Divided

Author’s Note: I know everyone feels a bit left in the dark as to Harry & Draco’s past, but it’s intentional, so please bear with me. All will be revealed in due time. wink. Also, due to a couple of firm demands, I have invested in a beta for this story!. Xsinister my very clever and quick (who could ask for anything more in a beta?) beta has agreed to assist me with this new story. Many thanks Alicia!



Chapter 3



“James, would you be so kind as to show Mr. Malfoy - I’m sorry, Draco, to his quarters?” Minerva asked, looking behind me to Malfoy, who shot her a look, reminding her to use his first name. I wanted to roll my eyes, but instead I just glared at her like a petulant child. I knew it would do nothing to relieve me of the duty, but it wouldn’t hurt to make her understand how much I hated her right then.



I turned around to address Draco, as politely as I could stomach, and the Headmistress stifled a smile. His close proximity to me made all my nerve endings stand at attention. It was only a brief miss, I realized, that he hadn’t recognized me before, but it seemed that Minerva was intent on making me stay in his company until he did.



It seemed I was going to have to throttle her.



“Oh, and James, you and Draco will take the first Hogsmeade weekend chaperone in three weeks,” she called over her shoulder. It took all my self-control not to hex her right then.



“This way,” I said, motioning for him to follow me. I walked quickly toward the dungeons, making my way carefully through the labyrinth of dark tunnels. Draco followed silently behind me, never uttering a word, and I found myself wondering what he was thinking.



At the dark mahogany door, I stopped and knocked three times. It opened as if of it’s own accord and I ushered Draco through it ahead of me. I wanted to stay near the exit, in case things got out of hand.



The room was nice enough, yet obviously underground. I couldn’t fathom having no window to look out of In the main room was a sitting area and, much like mine, it had a large fireplace at one end, two armchairs and a loveseat. There was a desk to one side, flanked by bookshelves, already stuffed with things that Draco had sent ahead of him.



On the wall with the fireplace were two doors, one that would lead to a bedroom and one that would lead to a private bath. It mimicked my own quarters in every way, except that where mine was mostly deep burgundy silks and rich cherry woods, this room was dark green velvets and painted black furnishings.



I didn’t like the idea that we were living in twin worlds on opposite sides of the castle.



That room gave me the chills. It was the former quarters of my old professor, and even though Snape and I had never seen eye to eye, he had protected me for all of my teenage life. These quarters only served to remind me how wrong I had been about him. He had been an honest and true friend to Dumbledore, and I had discovered it only too late.



“Here we are,” I muttered, “Far cry from Malfoy Manor, I bet?”



His attention, which had been previously admiring the room, snapped back to me. I hoped my eyes still held the glamour charm I had placed on them. He looked curious about me, and I only wanted to distill that curiosity.



“Do I know you?” he asked finally. Oh no, there it was, the moment when he would pinpoint me as the missing boy hero.



“Doubtful,” I replied, summoning all of my ability to deceive. It was not really a lie; back in school he didn’t know me at all, not really.



He still seemed puzzled. “It’s just that you seem so familiar to me… how do you know about Malfoy Manor?”



“Who doesn’t?” I snorted. Again I spoke the truth, in a roundabout sort of way.



“Right,” he responded, looking dejected, as if I would just come out and say, “Oh, I only know about the manor because I’m Harry Potter.” Fat chance. He’d have to try harder than that.



As if he heard my thoughts he stepped a bit closer, scrutinizing my every detail. “Would you like to stay for tea?”



The question caught me off guard, and I had almost agreed. Almost. “No… erm… I think I should be getting back to my own room.”



“Oh?” he drawled, “Is there a curfew for the staff? Minerva didn’t mention-”



“No,” I interrupted. “Nothing like that, it’s just that this room makes me uncomfortable.” Oh, why did I say that? I had no way to explain that statement without mentioning Snape.



“Really? Why is that?” The blonde looked around, as if trying to find something ghastly that would make him uncomfortable as well.



I laughed lightly. “Nothing like that, just, you know…dungeons.” I shuddered for dramatic effect and he smiled.



Suddenly I only wanted to keep him smiling. I was going to kill Minerva.



--



Evans stood in front of me, his back leaning against the door, his retreat. I had no idea what his issue with me was; he even admitted to not knowing me. Actually, when I thought of it, he said that I didn’t know him, a subtle but distinct difference.



It was too much. There were too many similarities in his mannerisms, in his posture, in his face. I had been studying him all the way down here, watching him walk – the same way that Harry did.



