A/N: Woo-hoo! Chapter 3! I'm excited.
Let me start by thanking all those wonderful people who reviewed... I really appreciate it– it gave me warm fuzzy feelings inside. :) And (perhaps most important for you as a reader), they inspire me when I'm feeling down, and make me feel like writing again. Truly, Thank You All.
Also (as I have forgotten to mention until now), any and all content from the sixth canon is being ignored. Kind of an important thing to forget, I know. Sorry.
One reviewer gave me a friendly warning about keeping track of the big picture, and I highly value that bit of advice... I've read so many fics where the characters' thoughts, feelings, and even actions are ignored, and the only thing there is, is the big picture, that I might be overcompensating for what I don't want my story to be like. That being said, I'll try not to get so caught up with the characters' thoughts to the point that it actually takes away from the story.
One last thing: Although I wasn't planning on mentioning any specific reviewer, I can't help but give a shout out to one Roslyn Drycof. I think you are a fabulous writer (I love your story "We All Die Anyway") and so I was honored when I saw that you had reviewed this humble fic of mine. Thank you so very much.
That's enough of me now. Enjoy!
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Somebody Save Me
CHAPTER 3
Four weeks and 2 days into the summer holidays, Malfoy Manner
Keeping his face blank and willing himself to remain patient, Draco continued to observe Harry as he pondered over a proper response to the question that still hung in the air. Of course the ebony-haired boy would be wary and disbelieving– five years of rivalry, suspicion and spiteful words couldn't be erased overnight, and Draco didn't know how he could have thought otherwise... but he still couldn't help feeling slightly squashed by the fact that Harry didn't trust him, no matter how illogical that feeling was.
Harry was looking at him in a confusedly uncertain, expecting way that made him look like he was not sure if he wanted the answer. The look in his eyes seemed... startled and confused, but also tired and resigned, Draco thought... as if the rug that was his life had been repeatedly pulled out from under his feet, and each time he was left staring at a strange, new ceiling, left with no other option than to stand up, only to be blind-sided as, once again, the rug was swept away.
"But why? I mean... I though you hated me... why would you bother...?"
But what was he, Draco, supposed to say to that? What could he possibly say that would show his true intentions, that would convince Harry that he wasn't going to curse him when his back was turned? Hell, Draco himself didn't even know what his intentions were; he hadn't really planned past keeping Harry alive.
'Well, the truth is, Harry– do you mind if I call you Harry?– I've fancied you for quite a while now, I've always been disgusted at the idea of joining the Dark Lord, and I'm actually quite glad that you've gotten my Father put in jail. Oh, and all those hateful, nasty, horrible things that I've done and said to you and your friends for the past five years? That was all just an act. No hard feelings, right?' Harry would then forgive him and they would promptly fly off together into the sunset, and Voldemort would just sort of... not be around anymore.
Oh yeah. He could sooo see that happening.
Draco allowed himself a small sigh as he let his eyes wander aimlessly around the room– looking everywhere and anywhere except for at Harry, as if the furniture would tell him the answer he needed.
His room was simply but elegantly furnished, all the pieces froming a matching set, made from the darkest wood that was black at first glance. Any and all fabric was of some darker shade of Slytherin green, as were the walls and carpet, with trimmings in silver. His bed was on the wall to the left of the doors (one led in from the hall, the other led to his bathroom), and his bedroom was on a corner of the manor, allowing floor-length, curtained windows along the same wall as the bed, as well as the wall opposite the doors. Finding that neither of the bedside tables (there was one on either side of the bed) had anything to say, his gaze traveled around to the wardrobe (enchanted to reveal a roomy walk-in closet when opened) and desk on the windowed wall opposite the doors. They didn't have the answer either.
His last resorts were the book shelves along the un-windowed wall, which were stacked from floor to ceiling with books. Though for all the knowledge they held, they weren't helping Draco at all with their silence.
Finally returning his thoughts to the real world (where they ought to be), Draco realized that he'd been silent for an apparently long time, seeing as how Harry's gaze had dropped down to the comforter spread out over him, which he was worrying with his hands; the dark-haired boy fidgeted restlessly from what (for him) must have been a long and awkward silence.
"It's... complicated..." Draco stated hesitantly, temporarily relieving his guest of the silence, but not himself of the question. Harry's head jerked up in surprise at the reply, however, as he had apparently forgotten that he had asked a question in the first place.
"Er..."
