A/N: This chapter was co-written with toxical, because I trust her with Draco and she knows where this fic is going.

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Having just missed breakfast, and feeling rather lazy to go to the kitchen Harry made his way out to the grounds, passing few students as he did so. Like any normal kid, he was glad for it to finally be the weekend, but at the same time, he wanted to be in class, learning something. Just doing something really. He felt like a lump on a log at the moment - not doing anything. And no, homework didn't count as doing something. That counted as murder to the brain.

Not much had changed for the Boy Wonder, clearly. He was still missing breakfast, still not wanting to do his homework, and he just couldn't wait for Quidditch to start up. But that was a whole different story. Wait, saying not much had changed for Harry was lie. Things had defiantly changed since last year, and he wasn't quite sure what that was supposed to mean for him. .

Heaving a sigh Harry threw himself against a tree, stuffing his hands into his pockets. Idly, he watched the lake, noting the small waves caused by the light breeze. Stress would soon be building for him. The DA, Voldemort, class, everything. He knew that he was just going to have to take it all one step at a time. Somehow, he knew that wouldn't work. Something would mess it up. But, at least he still had his friends to help him along the way. Didn't he?

If he could just make it through this year.

Harry was sure he could make it through next year.

Draco kicked at the ground as he walked the grounds of Hogwarts, his hands shoved in his pockets. He wasn't particularly looking forward to the start of the year. Mostly because it meant facing people he didn't want to face (if he hadn't already) and putting up the facade he always did upon returning to school. Like he was absolutely randy with the idea of becoming a Death Eater, or perhaps the one where he hadn't the faintest idea about the Death Eaters.

Draco, in an attempt to avoid his peers, had skipped lunch and opted for a walk around the castle, which eventually lead him outside. So far, whenever he'd spotted someone he didn't want to exchange words with, he'd slipped out of view as fast he could. So far, he'd been lucky, and hadn't been spotted yet. But luck wasn't something Draco was for very long.

This proved true when he stumbled down the path to the Lake and stubbed his toe. Even with shoes on, he yelped in pain. If he hadn't been wearing his shoes, his toe would probably have broken. Luckily, Quidditch had provided him with enough balance skills to remain standing. As he cursed his mouth off, he looked around and spotted the one person he was most dreading to see.

His face became that of stone, not even a twitch in his eye or a flare of his nostril. He'd become so stiff it almost appeared as though he wasn't breathing. He'd really done it this time. Tripping in front of Potter. Great. Just peachy. He would've loved to walk over to a tree and give his head a few good cracks. He eyed his rival warily, sticking his hands back into his pockets.

Before Draco had even tripped, Harry looked up, his back stiffing a little bit. He shut his eyes, and inwardly groaned. Wonderful. When the other boy had tripped, and then yelped, he snorted softly. That was a smart move, on the Slytherin's half, wasn't it? Harry didn't do much else, however. There wasn't much he could do actually. It wasn't as though he could simply ask how the other boy was or if he was all right, and then hope to start up some kind of conversation about absolutely lovely the weather was this afternoon. That would just never work. There was no logic there, the thought of the two of them ever being civil to one another wasn't rational, it wasn't logical. It would simply never happen.

Hell would freeze over before that day ever happened. And it was likely never to. Again Harry snorted. The very image of hell freezing was rather amusing. He mentally shook himself as the Giant Squid surfaced. Harry eyed it momentarily before Malfoy threw a rock at it, and it thrashed about before going under once again. He rolled his eyes. Typical. Moody as ever, and seemingly wanting to ruin everybody's lives, or at least spoil the peace. Oh, if only Harry could just disappear and worry about Voldemort on his own, without people looking over his shoulder wondering if he had lost his mind, or wondering what he would do about the man who simply refused to die. Oh, he could only wish.

Of course, wishing never got him anywhere. It certainly never brought his parents back from the dead when he was a little boy. Why should it work for him now? It wouldn't.

