Slipping Through

*

"Potter," Draco drawled disdainfully. He looked over at Harry, who was standing casually by the door, waiting for Terry to extract himself from Draco's pants. Draco turned back to Terry and yanked him off, pushing him back.

Terry looked up confused then his eyes fell on Harry. He looked back at Draco, who stared impassively back. Behind Draco's back, Harry rolled his eyes.

"Get out, Boot,” Draco said simply.

Terry scowled at him and glared at Harry for a second. "You're kicking me out for him?" he asked disbelievingly.

Draco pushed himself up into an upright sitting position, tucking himself back in and zipping up his jeans. "Yes, I am. So go."

Terry glared at the pair of them before stalking past Harry and out the door. He slammed the door loudly behind him. Draco merely scoffed at the sound and remained facing forward.

"Cheating on me already?" Harry asked, moving to sit down on the couch next to Draco.

Draco gave a half-shrug, staring out the window. "What do you want, Potter? You better have a good reason for interrupting. Boot has a notoriously good reputation."

"It was all a set-up."

"Pardon?" Draco asked.

Harry sighed deeply and went on. "Hermione, Blaise, Michael; they all set it up so we would be the last two so they could force us together."

Draco was silent for a moment, a flicker of something passing over his face then, "What?"

"They planned it all," Harry said darkly.

"Planned what exactly?"

"The party! They wanted us to be the last two left in the game so they could force us to do something to get us together."

"And you let them?" Draco asked, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he turned to look at Harry.

"Me?!" Harry exclaimed. "I didn't even know until about ten minutes ago!"

"Fine, Potter, I'll give you this one," he said and Harry scowled. "So they set it all up for what?"

"Our happiness apparently," Harry said, still scowling.

"Oh, really? And how did they deduct that I would want to fuck you to make me happy?"

"They say we have more in common than we think," Harry said darkly. Draco raised a skeptical eyebrow, and Harry sighed. "Hermione said it."

"So the Mud--ggle born," Draco changed mid-word as Harry glared furiously at him, "thinks just because we experienced the same war we're destined to be together? Brilliant deduction."

"She said we experienced the same things," Harry said, shrugging. He was actually quite curious to know what Draco had gone through.

"Yeah, right," Draco scoffed, looking away from Harry. "She doesn't know anything about what I experienced."

"Like what?" Harry asked tentatively.

Draco looked at him once again, the same masked shadow on his face. His eyes flickered disdainfully over Harry, who looked on anxiously. He wondered if he was in for another quiet explosion like before. He was desperate to know what had gone on that he didn't know about and that caused Draco to shut down like that.

"That's something you don't need to know," Draco replied finally, his voice frosty. His silver-blue eyes were like hardened ice, cold and unforgiving.

"Come on, Malfoy," Harry said quietly. "Don't you think I know how it feels?"

"What feels?" Draco replied, trying to sound indifferent.

Harry sighed and shook his head. "To be trapped inside yourself, unable to tell anyone what you've seen, what you've done. To know that no one will ever understand what you've gone through no matter how hard they try. To know that nothing will ever be the same, that you're alone forever. I know what it feels like to want to tell someone so badly but you just can't because you feel like you're dying on the inside."

Draco's mask slipped for a second as he watched Harry speak. Harry saw a flicker of regret and disappointment flash in the silver eyes before it was gone, replaced with a cold sneer.

"You're delusional, Potter," he sneered.

"I'm not. I'm realistic," Harry said simply. "It won't help to keep this bottled up forever. You can't just let it sit there."

"I can do whatever I want, Potter," Draco replied coldly. "And I don't need you telling me what to do."

"Malfoy," Harry sighed. "I'm just trying to help here."

"Well, you wouldn't understand," Draco sneered.

"I bet I would. Try me, why don't you?" Harry pushed, becoming annoyed at Draco's refusal to yield.

Draco glared at him, his eyes as hard as diamonds. Harry could tell he was fighting to control his temper. Harry wondered whether he ought not to have pushed so hard for information, but he was just so curious to know what had happened to him.

"You want to know what happened, Potter?" Draco asked, his voice cold and dangerous. "You want to know how my father forced me to become a Death Eater? How, when I refused, he put me under the Imperious Curse, forcing me to present myself to the Dark Lord as a servant? You want to know that I spent the better part of five months living in a pitch black basement with only the occasional house-elf for accompaniment? Do you really want to hear that I was regularly subjected to the Cruciatus Curse when my father was displeased with something I did?"