"Look," Draco interrupted, "there's nothing that I could say that would adequately explain my previous actions or words, or allow you the piece of mind that I know you're lacking right now, but I will tell you this: Malfoy's are not in the habit of killing off people that they find lying unconscious on the front lawn... at least not without giving them a chance to explain themselves first." The young Slytherin raised one questioning eyebrow.
"So, if you would be so kind as to explain your presence in the gardens this morning?" Harry adopted a look of mild sheepishness at Draco's query.
"Er... yeah... sorry about that..." Harry started awkwardly. He seemed to suddenly realize something as he looked up and said (with slightly narrowed eyes), "Where's my broom and cloak?"
'Never one for subtlety, were you, Potter?' Draco thought as he failed to keep his eyes from momentarily glancing towards the heavens. "If you'd care to be observant for just a moment, Potter, you'd see that your possessions are leaning safely against the wall behind you. And don't change the subject."
After turning to see that his broom was indeed still in one piece with his invisibility cloak folded neatly on the floor next to it, Harry turned back to facing Draco and fidgeted restlessly as he resumed an uncomfortable expression. "Right, well..."
Growing impatient, Draco cut him off by saying, "Let's start with how you got those injuries–" He ignored the I-don't-want-to-talk-about-this-especially-not-with-you look that Harry shot him, "–obviously, some of the broken bones where from the fall (I'm assuming you fell off your broom; feel free to correct me if I'm wrong), but some of those bruises where a lot older and the cut on the back of your head–"
"Why do you care anyway!" Harry interrupted him in a panicked and angry voice. The young Grffyndor was looking slightly shaken, and Draco could see unbidden emotions shining in those bright emerald eyes... fear, anger... shame, and... guilt?
Startled by Harry's sudden outburst, Draco let a bit of annoyance color his own features and voice as he shot back, "Don't flatter yourself, Potter. I simply feel that you owe me an explanation as to why you were lying unconscious, bleeding to death, on my front lawn!"
"I don't owe you anything, Malfoy!" Harry yelled angrily as he leapt out of the bed, looking as if his intention was to grab his stuff and make a mad dash for the door... which, indeed, it was.
Draco leapt up with equal fervor from the armchair he'd previously inhabited and stood imposingly in Harry's path (though it wasn't all that impressive considering that they were the same height). His fists were clenched at his sides; he wasn't completely sure why he was so angry, but he had a feeling it had something to do with Harry's stubbornness. Why did the Gryffindor have to be so difficult? Was it really too much to ask for a simple reason why and how? Why did almost everything Harry say and do (and please pardon the cliche) make his blood boil?
'You're the son of a Death Eater, remember?' Draco admonished himself. But what could Harry tell him that would be considered valuable information to the Dark Lord?
Why did he feel like he would drown in the fire of those verdant emerald eyes? Why did he want to?
"You owe me and explanation." Draco persisted with equal adamancy, leveling the boy in front of him with a determined glare as he shoved the latter of the questions to the back of his mind. "And you're not leaving until you do."
:–:–:–:–:–:–:–:–:–:–:–:
Harry knew that his sudden temper change was mostly uncalled for. He could see that Draco was really only angry because he, Harry, was angry, and that the Malfoy heir really did have a right to know why he had been, in a sense, trespassing on private property. He also knew himself well enough to know that the anger was just an emotional mask; he really felt indignation at having to tell things to a Slytherin that he hadn't even told his best friends; embarrassment of the abuse he couldn't protect himself from and the knowledge that he had persistent feelings that he had deserved it; he felt shame at the emotions and thoughts that had overwhelmed him when he'd been isolated at the Dursley's; overall, he was horrified of someone, anyone, finding out his weaknesses, and just how close he had been to giving up the night he had escaped.
"Who in hell gave you the right to say what I can and cannot do!" Harry exclaimed furiously.
All of this, however, did not prevent him from lashing out with anger, resulting in an irritated host/captor.
Draco simply crossed his arms, standing his ground and remaining silent, despite the glint in his silver eyes that betrayed an urge to hex Harry until he started being more agreeable. Harry's body had taken a different meaning from those smoldering eyes, however, as he felt his stomach do a sudden somersault as a strange jolt rang through his body.
Said bespeckled boy growled at the being blocking his path while his inner demons alternately beat him over the head for being so emotional and blockheaded, and screamed at him to run away and never look back. They (his inner demons, that is) then stopped, did a double take, and reminded him that he had his wand in his pocket (Harry wondered if he really needed it though), while Draco did not. Then Harry did a mental double take and wondered how long he'd been calling Malfoy, Draco, even if just in his mind.
