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Fine Lines	By : squirrelchaser Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 8056 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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The
Weasley�s were tittering about Potter�s upcoming
birthday, planning a big dinner and presents. Ginny Weasley
cornered me in my room the morning of his birthday, standing in the doorway
with a hesitant look on her face. �Er�I was thinking
since you can�t leave the property and all-�

�Go
on, rub it in,� I snapped.

Her
eyes blazed and she stomped her foot. �I was going to ask if you wanted me to
fetch you something for Harry, but never mind!� She started to slam the door.

�Wait!
Er�sorry,� I mumbled.

Still
glowering, she slowly came back into the room.

�Er�� I rifled through the pockets of my school robes and
pulled out two sickles. �What does he like?�

She
shrugged, not looking me in the eye.

�Just
get him Honeydukes chocolate for me.�

�Alright,�
she said stonily, took the money, and left.

Potter
had been gone the entire day taking his Apparition test, but returned in the
early evening. Needless to say, Golden Boy had passed. Still, he looked tired and
a bit beat up when he came through the door, but smiled when greeted with a
chorus of �Happy Birthday!�

There
were too many of us to fit in the tiny dining room � some members of the Order
had come too � so we were all seated outside in the back, surrounded by
twinkling fairy lights. Mrs. Weasley had cooked up a
marvelous birthday dinner, followed by an enormous airy cake. Potter opened the
presents that had been piled around the table for him.

With
guilt, I realized the chocolate bars Weasley had
brought back were still up in my room.

�Wow,
thanks!� Potter said from the center of his nest of gifts, grinning as he
looked around the table. Fairy light twinkled off his glasses and obscured his
eyes.

Everyone
looked so happy and content, laughing and joking.

I
sat quietly, uncomfortably full, observing as the table was cleared and dishes
were washed. When people had drifted away I ran up to my room and got Potter�s
present, and trooped back down to find him.

He
was out in the front of the cottage, away from the bustle of his guests in the
back and inside, standing in the middle of the bare earth. There were freshly
picked flowers at his feet.

�Sorry
they�re not wrapped,� I mumbled, dashing up to him and holding out the large
chocolate bars. �And uh�I didn�t know what you�d like. Happy Birthday,� I
added.

He
looked surprised, then almost pleased. �Thanks, Malfoy.
I didn�t think you�d��

There
was an awkward silence.

�I�m
grateful to you,� I said, almost begrudgingly. �Really.
I am.�

�I
thought I�d pay my respects to my parents,� he said. �This is��

�I
know where we are,� I said.

Potter
nodded, hands in his pockets and scuffing his feet a little in the dirt as he
turned to go back inside.

His
parents had died here, James and Lily Potter, the �meddling, foolish Mudbloods, who got what they had coming,� Father said of
them with a sneer, when he heard I went to school with their son.

�James
was a Pureblood,� Mother had commented.

�He
was a Pureblood,� Father had raised
one eyebrow and sniffed. �But when you lay down with the dogs��

I
wondered what Mother, and especially Father, would think if they knew where I
was now. Would they be glad that I was safe, despite my company? Or would they
rather me be dead? Where were they? Were they still safe?

�Do you think I�m selfish?� I blurted out
suddenly. I was glad it was dark; Potter couldn�t see my ears turn red.

�Why
do you care what I think about you?�

�I
don�t,� I said quickly, squaring my shoulders.

�You
care about something,� Potter said. �You�re crying.�

�I�m
not,� I snapped, but there were tears on my cheeks and I hadn�t realized it; Potter
was smirking. �Fine then, I�m crying. Happy?�

�No,�
he said. �Why do you think you�re selfish?�

�I
never said-�

�You
wouldn�t have asked me if you didn�t think so yourself.� He tilted his head,
waiting.

Taking
a deep breath I said, �Well, I�m here, aren�t I? Alive and relatively safe,
while Father is in Azkaban and Mother...�

Potter
raised his eyebrows slightly. �Well�look where I am, and look what happened to
my Mum and Dad. I learned a long time ago if I felt guilty about it, then I�d
just be miserable. I mean, your parents love you, right?�

�Of
course they love me!� I snapped, answering so quickly
and violently Potter to a short step back.

