A/N: I wasn't going to write any more for this ficlet since I got flamed by obi Kenobi for it being 'copied right out of the book' (when I clearly warned that it was my take on it, meaning it was my thoughts of what could've happened flowing along with canon), but then I got three awesome reviews, one of them by the incredible CompleteGeek who I am a total fan of, and I decided to write another short bit. This is dedicated with much love to CompleteGeek, ATadObsessive46, and ReadorDie214.

Chapter two: Behind the mask, into the soul

Harry played with his quill idly, trying to erase last night from his mind, but everything he saw reminded him of it. He'd barely slept, since every time he closed his eyes all he could see was Malfoy drenched in his own blood, lying on the floor looking terrified and surprised at the same time. Snape had returned, but that hadn't been half as bad as he wished it'd been. Guilt was washing over him, and he wanted desperately to see Draco and atone for his sin.

Draco. Funny how he'd never called the other boy that until last night. In a moment of desperation, of horror, all he'd thought about was that. His name. He wasn't Malfoy the Slytherin Prince. He was Draco, a boy who was the same age as him. A boy who was confused, terrified, and proud. And since his brief glimpse into Draco's actual humanity, he couldn't reconcile that image with the image that he'd formed in his mind over the last five years.

He'd convinced himself that he hated that boy. He'd acted like that boy was his rival. But he didn't, and he wasn't. His true rival was Voldemort, and he couldn't hate Draco. He'd tried. God, he'd tried. He was a prat, a git, an idiot, but he couldn't hate him. And last night, he'd seen why. Because regardless of all that had happened between them, somehow Harry had always known Draco was just that. Draco. Human.

He threw his quill to the floor, running his hands through his hair in exasperation. Hermione looked up from her book, and leaned forward, speaking quietly. "If you want to see him, just go."

Ron looked at Hermione as if she were crazy, summoning the quill back to the table. "Come on, Hermione. Why would he want to go see Malfoy?"

"Draco," Harry corrected automatically, and Ron's expression transformed. Hermione was the one to speak, however.

"He's not going to be able to put it behind him if he doesn't apologize and make sure he's alright. So he should just go and get it over with."

"But why?" Ron asked in horror.

"I don't understand it any more than you do, Ron, and I don't think Harry does either. But I do know that much is true."

Harry nodded absently, staring at his parchment. One word stared back at him, its black ink contrasting starkly with its surroundings. His eyes were glued on it, gazing until his eyes watered and he couldn't read it anymore. He tore off that bit of parchment, folded it neatly, and dropped it in his pocket, next to his wand. Rising slowly, he left the common room, ignoring Ron's protests and Hermione's half-hearted attempts to calm him down.

The way to the Hospital Wing went by slowly, his mind lingering on everything he'd already thought about. What happened, what could've happened, what didn't happen. He arrived later than he'd thought, but sooner than he'd wished, so he just stood outside, staring at the door, wondering whether he should open it or not. He was about to turn around and leave when Madam Pomfrey opened the door.

"Hello, Mr. Potter," she greeted Harry, eyeing him warily. "What'd you do now?"

"Nothing, ma'am. I'm quite alright. I was just wondering how Draco Malfoy was doing."

Her demeanor changed immediately. "A visitor for Mr. Malfoy, how lovely! I'd been hoping someone would come see him for hours! Dreadful, really what happened to him," she commented, ushering Harry in. "Alas, it was done, but he is much better now. Run along, he's in right over there."

Harry went in the direction she'd pointed in, and froze as the bed came in sight. Draco lay there, looking paler than ever, his previously unblemished skin marked with a web of pinkish streaks that had the look of newly healed skin. Cool gray eyes settled on him. "Have you come to finish what you've started?" he drawled in an emotionless tone.

Harry shook his head. "Not at all, I…"

"Then you're here to feel better about yourself. What do you want me to tell you? What'll heal your conscience and help you sleep at night?" he asked sardonically.

Harry sat on the chair by the bed, swallowing hard. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm here because I couldn't live with myself if I didn't find out what I actually did to you." Triumph shone briefly in Draco's eyes before he resumed his wary expression. "But there's another reason for me to be here… I wanted to make sure you were okay. Not because I did this to you, but because it was done to you." The words were out before Harry could stop himself, and Draco stared back at him blankly.

"What are you playing at, Potter?"

"Nothing. That's my point; I tried to help you yesterday and look how it ended..."

Draco interrupted him again. "Then stop trying to help me."

