Disclaimer: I own many things…. just not Harry Potter and co
"Why are you so pale, Malfoy?" he asked just after Ernie Macmillam went past them, eager to leave the sorry excuse of a Potions lesson.
"I asked," said Harry, stepping towards him, outside the dungeons, "why are you looking so pale?"
Malfoy frowned, the bags under his eyes dark against his white skin. He turned to leave when Harry grabbed his arm and pulled the sleeve up showing his bare arm.
"See. So pale."
"D-don't t-touch me," stuttered Malfoy uncharacteristically, and tried to pull away but Harry's grip was too strong, "leave me alone."
Harry ignored him and continued to study the arm. "And look at your hands. Since when did you start biting your nails? It's a sign of stress you know."
"What's it to you?" sneered the Slytherin weakly. He dropped his books but Harry stopped him from picking them up.
"Did you know your hands are shaking?"
"What is this? Twenty questions?"
"What are you scared of Malfoy?"
Malfoy's eyes widened. "Don't touch me! Don't speak me! Get the fuck away from me!"
He tried to run but Harry pulled back and pinned him roughly against the wall.
"Are you frightened of me, Malfoy? Frightened if I touch you there," Harry put his hand on Malfoy's left arm where his Dark Mark was, "I'll burn you like I burnt Quirrell?"
The Gryffindor leant closer, his breath on Malfoy's lips.
"Why haven't you bothered to comb your hair anymore? And what's with those bags under your eyes?"
Harry's eyes flickered to his mouth.
"And why do you bite your lip? Are you nervous?"
Malfoy closed his eyes to stop his tears falling.
"What do you want, Potter?" he asked shakily.
"I want to know what he's making you do."
"Who says he's making me do anything?"
"It's an educated guess."
Malfoy sighed heavily. "You know I can't tell you."
"Fine," replied Harry, "I want to know what you want."
"What I want has got nothing to do with it."
"Just tell me."
He opened his eyes to look into Harry's emerald ones, searching. There was no malice or hatred like he expected there to be, just…pity.
"What I want," he snarled with new strength, "is none of your pity."
He shoved Harry off and strode away. Harry shouted back behind him.
"Pity! You think I pity you! You don't deserve my pity, you got yourself into this mess all by yourself. I pity those whose lives are turned upside down without them choosing it."
Malfoy did not look back though the words stung him deeply. He could hear Harry running after him.
"For god's sake, Malfoy, stop! I want to help you!"
He stopped and turned, eyes shimmering unable now to hold back the tears.
"Help me do what! Help me get what I want! Alright!" he flailed his arms, "this is what I want. I want things to be the way they were before, before all of this! When all I had to worry about were my grades, Quidditch and beating you and your cronies. When everything I did wasn't watch or could be the death of me. To a time when father wasn't in Azkaban and mother didn't cry everyday. When people didn't expect me either to die or to be the exact replica of my father. When the Ministry didn't ransack my house and question me like a criminal. Like before when we hated each other because we did, not because we were on opposite sides, and I tormented you because it was fun not because it was a duty. I want to go back to when you looked at me as a equal not as if I was the dirtiest scumbag in the world! That's what I want, OK!"
He collapsed, shaken and vulnerable after his speech. Hugging his knees tightly like a body armour expecting Harry either to walk away or laugh at him. Harry did neither. Instead he did the last thing in the world Malfoy expected him to do. Comforted him, actually knelt down and tentatively put his arms round him. Malfoy broke down. He hugged his archrival fiercely back, even though he knew it was Harry, maybe because he knew it was Harry. He took in all the warmth which he had craved for so long. He cried and cried as Harry murmured soft words into his ear, rocking him back and forth like a baby.
"Why?" Malfoy sobbed, looking up into Harry's eyes once more, "why did he have to come back? Why couldn't he just stayed dead!"
"I don't know," answered Harry truthfully, brushing away the stray tears o Malfoy's face, "But I swear to you, I will kill him, I will set you free."
Malfoy felt an unknown emotion swell up in his chest. He gazed deeply at Harry's determined face, which was so close, so very close, almost touching. He could every emerald shard in Harry's eyes, feel every warm breath he took, every tear that Harry himself could not hold back. Taking all this on to account Malfoy acted on an impulse, something neither a Malfoy nor a Slytherin should ever do. He kissed him.
Harry drew back in surprise. Malfoy put a hand to his mouth. What had he just done!
"I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me," he choked, jumping up away from Harry. Harry held him back, licking his lips to taste the imprint of Malfoy. Something clicked inside his mind. He didn't care that this was wrong, that it made no sense, that he shouldn't be feeling this. It felt so perfect. He pulled Malfoy towards him, cupping his face.
"I do," he said before he returned the kiss tenderly. At first they did nothing, just sat still, both embracing the feel of each other's lips on their own. They started exploring, tongues touching, licking, nipping. Harry parted his mouth welcoming Malfoy's hot tongue as it deepened the kiss. They clung together, desperately, needily as if just their touch would save them. Neither felt anything like this before, neither wanted to let go, neither wanted to return to a reality in which they hated each other.
"Please, Harry, don't let go," whispered Malfoy between kisses, "never ever leave me."
"Never," breathed Harry before smiling widely at the other boy's flushed face, "ah, not so pale now, Draco."
Thanks to all that reviewed! I have made changes to some of the bits that you wonderful people advised me on! And to those who haven't….please?