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The Rivalry	By : Pseudonymous_Entity Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 4960 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: If you recognize it from the Harry Potter books, I didn't come up with it. I'm not making any money off of this story nor do I intend to. It's purely for entertainment.

Chapter List
- 18
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Draco's childhood was one of expectation.

Expectation of a Black, expectation of a Malfoy heir, expectation of a pureblood, a firstborn, a child of the Dark Lord's highest lieutenant. Every move he made had to be choreographed for the benefit of those surrounding him. His walk, his hair, the tones of his voice were all carefully cultivated from years of expectation. The only solace he was able to find came in the form of knowledge and of books. He knew, even then, that the only way he could hope to govern himself with little concern for anyone else's opinion was to acquire power. Not as the Malfoy heir, that was his father's power. He needed power of his own. From observation he quickly surmised that knowledge was power, and he acted accordingly. Spending hours in the manor's library, reading every book he could reach with a stool, demanding his godfather present him with the ones he could not reach. Determined to understand and retain everything. It became such a need that after being amongst other people for a time he grew restless, tired of his act and quite vain of the wider knowledge he had attained through access to so many books and scrolls. His mind was always on alert and there were moments in the beginning where he lacked the skill to hide his contempt for his companions' stupidity. It was a flaw he possessed even now.

Those around him complained that he was conceited, and since he excelled in matters that were unimportant to them, they accused him of vanities he did not suffer from. That he was full of himself for his wealth or his status or his blood purity. They never once accused him of vanity toward his own merits. In defense he developed a sharp sense of humour and found that he had a knack of accurately divining and presenting the flaws of others, which sort of caught people raw. He said these things because they amused him, hardly realizing or caring how much they hurt, and was much offended when he found others couldn't handle the truth of themselves, lashing out with ridiculous cuts against his character. In his mind he was doing them a favour, rather than use his powers of observation to put out highly likely yet untrue and damaging rumours, he simply responded to insult with the truth. As for himself, he could live with insults that were true. He wasn't one for denying the truth.

And then he met Potter. Until then he'd had such a fear of meeting another like himself waring with a desperate desire for it. He was lonely but terrified of his isolation shattering and thus no longer playing king of his personal universe. He needed it, his inner sanctum. His self-control. The only things he had that were his and uniquely him in this world and not the product of an image forged to pleased the vision of those around him. But when he saw this messy haired boy who seemed much too young to be at school, walking around with a Stepford smile hiding a similar truth, he snapped a little inside.

Their first year Draco found the boy wonder standing alone in a hall staring out the window at the children playing on the grounds. When he asked him why he wasn't out their with his friends the little Gryffindor turned to him with his too bright eyes and said "I wasn't invited. You have to have friends to get invited."

It was absurd. "How can you not have friends?" He'd demanded.

"They don't like me." Was the response, and then he figured it out. The other Gryffindors didn't like Potter for who he was and thus he tried the golden persona he would come to perfect over the years. This was enough for people to like him but not enough to befriend him.

"How can they dislike something that isn't even there?" Draco had sniffed, raising his chin. The other boy gave him a small smile.

That was the moment that started the strange alteration in their interactions with one another. With a new understanding and camaraderie they felt free to speak to the other as they could not to anyone else. They snarked and insulted and called one another out, pushing each other to be stronger, thicker skinned, cleverer. Their rivalry born and exalted. A Hogwarts staple. The best parts were the bit when Potter's eyes flashed red, when he grinned wickedly, when he was searingly sarcastic and overwhelming informed and opinionated on everything to do with magic and affinities. Far clever than anyone would ever know. No, Draco was not his friend but he knew him in a way no one else ever would. He knew the real Harry Potter and that was more than enough for him.

All of that together brought them here, on the Hogwarts grounds in the middle of the night, potter holding a strange device over their heads to keeping them safe from the rain, the two of them discussing multi-existential single form creations set to frequencies maintained by their very own magical signatures. In the morning they would go back to being silly childhood rivals with unsolved issues awash in whatever problems the daylight might bring, but now? Now they were as gods among insects discovering the secrets of the universe by moonlight. With this boy who expected him only to be himself.

