Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Strangeland	By : SilverEros Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 4170 -:- 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.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
A/N

Wow! Thanks to everyone for their wonderful reviews! I was so incredibly happy. I think I got the most reviews this last chapter, which was absolutely wonderful. So for that, I provide here, an extra long chapter (counted six-thousand four hundred and twenty words), which hopefully you will enjoy as well. Please keep those reviews coming, for they are my love, my inspiration, my encouragement. And any praise, improvement critiques (please be kind!) and such are very much appreciated! Thank you again!

Special thanks to:

Dadella, Reyn, Mercika, and Drake! Love you all and thank you!!!!

Chapter Nine

Liar

Malfoy was nowhere to be seen all morning after that incident. Well, it wasn’t much of an incident really, but the way Malfoy had stared at him when he’d walked into the bathroom, as if Harry’d grown one too many heads or something... it was rather humiliating. And then to make matters worse, he’d fallen into the tub backwards, trying pathetically to hide himself from view. It had been an instinctive action, although Harry knew he wouldn’t have minded half as much if it had been Ron that had walked in on him. After all, the showers in the Gryffindor tower were shared by all the guys.

Trying to cool away the red in his cheeks, he put his cold goblet up to his skin and sighed tiredly. Malfoy was much more trouble than he was worth, really.

After breakfast, while ignoring all the sour looks from the Slytherins, he marched over to the Gryffindor table across the hall and slipped into the seat next to Ron and Hermione, who looked surprised to see him there. Hermione put down the goblet she’d been sipping from and Ron paused his chewing, his cheeks bulging like a chipmunk.

“’Morning,” Harry smiled widely, looking back and forth at them.

“Good morning,” Hermione replied politely, as usual.

“Morfnifng,” Ron attempted, porridge dribbling down his chin.

Hermione gave Ron a disgusted look and handed him a napkin. Harry on the other hand was used to Ron’s eating habits and actually found it quite a memorable sight. He hadn’t seen it for three whole days.

“So,” he began, leaning on the table. “You guys want to head to Hogsmeade after breakfast?”

Ron opened his mouth to say something, but Hermione shushed him, in obvious fear of seeing more food flying out of his mouth, and spoke up first.

“Sure, that sounds good,” she smiled slightly, “But, are you sure that you want to spend the day with us? I mean, aren’t you best friends with Draco Malfoy?”

Ron snorted after swallowing his mouthful and shot a contemptuous look at the Slytherin side of the Hall.

Harry almost joined him, but stopped himself just in time.

“Er - I s’ppose so... but he and I are sort of in a fight now anyway. And I’ve always wanted to get to know you guys better. You’re a nice lot,” he said truthfully. “It’ll be nice to breathe a different air for once.”

“Hmm,” agreed Hermione, crumpling up the napkin that had been spread on her lap and dropping it into her empty bowl. “So, shall we go then?”

Ron took a last swig of his pumpkin juice and nodded.

“Yeah, let’s go,” he said through a deep burp. “S’cuse me,” he added after receiving another glare from Hermione. Harry chuckled softly. All three got up from the table and draped their winter cloaks around their shoulders, and pulled on their hats and mittens to protect themselves from the icy winds outside.

There was a light snow falling just outside the great doors of the castle; a very calming sight that gave the day a feeling of the coming of Christmas, now only three weeks away. The stone steps and green lawns were speckled with white and the gravel path that twisted it’s way to the Hogsmeade gates was already imprinted with a trail of footsteps of the students making their way to the village.

It was colder than the dungeons below the school, but the coldness didn’t seep past his skin. Harry felt happy and warm on the inside, just like he always did when he took trips to Hogsmeade with his friends. He knew that at the end of the long walk, he would be greeted by a frothing mug of warm butterbeer, a bagful of sweets from Honeydukes and a pocketful of jokes from Zonko’s. It was enough to make anyone giddy with boyish excitement.

As they traversed the winding path, Harry got them talking about what they thought of him and rest of the Slytherins. He was able to find out in a short amount of time that the Gryffindors and Slytherins had a strong rivalry with one another, but not strong enough to wage a war. They mostly just kept out of each other’s way whenever possible.

