Here we go: yay!

Before the Christmas holiday started, the Great Hall erupted in chatter as the Daily Prophets fell in front of them with the headline that was practically screaming:

Tragedy Strikes Hogwarts

Students mourn the loss of fellow student, Draco Malfoy.

Hedwig hooted softly as I took my copy from her. She took off after sneaking a bite of bacon from my plate. I pushed it away. Even though the plan went down without a hitch, I still couldn't help but be in a mood. After the supposed death of Draco, Gryffindors of all ages were guiltily bouncing with cheer. It was as if it was Voldemort who drowned instead of one of our classmates, who done nothing more but be an arse.

"Can you believe this?" Ron exclaimed holding Neville's copy. The story told of a tragic accident where a jinxed broom at Quidditch practice sent Draco hurtling straight into the Black Lake where he apparently drowned. The paper said that this morning a splintered broom and a broken hawthorn wand was found on the shore. Lucius Malfoy was furious. He came to Dumbledore's office demanding that his body be found and that he should take better measures to ensure the safety of his students. "It says that no matter how hard they try to search, the git's body can't be found. A stubborn arse until the end, eh?"

"Ronald!" Hermoine scolded, slapping him on the shoulder. "He may have been vile, but it's still incredibly disrespectful to talk about him like that now." They glared at each other before turning to their plates. My fork scraped the plate, pushing the food around half-heartedly. I jumped when Hermoine's hand held mine. "I'm sorry, Harry. I know you wanted to help him, but it's all going to be okay soon." The lack of sympathy in her eyes made me yank my hand away. She pulled back, wounded by my rejection.

"Sooner than you think, mate." Ron said, his eyes glued to the Prophet. He shoveled a fork full of eggs in his mouth before he spoke, "Pretty soon, it will go from fake 'We miss you, Draco's to house-wide stories that start with 'Remember the ferret...?'." My mind swam with rage. Even if he was dead, Ron needs to get over that childish grudge. I stood suddenly, shocking the Gryffindors. Ron finally looked up at me, but drew back at my expression. Hermoine curled in on herself, waiting for the outburst.

"What makes the two of you think he got what he deserves? What could you possibly know about him that makes you so much better? Because you're not a pureblood?" Hermoine dropped her gaze, focusing it on her plate. "Or maybe because you're not a Malfoy?" Ron looked as if I slapped him. "I'm so sick and tired of watching all of you be so childish and hateful towards each other. How the hell am I supposed to fight for you if all you," I yelled the next three words, shocking the entire hall, "CHILDISH LITTLE BRATS," I lowered my voice again, "are only interested is fighting each other?"

"Mate," Ron said softly, "Malfoy wasn't on our side. He's a death eater-"

"WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT HIM, WEASLEY?!" Ron's ears turned blood red and my heart fell. I've never called him that. The only one that calls him that..."I've gotta go." I muttered before I all but bolted out of the hall.

I paced in front of the Room of Requirement while a small, plain wooden door materialized. The room inside caused me to pause. Apparently, Draco took to redecorating while the school was learning about his demise. The room was painted in shades of golds and blues. Instead of the plain full-sized bed that was in the corner, it was a king-size bed in the center of the room with what looked like ten pillows of different sizes and a huge navy blue comforter. I shook my head with a huff. On the other side of the room was a bathroom, where light and steam was pouring through the door. I could hear clinking and shuffling as Malfoy took his shower. He'd be livid if he walked out to see me waiting.

"Malfoy!" I called out.

There was a loud thud and cursing before Draco called back, "Bloody hell, Potter. Does your muggles not knock on the door?!"

"Muggles don't knock on a dead bloke's door." The joke was dry, but it got a sarcastic chuckle in reply.

"Is that why people flock to you?" The water shut off and a moment later, Draco walked out dripping wet, a towel knotted around his waist. "I never realized that you were coveted for your stunning wit." He recovered his clothes from the absurdly large bed, sniffing them in revulsion. "I know that even muggles don't wear the same clothes every single day. I need more, unless my death is truly the end to these means."

"You are such a woman!" He glared with his hands on his hips, not helping his case. "I'll bring some of my, well...gently used hand-me-downs. They'll be huge on you, but they'll be clean." Draco rolled his eyes, pulling his underwear on under his towel.

"So you're saying," he said as he bent to pull on his pants, "that I am now in the same wagon as the Weasleys right now. I betrayed my family and their cause so now I am punished by wearing hand-me-downs?" He pulled the towel off and fastened his pants, drawing my eyes to the brief glimpse of black satin boxers. My view wandered up his flat stomach to his gorgeous chest. My mouth suddenly went dry. I was thankful for a moment when Draco turned his back to me, but then I saw how the pants he wore hugged his curves. A small squeak left my mouth. I tried my hardest to make that into a cough, but Draco's quick look at me told me he heard it. He slipped his shirt on, ruffled his soaked hair, then slicked it back. He shrugged at my raised eyebrow, "My products were with my personal effects. If it was missing, it would look suspicious." Something was off as he faced me, that something else was missing. It wasn't until he slicked his hair back again that it occured to me.

