So Wrong, Yet So Right

A/N: Thanks for your reviews!! :)

***
“Potter?” he warily began, seeing him absently staring into the fireplace.

Harry remained seated on the sofa, not able to talk. He was still in disbelief about the whole thing. He knew he should tell somebody, but that little part that had still considered him a friend wanted to keep it quiet.

“Potter, are you okay?” he asked again, sitting beside him on the sofa.

Harry took a deep breath before finally turning his head to the side to acknowledge the blond. “Why didn’t you tell people it was Flint?”

Draco’s body immediately flinched at the name. “What are you talking about?” he nervously asked.

“You told everyone you didn’t know who it was,” he replied. “Why?”

Draco glanced over at the fireplace, feeling his body begin to tremble. “It doesn’t matter anymore,” he whispered.

The two remained silent for a few minutes, staring into the fireplace, allowing their nightmares to wash over them.

“You know that saying how people can overcome their fears by standing up to their attackers?” Harry sighed, breaking the silence.

Draco nodded, turning his head back around and seeing Potter already looking at him.

“They’re wrong.”

“Potter, do you remember who hit you?” Draco questioned, gently placing his hand on the boy’s knee.

“No,” he softly answered, bowing his head. “Just the one who held me.”

“Let’s go,” he growled, hurriedly standing up from the sofa.

“Where?” Harry furrowed his eyebrows.

“Where do you think? McGonagall.”

Harry shook his head, “No.”

“Potter, you can’t let him get away with this.”

“I can’t Malfoy,” Harry whispered, his lower lip quivering.

Draco saw his reaction and quickly knelt down in front of him, placing both his hands on his knees. “Potter, I understand,” he softly began. “I know how you’re feeling. I know you just want to forget what happened and move on, but you can’t. You’ll never be able to move on. I was stupid for not telling anyone about Flint. I was stupid for not telling anyone about McLaggen or Davies, either.”

Harry’s eyes widened as he stared down at him. “McLaggen?”

Draco sighed, bowing his head on the boy’s knees. “It only happened twice,” he quietly responded. “He wasn’t as bad as Flint – no one was,” he then stopped and looked up, furrowing his eyebrows. “Wait, how’d you know it was Flint?”

Harry blushed, covering the boy’s hands with his own and squeezing them. “I told you I had a crush on you, so I guess it’s safe to say that I also watched you a lot. Though not in that stalkerish kind of way,” he added with a smirk, seeing Malfoy smile in return. “You were really good at keeping your face masked, but your body language always told me what I needed to know.”

“Body language?” he wondered.

Harry smiled, brushing a piece of Malfoy’s hair behind his ear. “Whenever you’re happy, you swipe a lock of your hair behind your ear,” he began.

Draco smiled. “Really?” he whispered.

Harry nodded, lowering his hand to the boy’s neck and lightly gripping the back of it. “When you’re frustrated, you always touch the back of your neck and start rubbing it.”

“I do?”

He continued on, placing both his hands on his upper arms and softly moving them up and down. “And your upper arms flex whenever you’re angry at someone.”

“What else?” Draco softly asked, amazed by how much Potter knew about him.

Harry moved his hands up to his shoulders, squeezing them lightly. “When you’re in an uncomfortable situation, you pull back your shoulders and stick out your chest a little, pretending you’re not afraid.”

“You can really see all that?” Draco smiled.

Harry smiled, leaning in closer and gliding his thumb over Malfoy’s lips. “I can really see all that,” he confirmed. “So when I started seeing the way you acted around Flint, I immediately knew.”

“Just from my body language?” Draco incredulously asked.

He licked his lips and nodded. “And every day I continue to learn more and more about your body language.”

“What’s it saying now?” he murmured.

Harry dropped his gaze to the boy’s body and smiled, looking back into his eyes. He slowly moved in further, pressing his lips firmly on Malfoy’s mouth.

Draco sighed, wrapping his arms around Potter’s neck and pulling him closer. He opened his mouth to allow his tongue entry, moaning in the action.

Harry tightly held Malfoy’s waist, playing with his tongue inside his mouth. He loved kissing him. It was always filled with so much passion that made him lightheaded afterward.

After a few more minutes, they backed away, resting their foreheads on each other and smiling. “You know my body language very well,” Draco whispered.

Harry chuckled, giving him a peck on his lips before backing away. “Unfortunately, every time I think I have Snape pegged, he changes it up.”

Draco laughed, getting off his knees and standing upright. “So you’re not going to tell her, are you?”

Harry sighed and shook his head. “I can’t, Malfoy.”