Harry became lost in his thoughts again, seemingly having forgotten that his rival was pretty much behind him, more so off to the side, however. He kept his hands stuffed with in his pockets, still staring idly out across the lake. Out of no where a shiver ran down his spine, and he blinked. Oh he had too much to do, and he didn't want to do it. Why, why him? Harry had never complained about anything before in his life, except maybe about the Dursley's, but that was natural. Now, every time he so much as said he didn't want to deal with Voldemort he was pretty much scowled at, like he had whined about it since he was a little boy.

First people thought he had lost his mind. Now people were calling him a whiner. What next? A bloody failure? He didn't doubt it. For a brief moment Harry pondered what people would say if he was to be killed by Voldemort before the school year ended. He could imagine a few people would say something along the line of how they knew he couldn't actually defeat Voldemort. At least it was sort of comforting to know that his friends believed in him, and where there for support when he needed it most. He only hoped, however, that they would always be there when he needed him.

Harry's whole summer had been a bore. He had spent a short amount of time at the Dursley's before being whisked off to the Grimmauld Place, there it had been nothing but deadly quiet, and all of the Order members smiling weakly at him whenever they saw him. He had spent a good amount of time in his room, staring up at the ceiling. Of course Harry had been more active than that, but that is what he spent a good amount of his time doing, as well as continuing to explore the house. Once or twice even he had gotten himself into a yelling fight with the portrait of Mrs. Black. One time it had ended with him calling her an old bat, and telling her to shut her face.

Harry looked different. Draco couldn't pinpoint what it was, but he was different. Anger flourished inside of him, or more, perhaps, jealousy. How could that stupid Gryffindor look so calm when there was a war going on and he was at the center of it? Draco wasn't the prime target of Voldemort, and yet he was still scared shitless - a fact that he would never exploit. He'd lost his composure, and was grumbling to himself, a hard scowl on his face.

He couldn't help it. He'd had a wretched summer, and now here was the Boy Who Lived looking as though he'd had at least a decent one. He probably had. Draco watched the lake through slits for eyes. The Giant Squid surfaced, and Draco glanced at Harry, before getting angry again, and grabbing a rock. He marched to the edge of the lake, before chucking the rock as hard as he could muster, and hit the Giant Squid directly on the top of its head. It thrashed in the water, before disappearing below the surface. Draco picked up another rock and weighed it in his hands.

Naturally, he had the inclination to throw the rock at Harry. He had resisted the urge the first time, but he gripped the rock tightly as thoughts overwhelmed him. He was a flurry of emotion, and it was all Potter's fault. He had retained his composure up until this point. Everything that had happened this summer was Potter's fault. He couldn't have just bloody killed the bane of Draco's existence at the Ministry of Magic could he? In some ways, Draco felt as though Harry had failed him. Like Harry was his savior, but had unsuccessfully done so, despite being 'The Great Harry Potter'.

Gritting his teeth, he whirled around on his heel and threw the rock, which hit the tree directly above Harry's head. It would've been a perfect shot, had he been aiming for that particularly spot. "Missed," he snarled, shoving his hands back in his pockets, vehemently wishing that looks could kill.

"What was that for," Harry instantly snapped, turning his head toward the other boy before pushing himself off of the tree. Warily, he eyed the rock that was now on the ground beside him before arching his eyebrows and looking back up.

"What was that for?" Draco repeated Harry, in a voice that was a cross between a sneer and a snarl. "Are you really so dumb, Potter?" he asked, glancing over at him, chucking another rock into the lake. "Bad question. We all know the answer to that," he sneered scathingly.

Again Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh yes, we all know the answer to that question," he snorted bitterly. "Lets all lock Potter up in St. Mungo's and give him special classes in hopes he learns something. Bad question indeed." Harry said before promptly leaning once more against the tree, his hands still comfortably stuffed into his pockets, his hands clenched into balled fists. Mentally, he was humming, trying to drown out anything Draco may have said or done after his last remark.

