To Love Again

After a restless night of tossing and turning in his bed, Draco groggily looked at the clock and groaned, covering his eyes with his forearm to block out the harsh morning light that glared at him through the window. How could the weather be so cheerful when his whole world was falling apart?

Draco reluctantly forced himself to get up and rubbed the sleep out of his steel gray eyes as he made his way to the showers. As the warm water rained down on his body and surrounded his senses, he thought again about the letters he received from his parents. It had been about a week since his mother had written to warn him of his father's escape from Azkaban. He hadn't seen or heard anymore regarding his father, but fear pulsed through his veins just knowing that Lucius Malfoy was out there, somewhere--undoubtedly planning his blood traitor son's demise. Oh, how he wished he had someone to talk to, someone to help ease his mind, or at least help take his mind off of his problems.

His thoughts turned to Pansy and Blaise, and sorrow pierced through his heart. Ever since they broke the news to Draco a week ago that they could no longer be his friends, they had been avoiding him like the plague. Draco had tried to start hanging out with other Slytherins, but Pansy was right when she said news travels fast. The other Slytherins didn't want to associate
with him, either.

Draco was beginning to feel out of place in Slytherin House. It was more than just the fact that his fellow Slytherins were giving him the cold shoulder. Something inside him was changing, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what that something was.

With a sigh Draco turned off the water, dried off and prepared to go to breakfast. He took his seat at the Slytherin table, noticing how the same students who had once practically worshipped him were now careful to pretend he wasn't there.

He was sullenly picking at his eggs when an owl dropped an envelope in front of him. He froze for a moment, reluctant to open the letter for fear of what might be in it. Was it another threatening message from his father? Was it another warning from his mother? As he read and reread the letter, he fought back tears and had a sinking feeling in his stomach. No! It can't be!, he frantically thought to himself.

Dear Master Malfoy,

I bring but the worst of all tidings to you. It is our greatest regret to inform you that your mother, Narcissa Black Malfoy, passed away a few short hours ago in our facility. You will not have received a prior notice regarding her stay here, because it was all over so quickly, we did not know it. We arrived on the scene to bring her here, but by then, she was having problems breathing. Again, our deepest sorrows are with you.

Regretfully,
Balduin McGordon
Head Healer at St. Mungo's Hospital

Draco left his breakfast uneaten and rushed out of the Great Hall, the letter clutched tightly in his hand. He wouldn't let his peers see him cry. Malfoys weren't supposed to show vulnerability to others. Mum is dead? How? Why?

Although Draco liked to play the tough guy, his mum had always been his crutch at low points in his life. There had been times,
especially after his father got a hold of him, when he felt as though she alone could understand him completely and heal his wounds. And now that he needed his mum the most, she was gone. Gone!
___________________________________________________________________

Owls flooded the Great Hall that morning and delivered letters and packages right and left, but Harry was oblivious. He was watching Malfoy from across the crowded room. The letter from Lucius was clearly eating away at the Slytherin. His complexion was lackluster and even paler than usual, his hair hung limp over his eyes, and he looked like he had not eaten in a week. Harry couldn't stop feeling some degree of concern and sympathy for Draco. After all, he knew how mentally and emotionally taxing it was to be the target of a madman; to know that there's someone out there who wants you dead.

An owl dropped a letter in front of Malfoy, who stared at it as if it was going to sprout fangs and bite him. When Malfoy finally picked up the envelope and opened it, concern overwhelmed Harry. It was clear by the pained look on Malfoy's face that this was yet another letter bearing disturbing news. Harry had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as he watched Malfoy quietly leave the Slytherin table and hurry out the doors of the Great Hall. A few Slytherins glanced unconcerned at Malfoy's retreating
back, then resumed eating and talking.

"Harry? What's wrong?"

Harry looked over at Ron and Hermione, who gazed worriedly at him. Harry glanced back at the doors where Malfoy had exited, then looked back at his friends.

