Change My World

Disarm you with a smile
And leave you like they left me here
To wither in denial
-- Smashing Pumpkins


Draco Malfoy had always been known as a cunning boy. The Sorting Hat had known in an instant where to place the diminutive boy, but it seemed that the rest of the house had forgotten where he belonged. News of Narcissa\'s death and the reasons behind it had traveled quickly amongst the house of the snake. Owls traveled quickly and furiously from worried parents telling their children not to associate themselves with the ostracized boy. He was a traitor. A blood traitor to the cause and his mother had paid the price.

There was never an exact count on how many had ganged up on Draco that fateful night, the first that the boy had spent in Slytherin since recovering from Potter\'s possessed strangulation. Malfoy would never report who all had assaulted him; there were no less than a half dozen witches and wizards that had been temporarily blinded from whatever dark hex that Draco had unleashed before he was disarmed, stunned and had most of his bones systematically broken. Madam Pomfrey\'s assertions that he was \"lucky to be alive\" were met with a wry sneer as she gave him potions to mend his bones. Lucky, because at this moment life had so much to offer him.

It took some doing to figure out where in the school to put Malfoy. He clearly couldn\'t go back to Slytherin. Snape had offered to allow the boy into his room, but Dumbledore pointed out that it would compromise his cover to be seen acting partial to the estranged Malfoy. Not to mention that it would seem untoward to have him staying with a professor. For the moment it didn\'t matter, as Draco had to stay in the sickbay under constant supervision from Madam Pomfrey. He was awarded a temporary room with several wards that kept everyone but the staff from visiting him.

Only one student was allowed to visit Draco, the only student that the blond asked to see. Gregory Goyle. When the large boy exited the infirmary, his face was red and his eyes puffy. He hadn\'t cried, but he appeared to dearly wish to. Harry, who had been keeping a silent and invisible vigil in front of the hospital door, hopped up and paced after the lumbering Slytherin until they were far enough away he didn\'t think he\'d get caught.

\"What did he say?\" Harry asked after unfurling the robe and grabbing Goyle by the elbow.

The large boy jumped and then whipped around to peer down at the petite brunette questioning him. \"Where did you come from?\"

\"Never mind that, Goyle, what did he say to you?\"

\"I... he...\" Goyle\'s face pinched up in a contortion of mixed emotions before he let out a breath and finally confessed. \"He said he can\'t be my friend anymore. He says it\'s not me, he likes me and all but that it\'s dangerous. I might get killed.\"

\"Oh. So you weren\'t one of those who attacked him?\"

\"Naw. I wasn\'t even there or I\'d\'ve helped him. He\'s my friend.\"

Harry looked surprised and somewhat incredulous. \"Friend?\"

Goyle gave Harry a perplexed look and his brows furrowed. \"Malfoy said the same thing. If it were just me-- but he said my mum and da could get hurt,\" he said and then he looked around the hall and leaned in. \"I\'m going to keep my ears open for him, though. Nott reckons he\'s gonna take over. That made Malfoy laugh. And then he said he was a missy-trope who couldn\'t direct strong winds in a hurricane.\"

\"Missy-trope?\"

\"I didn\'t know that word neither. It means someone who don\'t get along none with other people,\" Goyle assured Harry.

Misanthrope. Harry thought, but simply smiled and patted Goyle\'s shoulder. All at once he realized he was patting Goyle\'s shoulder. The boy was talking to him and as surprising as it was that Goyle could construct sentences, it was even more odd that he wasn\'t cracking his knuckles at Harry or being in any other way intimidating. \"Right. So, do you understand what happened, Goyle?\"

\"Not really. He was involved with you like I want to be involved with Bullstrode, he told me. I don\'t get how. You\'re a boy. But he said that you all found ways,\" Goyle said dumbly and then rubbed his large fist into his forehead as if this were too much work for his brain. \"I reckon he still likes you some, though he said he didn\'t. Malfoy\'s like that. He says one thing but acts another way a lot. He asked if people were planning on hurting ya, and if I heard something to tell him or help you or whatnot. But he says he don\'t like you. But I can tell. He\'s not so smart when it comes to stuff like that. He can\'t fool me.\" At this, Goyle gave a broad and proud smile and thumped his huge thumb against his massive chest.