Draco nodded, glancing over at the fireplace. “It’s one of your friends, isn’t it?” he quietly asked, turning back toward him.

Harry nervously chewed on his lower lip, tempted to confess everything. “It won’t happen again,” he settled on.

“You’re still afraid, aren’t you?”

Harry closed his eyes and nodded. “I trusted him. He knew me better than anyone. I told him to stay away from me, but I know it’s not as easy as that. I won’t ever be able to trust him again, but a part of me is afraid that I’ll give in and let him get close again.”

“You won’t,” Draco firmly stated.

Harry sighed and opened his eyes, looking up at him. “How do you know that?”

“Because after I’m through with the Weasel, he’ll never get a chance,” he angrily said, storming toward the door.

“Malfoy, no, where are you going?” he called out, bolting off the sofa.

Draco turned toward Potter, his face red in anger. “He stole you away from me once. He’s not doing it again,” he growled.

“Malfoy, please. I don’t want any trouble,” he pleaded, a few tears running down his cheeks. “Let’s just forget about it. Please.”

“I can’t do that,” Draco seethed.

“It was wrong of him. He knows that now. He won’t do it again,” Harry continued crying. “He was sorry.”

“Potter, he fucking left you for dead!” he screamed. “He held you up, while someone else hit you. He was fucking laughing! He helped tie you up when you were unconscious and then went back to class as if nothing happened. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was the one who told your other friends not to go check up on you.”

“He didn’t mean it,” he sobbed, kneeling to the ground and wrapping his arms around Malfoy’s legs, holding him close. “He didn’t mean it,” he repeated, wanting to really believe it.

Draco took in a deep breath, trying to calm his anger. He stared down at Potter, realizing how much he wanted to cry with him. “Potter,” he softly said.

Harry shook his head, crying on the boy’s legs. “Please, Malfoy,” he begged again.

Draco listened to his sobs and bit on his lower lip. He knew what he needed to do, but hearing Potter’s pleas made him crumble. “Okay,” he whispered.

Harry looked up at him, eyes bloodshot and tears streaming down his face. “Okay?” he sniffed.

Draco nodded. “I won’t do anything,” he stated, feeling a slight pain in his stomach.

Harry hugged his legs tighter, allowing more tears to fall. Draco remained frozen, aware of what he just did; he had made a promise that he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep. He only hoped Potter would be able to forgive him when the time came.

*****
He was pacing in front of the fireplace, trying to fight the battle inside his head. He didn’t want to lose Potter, but he also had a strong need to protect him. Hurting that redheaded git was the only thing he knew to do. He wanted revenge; he wanted him to suffer.

He snapped his head up when he heard the door open, seeing Severus enter. He wondered if perhaps he should tell him and then get his advice on what to do. Would that be breaking his promise to Potter though? He shook his head, realizing it wouldn’t. He only promised Potter he wouldn’t do anything. He never promised he wouldn’t say anything. Oh how he loved being a Slytherin.

“What’s wrong?” Severus asked, noticing Draco’s worriment. He then glanced around the common area, furrowing his eyebrows. “Where’s Potter?”

“Sleeping,” Draco answered, taking in a deep breath. “I need your help, Sev.”

Severus nodded, taking his seat in his favorite chair and staring up at Draco. “What’s going on?” he inquired.

“Potter found out who one of his attackers was,” he cut to the chase.

Severus raised his eyebrows, glancing toward his bedroom. “Is he okay?”

“No,” he sighed, moving toward the sofa and sitting down. “No, he’s not,” he continued, lowering his head in his hands. “He’s still in shock, which is why I told him to go rest.”

“Who was it?”

Draco clenched his teeth, looking up at him. “Weasley,” he softly growled. “His fucking best friend.”

Severus gritted his teeth, balling his hands into fists. “So you need me to help bury his body?” he asked, not at all in a teasing manner.

“I haven’t gone after him yet,” he murmured, looking over at the bedroom. “I promised him I wouldn’t.”

“So what do you need my help with?”

Draco sighed, turning back toward him. “You know me, Sev,” he explained. “You know I can’t keep a promise like that.”

“Yes, but Potter trusts you,” Severus pointed out.

Draco huffed, leaning back on the sofa. “So what do I do?”

“Nothing,” Severus answered, standing up from his chair and moving toward the sofa.

He sat down next to Draco and cupped his chin, turning his head to face him. “I know you’re upset and I know you want nothing more than to harm Weasley, but you made a promise. Don’t lose Potter’s trust because of revenge.”

“But I need to protect him,” Draco whispered.

“No, you need to be there for him,” Severus softly said.

“I want to hurt him so badly, Severus,” Draco continued, a few tears starting to fall.