;-;(Author proceeds to go and check for herself and discovers that it has been that way since last chapter. Heh, heh.);-;
His confused musings were cut of, however, when he was suddenly overcome with a wave of dizziness. His head swam as his vision was clouded with splotches of darkness, and he opted to collapse sideways onto the bed rather than fall down all together. Biting his lip to suppress a pained groan, Harry squeezed his eyes against the sudden hunger and weakness he felt. Once the light headed-ness had subsided, he opened his eyes cautiously and blinked as he felt a strange feeling of deja vu; It was slightly different this time, though, seeing as how there were three potions being held out to him instead of one, each a different color.
"The nourishment, hydration, and blood restorative potions I mentioned earlier."
Draco's angry demeanor had faded, and was replaced with a (slightly weary) detached coolness once again.
"Thanks..." Harry said, previous anger forgotten in the wake of pain.
Draco nodded as Harry downed them all (Harry was again surprisedby the flavors-- apple, watermelon, and strawberry this time), and then said, "You don't have to tell me anything. It doesn't matter..." He mumbled the last bit, paused, and then continued, "If you're really in such a hurry to leave, tell me where you're going and I'll arrange for transportation–"
At this Harry started to protest, but was interupted, "Stuff it, Potter. You'd just fall off your broom again if you tried flying in the state you're in."
Harry looked away and began worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. He couldn't deny that he had been in a hurry to leave, but that didn't mean that he had any idea where to go. Harry heaved a mental sigh. 'Did I have to be such a complete prat?' he wondered to himself. What had he had to lose from just telling Draco a few things? Would it really have mattered? No, it wouldn't have... especially after the things he had felt in the cupboard... he had been so ready to give up, why should telling a few of his secrets matter so much now?
Harry suddenly realized that though he could recall those emotions, he wasn't actually feeling them. Being around Draco had somehow given him back his spark, making it so that Harry didn't feel like just living was a burden anymore... this was something that he hadn't had since... 'Since before Sirius died' hethough with a pangof grief.And, faced now with the prospect of leaving, Harry found that he didn't really want to go. To leave now would be to forsake the life that he had justgotten back– everything may have been rather surreal (he was still shocked my Malfoy Jr.'s civility), but Harry felt that if he had to go back out into the real world now, he'd lose that spark again, crack to a point that could not be mended... he could already feel the despair creeping at the edges of his mind.
Finally reaching a sort of decision, Harry assumed a mildly sheepish expression as he finally said, "I haven't got anywhere to go."
Draco crossed his arms, sat back into the armchair, and remained quiet, giving Harry a sort of steely look. It was obvious he wanted some kind of an explanation.
"I was running away from my muggle relatives," Harry explained, "I didn't really plan it out or anything... not exactly in the right state of mind, I guess."
"Why were you running away?"
Harry hesitated... it was harder to say than he'd thought it would be.
"They... had taken a liking to beating me." Harry saw Draco's eyes widen, "After one particularly bad session, they decided to lock me in the cupboard under the stairs–" Draco's expression became slightly horror struck, "–for a few days. No food or water, naturally. I... got desperate and... eventually packed up and took off." He summarized, speaking cautiously, eyes darting to catch a glance at Draco's reaction.
Said blonde floundered for a few moments before he spoke, his expression a forced calm once more, "I take it your relatives don't like you very much?"
Harry suppressed a snort at the understatement and nodded. "They were what you would call the worst kind of muggles– they hated magic, and anything else they deemed abnormal. I was called a freak on many occasions."
"Why did you even live with them then?" Draco sounded appalled, though he didn't allow it to show on his face. "Why didn't you try to get away sooner?"
Harry shrugged. "It wasn't fun living with the Dursleys, but it wasn't the worst thing, either... they didn't start getting really bad until a few weeks ago. Still can't figure out why." He assumed a humorless smile as he said, "Maybe it was their way of making my last summer with them as... memorable, as possible..." It wasn't the whole truth, but it would do for now, Harry thought mildly.
Draco scowled slightly, before his face faded into a look of mild curiosity as he asked, "How did you get out of the cupboard? I'm assuming the muggles didn't lock you in there with your wand."
Harry laughed dryly, "No, they weren't that stupid, unfortunately," He assumed a thoughtful expression and continued, "I'm actually still trying to figure out how exactly I got out... I was delirious, I think, and was wishing that I had my wand... I mumbled alohomora aloud, and it worked, much to my surprise. I mean, I've never heard of wandless magic, but at the time I... just figured..."