Draco's lips curled upwards in a snarl, and his hand was wrapped around his wand so tightly that his knuckles were turning white and cramping. "As if you weren't special enough," he sneered. "I'd sooner hand you over to You-Know-Who myself." If one thought about this hard enough, they would realize two things: 1) Draco didn't want Harry to go to St. Mungo's because he would be deemed as 'special', no matter how you put it, and this was some supremely messed up thinking. And 2) While Draco would rather hand him over to Voldemort, this was clearly not something he wanted to do, either, despite his seemingly immense hatred for the other boy.

"I bet," Harry said shortly "Mind telling me something I don't know for a change. Really, hearing the same things for the past five years is getting old." He commented, holding back the urge to shrug. It was tempting, but all the same he did nothing but arch an eyebrow momentarily. He'd much rather be locked away in St. Mungo's if it meant being able to get away from the stress at the school, and Draco. Maybe there he could actually get some work done, and have a bit of quiet. Highly doubtful. When had Harry ever had any peace to himself? Certainly not when he was younger, and ever since he had come to Hogwarts his life had been hectic.

Harry blamed most of his problems at school on Draco, most everyone knew that. The feeling was pretty much mutual, though it differed in some ways. At the current moment Harry begun to wonder once more why he hadn't just left the grounds before any of this started. Harry hated any sort of attention that was brought onto him, and he also hated it when people didn't listen to him. Both made him want to scream until he was blue in the face. He wasn't one to crave spotlight, because then people would often think that was all he wanted was to be the center of attention. As if.

Not to mention fourth year was the year he became The Boy Who Cried Wolf. Cried Voldemort, more like. Why did no one ever want to believe him? And the people that did were usually insane, like Dumbledore, or his best friends. He didn't mind the latter, but it was only obvious that Dumbledore would believe him. Ugh.

"Bloody hell, Malfoy, you have gone mad." Harry grunted, kicking the rock aside with a shake of his head. What was Malfoy on about, anyway? Of all of the random things he could have done, he threw a rock. A rock of all things! Honestly. Could he have been more childish. Harry rolled his eyes. Maybe that mound of blonde hair was finally getting to the boy.

Draco sneered at Harry. "What makes you think I wasn't always?" he barked out harshly, a wretched scowl on his face. In the moments that he was overcome with anger, he really did look slightly mad. But could one blame him, had they known everything he'd gone through? Perhaps he wasn't mad at all, merely - different. Changed. He looked very much like his father in that very moment, before he picked up another rock and threw it out into the water.

"Good question," Harry snorted, rolling his eyes once more. That was all he was going to say. He had thought that Draco was mad for quite some time now, of course he never actually voiced an opinion on this. Most people that he knew would have agreed with him. However when he was caught muttering that over the summer some Order member told him that it wasn't a nice thing to say, claiming some were overly spoilt and driven into madness. Well, it did seem logical. Or it did. No, wait… yeah it did so logical, and at the moment remained so to Harry.

Draco turned on his heel. "Shut the hell up, Potter!" he shouted at the other boy, his temper flaring. A voice in the back of his head was telling him to calm down, but he couldn't. His fists were clenched at his sides. Everything that was wrong in his life was Potter's fault and he couldn't ignore that prominent thought. Even if he had brought the answer upon himself. He was as sane as sane could be! That was, if the sane were insane. He was, at the moment, ill-composed and blinded by rage

Harry sniggered. "Someone's got a temper," he mocked. If that mere comment had the same effect on Draco than it did on him, he was going to laugh. Probably most insanely, too. He was doing his best to remain calms, and by all means, he was doing much, much better then Draco at the current moment. But if thing progressed any further, which he knew they would, they always did, then he was have about as much a temper as Draco did, if not more, though knowing him, he would have less of a temper. Oh, like that made any sense at all. Still, Harry couldn't help but to silently snigger.

Draco's scowl deepened. "Oh, bugger off," he snapped. He had a temper? He had a right to have a temper, if you asked him. His fists clenched at his sides, and as he gritted his teeth, he wanted nothing more than to pummel the Boy Who Lived's head into the tree he was leaning against. That would really make his day. But at the moment, he'd already lost some self-control, he wasn't about to risk the rest of it. But could you really blame him? If there was anyone who got under his skin, it was Potter.

