Ch 5 Harry's Veritas

Harry was in and out of the bathroom in record time. In the quiet, cooler environment, his spinning head seemed to quiet a little bit, but things were still very much out of focus. Out of habit, he checked his glasses, but they were still perched on the bridge of his nose. Harry lay back on the pillows near the middle of the room and stared lazily up at the ceiling. His head was buzzing, almost like he was dizzy, but not quite the same. The fire whiskey battle and the pillow-fight had only ended a few minutes ago, but it felt like hours.

It wasn't his eyes, but his perceptions that were skewed. They must have been stuck in this bizarre version of the Room of Requirement for at least four hours now, but it also felt like it might be a full day. The sheer timelessness of the place was disorienting, never mind the other events that were so beyond normal it was a bit frightening.

Here I am, thought Harry. I'm trapped in this room that doesn't want to let us out, and I'm trapped here with Draco Malfoy, one of the worst people I could imagine being stuck with. So why am I not desperate to get out? Why do I feel like every thing is okay for the first time in months, really?

The battle in the Ministry, in the Department of Mysteries, seemed far away. It still hurt to think of Sirius, and the reason for Sirius and the other Order members being there had been his fault, all because he'd refused to believe that the vision could be false. But here, in this place, when the hurt got too much, his brain was allowing him to put those thoughts away for awhile. The desperation to stay guilty was gone, at least for now.

As Harry lay there, lost in thought, Draco emerged from the lavatory room. He was unsteady as he made his way back to the side of the room he'd claimed for himself. Draco propped himself against the wall, staring at nothing in particular. His eyes drifted around aimlessly. Sometimes his head tipped to the side and he snapped it back up with a little shake. He realized Harry, lying on his back with his head towards Draco, was staring at him upside down.

"Why do you keep looking at me like that?" Draco asked uncomfortably. "You were asking me all those weird questions before, too."

Without changing his position, Harry just said the first thing that came to mind. "Because I wish you didn't act the way that you do."

This truly threw Draco for a loop. "You – you wish I didn't act – like what?"

"Like every one else is so much less than you are."

"But - " Draco's first reply to a statement like this might have been "But I don't act like that," or "What's wrong with that?" or even "But it's true." He wasn't even clear on why he didn't answer that way. Something stopped him; not from speaking, but from using the ingrained reply. The truth was, he'd never been asked something like that before. How should he reply?

"But that's what my family - " he stalled out again. Draco drew a deep breath, trying to get his brain to respond. "Our Pureblood family has been – "

"Don't give me that Pureblood crap," said Harry, but his voice wasn't accusatory, or even angry. "There's a whole bunch of reasons I could give you about why 'pure blood' is more dangerous than mixed blood, but actual reason doesn't seem to be any good with –" and Harry stopped himself short of adding, "you people," as that would completely undermine his point. Instead, he rolled over so he could look at Draco right-side up again. This made the blood rush back out of his head, and he grayed out for a few moments. There was a noise from Draco's direction, but Harry didn't really notice.

"Well," said Draco after a few quiet moments, "how do you think I should act?" the superior tone was creeping back into his voice.

"How about taking people one at a time, not throwing them into a stupid group?"

"Yeah, well, what about you?"

Harry looked up again. "What do you mean, what about me?"

"You're always so much better than everyone else. Nothing ever sticks to you, every time you get in trouble, you just laugh your way out of it!" Draco's voice was a bit raspy, and his face was flushed.

Suddenly breathless with anger, Harry staggered to his feet and made his way over to Draco. He held his right hand out in front of the blond boy's face. The scars from Umbridge's terrible quill were still white and very visible.

"I must not tell lies, that's what this says. How dare you say I get out unscathed? I told the truth, to anyone who would listen, and this is what I got for it! This isn't even the worst, believe me."

Draco stared at Harry's hand for a second, then dropped his gaze. His eyes fell on the cup of water, miraculously still standing there, and he seized it gratefully. He sipped from it carefully, taking the opportunity to keep from looking at Harry, who sat back down, but now he sat next to Draco, separated by a cushion.

Now that they weren't facing each other, the quiet seemed a little easier.

But he felt the need to get something else across to Mister Draco Malfoy, who's father had been one of the ones trying to kill Harry in that graveyard the year previous. Now was the time to speak these things, now or never.

Harry tipped his head back and leaned it against the wall, so his eyes were pointed at the top of the opposite wall. He spoke quietly, his voice emotionless to begin with. He talked about a couple of his earliest memories; Dudley's early mindless cruelty, then his very deliberate cruelty. His aunt and uncle's sheer uncaring attitudes, their heartless remarks about his parents, about him. He mentioned briefly his first encounter with the magical world in Hagrid.

"You have to understand. I didn't know anything about pure-blood, or half-breeds, or any of that. Here was the first person I had literally met, in my entire life, who thought I was worth anything, who knew my parents and thought they were worth anything." Harry smiled at the memory. "And he gave Dudley a pigs tail, that makes him a hero no matter what."

Draco chuckled, then quickly muffled it. Oh, at least he's still awake, thought Harry, then went on with his story.

"Did you know you were the first wizard my own age I'd ever met? At Madam Malkin's, do you remember?"

"I remember."

"One of the first things I ever heard you say was something cruel about Hufflepuff House. I immediately thought that you were just like my awful cousin. And no matter what, all you ever did was prove me right about that, only you are way smarter than he is." Harry sighed. "Is there any of that water left?"

"Here." Draco handed it across the empty space; neither of them turned their heads.

Harry sipped, then drank deeply, pleased that the Room at least provided cold water. His eyelids were getting heavy, and he didn't feel like talking anymore. Not everything had been said, but Harry was finally out of energy. Draco's silence was a little disturbing. Harry figured Malfoy would be defending himself, or something. Why should someone like that change his ways just because of a drunken conversation?

"Because en vino veritas." Said Malfoy.

"What?" mumbled Harry, who hadn't realized he'd been speaking aloud.

"Never mind. Go to sleep, Potter. I don't think we're getting out of here till morning at least."

"Cold…"

"Well, don't sleep against the wall, that's why you're cold," Draco said, irritated. He swung his gaze around the room, and saw that under the table that had provided dinner, there were a couple blankets, neatly folded. He sighed, and got up to get them.

When he got back with the blankets, Harry had slid sideways down the wall, with his back still to the stone. Growling a little, Draco tried to think of a way to get Harry away from the wall that didn't actually involve touching him. In the end he settled for grabbing the cushion that the black haired boy was mostly on and dragging it towards the center of the room. Then he threw another pillow behind Harry, who was obviously already asleep, to keep him from rolling onto the floor. Then Draco threw one of the blankets across Harry, not bothering to unfold it completely.

"He'll figure it out himself," he muttered, then made himself a place to sleep in the center of the room. He didn't fall right to sleep, though. The buzzing in his head from the fire whiskey was replaced by something else, something he'd never experienced before.

It seemed like hours before he finally drifted off.

X x X

This one is a bit more internal. Thanks and cookies and magical internets to the almighty reviewers! Keep 'em coming!