"Brilliant."

Potter puffed up. "Thank you."

"But there's an issue."

He deflated. "What is it?"

I'm assuming that there's a double use for the connected magical signature as a security clause? When a signature not pre-established attempts to connect, or use, the the insta-note it 'ceases' as it only exists for the two of us with our combined frequencies, correct?"

"Yes."

"This is a good idea but it has flaws. For instance, my mother and father have similar signatures to my own, this phenomenon caused by our blood connection. Blood of course being the strongest sort of collected magic we have at our disposal. Similarly, as you can I have a distant connection through my mother's black blood and your grandmother's black blood, we have signatures that have similarly qualities. As such, hypothetically, if my mother or father tried to use my side of the insta-note they probably could, because the mix with your magic would result in a frequency comparable to our originally frequency in a way that would likely be accepted by the insta-notes and allow them to activate it. The only way to avoid such a possibility would be if our frequency were entirely unique."

Potter appeared to ponder this. "I have a solution."

"Really? That quickly? You've just solved an incredibly complicated magical problem in about thirty seconds?"

"Observe." His tan hand pulled out a sharp silver blade the size of Draco's ring finger, he had seen Potter use it in the come and go room before. Potter twirled it between the fingers of his wand hand, his other tossing up and catching a small bag. "Did you know?" he asked, conversationally, walking in a circle outside of the shelter of the device he left hovering above Draco, "Out of all the people here, everyone who thinks they've a right to know my every move, out of the people who call themselves my friends, the only who really noticed anything was wrong is you?" Glittering sand poured from a small hole in the bag, creating a perfect circle. Potter tilted his head and added in an inverted triangle. The bag was placed back from whence it came and potter tossed about the Insta-note instead. "Hermione suspects I am purposely humouring her expectations to hide a secret from her. Ron believes I am being spiteful and trying to prove a point. You, however,

have deduced that there is something wrong outside of petty personal grudges or duplicity. I find this fascinating because you and I don't even call one another friend. And we aren't friends, not in the normal sense. Honestly I'm not sure what we are, but I do find it preferable to my previous experiences with friendship I think." He stopped before Draco, under the rain repelling device, quite close. "I thought about this before, and I wasn't sure until last night. Anyway, try not to hit me for this until I'm done, alright? It really will solve the problem for the insta-note."

Potter held out his left hand and made a slash along the meat of his thumb on the palm, blood welled up. The cut was deep. The glint of the knife brought his focus to his own left hand which Potter deftly cut in the same manner. He wondered, in the back of the mind, if this was shock. He ought to curse the other boy, but, watching him press their two hands together, he found he couldn't move.

Their left hands clasped between them Draco watched the face of Potter, who watched the blood collected at the bottom of their joined hands and drop to the earth. He gave a nod and said. "Brothers in Blood. One in Magic." With a crackle and low rumble the night-sky exploded into an Autumn storm, as violet strands of magic twirled down their arms to their wrists. Draco jolted, trying to remove his hand but was unable, the delicate strands strong and hot like steel in a forge. Pure magic was not something he was used to encountering, or indeed familiar with at all. The influx of power was both painful and exhilarating, boiling in the veins of his arms and he felt it. The instant it reached his heart. An alarmingly wide expanse of something opened up, pushing against the inside of his chest, building with pressure, and then it was shooting out of his arteries and into his bloodstream moving throughout his body, merging seamlessly with his tissue.

"I have been one acquainted with the night

I have walked out in rain and back in rain

I have outwalked the furthest city light

I have looked down the saddest city lane

I have passed by the watchman on his beat and dropped my eyes

Unwilling to explain

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet

When far away an interrupted cry came over house from another street

But not to call me back or say goodbye

And further still at an unearthly height, one luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right

I have been one acquainted with the night."

Wind kicked up even stronger and swirled about them nearly knocking him from his feet he could feel his hair snapping against his face, and the roar was overwhelming. The magic tying them together the only thing keeping them standing. Draco shut his eyes against the flashing lights and the wind finding only less blinding light beneath his lids. He heard, barely above the roar of magic, Potter say once more, "Brothers in Blood. One in Magic."