Harry only grinned. That was all he could do really. That was exactly the reply he was going for, too. After a summer of being told he had a temper it was actually nice to be able to tell someone else that they had a temper. Besides, Harry had more of an attitude then a temper, if anything. It was just funny watching Malfoy get all worked up. It reminded him that he wasn't the only one who could get worked up so easily. Which was a good thing, for him. He had always thought that there was something wrong with him because of that.

"Whatever suits," Harry said with a shrug of his shoulders before he went back to leaning against his tree. There wasn't much to say after all. Oh, was he going to go off on how oh so lovely the weather was yet? Or maybe he could strike up a conversation on Quidditch, and laugh the whole way through it at himself. He would probably still get confused on some of the terms used in the game. But that was all fine and dandy, it was never going to happen, unless you counted them threatening each other about how they're going to knock the other off of their broom during a game. Though even that would be a funny one to talk about.

Talk about being a hypocrite, when it came to the whole rock thing. Harry bent down, picking up another rock, looking at it for a moment in the palm of his hand before he thrust it forward toward Malfoy, which mind you had actual hit a part of his target. Malfoy's leg. Pity that, too. He had been aiming for the other boys head. Oh well, at least his rock had actually made contact. He shrugged his shoulders before leaning against the tree once more, stuffing his hands into his pocket while doing so. He muttered something under his breath about how the both of them should very well stick to being Seekers as neither of them could throw worth a damn. Which, from what had just happened, was very much true.

Grinding his teeth together, Draco returned his hands to his pockets, fingering his wand. He wanted nothing more than to curse Harry into oblivion right then. The thought of killing him had crossed his mind, but the instant he thought about it, he felt his stomach do a roll. He swallowed hard. Then Harry threw a rock and it hit him in the leg. While Draco might've felt slightly triumphant as to the boy's rather poor aim, he felt even more appalled that the Gryffindor would have the gall to do such a thing. Draco had had a reason to throw his rock. Potter was only throwing one back because he was too stupid to figure out why the rock had been thrown in the first place.

Draco bent down and scooped up a handful of rocks, and threw the first, and it skidded across the ground and hit the other boy's shoe. Then he threw another, taking a step forward and this one hit Harry in the leg. He continued to throw the rocks until he only had one left, and was standing only a few feet away from Harry. The last one he simply tossed, and it promptly hit Harry on the top of his head.

Harry should have just headed back to the castle when he heard the other boy. Why didn't he? Because something in his mind repeatedly told him to ignore the Slytherin. Of course, the louder side of Harry over ruled that little mental battle, and thus the current situation. Even though Malfoy did start it, but still Harry had responded.

Head check needed? Oh yes.

Harry looked down momentarily as a rock skidded into his shoe, and inwardly groaned. More rocks came his way, though the second one had hit his leg. Had it been a bigger rock he would have winced in pain, and reached down to rub his leg. This wasn't the case however. Though when he was finally nailed on the top of his head he scowled before rubbing it, not even bothering a glance over at the other boy.

It was an extremely childish act, but Draco could hardly care either way. "You disgust me, Potter."

"That's old news," Harry said quickly. "Anything else?"

Draco stuck his hands back in his pockets and he turned away from the other boy, walking back towards the lake. "You have less brains than a fucking flobberworm," he shouted, kicking a rock at his feet. "I hope Voldemort kills you and the rest of your bloody Order," he snapped, though this was a lie. The last thing Draco wanted was for Harry to be killed by Voldemort. Killed, maybe, but not before he'd rid the world of the dark menace.

Staring blankly at Draco Harry shook his head. Yeah, he was defiantly acting childish. "My bloody Order? Since when is it my Order?" Harry sneered, unable to help himself. "Can't really be mine if I can't attend the meetings, eh? My Order indeed," he muttered the last part more to himself.

If someone hadn't known Draco at all, they probably would've found it surprising he knew about the Order. But it wasn't - not when they were the lead group in opposing Voldemort. And Draco knew practically everything their was to know involving the Death Eaters. The thought of this brought a bitter taste to his mouth. "Since when is it not your Order? They practically bow to your every whim, don't they? Protect their dear Golden Boy from danger? I bet they have an alter set up on your behalf, too."

