2
Chapter Two: The Real Reality of Things. Really.
Harry sat down and began piling food on his plate. He was starving, having practically skipped dinner the previous night. They were serving french toast today, one of Harry's favorites. He didn't get to eat a lot when he was at the Dursley's and he loved trying new food. He loved it even more when he found a really good food.
He grabbed three pieces and poured syrup over them. He cut through the slices and jabbed them with his fork. His mouth was already beginning to water in anticipation.
" Jeez, Potter, it's like you've never eaten before."
Harry dropped his fork in shock at the intrusion. He looked across the room quickly. He easily spotted the blonde, but he wasn't looking in Harry's direction.
" Shove off, Malfoy."
Laughter echoed in his mind.
No, I don't think I will. I'm rather bored this morning and Blaise is sleeping in, so it looks like your just going to have to deal with me.
Harry once more tried to catch Malfoy's eye. He had a strong urge to scowl at the blonde.
And stop looking over here, people are going to think you have a crush on me.
Harry rolled his eyes, as returned his attention back to his un-touched meal. He picked up his fork and shoved the syrup soaked breakfast bread into his mouth and began chewing. He bit into it slowly, savoring the sweetness.
Hey, Potter. I can taste that.
Harry forgot his vow to ignore the blonde and asked him what he was talking about.
Huh?
I can taste what your eating. The toast. It's good. Try something else.
No.
Come on, Potter were both stuck in this situation. We might as well make the best of it.
We're not stuck, you're trapping me.
Same thing. You have no choice, so you might as well play along. Try the strawberries.
Harry was getting annoyed at Malfoy's child like enthusiasm. He didn't think this situation was entertaining nor was it so neat having the ferret invade his brain.
No. If your hungry get your own.
Harry waited for a response and when he didn't get one he assumed the Slytherin gave up. He relaxed a little as he retrieved his fork. He took another bite of his toast, chewing slowly.
There was something different about this fork full. It tasted sweeter then before. It tasted like...strawberries.
Immediately, Harry's eyes shot across the room.
Malfoy wasn't looking at him, but a smirk was on his lips despite his chewing. Harry couldn't see any fruit on the table, but he would bet a million galleons that was what was in the other boy's mouth.
Harry spit out his toast in fury.
It skidded across the table and landed on Dean Thomas's plate. There was a faint sloosh sound as it stopped in his pudding. The dark skinned teen looked up to Harry with a frown on his face.
" Oi, what's your problem Harry?"
Harry's eyes went wide as he realized what happened. He muttered an apology to Dean and pushed a large bowl of chocolate pudding towards the disgruntled teen. The Gryffindor accepted the bowl and forgave Harry as he scooped up another helping of the gooey food. Harry gritted his teeth as the haughty laughter rang in his head.
Potter, that was priceless.
Harry stood up and left the great hall. Ron and Hermione followed him into the corridor and they made their way to class together. Even though they arrived twenty minutes before the scheduled beginning Harry was happy to wait.
At least he had some silence for a while. It didn't last long however, when the rest of the students started filling the room ten minutes later. Harry braced himself for the cocky teen's appearance but it never came.
Taking a good thing when it came to him, Harry quickly forgot the missing Slytherin and tried to concentrate on the lesson.
Potter.
Harry started at the voice in his head. This was something he'd never get used to.
Over the past few days he'd been getting random comments, Malfoy's opinion's on the new professor and anything else that popped into the Slytherin's head. He'd found a new way to torture Harry and he wasn't getting over it any time soon.
What Malfoy? Want to ask me where Neville hangs out so you can plan the perfect revenge? Well, sorry I can't help you.
He was still waiting for a retaliation.
Relax. I'm not going to do anything to your idiot friend. This is more important. You need to help me. We've got to figure this out now. I just...
There's silence and Harry wondered if the connection broke before Malfoy continued. Worry started to creep into his mind. Was something wrong with the other teen? He sounded genuinely distraught.
I just helped a first year who dropped their books.
Harry laughed out loud. Professor Mccown gave the brunette a curious look as she passed him in the hall.
It's not funny, Potter. She wasn't even in Slytherin.
Harry could picture the look on Malfoy's face as the words echoed in his head. He laughed harder.
