Chapter seven: Hating the stars
Draco woke up to absolute darkness. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and tried to see through the inky blackness. As his eyes began to adjust he could barely make out the outline of a window at the end of his bed. It was a new moon so the only light was the tiny pinpricks of the stars.
Draco looked up at the stars through the window. He hated stars. That might sound odd but he really did. Most people loved them, thought they were pretty, and made up great stories about the many constellations.
But those were all lies. Draco knew the truth. Constellations never looked like what they were said to be. They were just a bunch of lines that vaguely resembled anything other than a child's doodle. And stars were just big balls of burning gas and what looked like a vibrant landscape of light was really a graveyard. Many of those stars had long since burnt out and were now dead. Dead yet pretending to be alive.
Kind of like Draco. Sometimes he felt so dead but to everyone else, he looked alive. Draco was named after a star, well a constellation really, Draco the Dragon. His mother thought it was cute. It went along with the Black's theme of naming their children after stars.
The Black's were liars. Draco was too. He constantly pretended to be something he was not, and he hated it.
Draco turned his head away from the stars. Who cares really if they're liars, they're pretty to look at, like Draco. Just a pretty little doll, barely human. Or at least that's how he was treated.
When Draco's eyes adjusted to the new degree of darkness that was on the side of his bed he was shocked to see that a chair was pulled up to his bedside. The chair was empty but there was an overturned book on it.
There was a noise from the bathroom and the Hospital Wing was flooded with light as the door opened. Draco squinted his eyes and could barely make out the mop of messy black-hair and the round plastic glasses.
Potter turned off the light and stumbled blindly toward Draco's bed, making enough noise to wake the dead along his way. Draco heard Potter give a jaw cracking yawn and heard him settle back down into his chair.
"Lumos," He whispered and a light came from the tip of his wand. Potter held the wand so that the small circle of light was directed away from Draco and was focused on his book in front of him. Draco strained his eyes to try and read the cover.
On the cover was a picture of a couple, a man and a woman. The man had messy black hair and round plastic glasses over hazel eyes. The woman had flaming red hair and brilliant green eyes. They were hugging each other and waving ecstatically.
Draco watched as Potter flipped through the photo album. His face set in a soft, sad smile. Every now and then the black haired boy would run his fingers slowly over a particular picture. When he got to the end of the book, Potter reached down into his bag and pulled out a photograph and a piece of parchment.
Before he turned the photograph to face him, Draco was able to catch a glimpse of it. It was of two boys about Draco's age. One was obviously a Black. He had thick black hair that was synonymous with the males of his mother's family. His features were much like Draco's own, chiseled and sharp covered with alabaster skin. His eyes were a piercing blue and outlined in thick coal black lashes.
The other boy looked vaguely familiar. He had light brown hair that seemed to shimmer with gold, bronze, and copper and- was that silver? In the sun light. His features were softer than the others but more drawn in. He looked older than his years. His completion was like desert sand and he had faint white scars across his face and poking out of the collar of his shirt. His eyes were a remarkable amber colour that was outlined by dusky brown lashes and a dusting of freckles kissed the bridge of his nose.
The pair in the photo had their arms wrapped around each others' waists and alternated between kissing and smiling at the camera.
Potter looked at the photo fondly before placing it on a blank page in the back of the book with some Spell-o tape. He looked at the photo for a few moments more before snapping the book closed and after giving, who Draco could only assume were his parents, one last look he put the book back in his bag.
Potter than turned to the parchment. He looked at it with a bit of confusion and hesitation. Draco had to quickly close his eyes when Potter looked over at him. With his eyes barely cracked, Draco could see Potter look at him as if he wanted to be sure he was asleep.
Seeming to be satisfied that Draco was indeed asleep, Potter turned away and looked at the parchment in his hand, and opened it.
XxXxX
Harry couldn't sleep. His mind was a whirlwind of activity ever since his talk with Hermione in the library. He kept running what she said over and over again in his mind. It just didn't seem possible. Harry did not like Malfoy in any sense of the word.
But that's kind of the point. It's always one extreme or another with you and Malfoy. It's either hate or… A voice that sounded oddly like Hermione spoke up.
No, No I cannot be in…love, with Draco Malfoy. It isn't possible Harry argued.
Of course you can- The voice said but Harry snuffed it out before it could continue to speak.
He needed to do something to keep his mind busy. Harry reached down into the bag he had packed before dinner, and pulled out the photo album that Hagrid had given him. He lit his wand and looked lovingly at the photograph of his parents on the front.
That's what's supposed to be. That'll be me and Ginny one day. Harry thought as a slight smile tugged at his lips.
But you don't love Ginny. The voice protested.
Well not now, but I am only sixteen. I will grow to love her. It's fate; it's what's meant to be. Harry argued and opened the book to cut off any more protests from his inner-Hermione.
Harry looked at each photo. He smiled at the ones of his father and his friends doing something silly and he glowed at the ones showing his father and mother looking at each other with stars in their eyes.