The magic stopped, leaving the sounds of the storm oddly muted in it's wake. Cautiously Draco opened his eyes. The lights were gone. He still burned on the inside.

Potter moved their hands apart, turning them palms up, the blood was gone and their wounds healed leaving twin scars. "There." The Gryffindor breathed, sounding hesitantly pleased. "Now no one but us can access the Insta-note." The boy was pale, shaking a little, one of his arms held out from his body just a bit.

It had taken a higher toll on him it seemed. Perhaps because the smaller boy had performed the ritual while Draco was a participant.

He felt his jaw fall open. It wasn't everyday one was a part of an impromptu blood ritual. Waves of panic built in a corner of his chest and he pushed them back as best as he could. Potter wasn't like other people, he wouldn't hurt Draco for no reason. He was fairly certain the raven haired boy had even designed the ritual himself. "Why would you do something like this...with me?" He demanded, his voice not nearly as steady as he wanted it to be.

Draco wracked his mind but he could not find a single instance of their interaction that would lead Potter to believe Draco was worthy of such a thing. He wanted it, very much. To have that sense of belonging and acceptance. Panic welled up again. Experience had taught Draco that things like this would never be offered to him and if they were it would be a political move meant to further the agenda of the offering party. But what did he have that Potter could want? Potter wasn't a manipulator of politics or interested in wealth, he had his own, or anything else someone would come to Draco for. The only remaining viable option was the Potter did in fact value his interactions with Draco and genuinely wished to give a display showing his appreciation of Draco's presence in his life.

Potter traced the scar on Draco's hand for a moment, silent, then glanced up, once green eyes almost entirely red.

"You push me." said Potter, "You push my buttons. You piss me off. I can't think of a single twenty-four hour period we've gone without dueling." He paused. "And yet, somehow, I look forward to every meeting between us, whether to discuss magical theory or insult one another or compete over who got up the stairs first." The small Gryffindor tilted his head. "It's odd isn't it? I can't for the life of me understand it. You're always catching me in these vulnerable moments no one else has a clue about and you never run off telling the school about them, and I doubt you're collecting them for an insanely long list of blackmail. You don't stand there and talk about it with me because you think it's your right to know or out of a sense of duty or because I'm The-Boy-Who-Lived. You don't expect me to suck it up. Sometimes I think you see right through me. You. Draco Malfoy. You see me when no one else does. And I just...I want to be that for you as well."

The blonde stared. "So all of this is, what exactly?"

"More than anything this is an apology. Being blamed for my being who I am has to annoy the crap out of you. Ron wouldn't give you any attention at all if it weren't for me. I know that. Of course, you keep coming around anyway. The thing is, there's been a recent development. I've been told, not at all subtly, to stay away from you, keep my mouth shut and my head down and return to what is my expected realm of behavior prior to this year. In general, ignoring everything else, that isn't an order I'd feel any joy toward obeying. I did, in fact, beg not to have to do so. In that moment I realized something...distressing. It seems I've become quite attached to you Draco. It's making me do stupid things, I really ought to do as I'm told, the consequences suck and I'm certain they'll only get worse when it becomes clearer the reason I'm fighting against it. But out of everything I've been asked to give up, you are the thing I am least willing to let go."

Gleaming red eyes locked with his. "It's selfish really. Not at all noble. But when I'm with you I can be angry. When I'm with you I can make mistakes. I don't have to smile when I'm not happy or pretend to know less than I do or act like I don't have an opinion because it will offend you. I can just be...Harry. So this is my way of possessing you whether the world likes it or not. Now there's nothing anyone can do to take you away from me. I'm sorry I didn't ask first."

Potter stood silent, turning away from him. "Remember when we were talking about the plausibility of the Butterfly Effect in a chaotic universe? How one little thing can have huge repercussions?" He looked at Draco over his shoulder, "Do you suppose this changes anything?"

Draco swallowed. "It changes a lot of things Potter."
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The Rivalry