By picking through the conversation, he was also able to comprehend that the only Slytherin the Gryffindors really despised, was Malfoy. Malfoy, they said, was too arrogant for his own good. He hated everyone who wasn’t a pureblood and wasn’t as wealthy as him. That immediately crossed Ron and Hermione from his very short list of qualifying friends. They however, claimed that they didn’t mind one bit, and that they preferred it to be this way because they didn’t like to make friends with prats like him.

Harry was pleased to know that they had never really thought any bad of himself, even though he was close friends with Malfoy.

“I always felt there was something that put you apart from the rest of your house, but I just never really thought much about it.” Hermione said, shaking the snowflakes off her eyelashes. “You’re not all that bad, you know.”

Ron nodded. “Yeah, you smile too much to be in Slytherin. Bet you woulda done well in Gryffindor.”

Harry laughed, and was soon joined in by both his friends.

When they finally reached Hogsmeade, they first went into Honeydukes to fill up their sweetbags with as much as they could buy. There were tastings all around the colorful shop and Harry, Ron, and Hermione had a fantastic time trying them all out.

“Hey, Harry! Try this one!” Ron shouted above the bustle, throwing him a red candy. Harry eyed it suspiciously before shrugging and popping it into his mouth. Immediately, he coughed and out of his mouth came a prettily wrapped present with a green bow on it. He raised his eyebrows in surprise and handed it back to Ron.

“Here you go Ron, Happy Early Christmas,” he grinned.

“Thanks!” Ron said, grinning back and pocketing the present. “Hey!” he exclaimed next, pointing to a basket of gold chocolates. “Wonder what these are?” He picked one up, turning it around in his fingers.

“It’s a -” Hermione said, squinting her eyes to read the label.

“I like chocolate,” Ron said carelessly and popped it into his mouth. He chewed slowly a few times, waiting for something to happen, and then quite suddenly a very un-Ronish smile spread across his face and he leapt a foot into the air.

“Oh no...” Hermione giggled, covering her mouth. “He’s eaten a Chocolate Kiss.”

Harry frowned. “But aren’t those muggle?”

“Not these ones.” She hastily stepped back as Ron came thumping back to the ground. “Be careful Harry -”

But it was too late. By the time Harry knew what was happening, Ron had lunged at him and planted a huge wet kiss on his left cheek.

“Egh!” Harry cried as he wiped at his cheek. “Ron!”

“Sorry, mate.” Ron apologized sheepishly, the tips of his ears reddening. “S’the chocolate.”

“It’s alright, just... don’t eat one of those again.” Harry said good-naturedly and patted Ron’s arm. “Ready to pay?”

“Yes, let’s,” Hermione said loudly, and she grabbed both Ron and Harry’s arms and began tugging them through the impossible crowd of students to the cashier counter at the back of the shop.

On his way there, Harry caught a glimpse of Pansy Parkison narrowing her eyes at him before exiting the shop swiftly.

“Next! Zonko’s!” Ron cheered, skipping up the road in the steadily falling snow, their sweet bags filled to bursting.

In Zonko’s there weren’t any testers, but they still had plenty of fun imagining the many pranks they could play on Snape the next Potions lesson. Ron bought a package of twelve dungbombs on sale, and Harry got a new case of exploding snap cards.

“I think he’s staring at you,” Hermione whispered to Harry when they were looking over a showcase of expensive joke contraptions. She nudged him gently and Harry glanced over his shoulder.

Blaise Zabini was standing in the shadows of one of the shop corners, his arms crossed and his eyes fixed on Harry coldly. Harry tried to look back coolly, but found his expression faltering as Blaise too, exited the shop a second later. Something very fishy was going on, and Harry had a feeling that he wasn’t going to like the outcome of it at all.

“Think they’re mad that you’re hanging around with us?” Ron asked, seeing the peeved look on Harry’s face. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea...”

“Just ignore them,” Harry said curtly, turning his attention back to the showcase. “It’s nothing.”

