Born in Frustration

Thanks all for your reviews. I really do appreciate it. This is a bit sappy, I know but I think you will see where it's leading....

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~Chapter Eleven: Just Try and Get Rid of Me~

They dropped the trunk in the middle of the room. Draco immediately fell on the bed laughing. Harry closed the door and watched Draco through narrowed eyes.

“Did… did… you see… the… the… fat prick’s face,” he exclaimed through gulps of merriment, tears streaming down his face, “Muggles are such homophobes!” His laughter subsided. “That was brilliant, Harry! I knew that would piss the fucker off.”

“Yeah, Draco, brilliant,” Harry said, not amused. “What the hell did you think you were doing? My uncle thinks I’m gay! Just fucking brilliant!” Harry hissed. “Do you even have a clue as to how much trouble I’m in now?” He couldn’t keep the worry from rising in his voice as he began pacing back and forth, clenching and unclenching his fists. “My uncle is going to KILL ME!” he snapped.

Draco sobered quickly, watching Harry. “Calm down, Harry.”

“CALM DOWN! CALM DOWN!” Harry shouted. “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU’VE DONE, MALFOY!”

Draco rose from the bed. He walked over to Harry and grabbed his shoulders. “Look at me, Harry,” he said quietly and Harry did so reluctantly. “Your – uncle – will – never – touch – you – again,” he said very deliberately.

Harry’s chest was heaving. “How – how can you say that?”

Draco held Harry’s head in place. He stared for a moment into Harry’s green eyes. There was so much worry and fear there that Draco felt his heart clench with anger, a sudden desire to protect the other boy burst through him. “Because, I told the fat-man that I’d make him wish he were dead if he ever hurt you again,” Draco said plainly.

“But… but, you won’t always be here,” Harry breathed. “You – you – you’ll be gone soon and…”

“No!” Draco said forcefully. “I won’t. I will be here everyday till Dumbledore picks you up.” Draco tried hard to make Harry believe him so that he would stop looking so scared. He set his jaw determinedly, displaying the honesty of his statement on his face. He watched carefully as Harry’s own face began to accept this, but then doubt surfaced in his eyes and Draco winced a bit.

“Why? Draco, why are you helping me?” Harry was almost sobbing, but he couldn’t help but ask; he had to know. Draco understood. The two of them had always been enemies. Rivals, from nearly the first day they met. So he thought carefully about how best to answer Harry and assuage his uncertainty. He didn’t know why he was helping, really. It was all a jumble of confusion in his own mind, so how was he supposed to explain it to Harry? He only knew one thing for sure…

“I don’t know why, Harry. I just need to,” Draco said softly. “I can’t explain to you why; just believe me. I want to be here. For some reason, I – I need to be here. I want you to trust me. I know that’s asking a lot, Harry, but I have never been more completely honest with anyone before right now. I will never let that fat bastard hurt you, ever again. Believe me.” The last was said as almost a plea. Draco realised this and didn’t care. He needed Harry to believe him. Why this was so, Draco couldn’t say, just that something deep down inside of his soul needed Harry’s trust.

So, he waited. He waited for Harry. Draco rubbed his hands along Harry’s arms reassuringly. Harry looked down. He seemed to be thinking. Draco continued to rub his arms, waiting for a sign that Harry believed him.

They stood some moments before Harry looked back up at Draco. “I – I do trust you, Draco,” he whispered. Draco looked deep into Harry’s eyes and he saw that it was true; Harry trusted him. Harry believed him, believed in him. There was still confusion, but the trust was there. His heart leapt for joy and Draco smiled broadly, hugging Harry’s frail body close to his own.

“Good,” he whispered back. All was right with the world. Draco felt it and he hoped Harry did too.

As the boys were embracing, Petunia walked in carrying a tray of food. She started at the sight of her nephew in the arms of the nasty blonde wizard and nearly dropping their lunch. Harry quickly jumped away from Draco, his face blushing furiously.

Petunia pasted a horrified and disgusted look on her face. Storming over to the desk she dropped the tray and ran from the room. Draco burst into another fit of laughter at her antics.

“Muggles,” he murmured, “come on.” He grabbed Harry’s hand, pulling him toward the food. “You need to take another potion and you need to eat. Don’t want Dumbledore to know that you’ve been starved now, do you?”

The two boys finished their meal and then spent the rest of the afternoon talking and working on Harry’s holiday assignments. Draco having already finished his potions paper helped Harry with his. Though Harry told him he didn’t expect he’d need to do it as he was quite sure he hadn’t made the necessary ‘O’ grade for NEWT Potions. But Draco had insisted, just in case, and since Draco hadn’t done his Transfiguration or Charms work, they decided they could work on those, together, over the next few days.