And again, I have to say sorry. But what do want me to do about it?
I don't know. Stop thinking goody-goody, happy rainbow and puppy thoughts, before I do something worse.
Yeah, you're right. We can't have you acting like a human being or anything.
You know what I mean, Potter. I have a reputation to up hold.
Malfoy, you heard Dumbledore. There's nothing we can do. Just try and... deal with it.
I can't expect you to understand. Nothing like this is happening to you.
That's not true.
Harry bit his tongue before he realized it wouldn't help. His thoughts were harder to stop then his words.
What do you mean? Malfoy pressed.
Harry's thought briefly returned to last night. Ron and him were playing a game of exploding snaps and they'd some how ended up arguing. It may or may not have had something to do with Harry calling Ron a moron.
Which was far more kind then what he wanted to call the red head, but it wasn't like he could explain that to his mate.
They'd made up of course, but Harry still felt a lingering annoyance for the other boy that he had to shove down more often then he cared for. Thankfully, it was all back to normal by morning.
Harry debated whether or not he should confide in the blonde youth.
Oh, come off it Potter. Who else are you going to talk to about this?
Fine. I may have insulted Ron.
So? That doesn't mean anything. I'm sure the plebeian deserved it. Are you telling me you've never fought before?
No, it was different. I was annoyed. Really annoyed. He was so...stupid.
Welcome to my world. That boy has more problems then a squib trying to apparate. Maybe you've just finally seen the light?
Funny, I was going to say the same to you. I can hear the rumors now. Former bad-boy Draco Malfoy reformed, savior of babies and lost little girls, friend to Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw.
Don't even joke. As if I'd ever be friends with a Hufflepuff.
Harry sobered up.
Right. You wouldn't.
There was a pregnant pause and then...
I've got to go. This isn't over though.
Harry never got the chance to respond. Silence took Malfoy's place.
Did he just have a semi- civil conversation with the Slytherin? It was hard to tell, but Malfoy seemed to be teasing him. Harry shook his head and chalked it up to the spell.
Harry was hurrying down the hall. He was determined not to be late. It was all his friend's fault anyway. Maybe Malfoy had a point. He was too kind.
He brushed his damp hands on his trousers.
Luna had insisted he wash them before class, otherwise the crunch-worms would steal all his money and leave him poor and living in a box on the street. It was general knowledge that they were attracted to germs, and once they had your taste they could track you for miles. And what did they loved more then germs? Money.
Maybe it was out of loyalty to a friend, or maybe he wanted to defend her from those crazy looks shot in her direction. Maybe a small part of him was a little afraid there might be truth to her stories. What ever it was, Harry decided to humor the girl. He gave Ron and Hermione a nod as he headed for the bathroom.
Once he was all clear of tasty germs he made his way towards charms. In his haste he failed to see the boy coming out of the class room until it was too late. He careened into the other person, spilling books all over the castle floor.
" Sorry."
" Watch it, Potter!"
Words stated at the same time. Harry fought back the eye roll waiting to make it's debut. The sigh slipped out of it's own accord.
Harley Masterson was first and foremost a prick. A few months ago he decided it was his personal mission to make Harry's life a living hell. Like the teen needed another obsessed stalker.
Well, maybe that was stretching it a bit. Harry had stepped on his robes. Which was not a viable reason for torture in Harry's opinion. It was the older boy's fault any way. He wore his school robes as if he were a bride walking down the isle. Harry half expected to find his lacky's holding the ends, as brides maids would a brides train.
The boy reminded Harry vaguely of a cheap imitation of Malfoy. Ever since the start of the term and the robe incident this joker has taken every opportunity to insult the Gryffindor. At least with Malfoy they had a history. This guy's hate came out of no where.
But here he was standing in front of Harley once more, waiting for the insult, so he could get on his way.
" Hey, Potter! Nice to see you again." Great sarcasm, that never gets old.
" Stealthy as ever. It amazes me sometimes how you could get on the Gryffindor team, but then I remember the rest of the players and realize it's not so amazing after all."
Harry held back a groan.
"I heard your boyfriend Longbottom, spilled essence of troll all over McGonagall this morning."
