Opposites Attract Chapter 2, a harry potter fanfic

Chapter 2

Harry had thought that Draco would snatch his hands away as soon as Harry touched him with his half-blood skin, but he thought wrong. Draco seemed glad of the human contact, and if anything, he gripped Harry's hands tighter.

Harry woke up the next morning, to a day of Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures. A cold autumn wind whistled outside, and found its way into the dormitories, raising the hairs on Harry's neck and arms. He sighed, and as he got dressed he padded himself out with two Weasley jumpers and a scarf. He had quidditch practise later on, and he knew it was going to be bitterly freezing.

At least he could wake Ron up today, he thought with a grin of satisfaction as he threw a pillow at Ron's sleeping figure. "Wake up!" he yelled, opening the window. Ron nearly fell out of bed as an icy gust of wind hit him.

"Oi!" he shouted, emerging from a tangle of blankets on the stone-cold floor. "What are you playing at?"

Harry grinned. "Call that revenge for all those jibes you've given me about Malfoy."

Ron shrugged, and it wasn't long before the two squabbling teenage boys entered the common room, to find Hermione waiting for them.

The three Gryffindors took a shortcut to the Great Hall, down a couple of stony corridors, shivering slightly in the draughty spaces. Harry left Ron and Hermione to argue about Herbology homework, and his thoughts drifted back to the mysterious pale boy with the white blonde hair. He had never thought so much about him before, and the thoughts kept niggling to the front of his mind when he wasn't expecting it.

They pushed through a tapestry, and found themselves in the Entrance Hall, where it was noticeably warmer and much more cheerful. Ron and Hermione stopped arguing, and it wasn't long before Neville and Luna joined them - Neville moaning slightly about losing his Remembrall, and Luna rambling on about Wrackspurts and Nargles. It was a cheery party who made their way to the Great Hall; that is until Ron accidentally tripped over his large feet and fell into one Draco Malfoy.

"Watch where you're going, Weasley," spat Malfoy, pushing Ron away from him and dusting down his robes.

"Same for you, Malfoy," said Ron, obviously annoyed.

Malfoy muttered something, and was about to walk off – but Ron stopped him, grabbing his arm before he could slope off.

"What did you say, Malfoy?" he hissed, arm shaking in fury. Hermione grabbed Ron's arm, but he shook her off. Neville looked uneasy, while Luna looked blissfully unaware of what was taking place, and started unrolling a new edition of the Quibbler. Harry stood edgily on Ron's left side, uncertain of what he should do. Should he follow Dumbledore's orders and not get into a fight, or defend his best friend?

Malfoy looked at Ron's arm as though it was a particularly revolting slug, before pushing it off and smirking ever so slightly.

"I said that you were just a filthy blood traitor, so you weren't worth wasting my time," sneered Malfoy, narrowing his eyebrows at Ron, who was rapidly turning red.

"And you're a Death-Eater," spat Ron, causing a lot of onlookers to gasp. Malfoy turned red, which was a remarkable feat for someone so pale. He drew out his wand, and Ron followed suit, which was where Harry intervened.

"Ron, come on – let's go," muttered Harry, dragging Ron away from the scene. Ron turned astonished eyes on him, but allowed himself to be pulled away from the confrontation. Harry glanced back, and saw a crowd which had been expecting a fight looking bewildered, but none looked as astounded as Malfoy, who was looking dumbfounded at Harry.

"What the hell?"asked Ron, as soon as they were a safe distant from the scene. "Why did you stop me fighting Malfoy? Did you hear what he called me?"

"I have to get Malfoy to trust me," Harry replied. "Believe me; I had little pleasure in doing that."

Ron still looked angry, but he didn't press the point. Hermione caught up with them at that point, nodding approval towards Harry.

"Malfoy looks very confused Harry," she said. "I think you're on the way."

Ron grunted and started to help himself to some sausages, piling tomato ketchup on his plate. Hermione smiled at Harry, before tucking into some toast. Harry, however, didn't feel like eating at all and instead contented himself to staring into the distance, mulling over some thoughts in his head.

"I'm going to go to Herbology early," he told Ron and Hermione. Both looked surprised, but they didn't say anything as he sauntered away, without touching any food. Over at the Slytherin table, Draco Malfoy watched him leave, and as soon as he left the Great Hall Malfoy stood up from his table and followed him, ignoring Daphne and Blaise's questions.