But he brutally discovered later, that it was indeed something, when they had sat down at one of the tall round tables in The Three Broomsticks with a mug of butterbeer each in their hands. They were sitting there sipping contentedly when all the sudden, Harry’s drink flew out his hands and into the air and upturned one hundred and eighty degrees, dumping the whole of it’s steaming contents onto Harry’s head.

With painful yelp, and the liquid burning on his skin, he fell of his stool with a crash and frantically tried to brush his soaked clothes off.

The entire pub was ringing with laughter and Harry could feel his face heating up, not just from the hot drink, but from humiliation.

“Be right back,” he muttered, and raced off toward the toilets in the back of the pub, with his head bowed. When he reached the door to the toilet, he reached out a hand to grab the knob, but something hooked onto his other arm and he was yanked violently off into the narrow hall leading off toward the left.

“Hey!” he said loudly, struggling to free himself. “What the - let go!”

But he was being dragged along despite his efforts and with a cracking ‘bang!’ a gust of icy wind and a flash of white light blinded him momentarily. When he opened his eyes a second later, and after he’d adjusted to the new brightness, he was able to see that he was once more outside in the snow; a small alleyway to be exact. It was dark and hidden from the busy street of Hogsmeade.

He grunted as he was pushed onto the ground forcefully, and hit the back of his head hard. Luckily the snow served as a cushion and so he was able to remain conscious, enough to groan and look up at whatever had done him the damage.

He was surprised to say the least to find Malfoy standing over him, his eyes full of fury and his breath coming out deeply in white clouds. His cheeks were blotched with pink and his usually prim hair was in a disarray as if he’d been pulling at it for minutes on end.

“Malfoy?” Harry asked bewilderedly, staring at him with his mouth hanging open slightly. “What the hell?” He sat up quickly and then heaved himself onto his feet.

Malfoy didn’t say anything at first; he just paced back and forth a meter away, looking at the ground with a stony expression on his face.

“Malfoy!” Harry bellowed, clenching his fists. He wasn’t going to take anymore of Malfoy’s crap, friend or not.

“Lancio!” Malfoy cried suddenly, pulling his wand out in a blink of an eye. Harry, who hadn’t been ready at all, was thrown off his feet again and slammed into the brick wall of the pub.

“Damn it, Malfoy -” Harry cursed, gritting his teeth in pain. He dug his hand into his robe pocket, extracting his wand. He pointed it Malfoy’s face. But Malfoy was quicker, he disarmed Harry with a well aimed expelliarmus and snatched the wand as it soared to him through the air. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Malfoy?”

Despite the fact that he was unarmed, injured, and freezing cold, he tried to look as confident and as undaunted as he could. He dragged himself into a sitting position against the wall, ignoring all the pain; his eyes never leaving Malfoy. Thoughts were once more racing through his mind, and he began suspecting strongly that Malfoy was showing his true colors now, as a dark wizard, who’s plan it had been all along, to finish off Harry with a quick killing curse.

“You had them spy on me, didn’t you? Pansy and Blaise. And you followed me-” Harry hissed angrily, “You’re really a Death Eater, aren’t you? And the whole lot of you Slytherins are out to kill me. I knew something was wrong. I knew it the minute I-”

“YES! They were spying on you! And yes I followed you here!” Malfoy screamed, his fists clenching so hard that his knuckles were as white as the snow. “And yes I want to kill you!”

Harry felt the bottom dropping from his stomach, knowing fully well that if Malfoy did finish him off in this dingy alleyway without a wand to defend himself... well the prospect wasn’t looking good. Not good at all.

“Then what are you waiting for?” he heard himself blurting out heedlessly. “No one’s here to witness anything, and you’ve got me cornered.”

He stiffened his muscles and braced himself for another hex that was sure to be cast his way... but instead of an incantation, he heard a soft plop of something being dropped into the snow and he cracked his eye open to see two wands half buried into the snow and a streak of black as Malfoy threw himself at Harry, crashing into him and grabbing handfuls of his robes in both hands.

Harry yelled at the sudden attack and fell sideways to the ground, snow blurring his vision as his glasses went flying off. His injured body wasn’t responding as quickly as he would have liked it to, and he was having a difficult time trying to snatch back at Malfoy with his nearly frostbitten fingers. Malfoy wasn’t very strong, but at the moment, he was winning terribly. His nails were digging into Harry’s arms and chest, and his knees were pinning Harry’s legs together, so that he couldn’t move.