The croony's behind him laughed, as the dark haired boy smiled.
"Tell me, did you follow the instructions wrong or did he get damaged in the box on the owl ride over?" Harry pondered the insult.
Did that even make sense? He decided it didn't matter.
" Yes."
He replied before side stepping the boy and continuing to class, which he was now a minute late for. Stupid crunch-worms.
That's it?
Harry jumped, but stopped himself from turning to look for the source of the voice.
He knew immediately it was Malfoy.
It's rude to eavesdrop, Malfoy.
The blonde ignored him.
He insults you and your mate and you just walk away?
What did you want me to do? Have a duel in the middle of the hallway?
I don't know, insult him back, maybe? It's not like you haven't done it before. Believe me I know.
What's the point? He's not worth it.
Harry fought the urge to tug on his hair. He knew it wouldn't cease the voice in his head.
And I am?"
Malfoy's words made him frown.
What do you care, anyway? Like you said, you know. You insult me all the time. And unless your harboring some secret crush on Neville, I don't see why this matters to you.
Harry smirked at the shiver he felt go through Malfoy at his comment.
Although it would explain why you're always teasing him. Again the Slytherin made no remark about Harry's comment.
" At least with me you fight back. I guess I just expected you to stand up for your friend and your endless Gryffindor pride."
Harry thought about the statement and it took him three whole minutes to realize the connection between them was broken, and he was even more late to class.
He was running. Wind ripping through his hair and jacket. It was cold, but felt nice against his fevered skin. No wait, he wasn't running. He was flying.
It was his first time on a broom. He was seven and proud. All his cousins had to wait until the age of ten before they were allowed to ride, but his father let him now.
Because he was better then them. And he deserved the best. He was soaring, pushing higher. His mum warned him not to, but how could he resist?
The night air tasted different the higher he got. Sweeter. He was certain he'd just touched a cloud. Wait until Aroul hears about this. He'll be so jealous.
He was above his house, above the city, above the world. Nothing could touch him. He was free, like a bird. An eagle, graceful and brave. Diving and turning, dipping towards the earth and dodging in and out of trees. It was exhilarating. The rush, the branches petting his skin.
His time was limited, however. He should head home now. He'd gone too far. He'd been gone too long. He knew it, but just one more minute couldn't hurt. He dove under the arm of a spruce tree and in his hurry he missed the one hidden one directly behind it.
One instant he's flying, the next he's hitting the ground with a strong gut clenching impact.
Positive his spine was broken and the cuts on his cheek would scar forever he fought back tears. His broom was a mangled heap a few feet away and it hurt to breath.
Suddenly the cold air was over powering. Surely he would freeze to death before the wolves found him. His mother would mourn him as she spilled salty tears over his grave.
Fear and panic took over quite rapidly, ending any delusion he was going to survive this. He hesitantly sat up. Pain laced his every move. He didn't want to be found in the state he was in, dead or not, he was still a Malfoy. He hastily fixed the buttons on his shirt and pulled the twigs from his hair.
Some where in the back of his rattled, seven year old mind, he knew he was distracting himself from his fate, but he pushed the thought further away. A sound to his left made him jump. The ache in his bones caused him to yell out. Alerting his soon to be murder of his location.
The young boy swallowed, determined to face the monster with his head held high.
He almost cried in relief when his father stepped out of the woods. Something was muttered and all the pain left his body. Strong arms took hold of him and he was pulled into a tight hug.
He was okay. Father had saved him. He hugged the other man back, berating himself for not thinking of it sooner. Of course father had come. Father always protected him.
Harry woke with a start. He sat up in bed and worked to shake off the remnants of the vivid dream about Malfoy's past.
It was unnerving to see his nemesis so young and unguarded. He felt like this was a violation of the other boy's privacy, but he guessed when you're merging minds privacy is a luxury left to the past. He briefly wondered if Malfoy had been dreaming about some of his childhood memories.
Harry tried to relax into the mattress and slow his breathing. His mind kept racing. What got to him the most was Malfoy's dad. He'd never given it much thought, but Malfoy must have had a pretty loving home. His parents care about him, that much was obvious.
