes reflected a sad, almost lost expression that was enough to convince Harry that something was seriously out of place. He stood up and stared curiously out of the compartment after Malfoy. What could possibly have happened to the great, all-powerful wizard that used to be Draco Malfoy? Harry decided he needed to find out.
However, as he made his way down the aisle, the train screeched to a halt in front of Hogwarts and the hallway was soon packed with excited students. His little inquiry would have to wait.
Back in the Great Hall, having successfully increased their waist size by two, the students of Hogwarts began to file out to their dormitories to turn in for the night. Assuring Ron and Hermione that he would catch up with them later, Harry fought his way through the crowd over to where the Slytherins were walking. Catching sight of a familiar head of silvery-blonde hair, he hurried to catch up with Malfoy.
"Oy, Malfoy!" Harry called.
Barely turning around, Draco acknowledged him with a noncommittal shrug and kept walking. Frustrated now, Harry grabbed his arm and pulled him aside.
"What do you want, Potter?" Draco asked, voice no longer dripping with its usual venom, but merely sounding drained and sad. Looking at him up close this time, Harry noticed the dark circles of someone who seemed to not have slept well in an alarmingly long time. He seemed to have lost a lot of weight, and his arrogant smirk had faded, while his prim, proper facade had completely vanished. No longer was he 'Draco Malfoy, the filthy rich, arrogant spawn of the Devil's right-hand man'. No. Now he looked like a puppy who'd been beaten and tossed in the gutter in the pouring rain.
"What the hell happened to you?" Harry's voice was almost a whisper. "Dammit, Malfoy. You look like shit!" He knew that this probably wasn't the right time, but he just couldn't help himself. Malfoy did look like shit! In a pathetic, pitiable, wretched, kind of cute sort of – NO! Bad, bad, bad! Oh not good, not good at all! Malfoy was NOT, nor would he EVER be…cute.
"Well," Draco's voice snapped him out of his stupor. "As much as I've enjoyed this little confrontation, I'm a bit tired. So, if you'll excuse me Potter," and he walked off without another word. It was a huge relief to Harry to hear some of the old sarcastic malice. Seeing Dra – Malfoy like that really disturbed him. He made a mental note to talk to Hermione about it. She would know what to do.
"Constant vigilance," Harry muttered distractedly. The Fat Lady swung open, allowing him access to the Gryffindor common room. Stepping out of the portrait hole, he was greeted with a familiar, comforting scene: Hermione sat in the big, comfy armchair reading (as always), while Ron and Neville enjoyed a refreshing game of Wizard's Chess in front of the crackling fire. Everyone else seemed to have retired for the night.
Harry walked over to where Hermione was sitting. "Hey 'Mione, can I talk to you about something?" She laid down her book and gave him her full attention. "What about?"
Harry took a deep breath. "Okay, well, I think there's something wrong with Malfoy. I mean, seriously wrong. Did you see how tired he was? And he didn't even try to pick a fight with us…it was really unnerving! I've never seen him act like that before," Harry said rather quickly. Hermione seemed to ponder this for a moment before saying, "Maybe he was just having a really bad day or something. Why does it even matter though, Harry? It is Malfoy we're talking about. He's a royal prat!"
Before he knew it, Harry found himself actually defending his arch-nemesis. "C'mon Hermione, you know better than anyone that people change! I swear there was something genuinely different about him. It was almost as if he was – well, I don't know exactly what he was like, but you could see it in his eyes. There was pain there, and a lot of it!" Looking pensive, Hermione finally came to a conclusion. "Well, personally, I couldn't give a damn whether or not Malfoy was happy or not. But, if it means that much to you, I'll help you try and talk to him. We'll see if maybe we can trick him into telling us what's wrong, because he sure as hell won't tell us of his own free will."
"Thanks 'Mione, knew I could count on you!" He gave her a quick hug and headed off toward the boys' dorm rooms. He was too tired to talk, let alone think of a clever way to make Malfoy spill his innermost secrets. Quickly changing into his pajamas, Harry flopped into his bed and closed the curtains. Lying there, so tired yet unable to sleep, he found himself thinking, yet again, about Draco Malfoy. Why did he care so much why Malfoy was acting strangely? It's not as if they'd ever been friends or even shared a civil word, but he couldn't help but feel somewhat responsible for Draco's current funk. He guessed that at least some of the pain reflected in his eyes had something to do with the imprisonment of his foolish father, Lucius Malfoy. Maybe Harry just cared because he was Harry, and it was in his nature to feel help those who need it. Or maybe it was just because he had become quite used to those little altercations in the hallway and hated any form of change. Or maybe it was because Draco actually seemed almost human when he acted like this, and that just compelled Harry to help him. Well, whatever the reason, he knew that something was to be done, and the something would need to be done soon. With that, Harry drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep.
A/N: Well…here it is! I really, really hope you liked it and I swear that you will be on my best friend list if you review! (Especially if it's a happy, ego-boosting review ;) ) I'll update in about a week, give or take a day. Thank you for reading!
P.S. Happy International Day of Slash:D