With a hefty groan, Harry struggled to push Malfoy off of him with his hips, while trying to catch both of Malfoy’s flailing hands. He was able to seize one of Malfoy’s wrists, which slowed his movements momentarily, then took that opportunity to buck his hips upwards. Hard.

Malfoy gave a strangled gasp, his eyes shooting wide open, and much to Harry’s surprise, his grip loosened easily and he collapsed onto Harry, his breath coming in short, tight pants. He hastily raised himself onto his hands on each side of Harry’s head and stared with an almost fearful expression. It looked a bit painful to Harry, but he couldn’t fathom why. He should be the one in pain, from the obvious state of things.

Harry frowned, his hands firmly wrapped around Malfoy’s forearms now. His legs were no longer pinned together and he could have effortlessly flung Malfoy off of him if he tried to... but for some odd reason, (perhaps because he was too tired and injured), he didn’t. He just stared back at Malfoy, gaze flickering from Malfoy’s shaken eyes, to his pink cheeks, to his flushed parted lips, from which hot air was brushing Harry’s own face. He realized, as they lay there, unmoving, that Malfoy had to be extremely close to him now, or else he wouldn’t have been able to make out the long individual lashes curling from Malfoy’s eyelids without his glasses.

He saw the adam’s apple in Malfoy’s slender throat dipping low, as if he were swallowing the lump that Harry felt too, but Harry was too confused to move, let alone swallow. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was confused about, but he was.

Something cool, something soft grazed the side of his face, and his skin tingled and a warmth like a gentle shock spread down his neck. It wasn’t registering in his mind what that soft thing was, because he was too busy pondering what he was so confused about. But it felt so nice on his cold cheek...

And then that thing was sliding down to his jaw and then slowly, oh so slowly along the veins in his neck and to his collarbone. He briefly closed his eyes for a second and when he opened them again, he wondered, Had Malfoy’s face been that close?

.... No.... a voice inside his head said. No. It wasn’t that close, Harry. He’s very close now. And that’s his hand touching your skin. What’s he doing? What are you doing?

It was as if a sudden redlight had begun flashing dangerously in Harry’s head, he yelped and tried desperately to disentangle himself from Malfoy. He no longer felt comfortably warm; he felt burnt. He was too hot. Malfoy was no slower than him at tumbling off of him in the same manner, his complexion changing a wonderful variation of rosy and pale at the same time, that was definitely uncharacteristic. If Harry had had the space in his mind to notice, he would have noticed that Malfoy looked positively horrified. Harry was too busy trying to put as much space between them as possible.

Must. Get. Wand! Harry’s mind whirled in circles as he dragged himself across the feet of snow to where his and Malfoy’s wands lay frosted. Malfoy had somehow gotten to his feet and they simultaneously snatched up their wands and Harry jabbed it in the blonde’s direction as he himself got up, expecting another hex...

But Malfoy’s retreating back was to him, and in the next second, he’d disappeared around the corner of the alleyway and into the bustling mainstream of Hogsmeade.

By the time Harry had dashed to the street full of bustling shoppers and students, Malfoy was no where to be seen.

Chest heaving, Harry stood in the entrance of the alleyway, his wand arm falling limp to his side. His free hand involuntarily fingered the trails of skin where Malfoy’s fingers had been, stunned at his own sluggishness at reacting to what had been happening not moments before. Was he really that thick? He was supposed to be the world’s savior, at least in his other life. What if Malfoy had been casting a dark curse on him? Numbing his mind and causing him that odd sort of confusion? Weakening him so that he couldn’t fight back or defend himself... it’d certainly felt that way, now that Harry thought about it. Why else would Malfoy do that?

He did admit that he’d sent Parkison and Zabini to spy on me. He reminded himself furiously. And he did say he wanted to kill me. But was I about to LET HIM?

He kicked viciously at the ground in disgust and trudged back to the patch of snow where it was dug up and scraped from all the fighting. He squinted around for his glasses, and spotting them, scooped them up and cleaned them roughly on his robes. As he was about to reenter the backdoor of the pub, his eye caught something else buried in the snow a few feet away. He walked over quickly, hoping that it was something Malfoy had dropped in his haste to get away.

