A/N: Hooray for sexual tension and dialogue fueled by such! Man, Harry's such a dumbass, I love him. I don't think the existence of a Quidditch co-captain is strictly canon, but deal with it. Gold Digger is an excellent song. My author notes don't make much sense.

Chapter 3

Harry spent the next few days keeping his eye on Malfoy, who wasn't speaking to Blaise—Harry supposed that Malfoy, Dumbledore's biggest critic, wasn't too pleased about what the other boy had done.

Watching Malfoy, he appreciated for the first time that ancestry really did show in pureblood wizards. Malfoy just looked proud and pure. He had a strange ethereal appearance which Harry supposed came from the ancient wizarding roots of the Malfoy family. Malfoy was virtually flawless, but for the slightly sickly tinge he'd taken on recently, and the ghost of a sneer always playing around his slim mouth. It was fascinating. Harry found himself staring more and more as the days wore on since his meeting with Dumbledore.

On a fine Saturday almost a week later, Harry and Ron were walking through the entrance hall to the Quidditch Pitch. Tryouts for the Gryffindor team were that morning, and Harry had once again been named captain. He and Ron were just discussing who was likely to show up at the trial when Snape entered the hall from the door to the dungeons.

"Potter," he said coolly. "Come with me."

"Now, Professor?" Harry asked in alarm, glancing towards the front doors. "I've got Quidditch trials—"

"I believe Mr. Weasley is co-captain?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"Then he can oversee the trials. The Headmaster wishes to speak with you. Now."

Harry looked at Ron, who raised an eyebrow curiously. Harry had been on the point of telling Ron and Hermione about his talk with Dumbledore, but something had held him back. He almost felt that it was a personal issue, and that even he was slightly violating Malfoy's privacy by knowing. He looked back at Snape hesitantly. Snape tapped his foot, looking strained and irritable. Harry shrugged at Ron.

"Sorry, mate. You can handle the try outs, can't you? I'll come down when I'm done."

"Whatever," said Ron, now looking between Snape and Harry with interest. "Er…what's—"

"Thank you ever so much, Mr. Weasley," growled Snape, and, seizing Harry's upper arm, marched him away. Ron stared after them for a moment, then shrugged resignedly and headed outside.

"Professor, is this about Mal—"

"Yes," hissed Snape, cutting him off, "and I'd thank you to remember the sensitive nature of what you are discussing. Draco is waiting in the Headmaster's office now."

"Does he…er, has Professor Dumbledore told him yet?"

"I presume he is doing so now. Ah."

They had reached Dumbledore's stone gargoyle. Snape gave the password and this time accompanied Harry up the spiraling stair. They knocked and entered.

Draco was sitting stiffly in a chair across from Dumbledore's desk. Draco leapt to his feet when Snape entered.

"I want to see my father."

"Draco," said Dumbledore, "please, at this time it is unwise to do—"

"I don't care, I—Potter." He had just noticed Harry standing beside Snape. Harry flushed as Malfoy glared. What was wrong with him?

"Malfoy," he responded softly.

"Draco, please, sit. Harry is here at my request. As I have explained, he plays an extremely important role in this unfortunate situation."

"Unfortunate? Unfortunate?" spat Malfoy. "Professor Snape, I—"

"Sit down, Draco," said Snape quietly.

Draco looked for a moment as though he was going to scream. But suddenly, all the color drained from his face and he sat, shaking, his head in his hands.

Harry couldn't contain himself. "Professor Dumbledore—is—isn't there anything we could—"

"Oh, and as if you care, Potter," snarled Draco, looking up with venom in his eyes. "It'll be up to you to kill me in the end, won't it? It's your job to destroy people—things like me." He was breathing hard.

"Malfoy, I never—I don't—I don't want to have to kill you. I don't want—even you—"

Draco let out a harsh laugh and looked away. Harry suddenly felt very aware of himself and the room. What am I doing? he thought in a panic. My only role in this is that I have to kill Malfoy, I have to destroy all the Horcruxes, and Malfoy's one of them and he has to die.

"Professor Dumbledore—I don't—"

Dumbledore silenced him, holding up his hand. "Draco."

Draco did not look up. Dumbledore continued.

"Draco, there may be ways to extract it that would eliminate the need to, ah, the need for Harry to destroy you, as you say."