Severus wrapped his arms around Draco, pulling him into a warm embrace. “I know you do,” he comforted. “And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to hurt him too.”

They both suddenly stopped when they heard Potter crying. They quickly got off the sofa and ran to the bedroom, seeing Potter on his stomach, his face crashed against the pillow.

Severus hurried over to the side of the bed and sat down, gliding his hand through the boy’s hair. “Shh, it’s okay Potter,” he softly spoke.

Harry quickly rolled over, staring up at his professor. He then jumped up, wrapping his arms around him and sobbing on his chest. “Why did he do it? Why?” he wept, unaware that Snape knew whom he was talking about.

Severus held him tight, glancing over at Draco. “I don’t know,” he softly replied.

Draco clenched his teeth, breathing heavily through his nose. He couldn’t take it anymore; he just couldn’t see Potter in pain anymore. He looked over at Severus and frowned, shaking his head. ‘I’m sorry,’ he mouthed, before running out of the bedroom and out of the man’s chambers.

Severus sighed, looking back down at Potter. He kissed the top of his head and pulled him closer, listening to the boy’s continued sobs. His heart ached, and it was taking everything in his power not to follow Draco.

“I hate him so much,” Harry sniffed. “I’ll never be able to forgive him. Never.”

Severus glanced toward his bedroom door and frowned. “I know,” he whispered, silently saying to himself, I just hope you can forgive Draco.

*****
Catching him coming out of the Great Hall after dinner, he dragged the redhead inside an empty classroom, slamming him against the wall. “Why’d you do it?” he seethed.

“Piss off, Malfoy,” Ron spat.

He gripped the boy’s shoulders tighter, pressing him harder against the wall. “He was your fucking best friend,” he growled.

“What’s it to you? Are you two finally fucking?” he glared.

“What?”

“I saw you,” he continued. “I saw you kiss him in the classroom, and I saw you talking to him by the lake.”

Draco loosened his grip a little, furrowing his eyebrows. “That’s why you did it?” he incredulously asked. “Because of me?”

“He would always come to me with his problems. I was his best mate,” Ron argued.

“You were mad because you thought I was replacing you?”

“He knows how much I hate you, yet he went behind my back and talked to you anyway.”

“You’re pathetic,” Draco spat, slamming his knee into the boy’s stomach.

Ron groaned from the action, struggling to break free from Malfoy’s grip. “No, you’re the pathetic one. Do you honestly think Harry wants to be with a Death Eater?”

Draco smirked when he thought of Severus, gripping Weasley’s shirt tightly in his fist. “Actually, I do,” he answered, punching him hard in the face with his other fist.

Ron’s face whipped to the side from the blow, but remained standing since Malfoy was still holding him up. He quickly turned back toward the blond and narrowed his eyes. “Is that the best you can do?” he taunted.

“Don’t tempt me,” Draco seethed, leaning his body in closer. “Who was the other one?” he then asked.

Ron turned his head away, sniffling when he felt some blood running down his nose.

Draco grabbed the boy’s head, turning him back around to face him. “Who was the other one?” he yelled.

“Do your worst,” Ron replied, spitting him in the face.

Draco punched him again, feeling his adrenaline starting to kick in. When Weasley turned his head back around after his second blow, Draco then punched him again, and again, until finally the redheaded git dropped to the floor.

Draco sat on top of him and continued punching, remembering Flint, remembering how Potter looked when he found him. “How does it feel, huh? Punching someone so much that they go into unconsciousness? You’re just lucky he didn’t die.”

Ron tried blocking his punches, but it was to no avail. Things were starting to get hazy, and he knew he was close to blacking out. “No,” he finally gasped, finding his voice. “Stop.”

“Did you stop when Potter asked you to?” he snarled. “No, that’s right, you just held him while somebody else did the beating. Don’t you ever come near him again,” he finished, punching him one last time before standing up.

He then stared down at the bloodied body on the ground, noticing him still moving (just barely). Narrowing his eyes, he knelt down beside him and leaned in closer, whispering, “If you tell anyone about this, you better believe everyone will find out what you did to Potter. Apparently, having him as a friend is what’s keeping you still safe.”

After saying his threat, Draco stood up and kicked him one last time, before exiting the classroom and hurrying toward the bathroom just around the corridor. As soon as he entered, he moved to the sinks and quickly began washing his hands, seeing the blood slide down the drain.

With no more adrenaline pumping through, he was suddenly left with an immense amount of guilt. He slowly looked up into the mirror, sadly staring at himself. “I’m sorry,” he then whispered at his reflection. “Please forgive me.”