Harry gave him a pleasant but perplexed smile. Could it be true? The Gryffindor certainly wanted to believe that Draco still loved him, but how? After everything that happened... but still, here was Goyle saying it. Then again, Goyle wasn\'t known for being particularly insightful. Giving the hefty boy a curt nod he said, \"I hope you\'re right, Goyle. I hope you\'re right.\"

---

It had taken some doing but Dumbledore managed to get Andromeda Tonks named as Draco\'s temporary guardian. Despite the fact that Draco did have a living parent, for legal purposes, the boy was an orphan. Keeping him as a ward of the school wasn\'t impossible, but being that he had a side of the family that would look out for his best interests ensured that the beleaguered Slytherin wouldn\'t be withdrawn from Hogwarts.

This was the information that Professor Snape was passing along to Draco as he sat across from the man at his desk waiting for Harry to arrive for his first new Occlumency lesson. The worried Gryffindor hesitantly opened the outsized door and peered around it to make sure there wasn\'t a nasty surprise waiting for him on the other side. Indeed, all he saw was the back of Malfoy\'s head and a very agitated Snape looking as close to the emotion of concern as he\'d ever seen on the older man\'s face.

\"I am afraid that Dumbledore is concerned that if you stay in Slytherin, or with me as I had asked him,\" he said to the wan boy pointedly to let him know that he\'d tried to keep himself close to Draco, and in fact was wishing to share living space with him. \"That it would put me in conflict with the Dark Lord\'s wishes. Such information would get back to him through any number of channels and I would be useless to the Order provided I was even suffered to live.\"

\"I understand,\" Malfoy said. His voice sounded strained, hurt and tired. Slowly he turned himself around to face Harry. His features were pallid and the skin under his eyes was dark and blotchy. Malfoy was worn down, savaged with worry and although because of his vigil outside of the infirmary Harry knew Draco had been sleeping, it was clear he hadn\'t gotten any rest. \"Potter.\"

The sneer on the Slytherin was off putting even though it was halfhearted and not filled with the arrogance that Harry was accustomed to. The cocksure smile had been knocked out of him and the difference knocked the wind out of his rekindled rival. Draco\'s eyes scanned Harry and it seemed the golden boy hadn\'t fared much better.

Disgusted enough with the idea that his best mate was gay, that he\'d been dallying with Malfoy was way beyond the pale as far as Ron was concerned. In fact, all of Harry\'s roommates had been rather cold to him, but at least he wasn\'t attacked. Hermione seemed to be trying to understand, but her wounds with Malfoy cut entirely too deeply for her to be neutral on the issue. The whole situation seemed to give Weasley a much-needed excuse to spend more time with the Muggle-born and it appeared that they were dating.

It wasn\'t the first time that Harry had felt abandoned and friendless. He was pretty sure this wouldn\'t be the last. At least it made his nighttime vigils in front of the hospital easier to accomplish. No one asked where he was going. No one cared that he was gone. It was disheartening but not altogether unexpected. In the end it was just another ramification of his choice that he hadn\'t really considered when he made it. The blows seemed to sting less and less now. Potter was getting used to it.

To keep from violating his promise to Dumbledore, Snape hastily stood, gave a curt bow to the boys and made his way out to his private chambers. \"Colloportus,\" Draco called out after him to each of the doors to keep anyone from just wandering in. Locking doors behind him was becoming a useful habit.

The blond didn\'t want to appear relieved to see Harry, or glad about it in the least. So the Slytherin folded his arms and cast his eyes downward with an extreme force of will. Given all that had happened it would have been nice to have someone to talk to, but Harry was the cause of it and Draco just couldn\'t let that go.

