A/N: If you have critique on my style, let me know. I am having a few friends Beta read the first three chapters. I have been waiting for almost a week to have this one done, but since the other three had to be done first, this one comes last. It'll be beta read i'd say next week. If you don't like minor spelling and grammar mistakes don't read this chapter for two weeks.I was going to wait but I couldn't! I loved this chapter, and the funny thing is, it came so easily.
I picked the lyrics for this chapter, because if you look closely, Harry feels very much on the sidelines. Plus, death and heaven is addressed here.
Disclaimer: The characters belong to JKR. The Lyrics also don't belong to me, they belong to Bright Eyes.
And from the sidelines
I see you run
until you're out of breath.
And all those white lines that sped us up
we hurry to our death
well I lagged behind
so you got ahead
Bright Eyes - Gold Mine Gutted
Harry wouldn't admit it, but he still wanted things he couldn't have. Childish things he should have let go of, ages ago.
On occasion he'd find himself watching Ginny and Ron; Jealousy coursing through him. Then he'd look away ashamed. They would always have each other. They'd always have parent's who'd go out of there way to make sure their children knew they cared. Harry would have given anything for that. He'd give his small fortune in Gringotts to Umbridge. Or walk across a desert of hot coals, knowing his Mom and Dad were on the other side.
Sometimes he'd dream about it. About his parents. His Mom's face would turn into his Dad's; who in turn would turn into Sirius, with his shaggy black hair. There would be scents that were familiar but he couldn't quite place. And Sirius's warm embrace. He'd wake up sweaty and hungry.
Over the summer he'd have the dream nightly. Now he had them weekly. It only increased the sense of guilt. He was worried he might be forgetting Sirius, too quickly.
He blinked into the darkness. Harry thought his stomach must have woken him up.
He kept a stash of food, in a box under his four posters for such occasions. He rolled out of the warm bed, and got onto his hands and knees. He pulled the box out of the folds of darkness the mattress created. Harry sat on the floor beside the bed, and opened the container. The loaf of bread and packages of Cauldron Cakes sat waiting for him.
He ate slice after slice of wheat bread. He squashed each piece of bread into a ball. Harry liked the feeling of denseness that the tightly squashed spheres created in his stomach. Then he ate as many Cauldron Cakes as he could cram into his mouth.
He didn't stop until it felt like the seams of his stomach were ripping. Still, as he laid himself in a ball on the floor. An empty ache, near his stomach gave a painful growl. Harry knew it was the space that was once filled by Sirius, and his parent's before him. The food only made it feel full for so long.
A stitch in his belly popped open. Chunks of bread and cakes made its way up his esophagus, and through his mouth. He watched as the food fell onto the wooden floor of the dormitory, in reverse order of the way they went down.
When his stomach was empty, he looked at the food on the floor in morbid fascination. His eyes were slightly out of focus. The brown of the bread mixed with the darkness of the cakes. A blend of emotion.
As he aimed a few cleaning spells at the floor, he made a mental note not to eat so much next time.
Draco loved the rain. It was something that kept him up, and soothed him. When he drew open the blinds Friday morning, he was thrilled to see jets of water falling down from the sky.
He hurriedly pulled on his robes, and brushed his hair and teeth. Without bothering to shower, he walked up the stairs to the Entrance Hall and past the Great Hall. Happy voices of eating students wafted out through the open doors, of the Hall. This was worth skipping breakfast for.
He threw open the double oak doors, and ran out into the courtyard. The air had a rich scent. Grass and Dew. A smell that reminded him of mornings at the manor, when he'd sit on the balcony after the night's shower had stopped. It had the same odor.
He remembered made up stories his mother used to tell him before bed. It always had happy endings. Draco didn't believe in happy endings anymore, he didn't believe in endings either. How did he know when one story stopped and another began? That was it, he wouldn't know the ending until he was dead, and that'd be to late. It made his head spin.
The stories his mother would tell him, always took place in a far away land. She'd usually only tell them during a thunderstorm, when he was scared. She wouldn't bother on a normal evening. He didn't remember the tales, but he remembered a phrase she would always use. When it rains, angels are crying. When it thunders God is angry.
He'd ask her about God, but she'd always say: "The Dark Lord is the only God we know," Her cheeks would flush, and something behind her Gray eyes would tell Draco, that she had let something slip. Something else told him that she didn't used to believe The Dark Lord was the only God.
He shook his head. That was then, this was now. Now, was a totally different situation.
The grass soaked the ends of his robes, and boots. The rain, still falling, fell from the tips of his hair. It was cool out, but not cold enough for him to catch a chill.
The lake was being pelted with rain. Water collided with water. He could hear it from upon the hill. Draco took the worn dirt path down the slope to the docks. The rocky crust of the lake was slippery from newly formed mud. He climbed onto the wooden dock, which was rocking gently with the waves, and laid down.
Draco looked up at the sky, it was a dark gray that he knew matched. He watched clear drops fall. If he looked closely the rain seemed like daggers falling from a sheet of gray velvet. He paid attention to the rhythm of the water as it pounded his body. It hurt when the rain came in contact with exposed skin. Like knives almost.
Harry was sitting in the Great Hall. The day before had been used to throw off his hang over. He now knew why you had to be eighteen in Britain to drink. The sky was gray once more, and it brought with it a sense of sadness. The thunder-gray sky pressed down on him like a woolen blanket, until he wanted to crawl out of himself.
He stared down at the paper's Hermione had deposited in front of him.
"The work you missed," she told him briskly, before sitting down and pouring herself Orange Juice.