It looked like a a ball at first glance, but then as he bent down closer, he saw that it was a crumpled piece of parchment. A cream colored crumpled piece of parchment that Harry was sure belonged to Malfoy, and he’d dropped it from a pocket in his haste to get away.

He picked up eagerly and began fumbling to smooth it out, nearly ripping it in half as he did so. What he saw when it was finally legible, made his stomach twist nastily and his heart to jump so high, he wasn’t sure if it was still inside his body.

Dear Harry,

It’s that day of the month again, the day I send you my letters. Did you remember? I suppose you have a lot of things to keep you busy, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you’d forgotten.

It’s Hogsmeade weekend, and I heard that you are going with somebody different then your usual group of friends. Why is that? I’ve been watching you very carefully these past few days, and I can sense that something is different. Does it have to do with your new friend? Why have decided to make new friends? Are you tired of your old friends?

And here, the clean scripture was suddenly becoming quite messy and jerky:

Do you hate them now? Do you hate your ‘old’ friends? Do you hate Slytherin? Because you know what? You want to know something Harry? I hate you. I hate you so much I want to hurt you. You’ve hurt me so I want to hurt you I hate you I hate you I HATE YOU I HATE YOU YOU BASTARD YOU FUCKING BASTARD I HATE YOU!!!

There were dark ink lines crisscrossing the bottom of the parchment as if the author had scratched his quill furiously, not even bothering to finish the letter properly.

Harry blinked and the letter slipped from his slack grip and fluttered to the ground.

He wasn’t as concerned with the angry contents of the letter, as much as the fact that Malfoy had had it in his possession. That would mean that he’d read it, and known about it... and he probably thought for sure now that he liked Ron all because of that damned letter. But WHY would Malfoy have the letter in the first place? Did he already know that Harry had been receiving anonymous letters from a secret stalker? He had to find out.

He picked up the letter, stuffed it into his pocket, and sprinted out of the alleyway into the bright street, not caring if he bumped into the people in his way. He raced as fast as he could all the way down the street and to the gates of Hogsmeade, back along the stretch of gravel path to the school grounds, and into the castle. Malfoy couldn’t be far from where he was, he must have returned to Hogwarts.

If only he had that faithful map now, it would have come in handy at a time like this.

The castle was empty, except for the occasional group of first, second, and third years who weren’t old enough to visit Hogsmeade. They all stopped to stare at him as he ran past, calling out Malfoy’s name.

The dungeons. He thought as he skidded to a halt before the stairs winding downward at the end of the main hall.

“Dumbledore sucks!” he panted at the grey slab and it faded away to reveal the entrance to the Slytherin common room and he practically threw himself inside. “Malfoy!” he bellowed, taking the steps to the boy’s dormitories at a leaping stride. “You there??”

There was no answer and when the door to his dorm crashed open, he found the room beyond to be empty. Not even a sign that anyone had been there in the past few hours.

“Dammit Malfoy!” he shouted, turning around to descend the staircase. He leaned against the back of a long couch to catch his breath and to brainstorm the places in the castle which he knew of, where Malfoy could be. Library? At a time like this? The lake? No, it’s too cold... He pounded the couch with his fist in aggravation. Where would I go? Well that’s easy... Harry snorted, I’d go to the Room of Requirement, but I doubt Malfoy knows about that... I mean, I probably don’t even know about it...

He quickly dismissed the thought and started pacing back and forth restlessly. He stuck his hand into his robe pocket and took out the letter. Did Malfoy know the person who wrote this? Was this why he had it? Maybe Malfoy was the messenger, and he was always the one handing me the letters...

But he couldn’t know anything for sure unless he asked Malfoy face to face. He knew he didn’t care much about the letters in truth, but he had enough mysteries right now to deal with, without having to struggle with a secret admirer. He would get to the bottom of this.

At that moment, Theodore Nott came through the entrance hole, followed closely by a few other Slytherin seventh years.

Harry immediately straightened and went over to them.