\"How have you been?\" Harry asked, wanting to break the silence and hoping that Draco would allow him to open this dialogue.

\"Do you mean other than being throttled by you, having my mother murdered over me, being attacked and outted by my own house and having to force what few people that would like to stay in my life away? Oh, smashing,\" he hissed, still not meeting Harry\'s gaze.

Trying to overlook the goading, Harry said, \"Ron and Hermione aren\'t talking to me much either. None of the Gryffindors are.\"

\"Aww,\" Draco mocked, lifting his head up and tilting it to the side. He looked towards Harry, but just off to the left of him at a point far away. The glare made Harry feel even less significant than the placating.

\"They\'re my friends,\" Harry stated.

\"Some friends. I thought fucking Gryffindors were supposed to be noble. Look beyond faults. Stick together. Although I can\'t exactly blame them for not wanting to associate with you, who knows whose life you\'ll ruin next. It would be such a tragedy if the world were minus two dentists,\" Draco snapped as he continued to look at a spot on the wall.

\"That\'s really harsh, Malfoy,\" Harry answered, feeling extremely frustrated with the way this talk was going. \"Hermione\'s taken loads of risks for me. The fact that I was with you hurts her. You hurt her. I know she\'ll come around. As far as Voldemort is concerned, her parents are always in danger anyways. As are the Weasleys,\" Harry pointed out. Reaching up to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose, he paused for emphasis. He wanted Draco to actually comprehend what he was about to say. \"They\'re angry because I love you. They know I love you and that I want to be with you and they don\'t like you. If you\'d just be civil to them-\"

After flinching at the Dark Lord\'s name, Malfoy broke out in a cruel laughter and shook his head as his focus fled to the ceiling. \"Love? Is that what you think you feel for me? You think this is about love? I loved my mother, Potter. She was everything to me and now I\'ve lost her. Lost her because of you. You dare to say that you love me? What would you know about it?\"

Harry was in equal parts stung and angered by what Draco said. \"That is it, Malfoy. I\'ve tried to be nice about this because of your loss and because I do care about you despite what you seem to believe. But if you\'re going to go around blaming people then look at yourself. It\'s true I didn\'t tell you what could happen; you and Snape have a point there. Then again, when did you let me talk? When was I supposed to let you in on this big dark secret? Should I have shouted it out while you were blowing me?\"

\"You didn\'t talk! You were asking me about my childhood or trying to let me in on things I shouldn\'t know about-\"

\"This would\'ve been one of those things, you cut me off-\"

\"You knew what this thing was, Potter and how deadly it could be but it didn\'t stop-\"

\"I didn\'t want to stop it, I wanted you, and I still-\"

\"STOP IT, SHUT UP!\" Malfoy shrieked as he put his hands up in front of him, pale fingers splayed as an entreaty to halt the argument. Deep down he knew Harry was right. It wasn\'t entirely the golden boy\'s fault that this happened. There were just some things that hit too close to home. It took too much out of him to think about his part in his own mother\'s demise.

\"What\'s done is done, it doesn\'t matter why. However, if Snape had kept up my Occlu-\" Harry attempted.

Draco cleared his throat and shook his head. \"Let\'s just get this over with, all right? Snape\'s done the best that he could by me. I don\'t want to hear you blame him for your nosiness.\"

It was interesting to Harry that evidently Snape told him why his lessons had stopped. He was a bit taken aback by this information and he felt a pang of jealousy at the closeness of the two. Unlike Dumbledore, who had often given Harry little winks as he passed him by going to Draco\'s private room at the infirmary, Snape couldn\'t see through the invisibility cloak. Harry knew just how often the man visited Draco versus how many times he simply passed by the hospital to catch a glance or to make sure nothing was going on. Perhaps it was simply teenaged hormonal jealousy, but the Gryffindor was growing increasingly uneasy with the Potion Master\'s affiliation with what he thought of as his lover.