I
wouldn�t have been so defensive if I hadn�t have asked myself
that same question before. This summer I had ended up practically living with
the Weasleys, and saw how Mr. and Mrs. Weasley spoke to their children. They rarely gave them lavish
gifts, but never told them they wouldn�t be good enough at things either. They
worried about their safety, and took interest in their hobbies and friends.

Mother,
I knew, loved me beyond all doubt. But Father�I knew he loved money and power,
but suddenly I wasn�t sure if he loved me.

When
the Dark Lord had marked me a Death Eater and given me a mission, I thought
finally! I won�t have to worry about stupid N.E.W.T.S anymore; of course I�ll
succeed � how hard can it be to kill an old man like Dumbledore? � and when the Dark Lord comes into his own I�ll be rewarded
richly. I�ll be a greater Death Eater than Father ever has been! I�ll make him
proud, be a credit to him, finally.

�What
I mean is,� Potter continued, �They would want you to be safe above everything
else. They�d�� his voice grew quieter. �They�d give their lives for you.�

Then,
in the tower, I just couldn�t kill Dumbledore. And deep down I knew I could
never really be a Death Eater, which would be my greatest short coming of all
in Father�s eyes.

�I
don�t know�� I mouthed, unable to get the words out.

Potter
was gazing at me with the oddest expression on his face; pity mixed with
something else. �I guess,� he said slowly, �Your
father gave you things like a Nimbus Two Thousand and One�but not much else?�

�He
gave me every thing I asked for,� I shrugged irritably, feeling naked in the
night chill. But he didn�t give me what I shouldn�t have had to ask for, I
added in my head.

He
looked at the flowers he had laid on the ground. �Nothing will grow here
anymore,� Potter said, indicating the bare dirt. �Not after the curse touched
it.�

Without
thinking I reached out and touched the scar on his forehead, where the curse
had touched him sixteen years ago. It was thin, white, and zig-zaggy
like a lightening bolt. I�d seen it a million times: in the halls at school, in
fuzzy close ups in the Daily Prophet, when Potter�s picture was not scrambling
to hide it under his hand and duck out of the frame, but I�d never really seen it.

Suddenly
I realized: I didn�t hate him anymore. It was hard to hate someone you owed
your life to.

�You
look better,� he said, stepping back and shaking his bangs back over the scar.

�Better?�
I echoed as I lowered my hand.

�Yeah. Around Christmas you looked awful.� Potter tilted his head. �You
have your color back now.�

�I�d
feel a lot better if I could get away from this place, even for just a day.�

�Sirius
didn�t like being cooped up either.� Potter actually smiled a little. �Maybe
you could.�

�You�d
let me borrow your cloak?�

�No, better than that. I have some Polyjuice
potion left over from�� he trailed off, glanced over my shoulder, and looked
back. �Anyways, you could use some I suppose; get out for a day. Bill and Fleur
are getting married next week; why don�t I give it to you then, when everyone�s
at the Burrow? No chance of awkward run ins. I mean,
other than that, what�s the worst that could happen?�

The
thought of getting away seemed almost too good to be true,
and I eyed him suspiciously. �Wow. Uh�thanks. Why�why would you do this for me?
Hoping that I�ll slip up and croak, like Weasley?�

�If
I wanted you to die, I�d never have let you come here.� He shrugged, stuffing
his hands back in his pockets and kicking at a tuft of grass. �I know what
being cooped up did to Sirius. And besides, you�ll look like Ron for a day.� Then
he grinned. �That�ll be worth it in its self.�

I
grimaced, one lip twitching. �I can take that,� I said. It would be a small
price to pay. �Yeah,� I said, feeling happy for the first time in a long while.
�It�ll be worth it. Great.�

The
Polyjuice, however, tasted terrible and the
transformation was not much better. My vision blurred, my stomach hurt so bad I
doubled over, wheezing, almost sorry that I had bullied Crabbe
and Goyle into taking it on a regular basis last
year. But when it was over and I looked in the mirror, my jaw dropped: flaming
red hair, gangly arms and legs, insolent vacant stare�Weasley�s
image, right down to the last freckle.

�Can
you tell it�s me?� I almost giggled after finding Potter.

He
jumped, then narrowed his eyes and stared hard. �Well�no, except for the fact
that your Malfoy pants are a
little too short.�

�Yeah,
and they aren�t nearly ragged enough,� I added without thinking as I tucked
extra potion deeper into my pocket, then half-heartedly mumbled, �Sorry,�

�I
know you hate each other.�

�Just a little bit.�

�Flying?�
he asked, indicating the broomstick in my hand.