Harry's voice was strained as he spoke. "That's just it. I can't. I wish I could, but I can't."

"If you want to do it, then you can do it," he replied in exasperation.

"You just sounded like you were giving me a pep talk," Harry commented, trying to pull himself together.

"Well, I'm not," Draco snapped. "If you came here to see how I was, then you've seen I'm fine. Now leave, why don't you, and get the hell out of my life."

Harry shook his head, feeling inexplicably bold. "It's not that easy."

Draco chuckled darkly. "You'd be shocked at how easy it is to walk out on someone."

"Would you know?" Harry asked, and Draco smiled humorlessly.

"Yes, as a matter of fact I would, Potter. You should know as well; you're one of those who've walked out on me. Unlike others, you didn't even give me a chance."

Harry was shocked that Draco even remembered, but what really got to him was the sincerity that, for the first time, he'd heard in Draco's voice. Impulsively, he pulled Draco's arm to him, lifting the sleeve to inspect his forearm. Upon finding it bare, and realizing that Draco had made no effort to retrieve his arm, he looked up again. "You're right," he said, releasing Draco's arm and he leaned back again. "It seems I was wrong with my assessment of you as well. You may be a proud bastard, and your pride was one of the reasons you ended up in here, but you're no Death Eater."

"I will be," Draco replied harshly, ashamed of himself for showing emotion before, and for feeling something when Potter had touched him with such a delicacy that it had almost bordered on tenderness. "After I do what I'm supposed to do, I'll have that honor."

Harry scoffed in a very Slytherin manner. "Honor? Please. Not even you believe that crap. It is not belief or honor that compels you to join them; it is cowardice and fear."

"You've no idea what you're talking about," was the heated reply, as gray eyes narrowed.

"Don't I? Let me see… if you don't join him, you'll either die outright or be tortured and die. Your family will be disgraced in Voldemort's eyes, and they'll quite probably follow your path into death. And if Voldemort let you live… the Slytherins would hate you, your father would disown you, and you would have no one by you side."

"Be quiet," Draco whispered weakly, averting his gaze, and Harry could see that he was trembling slightly.

"Why should I? Because you don't like hearing the truth? Because you can't conceive that someone actually cares? Well guess what, Draco. I care, and you'd better start listening and doing things right."

He turned back to Harry, shocked that he'd dare call him by his name, and was struck by the raw honesty in his eyes and words. "Why would you care?" he asked quietly, cursing inwardly as he realized he'd spoken aloud.

Harry shrugged, but his voice was anguished as he spoke. "Because I do. I can't explain it, but I do, and I think I always have."

"You're my enemy," Draco replied tonelessly. "You can't care about me. I can't let you."

Harry leaned forward, locking his green gaze into Draco's gray one. "Why? I'm not really your enemy, Draco. Are you afraid that you'll care about me, too?"

Draco froze, breathing shallowly, and the word was out before he could stop himself. "Yes."

"That's what I thought. And don't be… there's still a chance that you and I'll get along someday," Harry replied, unsure of what he should've answered.

He didn't think about his reply this time. He'd already screwed up, things had gone straight to hell, his mask was down, and he might as well be honest. "Maybe we already get along. Maybe we're pretending because we think we should."

Harry nodded, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. "Maybe you're right."

His walls and masks forgotten, Draco looked at Harry with the same unidentifiable expression as before. "So, what do we do now? Pretend in public and speak in secret?"

Harry shrugged again. "I really don't know. That seems like the logical choice, but…"

"But now that we know we're not imagining this, pretending isn't going to be quite as easy," Draco finished for him.

"What is this, anyway?"

"I don't know, but I wish it'd go away," was the bitter reply.

"Sometimes I wish that, too. But sometimes, only sometimes, I'm glad it's here." Draco frowned, and Harry explained himself. "It's real, and it's strong, and, even if I don't know what the hell it is, I know that I'd rather have it than be without."

"Why are you always right?" Draco asked in exasperation.

"Beats me. Why are you always wrong?"

"Because you mock me," he replied in annoyance, but Harry could see a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"You're easy to mock," Harry replied simply. He'd gotten up to leave, not wanting to say anything that'd ruin the ease between them, when an impulse struck him and he squeezed Draco's hand in farewell. Through his shock, Draco squeezed back, and they smiled at each other in unspoken agreement before Harry departed.

A/N: This has taken a completely new direction, and I, for one, am loving it. I'm thinking of adding another chapter, sort of an epilogue, to tell of what happens in public after this little heart-to-heart. If anyone's interested, please let me know.