Harry was glad to get outside Hogwarts, even if it was bitterly cold outside. The whole affair with Draco Malfoy was all so confusing; it was nice to clear his head with some autumn air. He had twenty minutes until Herbology, so he dawdled there, glad of a chance to be alone for once.

"Potter."

Harry span around, unsettled, and stiffened when he saw Malfoy standing there, apparently alone. The other boy was trembling uncontrollably in the cold wind, and Harry could almost hear his teeth chattering. Harry knew that was probably due to all the weight he had lost, and a surge of pity spread through him, to his annoyance.

"Malfoy," he replied.

The other boy approached him, eyes wary.

"What's going on, Potter?" asked Malfoy, rubbing his arms in the hope of triggering some warmth. "Why have you been acting so bloody strange around me?"

Harry suddenly realised how strange the situation was, for this was surely the longest the two teenage boys had gone without cursing each other, or insulting each other. It was odd; strange – and Harry didn't know how to reply to Malfoy's question.

"I guess everyone deserves a second chance," muttered Harry, trying to choose his words carefully.

"Not everyone," replied Malfoy. "Definitely not everyone."

"Do you mean yourself?"

"Why the hell are you giving me a second chance?" scoffed Malfoy, disbelievingly.

"Someone has to," retorted Harry, determined to make Malfoy trust him.

Harry could immediately tell that that was the wrong thing to say, because Malfoy's pale face turned slightly pink, his eyes narrowed, and he advanced menacingly.

"I don't want your pity, Potter," spat Draco Malfoy. "I don't need sympathy from some do-good Gryffindor half-blood."

"Be thankful someone is trying to," snapped back Harry. "I don't see anyone else taking an interest."

"I don't need anyone!" shouted Malfoy, his voice being carried by the autumn wind. Harry could almost see the raw anger and passion glinting in his eyes, before suddenly it was extinguished and he crumpled to the floor, in some sort of unknown agony. The teenage boy was soon crouched, hugging his knees and trembling. Harry was alarmed to see tears were falling from Draco's eyes, being snatched away by the wind before they left his eyelashes. Pity, and something else filled Harry and he reached over to grab Draco's shaking hand.

With a sudden flash of red light, Harry felt himself being pushed away with such force he fell to the ground himself. Draco Malfoy stood over him, eyes red from tears, and teeth gritted.

"Did you hear that Potter? I don't need anyone."

"What's going on here?" called a shrill voice. Harry quickly got to his feet, and he and Draco turned around to see Professor Sprout ambling along towards the Greenhouses, face set in suspicion at the scene in front of her. Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter, famous enemies, alone together in the bitterest of weather.

Harry quickly took control of the situation. "Nothing, Professor Sprout. I had just fallen over, you see, and Malfoy was helping me up."

It was a weak story, Harry knew that, but it seemed to do the trick. Professor Sprout nodded disbelievingly, and then smiled her normal jolly smile at them both. "Well, since you're both so early for lessons, you can both help me replant some mandrakes. Alright?" And without waiting for any replies, she strolled off.

Draco Malfoy looked hesitantly at Harry, obviously unsure as to whether thanks were in order or not. Confusion was evident from his face, but he nodded uncertainly to his arch-enemy, and quickly followed Professor Sprout into the Greenhouse.

Harry didn't see Draco Malfoy for the rest of that day; it almost seemed as if he was avoiding him. And, after such an outburst of emotion Harry had previously thought impossible for someone like Draco Malfoy, he couldn't blame him. It had given Harry an insight into the complicated mind of the Slytherin. Draco was adamant that he was independent, but it was obvious that he wanted some sort of company. He was scared, but refused to admit to the fact. All in all, it was as if Draco Malfoy was living a facade, a mask against the rest of the world. The mask had slipped off slightly when he had been with Harry, so Draco hid from him for the rest of the day.

Ron was still slightly angry with him for dragging him away from the fight with Malfoy, firmly believing that Harry had made him look like a coward in front of everyone. Oh, Ron still talked to Harry, but there was a slight coolness present as well.

Hermione approved of everything Harry was doing, and was also doing a fantastic job of distracting Ginny from Harry, which Harry knew would put him forever in her debt.