After a few minutes Harry's bladder demanded relief and the boy quickly complied. Harry put his album on his chair beside Malfoy's bed and swiftly walked to the loo.
Once finished, Harry came back and resumed flipping through the photos. When he got to the end of the pages with photos and was looking only at blank white pages he reached down into his bag and took out the photograph Remus had given him over the summer. Along with it came a piece of parchment.
Harry didn't know what that was, but set it off to the side for later. He turned his attention to the photo, which he had placed in his lap. It was of Remus and Sirius. It showed them as a couple. A couple that was completely enamored with each other, completely captivated by one another and completely, utterly without a shadow of a doubt, in love.
The photo made Harry want to sigh whimsically but he refrained. He had to say it was quite a shock when Remus told him the full extent of his and Sirius's relationship, but Harry didn't care. To tell the truth, Harry was just happy that Sirius had found that kind of love in his life and had it before he died.
Harry used some Spell-o tape on the back of the photo and placed it on a blank page. He looked at the photo again. As he looked at it, it began to change before his eyes.
Sirius's long hair shortened and went from perfect to untamable and shortened. His icy blue eyes turned blazing green and were surrounded by black round glasses. His sharp features, softened and his pale complexion turned bronze.
Remus also changed. His golden hair turned silver and grew to where it swiped at the nape of his neck. His round features, hardened and his sandy skin became marble. Remus's glowing amber eyes became flashing sliver.
Harry suddenly jolted and snapped the book close.
No, I am not in love with Draco Malfoy. Hermione just put all this into my head with her psycho babble. It's nothing. He told himself. He looked down at the front of the book where his parents were waving up at him. They looked so utterly happy. That's what I will have. That's what's meant to be. He decided and slipped the book back into his bag.
Harry than picked up the piece of parchment. Now that he looked at it he could see that it was the one that Zabini had given him. Harry was unsure about what to do with it. He didn't know what it contained and wasn't entirely sure that he trusted the Slytherin.
Harry looked over at Malfoy. The blonde had been sleeping since just before lunch. Harry watched as the dim starlight played over the boy's pale features. His silken hair was spread across the pillow and his chest rose and fell rhythmically as he breathed.
Harry's heart fluttered and his breath quickened.
No, he told himself and pulled his eyes away from him. He turned to the parchment and opened it slowly hoping not to make too much noise. Once the parchment was open Harry quickly scanned its contents again and re-folded it hastily.
It was a poem written by Malfoy. Harry didn't know why Zabini had given it to Harry instead of just putting it with the blonde's stuff.
Maybe he wanted me to read it. Harry wondered. But even if that was the case, Harry was not going to do that. It was a personal and private thing that Harry had no right to read. Harry put the parchment back in his bag and settled himself in his seat.
Harry must've fallen asleep after that because when he woke next, the room was lit up with weak sunlight. The sky was covered in grey storm clouds. He stood up and stretched and let out a loud groan as his sore muscles screamed in protest.
"Sleeping in a chair; bad idea," He grumbled as he rubbed his neck.
"Sore?" Harry's head snapped up causing his neck to crack. "Ouch," Malfoy grimaced in sympathy.
"Oh, I am definitely going to feel that later." Harry groaned. "I didn't know you were up."
"I have been for a while. I was beginning to wonder if you had died." Malfoy said. The blond boy was sitting up in bed with a tray of food on his lap.
"I wish I would've." Harry mumbled. Malfoy took a bite out of his sandwich. He chewed for a moment, swallowed and then spoke.
"Where you dreaming?" He asked. Harry looked at him oddly but thought about it.
"Uh, yeah I think so." He said. Malfoy nodded.
"Your eyelids were flickering." He said. Harry's jaw dropped.
"You were watching me sleep?" He questioned incredulously.
"I was bored." Malfoy shrugged. Neither said anything for a moment, and then Harry broke the silence.
"I, uh, I didn't…say anything, did I?" He asked, his cheeks flaming with embarrassment. Malfoy looked at him with interest.
"No. Do you normally?" His grey eyes alight with curiosity.
"Uh, sometimes. I have a lot of nightmares and I tend to, uh…talk in my sleep." The black-haired boy said staring at a spot on Malfoy's blanket.
"Really?" Malfoy asked.
"Yeah, I didn't really know until the summer after fourth year. Dudley, my cousin, said I was talking in my sleep. That I was moaning."
"What were you saying?"
"I kept dreaming about the last task of the Triwizard Tournament. The graveyard, Voldemort and Cedric's death." Harry said softly. "Dudley said that I was pleading for Cedric's life."
"Oh," Malfoy said quietly, he seemed to be at a lost for words. Silence spread between them but before it got too thick, Harry cleared his throat.
"So, I've told you something about me, your turn." Harry said looking at the other boy intensely.
"Ok," The blond said.
XxXxX
Draco was a astonished that Potter had opened up so much, but then again he shouldn't have been surprised at all. Harry Potter is an open book. All one has to do is watch him and they could easily find out what he was feeling or thinking. He wore his heart on his sleeve. Not like Draco.