“Have you guys seen Mal- Draco?” He asked.

Nott glanced at him and then at his friends.

“Yeah, we’ve seen him,” he nodded, and the others nodded in agreement. “He looked pretty upset though, wouldn’t even say ‘hi’ back to us.”

“Something wrong?” Tracey Davis asked, looking a bit concerned.

“Er - nothing’s wrong, but uh- I’m just looking for him. Could you tell me where you saw him?”

“We saw him heading up to the seventh floor,” Millicent Bulstrode spoke up thickly.

“Probably heading for the anger room, seeing how he was practically steaming from the ears,” Nott said, shrugging. “You know how he goes there a lot.”

Harry furrowed his brows. “The anger room? Where’s that?”

They all stared back at him incredulously. “Hello? You go there, what, four times a week to find Draco when somethings gone wrong.”

“Oh right...” Harry stammered, “So seventh floor, then?”

“Well that’s where we saw him,” said Nott, shrugging. “Good luck.”

Harry licked his lips nervously. “Thanks,” he said, and sidled past the group as he exited the common room.

Seventh floor, seventh floor. What’s on the seventh floor? His running footsteps echoed loudly through the deserted corridors like drumbeats. Gryffindor Tower... Flitwick’s office... he jumped across the vanishing step on the third floor staircase. And the Room of Requirement.

But Nott said ‘anger room’... not the ‘Room of Requirement’...

If it wasn’t that though, there was nothing else that Harry could think of where Malfoy might go at times like these. He might as well check, there was no harm in that.

Two more sets of moving staircases, five vanishing steps and he was running along the corridor that led straight to the Portrait of the Fat Lady. He kept his eyes away from her though, and turned sharply at the corridor on his righthand side just past a suit of armor.

The light grew dimmer here, with only a few lamps protruding from the walls on either side of him. He turned a final corner and came to a large tapestry of Barnabas the Balmy and his troop of ballet dancing trolls and whipped around to face the adjacent wall... which should have been empty, but -

There was a door. And Harry hadn’t even paced before it three times. That could only mean that there was another person or persons currently within it, using it for their own means...

Without hesitation, and without a doubt as to who it was inside, he grabbed the knob of the oak door and threw it open. Before he could even make out the scenery, loud crashing and cracking met his ears and he jumped backward. A glass goblet dashed itself against the wall only inches away from where he’d been standing.

When he was finally able to take in the state of the room, he was shocked. Broken goblets, ripped paper, shattered vases, splintered wood - it littered the wide room, covering the floor in inches. Along all the walls, there were tall shelves which housed these items, although they were still in their whole forms.

And in the middle of the room, stood Malfoy, his wand swinging wildly in all directions, and shouts of “LANCIO!”, “DIFFINDO!”, “INCENDIO!” followed by another goblet exploding against a wall, another piece of paper being shredded to pieces, another wastepaper basket blasting into flame.

Harry had to duck as a fork, all bent out of shape, came whizzing over his head and speared the wooden door behind him.

“Malfoy!” he yelled above the deafening noise. “Malfoy! Stop will you???”

But Malfoy’s back was to him and he didn’t seem to be hearing Harry, so Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it at Malfoy.

“FINITE INCANTEM!!!” he shouted, and with another series of crashes, everything flying through the air dropped to the floor and the only thing that wasn’t motionless, was Malfoy, who turn to face Harry with a livid expression on his face. He paled when he saw who it was and backed away.

“What the hell are you doing? Have you gone MAD??” Harry asked in disbelief, gazing at all the obstructed objects around his feet. He gingerly stepped across mounds of cracked glass toward Malfoy.

“What are you doing here?” Malfoy hissed in a low breath, his lips barely moving.

“I’m doing what I’m always doing, four times a week, aren’t I?” Harry ventured knowingly, remembering what Nott had said earlier.

“Fuck off,” Malfoy growled. “Leave me alone for once, will you?”

“I will, if you tell me something,” Harry dug into his pocket.

“Fine. Ask me and then get the fuck out of here.”

Harry uncrumpled the letter and held it out in front of him, so that Malfoy could see clearly what it was.