That evening, in the common room, the atmosphere was rather difficult. Ron was completely focused on beating Seamus Finnegan in Wizard's Chess, and had no words to say to Harry. Hermione was completely a difficult-looking Ancient Runes essay and refused to speak to anyone until it was completed, meaning that Ginny was free to have Harry to herself. She pushed non-existent strands of hair out of his eyes, complimented him on his writing, demanded to know what he was writing, until he was driven half-mad.

"I'm just going for a walk," he said, as a means of escaping. "I'll be back in a few." Ginny looked disappointed, and Harry nearly fell out of the portrait hole in his haste to get away.

He walked with no particular purpose, wondering how long it would take for Ginny to give up on him and head to her dormitory. He had the invisibility cloak stuffed into his trousers pocket, ready to slip on in case of an approaching teacher, and he had the Marauder's Map to make sure that the coast was clear.

He slipped behind a tapestry, behind which he knew, was an alcove big enough for him to hide for a bit. He brought out the grotty, tattered piece of parchment which was one of his most treasured possessions and with a tap of the wand and a whispered "I solemnly swear I am up to no good", the enchanted map of Hogwarts appeared.

To his relief, all the teachers were safely in their respective offices. Filch was in the entrance hall, chasing after a tiny dot marked "Peeves", and Mrs Norris was prowling near the Ravenclaw common room.

And then he noticed him. The single, tiny insignificant dot marked "Draco Malfoy" was alone, stationary in a bathroom. Curiosity burned Harry; what was Malfoy doing alone in a bathroom, three floors away from the Slytherin common room? Why was he stationary, why wasn't he moving? Was he alright? The last question burst out of his mind from nowhere, and instead of denying that he'd thought it at all, Harry decided to spring into action.

Stuffing the now wiped-clean map into his pocket, Harry sprinted off towards the third floor bathrooms.

Draco Malfoy hadn't meant to end up in the third floor bathrooms, but when you're running half-blinded by tears, you don't always know where you're heading. He had crashed through the half open door, praying to God that no one was already in there. He had been lucky, no one had been.

That was where he had been for the past thirty minutes, crying alone in this dilapidated bathroom. He was so disgusted with himself for descending to this level, to actually letting his emotions out, he had cried even more. The tears had worked their way down his cheeks, into the dirty sinks, as he had stared in revulsion at his reflection in the mirror.

He had been given the most impossible of all tasks by the Dark Lord, a task which even he himself couldn't complete. A task now on the shoulders of a 16 year old boy, along with the fact that if he failed to complete it, his father and his mother would both die. And he couldn't let that happen, even if living now was killing him, crushing him.

He broke out into a fresh wave of wracking sobs, whilst looking in disgust at his reflection in the mirror. His father had once told him to strive for perfection. If he had any idea what an effect those words would have on his son, Draco was sure he would never had said them. Draco had half-starved himself in order to follow those words; trying to reach a weight which he thought would make him perfect. He had beaten himself up over those five syllables, stressed about it and obsessed over it.

Strive-for-perfection.

As he looked at the pale, thin, hollow shell in the mirror he knew that he had never been so far away from perfection.

Allowing his rage to take over him, he took a deep breath and drove his fist into the mirror, so that shards went flying, and shattered into his skin.

Harry flew down the staircase, taking the shortest route he knew to the third floor bathrooms. He had no idea what Malfoy was doing, but remembering how depressed he had been before, Harry's blood ran cold at the possibilities.

He took a short-cut through a hidden door built into the wall, breathlessly running down the stone corridor behind it, marvelling at how a situation could change in such a short space of time. A few days ago, Harry would have happily laughed at the idea of Draco Malfoy in tears, but now here he was, trying to prevent just that.

He was nearly at the bathrooms, just a few more corners to race around...

It was a terrible crime to ruin perfection, Draco Malfoy knew that. But ruining imperfection, there was nothing wrong with that was there? Anyway, Draco had had enough of everything. Ending it all just seemed like the ideal solution.

With choking sobs and trembling pale fingers, he picked up a shard of the broken mirror, and weighed it in his hand. Could he do this?

Harry raced down the final stone corridor, pulling his wand out as he ran. He saw the distant figure of a teacher, and he quickly ducked behind a statue of some gargoyle; heart hammering in his chest. The bathrooms were just around the corner, and as soon as the teacher had moved away, he tried to fling himself through the bathroom door; only to realise that it was locked from the inside.