"You don't have your ring." I pointed out. Draco glanced at his hand and rubbed the worn area of his finger, frowning.

"I had to give it up. I knew Father would try to find my body himself, so I took the ring off and let it sink in the lake." Draco shivered, looking green around the edges. I could remember that same look on his face when I pulled him from the lake. It took all of his will to wait until he was fully hidden to vomit. It was hours before he spoke sense. His eyes had been blank the entire evening in shock. The name 'Irissia' was all he said until sunrise the next morning. His eyes burned with both humiliation and anger. He practically spat venom at me, "I still can't believe you made me go in there, Potter." It was my turn to roll my eyes.

"I had to, Malfoy. It was the only way to fake your death with no body." He sat on the bed in defeat. He wrapped his arms around himself, rocking slightly. "Draco, I know it was hard to face your fear like that-"

"You don't know anything about fear!" he spat.

"Is that right?" Draco nodded, white as a sheet. A sudden thought clicked inside my head. Dumbledore had mentioned that we were from two opposite sides of not only the war, but also the entire Wizarding world all together. Our entire relationship has been one misunderstanding after another. He suggested getting to know each other. What better and quicker way than this? "Stand up, Malfoy." He looked up at me through a curtain of his wet hair. His eyebrows rose in question. The thought of this sent my heart racing and my palms sweaty, but this will end so many stupid fights. If I was destined to end the biggest war in Wizarding history, then I'm damn capable of ending this bullshit. "Stand up and take my wand. You are going to see me. The real me, for everything I am. You know Leglimency, yes?" He stood, his eyes wide and his head shaking.

"Potter, you are off your bloody rocker! Do you have any idea what kind of power you're giving me here?"

"No, but then you must have some idea about how much I'm trusting you to do this right." I held out my wand to him. He looked at it like it was a vicious animal, ready to attack. "You look through my head, and if you're willing, I would like to look through yours. I've got a feeling that we are never going to trust each other unless we know each other inside and out." Draco laughed humorlessly.

"See if you said that over dinner or something, I would have said 'Have at me'." I gaped at him, getting another laugh from him. "You didn't know I was gay, did you?" I shook my head. "It's one of the worst kept secrets in Slytherin." He shook his head, plucking the wand from my hand. He twirled it with his long fingers before pointing it at my feet. "Alright, Potter, if you're willing to get down on your knees for me," he grinned as my face blazed red, "I guess I can take a crack at it."

My heart beat hard in my chest as I knelt at Draco's feet. The walls around my mind were almost impossible to bring down as I watched Malfoy, Malfoy of all people, pointing my wand at my forehead.

"Just a warning, Potter. Everything in that skull of yours is fair game."

I nodded, choking a bit before I got my voice back. "Everything in here has brought me to this point." The hand holding my wand trembled. Draco had a look caught between fear and anticipation. "There are things in here that no one knows, Draco. I hope you have it in you to keep it that way." The challenge made him smirk.

"I'm a Slytherin, Potter," he assured, raising the wand, "You know how we are with valuable information on our rivals. Legilemens!" My head surged with images as the obviously overwhelmed Slytherin submerged himself in my mind.

He sped through my thoughts, going back further than I could remember. The early memories were mainly strong emotions as opposed to images. I felt so much love that my heart was bursting out of my chest, then I felt a gaping hole as it was ripped away. I could tell without hearing the all too familiar scream that it was the memory of my mother.

"Are you sure you want to leave him here with these muggles?" McGonagall's voice drifted through me, followed by Dumbledore's assurance, "He will be safe, Minerva." Malfoy sped through the memories of my younger childhood with a sneer.

Always fussed over, eh, Potter? His voice rang through my head.

Just watch, Malfoy. I pushed my thoughts out to wrap around his form and pulled him into the most brutal memory of the Dursleys. It was the earliest memory I had of using magic.

Dudley pinned me at the base of the stairs. He was only six years old at the time, punching me in the face. He has already hit me so many times I lost count. "You're such a little ponce, Potter!" I was begging him to stop before he broke something. It would be another broken bone they wouldn't fix. Another injury that I 'deserved'. I don't know what I did this time to make Dudley unhappy. All I could think is that if Uncle Vernon saw blood on the carpet or Dudley's knuckles, that I would be in trouble. I could hear loud pounding footsteps coming towards the stairs. Dudley had already smeared blood on his face and started tearing up. "Daddy!" he yelled. The footsteps rushed closer. Uncle Vernon turned the corner, red-faced and fuming. "You little freak!" he spat. "What have you done now?!" Dudley started sobbing. It sounded fake even to me. "He hit me!" I couldn't understand. I was the one being pinned. I was the one bloodied and beaten, but judging from the look on Uncle Vernon's face, he didn't care. "Petunia, wet some towels for Dudley." he called to the kitchen. Aunt Petunia, having heard everything, was getting the towels, hiccuping about the little demon they were forced to raise. Fear put everything into 20/20 vision when the huge man's meaty hand grabbed me by the throat. Dudley ran to the kitchen, giggling shamelessly. A large hand came down on my cheek, stinging horribly and making my vision go blurry. "You think you're special, boy?" Another slap. "You are nothing, Potter. NOTHING!" Three more slaps, until suddenly he was gone. Two girlish shrieks came from the kitchen. Foolishly, I ran to see what happened. My uncle's fat head was stuck on the outside of the patio door while his body was flailing inside. Aunt Petunia glared daggers at me before taking me by the ear and locking me in the cupboard under the stairs, leaving me hyperventilating in the crushing darkness.