\"Right then,\" Harry said as he withdrew his wand and watched Draco move to the other side of Snape\'s desk. \"Let\'s get started.\" With any luck, Harry could push back into Draco\'s mind as he\'d done with Snape before and find out just what the relationship meant to the blond.

Taking a moment to center and clear his thoughts, Draco looked at the floor and then drew his wand. He took a deep breath and then flourished his wand with a strict, \"Legilimens!\"

Any thoughts Harry had entertained about Draco being any easier to keep at bay withered as the spell hit him. The fierce heat in his scar caused him to scream in agony. Harry pulled up both hands to slap over his face, trying desperately to pull himself out of the mind spiral Draco was forcing him into. It was impossible to steel his mind against this or regain control. Draco Malfoy was in his mind, pushing through anomalous memories of Weasley jumpers and snowball fights to get to the very recollections Harry didn\'t want him to see. And unlike Snape, Draco did it with a pubescent and careless maliciousness. He didn\'t just want to know, he wanted Harry to hurt. So Harry did all he really could do at that point. He let Malfoy have it.

Abruptly plunged into the Gryffindor\'s darkest reminiscences, it took a moment for Draco to regain his bearings. He was outside of the infirmary, watching people pass him by. No one seemed to notice him at all. Except for Dumbledore. He was terribly worried about Draco. How badly had the Slytherins hurt him? It was completely his fault. He should have told him. But how? He didn\'t know when he could\'ve mentioned it. Still, Draco\'s mother was dead and it was his fault. How did Voldemort get into his head? That had only happened before because Voldemort was close. Was he close now? Was another student pulling a Quirrell with the Dark Lord on the back of his head? No, that wouldn\'t be necessary. The Dark Lord had a body now. Maybe Voldemort was posing as a teacher? Maybe he\'d spring out and kill-

It took a few disorienting moments for Draco to figure out he was having Harry\'s thoughts. Harry was outside of the infirmary? Malfoy didn\'t know how to feel about this. He knew that Harry believed that he loved him, but these actions, these concerns of his proved it. In spite of his frustrated anger, the rival Seeker was touched that Harry was watching over him. His mind scanned over those memories, perusing them plainly, seeing all of the petty concerns of the brunet and just how angry with himself he was that Draco was suffering. Then there was this tiny thought. It was elusive and appeared like a white moth. The Slytherin gave chase but couldn\'t quite capture it. Draco felt very close to catching the moth, very near the realization when he was snapped back and away from the dangerous idea.

He was in a closet-no it was the cupboard. A slice of light illuminated a section of his youthful face. He was peering desperately out of the crack, afraid not just because he was alone, but because he was certain there were monsters about. Monsters his cousin had told him about that would attack young boys found alone. His green eyes sought out as much light as they could. The family had finished dinner and Petunia and Vernon were watching one last program before bed. He felt spiders on him. There was something in the cupboard he could just feel it! He cried out with great big wailing sobs against the door, his chubby five-year-old hands started to batter at the wood in a shrill panic over creatures unknown. There were no hands of comfort. No kisses on the forehead. Instead, the Dursleys spitefully shut off the television and turned off all of the lights, leaving him in complete blackness with his childish nightmares.

Forcibly, the blond extracted himself from that excruciating memory. He knew Harry had grown up in the cupboard, but somehow it hadn\'t been quite clear to him what all that entailed. It wasn\'t just cramped it was terrifying and inhuman. He shuddered involuntarily at the chill of Harry\'s frightened bawling; the experience had been almost enough to make him withdraw completely from Harry\'s mind. Almost. But there was still that nagging memory, the fluttering moth just beyond his reach. Something Harry didn\'t want Draco to see. The Golden Boy was desperate that no one know this particular thought, and Draco was determined to know it now. So he pushed.