Inwardly cursing, Harry started beating on the door, perfectly aware that almost every teacher could here him hitting the wood with his whole body weight. The door just wouldn't budge; and there were no signs of life from inside, although he knew for a fact that Draco Malfoy was in there. Panicking, he starting knocking on the beaten wood furiously, hissing for Malfoy to open it. There was no answer.

Draco tried to ignore the knocks on the bathroom door, it was surely only an over-inquisitive prefect, and since he was a prefect himself, it was of no consequence. No one could possibly know that he was in there, after all.

He hovered the shard of mirror, so painfully sharp, over his flawless skin. He was shaking, and his breathing had turned raggedy, but inside he knew that this was the only way forward. He tried to imagine what it would be like to actually cause that much blood appear, but his imagination ran short. There was only one way to find out.

Draco Malfoy took a deep breath.

His mind had been panicking so much; he had forgotten the simplest method of entering a locked door. Knowing that Hermione would be furious with him, Harry brought his wand to the door lock, and whispered Alohomora.

The door immediately creaked open, and Harry impatiently barged in, casting his eyes over, and assessing the scene in front of him in a split second. Draco Malfoy was leaning over one of the sinks, one hand gripping the edge of the basin with all his might, the other hand holding – what looked like a distinctly sharp piece of glass. Harry then realised that the bathroom mirror had shattered, and there were what looked like blood stains on the wall.

"Malfoy!" gasped Harry.

Malfoy span around, looking like a child caught doing something he shouldn't have. Harry immediately saw how close the other boy was holding the shard to his wrist, and realised exactly what Malfoy had been about to do.

"Potter!" gasped Malfoy. "How did you know where I was?"

Harry grabbed his arm, and carefully took the piece of glass out of Malfoy's shaking hand. He then caught both of his hands with his own, and looked into Draco Malfoy's eyes, something he never thought he would do. He was surprised to see that they weren't a cold grey, like he had always imagined. They were a swirling grey, with more emotions caught in there than Harry could ever have imagined.

"What were you going to do, Malfoy?" said Harry in a low voice, perfectly aware of what he had been about to do.

"God, if you understood my situation Potter! Maybe you'd do the same thing," muttered Malfoy.

"It's not worth it," said Harry, firmly.

Malfoy didn't answer, but he instead looked at his and Harry's hands, entwined. His pale fingers, tangled with the scarred and sun-burnt fingers of Harry Potter. Carefully, he pulled his hands away, and without another word, left the bathroom.

Harry remained there, full to the brim with a mixture of complicated feelings; feelings he had never experienced together. Hatred for his previous arch enemy had all but vanished, it seemed impossible to hate someone so broken, so different. He would never have believed it a year or more ago, but his anger towards the pure-blood had abated.

He definitely felt confusion; confusion as to why his feelings had changed so much towards the Slytherin, and what exactly was he feeling now? Pity was definitely there, a great surge of sympathy towards the boy who didn't want to live anymore. And there was something else, a sort of magnetising attraction towards Malfoy. Not that he would ever admit it to anyone, of course.

Thankfully, when he returned to the Gryffindor Common room, Ginny had already gone to bed. Ron was snoozing in front of the log fire, and Hermione looked as if she was just putting the finishing touches to her essay. Harry had hoped to sneak into his dormitories without his two best friends noticing him, but he had no such luck. Hermione seemed to get sharper the later the time and she spotted a glimpse of Harry's white trainers from underneath the Invisibility Cloak.

"Harry!"

Harry jumped, and the Invisibility Cloak slipped off him, showing his frozen figure with one hand reached for the handle for the door to the dormitories.

"Hermione," he muttered guiltily, wondering how he was going to explain this to her. Ron snorted in his sleep then opened his eyes groggily.

"Wuzzgoinnon?" he murmured.

"Yes, Harry, why were you sneaking past us?" asked Hermione shrilly, doing a perfect impersonation of Professor McGonagall.

"I'm just feeling rather antisocial at the moment," admitted Harry. "I just wanted to go to my room and think."

"Well, you escaped Ginny," said Hermione. "She went to her dormitory ages ago, where have you been?"

"No where," replied Harry. "Just wandering about."

"Did you find Draco Malfoy?" asked Hermione, narrowing her eyes. Harry's jaw dropped open, how did Hermione get so clever?

"How the hell did you know that?" spluttered Harry.

"Oh, just by an expression you had on your face," smiled Hermione. "So you did?"