“This,” he replied, watching Malfoy carefully. He saw Malfoy’s jaw go slack. So that erased the possibility that he and Malfoy had been in this together. “Yes,” he went on, “You dropped this back there at Hogsmeade.”

“Shit,” Malfoy murmured, his eyes flickering back to Harry’s.

“And I was wondering,” he paused, lowered his hand, “if you knew who’s been writing these to me.”

Malfoy’s hand was twitching around his wand, and he stood there as if trying to think of some good excuse, but to Harry, an excuse would just not be enough to satisfy him.

“I just want to know why you had it, and why you didn’t give it to me. It might have slipped your mind...” Harry said, trying not to feel or look embarrassed about the incident in the alleyway... “But the fact that you had the letter, would mean that you knew who the writer is, right?”

Malfoy bit his lip and shifted his gaze. Harry was very suspicious.

“Come on,” Harry coaxed, trying to soften his tone. “Please tell me - Draco.” He felt foolish - as if he were whistling for a puppy, but it seemed to do the trick and it caught Malfoy’s attention sharply.

Malfoy looked back at him for a long while, his expression becoming mild and delicate once more. Harry smiled hopefully and took another step forward.

“Please, Draco?” he asked again. He thought he’d broken through the ice when Malfoy’s lips twisted into a barely noticeable smirk, but he was proved wrong for the umpteenth time that day.

“I can’t,” was Malfoy’s reply. It was toneless and tired. “I can’t tell you who it is.”

Harry frowned irritably. “Why? Why can’t you tell me? They’re writing these letters to me because they want me to notice them, right? Then why can’t they just talk to me, or at least write a letter with their name on it? It’s kind of stupid.”

Malfoy sighed and closed his eyes. “It’s not that simple you know.” He turned away and began clearing up the destructed room with lazy waves of his wand.

“That’s bull,” Harry snorted, folding his arms over his chest, his anger returning. “It’d be a lot less complicated if they just talked to me about their stalking problem. At least I’d feel less uncomfortable.”

“Yes well, think of it this way then,” Malfoy said, still cleaning. “You might feel less uncomfortable now, but if you heard the truth, I don’t think you’d be so sure of yourself.”

“So you’re saying that it’s someone I hate?”

“No, I don’t think you hate them, but like I said, it’s complicated.”

“Well how am I supposed to understand anything if no one tells me what’s going on? Whoever’s telling you what to do is pretty unreasonable.”

“You could say that.”

Harry groaned in frustration. “Then TELL ME! Your a Slytherin, right? Loyalty’s got nothing to do with you!”

“No.”

Harry glared at the back of Malfoy’s head and breathed in deeply. “Okay, fine. Don’t tell me. But you’ll have to answer a different question for me then.” He hoped he sounded threatening.

“Shoot.”

“What were you doing to me back in that alleyway?”

There was absolute silence for a few seconds as Malfoy froze, the incantation dying on his lips. Harry smirked grimly in satisfaction.

“Why are you acting like my friend one day, and then wanting to kill me the next? What’s your secret, Draco?” he whispered.

“There is no secret,” Malfoy snapped quickly, a little too quickly. “I was just... mad at you. That’s all.”

“Just mad at me?”

“Of course.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because you can be an insufferable asshole sometimes.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “So you’re not acting on orders from a certain You-Know-Who? No searing tattoos on your left forearm? No masks and long dark cloaks?” Malfoy looked over his shoulder and frowned. “No unforgivable curses?”

“What are you talking about?” Malfoy asked, his eyebrows inclined.

“So... you’re telling the truth?” Harry pressed on, his hope that he’d been wrong about Malfoy working under Voldemort’s command was something he couldn’t deny. If he could be sure that Voldemort didn’t exist in this world, he would throw a huge celebration. He’d donate ALL of his Gringott’s gold into that fountain at the Ministry. He would forgive Malfoy for his pettiness, for his arrogance, for everything...

“You think I’d taint my skin with a nasty tattoo?” Malfoy exclaimed, wrinkling his nose in distaste. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Show it then,” Harry pursed his lips, nodding at Malfoy’s arm. “Go on, show me your arm.”