Draco looked up, perhaps shocked by Dumbledore's blatant manner about such a grim subject. It took him a moment to gather his thoughts, it seemed, and then:

"So why did Potter even have to come up here, then?" he asked, trying to make the question sound inconsequential, but the look in his eyes gave him away. They were full of a fierce combination of anger and…was it possible? Harry wondered, as he registered fear in the slightly bloodshot silver.

"I'm sorry," Harry said without thinking. Draco closed his eyes and pressed his hands to his face, breathing deeply.

"What are you apologizing for, Potter?"

"For…for being here…for what I—"

"For what you have to do? I'm sorry, Potter, but I find it hard to accept that apology."

"Look, Malfoy," Harry began, getting angry. How could Malfoy think for a second that Harry wasn't sorry and scared for what his—their—futures might hold? But Dumbledore cut him off.

"Harry, Draco, please. I realize now that this joint meeting was a mistake. Obviously in the present situation it will be difficult to ask an immediate understanding between the two of you. But I do unfortunately have to ask that you cooperate with Professor Snape and I and do not argue or ask unnecessary questions or make unreasonable requests."

Draco looked the way Harry felt, furious and terrified at the same time. Dumbledore sighed.

"Professor Snape, perhaps it is best if you escort Harry and Draco back downstairs. Boys—I'm sorry for having done this to you. It was foolish. But I'm afraid we're not done yet. I will speak to both of you at a later date. Thank you."

Snape nodded and beckoned to the two boys. They followed him out without a word, not looking at each other.

Snape left them in the entrance hall with a cautioning glare. Draco stood there, now slightly in shock. Harry's mind felt oddly blank. He remembered vaguely that he was supposed to be at Quidditch trials and began to wander towards the front doors.

"Where are you going, Potter?"

"I've got Quidditch trials. I'm captain."

"Oh." Draco looked around, sighed, then turned to follow Harry. "I'm coming. Nothing better to do."

"OK."

They seemed to have reached some sort of unspoken agreement not to discuss what had just happened. Harry shot Draco a furtive look as they walked toward the pitch. He looked strangely at peace, as though something had finally happened that he'd been waiting for for a long time.

"How…er, Malfoy."

"Yeah."

"How does it, er, feel?"

Draco sighed.

"It's a sort of weight, you know? Like when you're nervous or you've just been let down…that kind of thing. But…different. It's….it's…not very nice." His face crumpled and he turned away, looking angry. Harry was immediately sorry he asked.

"S'okay," he said quietly.

Draco sighed and composed himself. "Yeah. But I guess it's good to finally know what it is." He stared at his shoes, looking like he wished he were anywhere else. Harry realized that he had just had his first-ever civil conversation with Malfoy. He looked down, too.

The stands were empty. The trials must have ended already. Harry hesitated, half-formed ideas floating vaguely around his mind.

"…Sit with me," he said to Draco suddenly.

"What?"

"Sit."

"Hey?"

"I just wanted to…" But he didn't finish the sentence, because he wasn't quite sure where he was going with it.

"What are you on about, Potter?"

Harry suddenly realized what he was doing and kept his mouth tight shut.

Draco sat. "So...what did you want again?"

Harry fidgeted with a hole in his robes.

"I just wanted…to talk."

"Well." Draco blinked. Harry flushed. Draco appeared to be thinking hard for a second, then suddenly turned to face Harry, frowning.

"What?" he asked again.

"I'm not quite sure."

"Oh."

Harry felt extraordinarily stupid. What the fuck had he brought Malfoy to sit with him for? What was he planning on talking about? What was he planning on doing?

"I'm…er, gonna go," said Draco cautiously, as though Harry might spring at him.

"Yeah," said Harry hoarsely.

Draco stood and walked away. And for all the strangeness and comedy of the preceding situation, he didn't look any more lighthearted.

Harry didn't know quite what had just happened.

Harry's journal

Malfoy's a horcrux…and what the fuck am I doing.

I pick the worst times to have life-changing realizations.

Like the fact that Malfoy's really, really good-looking.

Shit.

Draco's journal

I have no idea what went on today.

I've got a bit of the Dark Lord's soul inside me and my father let it happen.

Blaise and I aren't speaking.

And was Potter coming on to me?

Shit.

A/N: Haha, Microsoft Word thinks "Draco" is "Dario" or "Darcy." Hey, that's Colin Firth. Dumb dumb dumb. Oh man, could that conversation up there have been any more ridiculous. I couldn't end it, it was too awkward to pass up. This needs to make up its mind between angsty and fluffy, though. It'll probably settle on angsty in the end. Sigh.