If he wasn’t Harry, than he was his doppelganger. I was sick of this game, something was off and I wanted to find out what it was.



“Has anyone told you, you look just like Harry Potter?” I asked, waiting to see his reaction.



“Really?” he replied, obviously taken aback. “Did you go to school with him?”



I nodded, still watching intently. “Yes, he was a thorn in my side most of the time, but in the end…” I let my voice trail off and it had the desired effect. He leaned slightly toward me as if trying to hear my final words.



“In the end?” he asked, obviously more curious than he should have been.



“In the end, it was something more, something much more,” I sighed, letting the words sink in and find their mark. “I’ve been looking for him for a long time.”



He paled - significantly. In fact, at that moment he might have been paler than I was. I looked at him closely again, and I could feel him backing away from me, reaching for the doorknob.



I raised my wand to his chest and watched how his eyes flicked down to it and then back to my face, his eyes which were most certainly green. How had he done that before?



“It’s you isn’t it?” I said, willing myself to stay calm and try to make sense. I had searched for him for years, wishing to come across him just once, so that I could ask all my questions. Now that I seemed to have him here, they all eluded me.



He didn’t answer; he just stared at me with his haunting green eyes, glaring, as if he could set me on fire with his thoughts alone. Finally I saw his chest rise and fall and he leaned back, almost slumping against the closed door to my room. “Are you proud of yourself then? Got it all figured out? The Ministry is probably still offering a reward,” he sulked.



I suddenly couldn’t breathe. My eyes started to dry out, I was afraid to blink in case it would all go away the minute I shut my eyes. “You…I… Harry?” I never remembered being less articulate in my life. I just watched the boy, the man, looking down at the floor, his black hair hanging down into his face, obscuring his eyes.



He took another breath and when he did finally look up, his eyes were cold and defiant. He stood up straighter, his dark jeans sliding against his muscular legs. “Why do you care anyway? Why couldn’t you just leave me alone?” his voice was pleading me to just walk away and forget him, ignore that I found him at all, and go back home to the manor.



It was too late for that now.



“How could you ask me that? After everything-“ I shouted, my anger at him leaving and disappearing now the most prevalent thing in my mind.



“Don’t!” Harry shouted back, for I knew now without a doubt that it was Harry, his eyes blazed with fury. “Don’t you dare even speak about it, you have no right.”



That caught me off guard, making me stumble a little. I had spent the last ten years in a half-mourning stage, grieving the loss of something that was never really mine to begin with. But there was Harry; obviously livid over something I couldn’t quite explain. What had him so angry? It was him who left, not me.



“Harry,” I whispered, suddenly aware that I should be afraid of his anger. The candles in the room flickered in and out with the power coursing though the air, and I knew that power was not connected to my wand.



“Don’t. Say. My. Name.” Harry bit out, his words scalding hot with menace.



I was beginning to get pissed off. How dare he? After vanishing without a word for ten years, ten fucking long, agonizing years, and he had the audacity to tell me not to say his name? My Merlin, I was a Malfoy, no one tells a Malfoy what to do. “Harry, I have every right to know-“



There he was cutting me off again, his face red with anger. “You have no rights with me Malfoy,” he spat, making my surname sound like a particularly nasty four letter word.



He whirled on me and had his hand gripping my chin fiercely, pressing me against the wall beside the door. His eyes were intense, a dark and smothering green, almost black. His voice when he spoke was softer than his eyes, but no less pain riddled. “I don’t know how you found me, but just forget that you did. Please… just leave me alone.”



It was most likely the please that did it, made me think I stood a chance of getting him back somehow. So I leaned in, pressing my body against his, and I could feel him shudder. I knew that I had the exact effect on him that he had on me. I could feel his want like a palpable force, blistering my skin.



For a brief moment, I thought I had succeeded. He seemed to press back, still holding my jaw, but the grip became looser and his hand moved to cup my face, almost reverently. His scent washed over my tongue, sun, grass, air and power. I wanted so badly to lean in, to take those few extra centimeters and capture his lips.



Before I even felt the shift, he was gone.



Like it never happened, I found myself alone in my quarters, the door still swinging closed behind him. I could still feel the imprint of his fingertips on my face, still smell his lingering fragrance on my robes.



I slumped to the ground, not quite certain what I was submitting myself to by continuing to stay in the castle. Harry obviously wanted nothing to do with me, and my delusions of a happy reunion were crumbling away in front of my eyes.



I was so close.