“What do you think I am, some rebel? You’re accusing me of going rebel?” snorted Malfoy, rolling his eyes. “Is that what this is all about?”

“Show it,” Harry commanded, drawing his wand.

Malfoy, who was looking rather annoyed, glared at him before pulling up the sleeve of his left arm. Harry’s eyes widened as inch by inch, smooth, milky skin appeared... markless... completely markless.

“You don’t have a...” he said quietly, staring at Malfoy’s arm.

“Of course I don’t,” Malfoy said haughtily, yanking his sleeve down again.

“So you’re not a - a...” A Death Eater. Harry finished silently, his veins throbbing and the heavy weight in his chest lifting. There are no Death Eaters in this life. He smiled slowly, the realization finally sinking in. He could almost feel tears forming in his eyes from the joy... There’s not Voldemort.

“Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you-” he whispered, closing his eyes and sighing.

“I didn’t know you were that concerned about me,” a voice interrupted him, sounding as if they were trying to hide the amusement, but failing.

Harry snorted with a lopsided smile and glanced back at Malfoy. It was like seeing in a whole new light.

“Yeah,” he replied, grinning. “It’s good to know you haven’t gone rebel.”

Malfoy shook his head and rolled his eyes again. “Sometimes I really don’t get you, Harry,” he hesitated and walked over, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder. “You want to talk?”

“About what?” Harry asked.

Malfoy cocked his head to the side thoughtfully. “Well, we could start with what’s really going on between you and Weasley.”

“Why, did Anonymous ask you to ask me?” Harry joked, but Malfoy looked grave. He sighed wearily. “I told you, we’re just talking and having fun and stuff. Like friends. Normal friends. And Hermione - I mean, Granger. She’s not that bad either.”

“But they’re Gryffindors,” Malfoy protested. “And they’re Weasley and Granger. The two people in this school that we Slytherins refuse to make ties with. They’re not worth any of our time, Harry, least of all yours.”

Harry didn’t like what Malfoy was saying, not at all. It wasn’t new to him that the Slytherins all despised Gryffindor, but saying that Ron and Hermione weren’t worth anyone’s time was just over the edge.

“There’s nothing wrong with being in Gryffindor, and if I was in Gryffindor -”

“But you aren’t.”

“I could’ve been!”

“No you couldn’t.”

“You’ve got no idea how wrong you are. The only reason I’m in Slytherin is -” he stopped short.

“Is what, Harry?”

“.... dunno...” he bit his lip. “Ma - Draco... why am I in Slytherin?”

Malfoy’s grey eyes bore into his firmly, confidently.

“Because you are one,” he drawled. “You’re almost as bad as Longbottom.” Harry opened his mouth to protest but Malfoy smirked and covered Harry’s mouth with his hand. “You know, Harry. You’re so naive... if you’re not careful, it’ll lead you to a lot of things that you’ll come to regret later.”

Malfoy’s hand smelled like roses, Harry thought absently.

“And you’re right,” Malfoy continued, lowering his hand. “I’m a Slytherin, and the best of them all. Loyalty is not really my thing. If you really want to know who your secret admirer is, I might consider telling you.”

“About time!” Harry retorted.

“But only after you truthfully tell me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“This.”

And Malfoy leaned forward and kissed Harry deeply, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck and pulling him so close, that Harry nearly collapsed forward onto Malfoy. To stop himself from falling, he grabbed with both hands, onto the closest thing he could find, which happened to be Malfoy’s hips, and managed to steady himself. He was so overwhelmed, that he didn’t even notice that his knees were wobbling, or that he wasn’t trying to move away from Malfoy, like he should have been doing.

When they pulled apart, Harry’s glasses were askew and his cheeks flaming. His brain seemed to be incapable of forming words.

“Liar,” Malfoy said lightly, licking his lips. “And you’re a terrible one at that.”

Harry jumped when something pinched his arse and he gasped, staring even harder at Malfoy, who simply smiled and with a cool wave of his hand, swept out of the door, laughing.

TBC...

Hopefully this isn’t a cliffhanger and I’ve satisfied most of you for the meantime! Clicky the review button and I’ll be very happy! Hugs and kisses for all:)
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