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Darkness Within The Light	By : crimson96 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 8759 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
Author's Note: This chapter was most interesting to write. So I hope that everyone enjoys it. Thanks to my wonderful beta reader Eris R. LeBeau.

Chapter 8: Knowing Thy Enemy

As Harry held the envelope, his hand trembled with fear and excitement, causing the green lettering to blur. He dropped the envelope onto his bed and bent over to peer at the handwriting again, sure that upon closer inspection it would turn out to be Hermione's neat, feminine script, Ron's ungainly scratching, or the distinctive scrawl of Ginny. By now, Ginny had undoubtedly spoken to her mother or someone there at the Burrow about the fight that they had had. However, to receive a letter from Draco Malfoy was absolutely unthinkable; Harry couldn't think of a single human being who hated him more than Draco did. Still, each time his eyes swept over the envelope, they found Draco's unmistakable letters printed in Slytherin green.

"Once a Slytherin, always a Slytherin," Harry said, looking at the letters of his name on the outside of the envelope. Harry knew that usually with a Slytherin, one could expect the unexpected. He had learned that lesson from Snape's memories.

"Trust," Harry said, as he painfully remembered the images and feelings from Snape's memories. He vividly saw his mother befriending and trusting Severus when no one else would. He witnessed the hand of Draco Malfoy extended toward him in friendship and in trust. He remembered lying on the ground hearing the voice of Narcissa Malfoy and feeling the silver-blonde strands of hair shield his face from the others as their trust was formed with the exchange of words and her hand upon his heart.

Harry got up to look out his window, possibly expecting to see a handful of Death Eaters waiting under the lamppost across the street all with their wands aimed at his window. When he looked out across the street, the only things he saw were the usual lamppost that stood beside the bench and the wastebasket that had trash and old, discarded newspapers in it. There was nothing out of the ordinary about this scenery before him. If any revenge-obsessed dark wizards were skulking around the place, they were cleverly hidden.

He focused his attention back to the letter in his hand and looked at it once again. There was no doubt that this was Draco's handwriting. He knew it very well from the countless notes that Draco had passed to Harry in their Potions classroom taunting him about the upcoming Quidditch matches, accusing him of various forms of sexual depravity, and profaning his friends and family members.

"Only one way to find out what is inside here," Harry said to himself.

Surely it won't be more of Draco's childish bullying; it wouldn't be worth sending a beautiful, white eagle to call me a Muggle-loving mudblood, Harry thought as he turned the letter over and over in his hands.

The eagle made a soft clicking sound with his beak as if nudging Harry to open the letter. "Either it is some cursed letter, which Draco has set up to finally kill me, or else…"

Harry could not will himself to think of the "or else". There was no way that Draco Malfoy, son of Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy, a Death Eater, could actually be trying to turn over a new leaf. That was just simply impossible. Dumbledore would roll over in his grave, if that were actually the reason for the letter.

"Dumbledore," Harry said to the letter. "If Dumbledore could trust in Malfoy not to kill him that night, then I can trust him now." Harry traced the letters of his name with his fingertips, knowing that Draco wrote his name, and hoping that this letter could be the start of what his dreams and desires showed him every night.

With these last words echoing through his mind, Harry opened the envelope and took out a neatly folded piece of parchment. His eyes began to read the letter quickly, and then more slowly, to take in each word that had been written. It clearly had been written by Draco; there was no doubt about that. The words carried his usual pompous attitude, yet Harry could not help but see that there was an uncharacteristic maturity to them. It was surreal. Old alliances die hard, but here, here in this letter was what Harry hoped was perhaps the potential for a new alliance. Harry closed his eyes for a moment, still unable to believe what he was reading.

Potter,

I know this letter will be difficult for you to understand. So before I go any further, do not try to rack your brains. You will only give yourself a headache. However, if you think it is difficult believing what you are reading, then try being here writing this to you.

I know that we cannot undo the past, and also that old rivalries will never go away. I speak of Gryffindor and Slytherin, and also of our own personal rivalry at Hogwarts. Honestly, it's not what I wanted, Potter. I was forced to torment you at school, and instructed to try to make your life a living hell. I was coerced into become a Death Eater, and I was forced to do the Dark Lord's work. It was either become one, or along with my family be killed. You, of all people, are the first person outside of my family to know that, Potter. I hope that by taking you into my confidence I may gain a measure of your trust. For your own sake, I need you to believe me.

Since we returned home, my parents have argued a lot, and I think they have even come close to hexing one another. Father has said that he would not harm Mother, but I know that is a lie. I hate them both for coming to school that night and frantically looking for me. You do not understand how embarrassing it was to sit in the Great Hall, with Mother and Father beside me, and not be able to look at anyone, especially another Slytherin, in the face.

What I am trying to say is "thank you". You saved my life that night. I knew that I was going to die in the Room of Requirement when Crabbe unleashed the Fiendfyre. That prat was going to kill us all by trying a spell that he wasn't clever enough to use. Then you saved me, and for that, Potter, I owe you.

In order to repay my debt, I tell you this: be on the lookout for my father. I think he is planning something now that the Dark Lord is gone and the Death Eaters are in retreat at the moment from the Aurors. Warn your friends as well. I have instructed Orion to remain there and await any letter that you may want to write.