If he would have had to make a guess, he would have pinned Malfoy for growing up in a strict environment, given his few run ins with Mr. Malfoy. He'd pegged Lucius for being a controlling bastard, but the memory of his arms comforting the scared little boy wouldn't let him think that way any more. There was nothing but love and relief over finding his lost son in that hug.
Harry took his insight into Malfoy's brain and pondered it a bit more. Malfoy was a pompous, drama loving, prat, even at seven, but he was also a kid. Who loved his parents and got presents and needed and had some one to take care of him. It was too strange a concept.
Harry could suddenly place the voice in his first dream. It was Mr. Malfoy again. Teasing his wife about the puppy they'd bought their son for Christmas.
The older man had shown Harry a side he'd never glimpsed before. It was so unlike the picture he had in his head. The few times Harry had witnessed any interactions between the man and the young heir in public, left Harry to think Lucius was incapable of loving anything. Harry questioned how much of the Malfoy's persona was really just show.
What really went on behind the scenes?
He would have loved to hate Malfoy for growing up with something he'd never have. A father and mother who loved him unconditionally, but he only felt luke warm about it. Not happy, necessarily, but clearly not jealous. They seemed normal. Happy.
It was such a contradiction to what Harry knew. He didn't know what make of it. All he knew was the Malfoy's were becoming like real people to him. Through their love for their son, they'd become more connected to Harry. More relatable.
Hate, Harry never would understand. Love, was much easier.
Or maybe it was late and Harry's mind was playing tricks on him. He turned on his left side and fell asleep the instant his head adjusted on the pillow.
Potter.
Harry briefly wondered if any one in the common room would worry if he drove the pencil into his skull.
Wow. You have some morbid thoughts. Should I contact a counselor? Tell your friends to keep you away from sharp objects?
What do you want, Malfoy?
I was wondering... what are you wearing?
Harry rolled his eyes.
The quiet in his head stayed quiet for a long moment, during which Harry did not twiddle his thumbs. He never realized how silent it was in his mind.
Sorry. Pansy was asking me a question. Seriously, I was wondering...have you done your transfiguration worksheet yet?
Homework? Malfoy was asking him about homework?
Hello? Potter? You there? Has your head finally gotten too big for your scrawny neck to hold up. Are you stranded? Laying on the floor, struggle to move? Is Granger's cat eying your immobile body as I speak?
Suddenly Harry could imagine himself, laying helpless on the floor with a swollen head, while crookshankes licked at his hair. The picture was just too much for him.
He burst out laughing. Ron jumped and Hermione turned the page of her book without so much as a glance in his direction. Seamus clapped Harry on the shoulder on his way across the room.
As the laughter died down in his head, Malfoy had a deep laugh, Harry tried to remember his question.
Yes, most of it. Why?
He rifled though his bag, searching for the parchment.
What did you get for number thirteen?
Harry looked over his work. He squinted trying to make out the letters.
Ummm, Blood...rot. Root. Bloodroot.
Hmmm. And number two?
Spline... of a dragon's...ton... tongue?
Potter. Is this your idea of a joke?
Harry rubbed his eyes.
No. It was just really late when Ron and I did this and Hermione wasn't around so...
So you and the red-weasel decided to make up your own funny answers.
Said red-weasel, shifted on the couch, yawned and announced he was going to bed. Harry waved him off.
You don't have to ask me, Malfoy. I'm sure you have some lackey's there just waiting to be called upon by the great Draco Malfoy. Go copy off them.
Harry didn't hear from Malfoy again at all that night.
Oh my God. What is that?
Harry was suddenly overcome with a strong rotten taste.
Malfoy? Are you eating a dead bird?
Don't be daft. Although you're not far off. It's called foie gras and it's a delicacy.
For who? Trolls?
I wouldn't expect you to understand the tastes of a refined palate.
A hand clapped Harry on the shoulder. Seamus was looking down at him.
" You alright, Harry? You look liked you swallowed a bug."
" I'm fine. Thanks." The Irish boy looked less then convinced, but nodded and headed out the portrait entrance.
Fine, Potter. We can't have you spewing all over the castle now can we?
Harry couldn't keep the smile off his face when the taste left his mouth and was replaced with strawberries.
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