He managed a weak yet reassuring smile. "Everything's fine, really...uh, I just remembered that I left my, um, books...on my bed. I have to go get them. I'll meet you in class." With that, Harry abruptly left the table, leaving his friends staring after him, puzzled.

Harry dashed to the end of the corridor just in time to catch a glimpse of a blond, robed figure disappearing through a doorway in the distance. He felt silly following Malfoy like this, but he felt compelled to help him--and he knew that Malfoy was too stubborn and too proud to ask for help when he so obviously needed it.

The Gryffindor rushed down to the doors where Malfoy had gone. Now, which room contained the Slytherin? He noticed a door on his right that was slightly ajar. A-ha! He tiptoed up to the door opening and listened carefully for any signs of Malfoy, then slowly pushed the door open and peeked inside to find Malfoy standing in front of a window in the back of the room.

Malfoy had his back to the door and was apparently unaware of Harry's presence. He still had that letter in his hand and was leaning against the window sill, his pale blond head against the smooth surface of the glass as he shook with uncontrollable sobs.

Harry quietly shut the door and turned to stare at Malfoy, all vulnerable and lonely by the window. He began to make his way over to Malfoy, pity gripping his insides. Why are you doing this? Harry asked himself. You gave him his father's letter, you offered to help him and he refused. You're even now! Yet he couldn't help himself.

Soon he found himself standing next to Malfoy. Without saying a word, he placed a comforting hand on Malfoy's shoulder.

_______________________________________________________________

Draco's swollen, red-rimmed eyes looked up into a pair of green, bespectacled ones. Potter? What the hell is Potter doing here? Doesn't he get it that I needed to be alone?

He scowled at the Gryffindor and jerked his shoulder away. "Get lost, Potter," Draco whispered icily. He turned his tear-stained face away from the Gryffindor and folded his arms over his chest, trying not to break down again.

"Look, Malfoy, I know we've never exactly been the best of friends, but--"

"Can't you take a hint, Potter? I told you to get out!" This was Draco's stubborn pride talking. What he really wanted and needed was to be comforted and understood. It pained him to turn Potter away when he was now the only person willing to be there for him. Still, Potter had been his enemy for so long that it was hard to think of Potter as anything other than an arch
nemesis.

"Malfoy, whatever you need, I want to help you. And I'm not leaving until you talk to me."

Draco was inwardly grateful when Potter did not budge. He had no clue as to why Potter was suddenly on his side, but if he was an ear to listen, did it really matter that he was St. Potter? He could feel Potter's eyes on him as he debated whether or not to open up to the Gryffindor.

"Malfoy, please."

Draco slowly and silently turned and held out the St. Mungo's letter to Potter, his hand shaking slightly. He watched Potter as he read the letter, and was rather surprised at the pain and sadness that crossed Potter's face as he stared down at the parchment. He looked as though he was about to cry himself.

Potter looked sympathetically up at Draco as he gave back the letter. "Oh Malfoy, I'm so sorry. I had no idea-"

"What do you care, Potter?"

Potter looked down and sighed. "I…I lost my parents, my godfather, Dumbledore…and… I lost Ginny."

Draco's brow furrowed, and he guiltily placed a hand over his chest, where Ginny's heart was beating.

Potter's green eyes misted over and he whispered, "I know how it feels to lose someone you love, and I understand what it's like living with the knowledge that someone out there wants to kill you."

Draco looked over at Potter, shocked and bewildered as he was faced with the realization that he had more in common with his enemy than he imagined possible. Was he, Draco Lucius Malfoy, actually forming some sort of bond with Potter? Part of him was appalled at this thought, yet part of him felt a strong, unspeakable sense of comfort and reassurance.

Harry placed his hands on Draco's shoulders and looked him in the eye. "We need each other, Malfoy. You can try and push me away all you want, but let's face it. Nobody else understands what we're going through. Now you can go your separate way and cope by yourself, or we can join forces and help each other." With that, Harry released Draco and left the room, closing the door behind him.