This is also when I realized I was claustrophobic, I said as I ended the memory. We were temporarily left hovering in my psyche with nothing around us. He stared, awestruck.

I had no idea, Pot-, I mean, Harry. He tripped over my name with effort, so I had to ask why. Because, I see who else called you Potter and now I see why you always used to look so...wounded when I called you that. Harry, he said with obvious strain, this can go both ways. You showed the source of your claustrophobia. I'll show you my aquaphobia.

Draco, I started, but he cut me off as he pulled me into his memories.

I know you heard the name Irissia earlier. His voice echoed as the lawn of Malfoy Manor formed around us. We were at the very rear of the land, past the garden. Mother told us to not go pass the garden. We should have listened. There was so much sorrow in his voice. At the edge of the property was a small lake, so clear that it was a perfect mirror to the night sky. A little boy with a messy crop of white hair ran up to the banks, splashing the water at an older girl who came running up behind him. She squealed before returning the play. She was nine at the time and I was five. Irissia was my older sister. His voice faded as the memory consumed us.

"Drakey?" the girl sang. "We need to go back. Mommy said we're not allowed." The little boy shoved his chubby arms into the water, taking joy in the ripples and swirls he made. "Mermaids, Issy! Mermaids!" He looked up at his sister, with love and adoration in his eyes. He felt a sense of duty to his sister, even at such a young age. They promised that they would fight the evil snake-face so everyone would be happy and they could play with the red-haired boys again. Father said they were bad people. Mommy told them the truth. Father's friends were bad people, and they needed to be good so they could protect each other. "I mean it, Dray, we need to-" Little Draco looked up in alarm when his sister screamed. A tall, looming figure stood over them pointing his wand at them. "Now, didn't Mommy and Daddy tell you not to stay out so late? Kiddies could get hurt." He took Issy's arm in a rough grip and yanked her to him. She struggled but he held her, ripping her tights and her shirt. "There are monsters out here, children." Draco sprang into action. He leapt up on the large man's, pounding his fist into the man's broad back screaming for help. He felt a hand grab him by the hair, and then he was airborne. He hit the water hard, making him lose his senses briefly, but he swam to the surface, seeing the huge man pin his sister down. His mind wasn't able to process what was happening. All he knew was that his sister was crying and he couldn't save her. He couldn't be a good boy and fight off the bad man. His strength was failing fast and he sank lower and lower. His lungs burned and he struggled to break the surface, but it seemed the more he struggled, the further he sank. His last sight before his vision blacked out was the body of a little girl getting thrown into the water with him, blood curling through the water like smoke.

STOP! My mind yelled. The sadness and the fear was crushing my lungs. I felt as if I was drowning, too. Stop, stop, STOP! Suddenly, I was lying face-first in the Room of Requirement, on hard wood instead of wet grass, breathing in air instead of water. Sobs were ripping from my chest before I could stop myself. Merlin, he was only five! I screamed in my head. I pounded my fists into the floor until I felt the warm trickle of blood run down my fingers.

"Harry," Draco said, with as much sadness as I felt. The sound did nothing but made me sob harder. "We don't have to do this," he offered. "We can just talk."

"No!" I spat. "Just give me a minute." I sat up on my knees to look at what become of that sad little boy. Tears flowed freely from Draco's eyes. My heart almost stopped. His last thoughts before he almost died were why he couldn't be the hero. Why couldn't he have swooped in and saved the damsel? Draco's words from Hagrid's hut rang in his ears. "I get it, Draco. You hate what I represent."

"And you hate bullies." he added. "I get it, too, Harry. I'm sorry for everything I said. I just felt like I needed to blast you off that high pedestal of yours-"

"It's a pedestal I don't even want." We shared a heavy look. The two memories we shared were flowing back and forth between us. Tears for both pasts were shed.

Then Draco held out his hand and smiled. "I'm Draco Malfoy, and I am definitely the wrong sort." The mental image of sixteen-year-old Draco's words coming out of eleven-year-old Draco's mouth made me laugh.

I took his hand and we shook. "Harry Potter, and I believe I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks." Judging by the honest grin on Draco's face, he was as relieved as I was that the bullshit between us was almost over.