Could I give up now? Could I walk away and go back to the manor, knowing that he was here, just barely out of my reach? The object of my desire was pacing about on the fringes of my grasp, staying just far enough away to drive me slowly insane.



I was so close.



There was no way I could let this go, not until I had all my questions answered at least. I would ride out the storm, even if it got me committed, which at that point was a strong possibility.



--



I walked as quickly as I could, out and away from the dungeons, away from Draco. I silently berated myself for falling into Minerva’s little trap. What would she do if I decided to quit? If I left my post at Hogwarts and disappeared again - I made a point to ask her that question.



I couldn’t move fast enough; even though I knew he wasn’t foolish enough to follow me, I had been wrong before, and I wasn’t taking another chance. Students would begin arriving tomorrow and I had to get a grip on my anger. I wouldn’t risk hurting an innocent teenager just because my worst nightmare had come true.



How could I have let him get so close? The minute he identified me I should have run – run screaming. But no, I thought I could reason with him, get him to leave, maybe even keep my secret.



At that point, even my secret didn’t matter. I would take a thousand Rita Skeeter interviews in exchange for not having to deal with just the one Malfoy.



How did I get myself into this mess? I almost let him – no, no, I wouldn’t let my mind go there. If he had, would I have kissed him back? Surely I wasn’t that daft?



I stopped abruptly and slammed my fist into the stone of the corridor to end my thought process. It wasn’t safe or healthy to think about those things. I got away; I left before it went too far, before he was able to ruin me again. That’s what was important.



--



I didn’t bother to heal my broken hand all the way. I sat in front the fireplace, watching the flames licking against the brick interior. I flexed my hand a couple times, feeling my magic healing the bones back together, but not letting it trickle over my skin.



I left the cuts and the bruises on my knuckles as a reminder not to get too close again. I couldn’t let his sweet scent wash over me, because deep down, I knew that scent was false. Draco had nothing he could promise me, and nothing he would.



My mind automatically wandered to the words that sealed my exile. I repeated those words like a mantra, never letting anyone get through my walls.



“Doubtful. It’s only sex after all.”



Even as I threw the first word back at him earlier, it still rung true in my ear, like a death sentence. Just that one word sent my whole heart out of balance, the rest of the statement shattering it to the ground. I hadn’t even realized how much I adored him until it was thrown in my face like some childish suggestion.



It was too much. After the battles, after the war, after I lost so many friends and loved ones, after I saved his life… it was just too much to take.



Not that I should have expected any different, he was a Malfoy after all, incapable of real human emotions.



Nevertheless, I had to leave. I wasted months just trying to get over the searing burn in my chest, then even longer trying to erase his face from my mind altogether. Repressing the memory of the good times was the easiest part. After the way it ended it was easy to pretend like it hadn’t even happened.



Until tonight.



Until I felt his lithe body pressed against me, his sweet breath ghosting over my face, his soft full lips begging me to take them.



I flexed my hand again, wincing at the pain of it, letting it drive the impossible thoughts from my brain, until I felt lost, desolate. Those were feelings I was used to, feelings I was comfortable with.



I had to find a way to avoid him. My single thread of happiness – no, not happiness really, but contentment – depended on being able to maintain my new identity. I would just have to talk to Minerva and explain things, maybe even throw in a few threats if she didn’t listen.



We could co-exist; we just had to stay away from one another. Then maybe after the year was up, he would finally move on and leave me in peace. If I was very lucky, he might even leave at Christmas, and never come back. I’m not really known for being lucky, though.



--



I took a shuddering breath and got up from the floor. I don’t even know how long I had sat there, staring off into space. I was just happy to be in the same building with Harry. After all these years a part of me had given up hope that I would ever see him again.



What I thought about him before he left ten years ago seemed pale in comparison for the feelings I had now. Want and need all mixed up in a heated lump, sitting in my gut, spreading its warmth through me whenever I looked into his eyes.



My memory of his eyes seemed cloudy now that I thought of it. What I had dreamed of as vivid and penetrating was nothing compared to the real thing. His anger…



Why was he so angry? I felt as though I could recall each of our exchanges in sharp detail, and I couldn’t remember a single time that he hadn’t left smiling. In fact, I had gone over the memory of every single moment several times in my mind since the night he left. Analyzing it over and over until it was burned in, looking for some clue for him leaving.



I always came up empty handed.



It broke my heart though, more than I ever thought it could. I had been foolish to think it was a phase, or a tryst that would somehow deplete over time. More than ever, I knew that Harry was meant to be mine. Why else would fate bring us back together again?