The next morning at breakfast, Harry received his first bit of mail since the start of term; an envelope with no markings, much like the one he found laying on the floor in Potions class. Wondering if the letter had been delivered to him by mistake, he examined the outside of the envelope before opening it. Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise as he read the note, then
looked over at the Slytherin table, where Malfoy watched him expectantly. It was lucky for Harry that Hermione had her nose in a book and Ron was busy talking Quidditch with Dean and Seamus, because he didn't want them to see the contents of this letter or the name of the person who sent it to him.

Potter,

Meet me after lunch in the same room as yesterday. You'll understand why when you get there. Just give me a nod if you agree
to meet with me.

Malfoy

Harry looked up from the letter, made eye contact with Malfoy and gave a small nod signifying his compliance with Malfoy's request. Malfoy nodded back, then left the Great Hall.

After lunch, Ron and Hermione went off to their next classes, leaving Harry free to meet up with Malfoy in the empty classroom. Harry's mind wandered as he walked down the barren corridor. He was rather surprised at receiving the letter from Malfoy, and wondered what the Slytherin wanted with him.

He finally reached the slightly open door and pushed it open. Malfoy quietly stood in front of the window and stared back at Harry, a softened expression on his face. Bright sunlight streamed in through the window and shone down on Malfoy, blurring the harsh outlines of his black school robes and illuminating his silky blond hair like a halo. Harry thought for a moment that Malfoy looked like an angel, then he reminded himself that Malfoy was anything but angelic and besides, thinking of Malfoy as resembling anything beautiful was a little, er, weird.

"What is it, Malfoy?"

"Perhaps you were right," Malfoy spat, as if those words left a bad taste in his mouth. "We could--erm, help each other." Malfoy looked disgusted yet surprised that he was actually saying this to Harry.

Harry studied the Slytherin thoughtfully for a moment, then joined him at the window. Malfoy was sneering slightly, yet his eyes spoke of all of the untold emotions running through him. "All right then, let's make a pact." Harry's voice was cool and businesslike, and his gaze never left Malfoy's. "Whenever either of us needs someone to talk to, someone to listen, or any other help of any kind, we'll meet up and, you know, help each other."

Harry extended his hand, "So we're in agreement then?"

Draco contemplated Harry's proposition and shook his hand to seal the deal. He was surprised that he didn't even think about holding Potter's hand. What the Hell are you thinking, Draco? Holding hands? Please, it was a hand shake -- and nothing more! But his thoughts did not reveal themselves on his face. Years of being Lucius Malfoy's son had taught him one thing: never let your enemies know what you are thinking. He didn't really have to bother though, Lucius was too proud to think that his son would hide anything from him, it was just good practice. But Draco was cautious nonetheless.

"Yes, that'll work. But we need some way to communicate with each other. Can't be owls, they are way to obvious, especially when everybody knows your owl and my raven."

"Good idea, Malfoy." Harry paced back and forth in front of the window, racking his brain for a discreet, undetectable means of communication. Before he could come up with any ideas of his own, the bell rang, bringing an end to their free period.

The bell startled Harry out of his train of thought. He paused by the window and turned to Malfoy, who was collecting his books. "Tell you what, Malfoy. Let's both do some brainstorming over the next few days. One of us is bound to think of something."

Draco nodded in agreement. "All right, Potter. Then we'll meet again later and compare notes."

Harry and Draco left the room separately, careful not to look as though they had come from the same room. As Harry made his way to his next class, he recounted everything that had been said between himself and Malfoy since the start of term. He couldn't believe that he and Draco had buried the hatchet and actually had a civilized conversation - in the same room and alone
nonetheless - without wanting to hurt each other. Things were going to be different from now on. Very different.

A/N: I'd like to thank all of you who've left reviews for my story. Your thoughtful comments and positive feedback mean a lot to me:)