Had one been particularly intuitive, they would've seen that, perhaps it was not rage that Draco was overcome by, but jealousy. Jealous that Harry recieved more attention then he did. Jealous that someone - anyone - protected Harry from the harms of the Death Eaters and their Lord. There was no one to protect Draco from that. And how he dearly wished there was. Not even those he called 'friends' would vouch for him in that respect. They were either too afraid of the Dark Lord, as he was, or supported the insane man entirely.

Harry laughed. "They hardly listen to me. They tell me nothing, and Dumbledore," he snorted bitterly at that. "'Get some rest, Harry.' 'You'll know in time,' 'Please, stay calm'. Oh, and lets not forget my favorite one, 'Just wait a little longer, you'll know everything.'" Harry said, counting off the phrases on his fingers. Now, more than ever, he wanted to bash his skull into a wall, and just pass out. He wondered if possibly he could do that on the tree. He'd sooner be unconscious than have to deal with the Slytherin boy.

Probably the one thing that no one knew about Harry was that if asked, he would help protect anyone, being tired of being the protected. Being sheltered most of his life at Hogwarts, he was more than willing to shelter anyone, as best he could. However, he wasn't going to admit it, he was going to let people find that out on their own. And if they couldn't, pity for them.

Draco looked over at Harry with a scowl on his face, before snorting at all that Harry had said. "Haven't you ever heard the phrase, 'Ignorance is bliss'?" he said, an indistinguishable expression on his face. Quite frankly, Draco often felt as though he knew too much. Perhaps if he knew less, he wouldn't feel so wretched in becoming a Death Eater. Maybe he wouldn't have to, if he knew nothing. He was stuck in a situation he couldn't get out of, and very much felt like a damsel in distress - which disgusted him.

The Gryffindor snorted. "Probably," he admitted with a shrug. "Not big on sayings." Harry was half tempted to laugh. He wasn't about to admit that he had indeed heard that phrase, though while he wasn't big on phrases, he was big on quotes, which, lately, he had been reading a lot of. Yes, he refused to say that 'ignorance is bliss' was a quote. He was refusing at the moment to admit all of the above. And that was very typical of Harry. Actually, it was typical of any teenager, boy or girl.

Harry would never admit to being ignorant when he was, and he knew he was. Harry would rather stay in denial of the whole Voldemort, and war thing. He refused to believe that teenagers were becoming Death Eaters. Harry simply refused to believe that he was talking with a son of a Death Eater who was probably well on his way to becoming one, whether it was on his own will or not. He had faith in Draco, which was also something he refused to admit aloud, and would be scolded by from Ron and Hermione for ever thinking such a thing. But he did have faith in the boy before him. Though what that faith was, he didn't know.

"And Malfoy, find a better way to take out your anger," Harry paused, before taking on a more serious tone. "You're starting to resemble my cousin at four. Not that there's a difference." With that said Harry turned to make his way back to the castle.

Draco picked up another rock. "Take out my anger? What better way to 'take out my anger' on the thing that makes me most angry? What do you do? Take it out on your beloved Mudblood and Weasel?" he snapped, ignoring the comment about acting four. "Is that what happened to your dogfather? Got angry at something and decided, 'Let's get him killed. That'll make me feel better.'" He gave a harsh laugh, before throwing the rock into the water. Yes, Draco Malfoy was, very possibly, clinically insane. Or perhaps, simply misunderstood. Probably a bit of both.

Pausing to think of an actual answer to that Harry had to wonder if he actually did take his anger out on Ron and Hermione. "On who ever is around at the moment," Harry admitted. "They happened to be around last year. At least I know enough to just yell at them, and not throw rocks of all things. And the truth? I was mad at Dumbledore at the time." Harry gritted his teeth when he heard the comment made about Sirius, clenching his fists even more. It was taking him a great deal to keep them from shaking. Even though he could hardly careless. Sirius was like family to him, never mind the fact that he was Draco's cousin or something of the sort. "One, I wasn't mad at anything, Malfoy," Harry hissed through gritted teeth. "And two, hell would freeze over before I ever decided to have my last hope of a family killed." Now the voice inside of Harry was deathly telling him to stay calm. It wasn't working much at all.