~Draco Malfoy~

Six long years of being enemies, and now everything seemed to be spiraling into a new direction. Harry lay back on his bed and let the letter rest on his chest. He ran a finger lightly over the parchment, imagining Draco's long, slim fingers curled around the quill as it laid the ink that Harry now caressed. That letter had to have been extremely difficult to write, and Harry found himself moved by Draco's courage; he had risked crossing his father in order to give Harry a warning. Perhaps Dumbledore had seen something in Draco that Harry could not, something that was only now coming to light. Reading the letter again, he wished that Draco had devoted fewer words to his own misery and more to explaining exactly how Harry and his friends might be in danger.

"Be on the lookout for your father doing what?" Harry muttered. "What, Draco, what is it that he is planning?" Harry asked, wishing he could question Draco in person. He looked over the words again, hoping to find some hidden clue, but none revealed itself.

Perhaps the entire letter was nothing more than an idle threat, an attempt to leave Harry cowering in fear of Lucius's dark, mysterious plans. If that was the case, Draco had failed miserably. Harry already lived in a constant state of wariness; he had already known that Voldemort's followers could be plotting revenge.

"No," Harry mumbled as he read through the letter yet again. The confessions it contained were so uncomfortably personal that, if not for the neatness of the penmanship, Harry would suspect that Draco had been given a drop of Veritaserum before writing it. "You're not trying to trick me, Draco. You were never able to master the Slytherin virtue of subtlety."

The letter had changed nothing with regard to Harry's fears, although it had given him an unsettlingly intimate glimpse into the neurotic, petulant mind of Draco Malfoy. It had also stirred memories from Harry's past. He remembered the night that Malfoy spoke of in his letter; he remembered the events that happened inside the Room of Requirement all too well. There was the feeling of excitement and electricity that flowed through Harry's body as he felt Draco's hands wrapped tightly around his waist. He could feel Draco's heartbeat pounding as the Slytherin's head was pressed against Harry's neck and back. He could even remember the smell of Draco, how intoxicating his smell was even with the smoke and flames all around them.

Though very grateful for the letter, Harry had fantasized that Draco's sense of obligation would manifest itself in a more personal way. He imagined Draco's eyes brimming with tears of gratitude, his hands taking Harry by the shoulders and pulling him close enough to whisper in his ear.

What can I do to thank you, Harry? How can I show you my gratitude? Draco's imagined voice asked.

Harry had many answers to those questions, and they flickered through his brain in a barrage of images involving bare skin and blonde hair.

You can have me here, there, anywhere. The voice of Draco continued as the images played out in Harry's mind. With all of these memories and thoughts flowing through him, the movement in Harry's boxers became very rhythmic and steady.

"Draco." Harry said, as he rubbed himself. "My Draco."

Harry smiled as he lay upon his pillows. In his mind he and Draco were doing such lustful things to one another and it all seemed possible, even natural. However, Harry knew he had to be careful. For now, his fantasies must remain locked in his own brain. He would have to be subtle with his answers and shrewd with his plans.

Harry knew that his hopes all rested on the chance that Draco would one day reciprocate his desires. He knew it was an unlikely scenario, but he must also know the truth. First, Harry knew he had to correct a mistake that he made seven years ago that involved a certain handshake. From there, he could begin a friendship and he could begin to observe Draco, seeking any sign that the Slytherin might feel the same needs as Harry himself. Once he was sure of that, if he ever was sure, he could tell Draco how he felt and what he wanted from him. However, despite the sincerity of Draco's letter, he knew that the most likely scenario would involve Draco turning his wand on Harry. Besides, even if Draco did fancy Harry, Lucius and Narcissa would kill or curse the both of them if they ever found out. Draco had risked his family's displeasure in order to give Harry a warning; would he risk it again so that they could be together? It was a risk that Harry was willing to take.

War does change people. Can that change be for the better? Harry thought.

Harry imagined revealing everything to Draco only to have his confession cut short by Draco's mouth covering his, and his hands exploring every inch of Harry's body as their tongues danced together. Draco's hands sliding along Harry's abdomen and slowly inching their way down until finally feeling-

The cry of an eagle interrupted Harry's reverie, and he sat up to see the white bird, Orion, still perched on the windowsill. The scrutiny of the bird's black eyes destroyed Harry's mood; even closing his eyes could not bring the pleasant fantasies back.

"Thanks a lot, you bloody bird, for ruining the moment," Harry said bitterly as he crossed the room to sit down at his desk. "Fly out and find a mouse or something to eat, will you." Orion flitted to the top of Ramses's cage, while looking down and chirping at Harry. "Fine then, you can stay there while I figure out what to say, but this may take a while," Harry spoke as the white eagle settled itself comfortably onto the cage.

Harry picked up his quill. "Draco Malfoy," Harry whispered. Even his name was sexy, distractingly so. "What shall I say to you?" He tapped the quill against his cheek, imagining the light touch of fingertips and the sweet aroma of blonde hair. Harry scanned Draco's letter again, searching for inspiration. "You never made my life a living hell, Draco. Voldemort did that. You just made things more interesting and very exciting. You gave me something to think about besides Ron and Hermione. I can't remember how many times I laid in bed holding my pillow and wishing it were you."

Orion keened again and tilted his head, looking from Harry's face to the blank parchment and back as if inviting Harry to write.

"Don't rush me on this, Orion," Harry said as he began to scribble several words on the parchment only to ball it up in his hand, and toss it onto the floor. He reached into the drawer of his desk and drew out a fresh sheet.

Harry looked at the empty white parchment as it mocked him with its limitless potential. Inscribed with the right message, the paper could bring Draco closer to him, while the same parchment could destroy their fledgling alliance forever, if he wrote the wrong words. The quill slightly trembled in his fingers. His mind raced, and after what felt like an eternity, Harry began to write.
- 7
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- 9
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Darkness Within The Light