Harry wasn\'t fighting Draco\'s invasion in the least. He allowed the Slytherin to scan through his childhood, reawakening memories he\'d tried hard to repress. Draco was privy to the taunting about buggery that had vexed Harry\'s sexual relationship with him. He even saw the young girl of eight who explained to Harry patiently and quietly as they were both hiding in a privet hedge on school grounds during recess just what buggery was. She was Harry\'s first real friend that hadn\'t been chased off by the bullies, as she was just as peculiar as the scruffy boy. Then Draco saw the sad day when Harry, after not seeing her for nearly a week, finally asked where she had gone only to find out that her parents had moved her to a school where she wouldn\'t be as harassed. Little Peggy\'s parents loved her. Harry\'s family did not. And thus he was chased up trees, found mysteriously on the roof... the memories went on and on until Draco again caught the echo of fluttering wings of that mysterious thought.

With an aggressive eagerness, Draco chased the thought vehemently as if it were a golden Snitch, finally landing in the memory of his cousin\'s death. Sirius Black\'s body formed a graceful arc and was dragged into a stone cave with a veil. He was screaming to get to Sirius, restrained by Remus as he fought desperately to get out of the arms clutching him tightly. No. NO! NO! It wasn\'t happening, it couldn\'t be happening! His mind flashed briefly to Cedric\'s death, then back to this, then down to his tanned and calloused fingers wrapped around a pale boy\'s neck. \"I love you,\" Harry\'s thoughts rang out, but frighteningly, his fingers were throttling the boy he loved. \"Oh no. Not again. Not again,\" the small voice of Harry\'s subconscious chanted to Draco\'s brain. And then it was there. He was there, in the presence of the sought-after thought. The elusive moth was fluttering in his hand. I want to die. I want this to be over with.

It wasn\'t that Harry was suicidal. Taking his own life would mean Voldemort had won. Harry loved his friends and loved the world too much to just let it go because of foolish teen angst. Rather, he truly believed that the result of this war would be his death. He\'d take Voldemort with him if he did die, of that he had absolutely no doubt. Whether he would survive the battle he didn\'t know. He wasn\'t sure he wanted to know. The pessimistic side of him made a compelling case that he wouldn\'t. So he believed it. He would die, but that wasn\'t what frightened him. That didn\'t bother him. That didn\'t wake him up in the night in a cold sweat. What Harry feared most of all was who he would have to watch die next. Would it be Ron or Hermione? Draco? Dumbledore? Remus? He didn\'t want to lose another friend or loved one.

Dumbledore was right. People Harry loved became targets. Each time Harry extended a hand to someone, it was a risk. They might die, and Harry would lose. Though Harry understood that, he hadn\'t been allowing himself to think that way when it came to Draco. He\'d been such a walking zombie, paralyzed by the fear of which person he might lose next. Draco\'s advances had shocked him back into life. Interactions with his former rival were something to look forward to. Draco was someone to save, someone with flaws who didn\'t see Harry as the boy who lived, but rather as just another an annoying boy. In the end, Harry knew that above anyone else, Draco saw Harry Potter and was unimpressed by The Boy Who Lived.

The odd revelations of just how much Harry loved Draco and needed him coupled with the idea that Harry had been welcoming death broke the heir of Malfoy\'s concentration and the connection was lost. Both boys panted in the chilly stone room, the sound reverberated off of the walls in a disturbing dissonant din just above the dead silence. Gradually, Draco\'s head raised and he looked down at Harry who was still on his knees, peering right back up at him with his astonishing green eyes, made that much more brilliant by the red rims of his blood-shot orbs. The Slytherin\'s pale hand fluttered up to his own face to brush away what he believed were strands of his hair only to find his hand wet from his own overflow of emotions.

Keeping their eyes locked, Draco clenched his jaw and flexed it as Harry glared up at him with the hurt and anger of the recently mind-raped. For a moment, Draco simply looked away, thinking, wanting to apologize. Then again Draco had needed to see what was locked in Harry\'s mind. There were things that he\'d seen that Harry would have never been able to express in words even if he were more eloquent than he was. Because of this, but still with much reluctance, Draco\'s eyes roved back to Harry\'s miserably betrayed visage and spoke, \"Your turn.\"