"That's lovely, Potter, really," Draco sneered, before picking up another rock.

"I know," Harry snorted. "It shows by that lovely expression you're wearing."

"When the bane of your existence is sitting under a tree, acting like nothing's wrong even though he's in the middle of a war - I imagine you'd be compelled to throw rocks, of all things, at him," he snapped irritably, slightly calmer than previously. He threw the rock in his hand into the lake. Draco rolled his eyes. Harry was always one to take the bait. Either way, Draco couldn't help but mutter under his breath, "I would give anything for the last of my family to be killed." This was probably a very stupid wish, and it was typical of a teenager of Draco's age. However, when one's family is forcing one to become practically a slave to a hideous Dark Lord, it was no wonder Draco wished them dead.

"Thank you for sharing," The Gryffindor added before looking up. He shook his head. "Key word there, Malfoy, is acting. I'm not going to say there's nothing wrong with me, or that I'm not bothered by it," Harry said shifting his footing just so that he could kick a rock into the lake. Much better than throwing. He didn't have to bend down. "I'm sixteen. I can't do everything." He said, kicking another rock in to the lake. As much as I want to do everything. Harry added silently.

Draco just scowled before kicking a rock into the lake. "Perhaps if you're lucky enough, my aunt will throw you behind that veil as well," he sneered, glancing back to the other boy. Oh, it was no surprise really, that he knew. His aunt had only boasted about all summer to his mother, and he had the absolute pleasure of having to listen to her go on and one about how she had killed her own family. In these times family meant almost nothing. If you were with the Death Eaters and you just happened to betray them, you were dead.

The Gryffindor just stared blankly up at the other boy before a scowl etched itself onto his own face. "I feel sorry for you," he said, narrowing his eyes. "Related to a bunch of batshit insane murders. If Lestrange had a kid that kid would be pretty mussed up, worse off even than you, Malfoy," Harry went on, never once knowing that Bellatrix Lestrange did in fact have a child. It was probably for the better that he didn't know, too.

The simple comment from Harry was enough to cause a sneer to curl on Draco's lips. His mind had instantly flown to Kathryn. Katie. He didn't much care for the name Kathryn. She was normal, compared to both Malfoy and Lestrange standards. She was even a Ravenclaw, not to mention he was the only person he really went to when he needed to either get away from Pansy or to talk. Whenever Katie was around it made Pansy feel put off. That was the plus side to having Katie as a cousin and no one else knowing. "Bellatrix's kid wouldn't be deranged, Potter," he snarled, clenching his own fists.

"Yeah, and I don't have a scar on my head," Harry snorted. "Face it, the kid would be just as insane as its mother."

It wasn't long before the two of them found themselves on the ground. Draco on top of Harry, pushing the other boy forcefully to the ground by his shoulders. And then Harry had turned the table by kneeing the Slytherin boy, and flipping them, slamming his back to the ground. The was quite a bit of struggling as the two of them aimed to grab a hold of each others neck, and in doing so, ended up rolling closer and closer to the waters edge. Before long they were actually in the water, and Harry had once again pinned Draco before his fist came in contact with the other boys jaw.

When they were flipped again the rolled a bit more into the water, and Harry's back connected with the corner of a rock that was in the water and he groaned before receiving a blow to the abdomen.

Neither of them saw it, but two of the French transfer students had come over, and begun to pull the two of them apart, probably before they could do any more damage to each other. Or before any professors came out. Once they were a good few feet away from each other, still in the grasp of one of the transfer students, they shrugged away, both stalking off in opposite directions.

Harry swore he was right. If Bellatrix had a kid, the kid would be insane - worse even. "Bloody Malfoy."

Draco knew better. He actually knew Bellatrix's kid. And she was normal. "Fucking Potter."