He stared at the pile glumly. Hermione kept glancing at him. He knew that she was calculating him. Her eyes boring into his head, as though attempting legimency. It angered him for some reason.
Through the open double doors Harry saw a blond figure rushing though the Entrance Hall to the main door for the school grounds, then opening it and disappearing outside. Harry recognized that figure. It was Malfoy. He stood up before he knew what he was doing. He mumbled something about forgetting his bag upstairs before leaving.
"But Harry, your bag is right here!" Ron yelled to his friends retreating back. Hermione pulled at Ron to force him to sit down. She casting Harry a worried look. He didn't care. Harry had to get out of there.
He walked through the Entrance Hall, his footstep echoing around the marble room. He pushed the doors that stood infront of him open. A wall of cold wind and rain pelted his face. He stepped into the storm.
From the top of the steps, Harry saw Malfoy walk down the grassy slope. His hair falling back, away from his face.
He moved down a few steps, but kept his eyes on the other boy. Malfoy had reached the docks, and was climbing on them and lying down. He looked foolish lying there in the rain, but so much like a veela Harry found it overwhelming.
His legs moved forward on their own accord. The rain was somewhat uncomfortable, but not nearly as bad as Hermione's searching looks. He reached the knoll that led to the lakes shore. Harry walked down it, trying to be as quiet as he could. He didn't want Malfoy to know he was approaching, he wasn't sure why though.
When he reached the head of the dock, he stopped. The Slytherin's eyes were closed against the brutal down pour. His face scrunched up, deep in thought. Harry found himself wondering what Malfoy was thinking. He took a step closer, and a twig broke under his foot. Malfoy's head shot up.
"What are you doing?" He demanded.
Harry didn't say anything for a few moments.
"Nothing," he admitted lamely.
"Can you go do 'nothing' someplace else? I'm busy," The other boy replied curtly. Malfoy lay back down, and stared up at the sky. Harry thought that he might drown in gray. The gray of Malfoy's eyes matched the gray of the sky. They seemed to run together like watercolors and turn the whole world gray.
"Why are you out here in the rain?" Harry asked, the words falling from his lips before he could stop them.
"Why are you still here," The blond snapped.
"Just curious," Harry murmured.
"Well if you must know, I like the rain." Malfoy said curtly.
"I think it's depressing." Harry replied. He found it quite easy to speak to the Slytherin, even if they were out in the rain drenched from head to foot.
"That's what makes you a bad potion maker, Potter. You don't enjoy subtlety," Malfoy turned to look at him.
Harry thought about it for a moment.
"I never thought of the rain as 'subtle'. I always saw it as pounding on your window and demanding your attention," Harry muttered.
"Mmm. Well maybe it does a little, that's part of its beauty. Now go away Potter," The other boy growled.
"Never one with subtlety either, were you?" Harry laughed at the hypocrisy of Malfoy's reply.
The Slytherin turned to look at Harry. He sat up, his robes drenched with rainwater. It had pooled in crevices of his robes, and poured down his front, at the abrupt movement. He seemed somehow beautiful. Beautiful? Malfoy? Now Harry knew he was going slightly mad.
Harry climbed onto the dock. He walked to the edge and sat down.
"I tell him to get lost and he makes himself comfortable," Malfoy snarled scathingly.
Harry ignored the blond. He busied himself, watching the Giant Squid moving around just below the surface of the water.
"If I tell him to 'stay here', will he walk off a cliff? Lets see. 'Stay here'."
"Shut up," Harry growled with annoyance.
"Go away," Draco interjected.
The two boys fell into an uncomfortable silence. The only sounds were the pounding of the rain, and the sound of the dock rocking with the waves.
"I don't remember if you told me about the mirror. Did you curse it?"
Malfoy gave an ironic laugh. He hit himself in the head with the back of his hand.
"Oh yes! The mirror! That's why you're bothering me! Well, no Potter, I did not curse the bloody mirror."
His stomach plummeted to somewhere near his feet.
"Then why is it lying?"
"Who knows! It's one of life's better mysteries! Like, If cocaine were legal, would they sell it in little packages like Sweet N' Low? Would they call it Sweet N' High?" Malfoy said coolly, looking at Harry.
"What does that have to do with anything?" Harry asked.
"Just something to think about. A mystery. Just like the Bloody Mirror. Or After heat killed bad germs, where do they go? Obviously not in heaven, since they've been bad. Surely then can't go to hell, for the heat would kill them again?" Malfoy replied.
The dark haired boy laughed.
"They'd go to heaven. Just because they are bad for us doesn't mean they are bad in general," Harry mused out loud.
"Do you believe in heaven, Potter?" Malfoy asked abruptly.
"I like to think there is. I'd like to see the people I miss again someday... Do you, Malfoy?"
"I don't know. It's illogical. But... I might," Malfoy concluded.
"Have you ever been to the Department of Mysteries?" Harry asked.
"No! Of course not! Only Unspeakable can go in there," Malfoy snarled.
"I have. There's a room in there, one about death. There's an archway with a veil. If you pass through it you die instantly. If you stand really still, you can hear people talking on the other side. I think that's where we go when we die," Harry replied, feeling slightly shocked that the mention of that room didn't hurt him.
Malfoy just stared. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.
"You mean to tell me, when we die, we will go through a veil?" He inquired.
"Yes," Harry said.
Silence settled around them, thick as a forest. It wasn't an awkward silence, but a comfortable one. An understanding linked to the two boys. An understanding of life and death, and possibly of something quite like friendship.
To Be Continued...