Ron sat up from his armchair and focused an unreadable expression on Harry; an expression which Harry immediately saw as disapproving. Harry knew how much Ron detested Draco Malfoy, and he knew that the more time he spent with him; the less Ron would like it.

"Yes," said Harry reluctantly.

Hermione knew from Harry's expression that he didn't want to talk about it, but Ron saw no such hidden message.

"Well, what was the ferret moaning about now?" he asked, not looking very concerned. "Are his Death Eater pals threatening to kill him?"

Actually, Ron," said Harry, voice suddenly cold. "He tried to kill himself."

And without another word, he stormed up to his dormitory, leaving a dumbfounded Ron and a shocked Hermione behind in the common room. When he got to his red and gold decorated four-poster bed, he sat heavily down onto the duvet, and pulled out the Marauder's Map again. It was with a great deal of relief that he realised that the single dot labelled "Draco Malfoy" had returned to the Slytherin common room, and two dots were next to him labelled "Daphne Greengrass" and "Blaise Zabini."

It was not easy for Harry to fall asleep that night, with images of blood and a screaming Draco Malfoy tumbling through his mind. Twice he woke up, sweating – just like had used to do when Voldemort's thoughts had been linked to his.

Draco quietly said the password, and entered his common room slowly. He felt dead, half-stunned. He had entered the Slytherin dungeons many times in his life, but he had never felt as excluded as he did now from his housemates as they chattered and laughed away.

Daphne and Blaise had been in the corner of the common room, talking in lowered voices to each other. Draco fleetingly wondered when one of them would admit they liked the other; they were so perfect for each other, it was the running joke of Slytherin that they weren't a couple yet.

Both of them noticed him making his way across the room. He had changed so much from the previous year; both of them could see that. Last year, he had been the proud and popular Slytherin prince, overly self-confident and arrogant. Admittedly not a good friend, and still as obsessed with his appearance and weight, but the Draco Malfoy everyone loved to hate. He had been in all his Slytherin glory, and every girl in his house had been fawning over him; his longish white blonde hair, his condescending attitude, his steely grey eyes and his doubtlessly large amounts of charm.

A completely different person was making their way towards them now. The pale skin, white hair and grey eyes were still admittedly in place, but the unwavering self-confidence had diminished, his arrogance had been replaced. Of course, his cold-hearted manner hadn't gone, but it just wasn't displayed publicly as often. He was thinner than he had ever been, Blaise could see his ribs protruding when they were getting changed, and he was paler than ever before. The girls didn't pay any attention to him anymore, because he insulted anyone who went anywhere near him – excluding Blaise and Daphne of course. He was quieter; he kept more to himself. He was broken.

"Draco?" asked Daphne, as he approached. "Gods, Draco, are you alright? You look terrible."

"Yes, I'm fine," muttered Draco, sitting down heavily in the green leather armchair. "I just had a run in with Potter though."

"He does seem rather obsessed with you," sniggered Blaise.

"I don't really mind anymore," sighed Draco. Blaise and Daphne looked at him in astonishment, Blaise's jaw almost hitting the floor.

"You don't mind Harry Potter?" spluttered Daphne. "Okay, who are you and what have you done with Draco Malfoy?"

"I don't know!" moaned Draco, clutching his head in his hands. "I don't know who I am anymore."

Daphne and Blaise looked at each other, concerned about their friend.

"Look, I know you're a Slytherin and he's a Gryffindor, but there's nothing stopping you from talking to him. I know he's Harry Potter, and he's an annoying bastard, but if he's being like this to you, he's alright in my book," said Blaise, and Daphne nodded in agreement.

"Why is he doing this?" wondered Draco out loud. "It was only last week when he told me to go to hell."

Daphne looked down. "Well, he is a Gryffindor goody-goody with an obsession with saving people, we all know that..."

"Do I look as if I need to be saved?" hissed Draco.

"Mate, you do look troubled. You're too pale and too thin, maybe Potter just wants to help. It's a typical Gryffindor quality, so I'm told."

"Gryffindors," sighed Daphne. "What are they like?"

"There's something else as well," muttered Draco, rubbing his exhausted eyes. "I just don't know what."

"Well, with typical Slytherin cunning," said Daphne, grinning. "There's only one way to find out – play along."

Draco unwillingly let out a smile, which dissolved into a grin. Daphne and Blaise were glad to see a different expression to fear and anxiety light up his face. "I guess you're right," he admitted. "Bloody Potter, why does he have to complicate everything so much?"

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