I
nodded, and held up a practice Snitch that I had used at home during the
holidays. �I was going to go to the Quidditch field
at Hogwarts, where Muggles can�t see. No one�ll be
using it now.�

Potter�s
eyes went slightly larger and he swallowed convulsively. He�d missed Quidditch. �Do you � er � mind if
I come? I don�t have to be at the Burrow for another two hours.�

Really,
I would just as soon be alone but how could I refuse when he had given me so
much? �Sure,� I said, feeling strange. This was the second civil conversation
I�d ever had with Potter.

We
Apparated and soon were blinking in early morning
sunlight, knee deep in rich grass covering a hill that overlooked Hogsmeade a few hundred feet away.

�Go
on, Mal � er, Ron,� Potter called, throwing one leg
over his broomstick. �It�s a short ride to Hogwarts.�

We
alighted in the center of the deserted stadium. I stood for a moment, pivoting
in a slow circle staring up into the empty stands, missing the energy of a
roaring crowd and the surge of teammates around me. Strangely enough, I thought
of Dumbledore, eyes lingering on his usual spot in the stands.

�Do
you think it�ll ever be the same?� I said quietly, more to myself than to
Potter.

�No.�

We
were quiet again, then Potter kicked off the ground,
determinedly cheerful, and was circling over my head. �Let �er
rip! Bet I can catch it before you can!�

�In your dreams, Potter!� But I almost didn�t care if he did; the sun
seemed brighter, the bird song seemed sweeter. I was outside the property of
that little cottage for the first time in months!

We
circled the field, staring hard for a flicker of gold among the grass, against
the blue of the sky.

There
were no bludgers, no teammates; this should be easy,
I thought, circling up around the hoops and weaving in and out between them.
Potter was on the other side of the field, pretending he didn�t have his eye on
me like all good seekers should. Smirking, I nose dived, reaching out one hand
with a fake intense look on my face�and he fell for it, ripping across the
field, thinking I�d seen the snitch�then I pulled out just over the ground and
he couldn�t stop fast enough.

�Damn
you, Malfoy!� he yelled, forgetting as he rolled off
his broom into the grass.

I
couldn�t help but laugh as I took off again, gaining height until he was a just
a fleck on the ground, the sun winking off his glasses. �Like my Feint, Potter?
Open your mouth really wide and maybe the snitch�ll
find you!�

Potter
shouted, �That was years ago!�

�Yeah,
and your mouth has only gotten bigger since!� I didn�t really mean it, but
Potter didn�t have to know that.

I�d
forgotten how much I loved flying and Quidditch.
Maybe one day I could have played for England, but wasn�t that what every Quidditch player aspired to?

Suddenly,
Potter was diving, straight toward the ground; he wasn�t faking, reaching out
toward a miniscule twinkle of�

I
leaned forward, straightening out down the handle. He had beaten me in every
single tournament before�not again, not now�

�Got it!� He yelled, shooting back up as I pulled out
just quick enough to avoid catching the goal post with my face.

�Heh, that was fun M � Ron,� he said, pulling along side and
handing me the snitch. �Anyway, I better get going. Every hour, remember.�

�I
know,� I said, a little miffed but trying not to show it; I still had the whole
day to spend in Hogsmeade after all.

�Have
a good time,� Potter called over his shoulder.

�You
too,� I watched him fly off, low to the ground, and through the gates where he
dismounted and Disapparated. I sighed and took a few
more laps around the field, wondering in the back of my mind if I would ever
beat Potter on the Quidditch field.

High
up I paused, looking out over the grounds. Hogwarts
was dark and silent, the ghosts of the pupils who inhabited it echoing in the back
of my mind. The lake shimmered in bright, afternoon sunlight, and I was so high
up I could see the outline of the giant squid basking just under the surface.
Beside the lake was the white speck of Dumbledore�s tomb.

With
an odd feeling in my stomach I flew downward, landing just beside it, and stood
for the longest time with one hand on the cool curve of the lid.

�I�m
sorry,� I said. �You were right. Guess�well, I guess you always were.�

There
were many more things I could and should have said, but that seemed to be
enough; Dumbledore would have understood. I closed my eyes and took a deep
breath, and mounting my broom, flew the short distance to Hogsmeade.

TBC
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