Draco, surprisingly, although he really should have expected it, found himself enjoying Harry’s company. The soft spoken Gryffindor was far more amiable then Draco’s normal companions. Crabbe and Goyle hardly ever said a word, and Blaise was so self-possessed, it made conversation difficult, and then there was Pansy. He enjoyed her doting, on occasion, but he really found her more of an irritating presence, than a friend.

Harry was different, he was easy to talk to and he was always offering conversation and advice, like a true friend. Draco felt he could probably tell Harry his darkest secrets and Harry would keep them. He had never felt that way before and he liked it. A lot. More then he thought he would.

But despite their pleasant pastimes, a disturbing thought kept niggling at the back of his mind. Even after all his kindness, and his desire to help Harry, he was still Lucius Malfoy’s son. His destiny had been decided the moment his father swore allegiance to the Dark Lord. And part of that destiny meant he was supposed to hate this boy, should, in fact, be trying to kill him or, at the very least, capture him for his Lord. But Draco found that he couldn’t deny the bond they were quickly forming and, even more surprising, didn’t want to.

This was something he wanted to continue, Draco even found himself wishing that he was not a Malfoy, so that he could openly be friends with Harry. But Draco was, if anything, pragmatic. This tentative friendship would have to be kept secret. When he mentioned this to Harry, he was relieved to find that the other boy had come to the same conclusion. Harry told him that he didn’t want the Dark Lord or Draco’s father to hurt or use Draco to get to him, so they formed a pact swearing to keep their friendship strong and secret.

All too soon, it was time for Draco to leave and Draco rose reluctantly and headed for Harry’s door. Harry looked confused.

“It’s only polite to say goodbye, Harry.” He winked at the boy then headed down in search of the Dursleys.

Draco found them sitting down to afternoon tea. Smiling wickedly, he sauntered into the kitchen.

“I do hope you’re sending tea up to Harry?” he asked, his voice dripping with false innocence. The Dursleys jumped at the intrusion. All three grimacing in different emotional stages as Draco wandered around the table.

“Well, I’m off for the night,” he informed them. He could practically taste the relief in the room, which made him smirk to himself. Draco stopped behind Dudley’s chair and placed both hands on the rotund boy’s beefy shoulders, leaning in, right next to Dudley’s ear, he whispered, “I know you’ll miss me.” Dudley nearly fell off his chair.

Draco’s eyes twinkled with enjoyment. He turned toward Vernon. “Now, fat-man, remember my warning,” he said. He pointed his long slender finger in the large man’s face. “Harry’s to be fed up nicely. Hurt him and I’ll cut your balls off and feed them to you in sauce.” Draco sighed sweetly.

Finally, he turned toward Petunia and quirked his eyebrow, grinning ridiculously. “Remember – tea – Harry,” he chimed melodically, pointing up stairs. “Mm-mm, I do smell a lovely roast cooking, he’ll love that. I’ll be sure to ask him how he enjoyed it tomorrow.” At that comment, all the Dursley’s paled.

“What?” Draco questioned falsely. “Oh, I see, you will miss me,” he said brightly. “I could be convinced to stay…”

“NO!” They all shouted at once.

Draco placed his hand over his heart, imitating false hurt feelings. His face then took on a serious tone. “Remember my warning, fat-man.” He took out his wand and twirled it in his fingers. “Tomorrow’s Sunday. Lovely day Sunday, don’t you think?” Vernon glared at Draco, his mouth looking as if it wanted desperately to say something.

“Keep it shut, fat-man. See you lot tomorrow.” With that, Draco strode from the kitchen, returning to Harry’s room.

Draco was still smirking when he entered the tiny room and Harry looked at his expression nervously.

“Don’t forget to take the restorative potion,” Draco reminded him casually. Harry, sitting on the bed looked up at Draco, uncertainty in his eyes. He glanced from the door to Draco’s face. Draco got the message…

“Please don’t worry, Harry,” he said sadly. “Trust me, they won’t hurt you. You’re safe and I’ll be back tomorrow, and the next day, and the one after that.”

Draco approached Harry, bending down close to his new friend. He reached out and touched his lips, gently, to Harry’s lips.

“Why do you tug so at my heart, Harry?” he sighed, not looking for an answer. Draco walked to the middle of the room. Turning, he took a last look at Harry. “Just try to get rid of me.” He smiled at the other boy, then Apparated away. He left behind a bewildered Harry, touching his own lips, where Draco’s lips had just been…