But nonetheless, Draco was fascinated by what the Boy-Who-Lived told him. He did know a fair amount about what went on in the graveyard between Potter and the Dark Lord. He knew about the murder of Cedric Diggory. His father had been there and the older Malfoy was something of a gossip and a braggart. But he hadn't known how much it had affected Potter and it seemed apparent that the boy blamed himself.
"Um, I'm not really sure what to say." Draco said looking at his hands. He wasn't use to opening up. In fact, he had spent a good part of his life being taught how to close himself off. How to hide behind a mask of disdan.
"Say anything." The raven-haired boy prompted softly.
Say anything? Draco thought. To have complete amnesty was something he couldn't even begin to fathom. Freedom of speech was not heard of in the home of Lucius Malfoy and his son surely had never experienced such a thing. Even while being within the walls of Hogwarts, Draco's words were watched and controlled. If he ever slipped, ever said or did anything that he wasn't suppose to, that would bring shame or inquiry onto the Malfoy name, he was duly punished.
"I don't know what to say." Draco insisted getting a bit frustrated. He always had something to say. Even if he couldn't say it out loud it was always there, lurking in the depths of his mind, but now it was a blank. He had nothing to say.
"Can I ask you a question then? Maybe that'll help?" Potter suggested. Draco nodded still staring at his hands; they looked washed out in the hazy pale sunlight. He could see the soft blue veins under his skin.
"Why are you so cynical about love?" He asked his voice soft and low as if not to scare Draco away. Draco's head snapped up in surprise and he looked at the other boy.
"I'm not-"the blond started to say but was cut off.
"You are too!" Potter protested. "You once wrote that you believe that 'love is always over in the morning'. What do you mean by that?"
"Ah," Draco drawled. "Let me guess, you, Potter, believe in love. But why not? Anything is possible for Harry Potter, even love." The black-haired teen opened his mouth but Draco cut him off. "No, I will answer your question. You are correct in your thinking that I am not the relationship type. I see no point in relationships.
I am a Slytherin, we take what we want and emotions be damned. There are no relationships in the snake pit. It isn't possible or probable. And I hardly think I need to tell you that it's not likely a Slytherin would ever be with anyone other than a Slytherin.
Not entirely by our own choice but we tend to be shunned from the rest of the houses. And yes, as you thought, Pansy and I do shag from time to time. Why not? I am to marry her so might as well.
I guess that is the answer to why I am cynical about love. No one I know has ever been in love. I have never experienced love. When I was younger I was foolish enough to believe that it was out there and it was possible. I even convinced myself that I could be in love with Pansy, but childhood innocence never lasts long.
I soon realized that love does not exist. At least not as it was intended to. Love was supposed to be pure and simple. Now it is complicated and tainted. All my life I have seen love used as a tool to get further somewhere. My father has seduced many young ladies, while married to my mother, to get them to do what he wanted. He wined them, dined them and bedded them all the while letting them believe that he cared for them when really they were just one of many.
So when I say, 'love is over in the morning', I mean that in the most literal terms. Those young girls thought my father loved them and that they loved him and return. But when the morning came and he kicked them out with nothing more than a thank-you, they realized that love doesn't exist." Draco stopped, his words carrying a deafening silence behind them. Potter looked up at him stunned.
"Is that really how you see it?" He asked. Draco nodded. "Oh, Draco," He sighed and Draco went stiff at hearing his first name. "You are so lost. Love is real and it's the greatest thing in this world. You are right though, love often does get tainted and becomes all about circumstances but so does a lot of things. Life was meant to be simple but it isn't, not anymore. Does that mean life doesn't exist? No, it just means that you got to try a little harder and give it your all." Draco let Potter's soft voice wash over him. When the other boy stopped speaking Draco felt light-headed.
"What if I have nothing to give?" Draco asked softly, his eyes full of liquid emotion. Potter gave a small smile.
"Now I don't believe that." He said and handed Draco a piece of parchment. Draco recognized it immediately, it was his poem.
"Where did you get that?" He asked in a choked voice. No no no, Potter could not have that. He just couldn't.
"Zabini gave it to me yesterday when I went to get our things from Potions." He answered calmly. Draco reached out and snatched the parchment from the other boy's hand.
"Did you read it?" He demanded. Potter looked stunned.
"No, of course not." He sputtered. Draco let out a breath.
"Good," He said and the pair lapsed into a slightly awkward silence.
"Can I?" Potter asked after a few moments.
"Can you what?" Draco asked suspiciously.
"Can I read it?"
"It's mine, it's private." Draco said.
"I know," Potter said and nothing else. His green eyes bore into Draco's. It was almost as if they were begging Draco to trust him. Draco sighed.
"Alright," He said, Potter broke out into a grin. "On one condition." The grin faded a bit. "What was that freak out in detention the other day about?" the grin vanished completely and a deep frown took its place.
I've got him now.
XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx
(AN: Aww, Harry is soooo clueless!!)