Harry trailed off at a loss for words at the strange look that Draco was giving him. "Wandless... magic..." Draco muttered with shock. He continued to stare, seemingly shell shocked, for a few silent moments before he shook himself out of his daze. "...is really rare. Nearly impossible, really. Only the most powerful witches and wizards have ever been known to be able to do it, and even then just simple spells are exhausting." He finished, still staring with a thoughtful gleam in his eyes, though his face was schooled blank (once again... he was starting to wonder why he even bothered).
"Oh," Harry said simply, not sure how he should respond to that. A tiny sarcastic voice in the back of his mind reminded him that he shouldn't have been surprised; he was the famous Harry Potter, after all. The-Boy-Who-Lived, defeater of the Dark Lord Voldemort, et cetera. This was just one more thing to add to the list. Harry mentally growled at the voice and told it to shut up.
An awkward silence ensued, stretching out to fill even the darkest corners of the room. Draco and Harry stared blankly at each other,neither sure what to say, and neither willing to be the first to look away.
Finally, Draco tore his eyes away and opted to look out the window instead, startling Harry with the statement, "Your welcome here for as long as you need."
It was Harry's turn to be surprised. Although this new version of Draco wouldn't have a reason to kick Harry out, he didn't have a reason to let him stay, either. "It... might be a while..." Harry eventually said, "Would it be a problem if I stayed 'til school started again?"
The blonde shook his head, "No." He fell back into to silence after that, his gaze locked on some arbitrary bit of scenery, giving Harry a chance to admire his own view.
Draco's skin was still pale, but not in the sickly way that it often had been before. His almost white-blonde hair was about the same length that it always was, but it was no longer slicked back like usual. Instead, it fell attractively around his face, suiting his features. Oh so familiar silver eyes sparkled in the sunlight that filtered through the window, and Harry's breath caught as that same sunlight made Draco's hair shine brilliantly.
A bit of color rose to Harry's cheeks as he realized he'd been staring, and he swiftly averted his gaze. He didn't quite know what to make of these strange things he'd been feeling, nor did he want to deal with them. So, he did what most people do when they don't want to deal with things– he ignored them.
He was saved from having to think about it anymore when Draco looked like he'd just thought of something, and stood up facing Harry."Can we... start over?" Heasked uncertainlywith a glimmer of something-- hope, Harry thought--in his eyes. Without waiting for an answer, he held out his hand towards Harry and stated cordially, "Draco Malfoy."
Harry stared dumbly for asecond before standing up and facing Draco. For a moment, he wondered if it would really be such a wise idea to associate with a Slytherin, a Malfoy. He shoved those insecurities aside;hadn't healready decided 'to hell with things'? Hadn't he already figured that there wasn't much to lose? Why not trust Draco, just to try something different...
He knew he would break, permanently, if this world shattered; if it really was all just a plot engineered to fool him... but he also knew that if it was indeed genuine, it could be the start of something very interesting indeed.
He hadn't missed the familiarity of the situation, either– with a twist of course. It easily reminded him of their second meeting, back on the train before their first year at Hogwarts... Harry wondered idly just how different things might have been between them if he hadn't rejected Draco's offering of friendship, though he knew he would do it again. Ron had been one of his first friends ever, who then later became one of his best friends ever. He wouldn't have abandoned him for anything.
That particular train of thought reminded Harry of where he was.
Malfoy Manor.
As well as where he wasn't.
The Burrow. Hogwarts.
Who he wasn't with.
Ron. Hermione.
Who hadn't been there for him when he needed it most.
Dumbledore.
And who was.
Malfoy.
Who, suddenly, as if out of a dream, had been there by his side when he woke up to pull him out of the darkness.
Draco.
With those thoughts in mind, he reached out, tentatively at first, and took the offered hand. Feeling suddenly warm with an unexplainable happiness, he couldn't keep a smile from twisting up the corners of his mouth as he replied, "Harry Potter, nice to meet you."
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A/N: Okay, so, I went back and reread through chapters one and two and found a few typos and minor mistakes; they aren't that important, but I do plan to go back one day (most likely when the story's finished) and fix them, just so you know.
Looking back on this chapter, I'm not so sure I did a good job keeping track of the big picture... heh, heh... of course, that could just be because I don't really have a big picture in mind. (Author smiles cheekily). Bad me.
Also, I'd just like to point out that one of my goals for this fic is for the newest chapter to always be longer than the one before it. So... now you have a general idea on the chapter lengths. Be happy.
Lastly, I appreciate all of you who took the time to read this fic, and I hope it entertained you to a satisfactory degree. Please review, I love hearing what you guys think of the story (constructive criticism is always welcome).
'Til chapter 4!
;-;Adrian Winter;-;