"I didn't know--"

"You want know what it feels like to go home only to be greeted by a man who cares more about his reputation than his own son? Do you think it was easy for me, Potter? I don't have people like you do. I'm not the all-powerful Golden Boy of the world. I don't have that option. I was forced to serve a madman obsessed with killing one single person."

"But--"

"What do you see when you look at yourself, Potter? Do you think you have a nice body or anything like that? Do you have scars that you're forced to glamour everyday? It's not just outer scars either, Potter. My father never took kindly to me never winning or getting good enough marks. Do you know what it feels like to become invisible in a house that was supposed to be a refuge? You don't realize how lucky you are, Potter. You had friends, people who cared. I had no one. I was completely alone. I was forced to do things that I had never imagined possible."

"Well, I--"

"When you're alone, Potter, is it silent? Can you hear anything? Does it ever feel like something is creeping up behind you, ready to kill you the moment you realize? Does it feel like the dark is closing in around you, suffocating everything? Well, that's what is it, Potter. Everywhere I was, it was silent. I could not speak. If I dared, I would be punished severely. Days would be spent in the dark, praying for death. Do you know what that feels like?

"Everyday I willed myself to die, but I couldn't. My father needed me alive to please the Dark Lord. I was sent on missions to kill people. When I refused, I was tortured and then forced to do it anyway. I would look into the eyes of my victims, seeing the terror of death lurking there. I couldn't stop my hand that raised the wand and delivered the fateful blows. The praise I received burned me. It sent a wave of acid through my body, searing my nerves. Do we have that in common, Potter?

"You don't know. You don't know what it's like to be completely alone. That final battle, Potter? I was there. You may not have seen me, but I was there. I watched as you fought with my father, pushed him back, finally teaching him something. But it wasn't enough. After he ran from you, I was forced to follow. You didn't see, but not long after, we were cornered by an Auror. There was only one way out and it was into the forest.

"My father took that way out, leaving me for dead. He didn't teach me the dark arts, Potter. He feared my intelligence and that I would somehow take his place with the Dark Lord if I knew too much. I was unprepared and all alone. I had thought that maybe, in the end, he might stay, protect me. I was, after all, his only son and heir. But I was sadly mistaken. He fled and I nearly died. If some witch hadn't come along just at that moment, I probably would have.

"So you think I had an easy life, Potter? Can you understand what happened to me? Do we have any of this in 'common'? Do you understand? There is nothing, Potter, nothing. I have nothing. Sure, I act like nothing is wrong, like the war was merely a black spot on my life while really it's a gaping hole. People don't need to know, Potter. I'm not going to advertise my pain, look for a little sympathy. I don't need it."

Harry was speechless as Draco finally finished. Of all the things he had ever expected to hear, this was not one of them. He had never imagined that the pampered Draco Malfoy had lived in a house much like his own. The thought that his own father had forced him to do so many things tore at Harry's heart.

He looked over at Draco who had turned away from him, his breathing uneven and Harry had the faint notion that he might have been crying. He didn't say anything though, his eyes resting on Draco's back. He wondered how long Draco's life had been like that. He had certainly never known.

Draco hadn't acted any differently when they had all returned to school after the end of the war. He hadn't insulted Harry as much as he now realized. He had been more withdrawn than usual. Harry hadn't really paid any attention to it before now. Draco had just been keeping to himself, something that was unheard of in Harry's world.

Harry was still watching Draco though his eyes were unfocused and his mind was elsewhere, wrapped up on complex thoughts. Draco seemed to have mastered himself. He turned and gave Harry a dark look before looking back out the window that opened up to the clear, blue sky beyond.

"M-Malfoy?" Harry asked carefully. Draco glanced over at him momentarily to show that he was listening. "Did that-- I mean, did that really happen?"

"No, Potter," he replied sarcastically. "I just made it up."

Harry rolled his eyes at Draco's attitude. "Why do you act like that? I'm just trying to understand here."

Draco turned to him, a look of pure incredulity on his face. "Did you not hear a word I said, Potter? I don't need sympathy from people, okay? I can do just fine on my own."

"But you need someone! Have you told anyone else about this?"

"Of course, it was in the Daily Prophet yesterday," Draco replied scathingly. "No, Potter, I don't want people to know. I don't even know why I told you..."

"So absolutely no one else knows?" Harry asked, pressing him. He couldn't believe that he had kept all this inside himself for many months.

"Blaise," Draco muttered.

"What?"

"I've told Blaise," Draco repeated, his voice becoming colder as he had to repeat himself.

"Blaise? Oh no," Harry murmured to himself. It all fit now, how Hermione thought they had so much in common. He had to admit that some of the things Draco had said had really hit home. From an outsider’s point of view, he supposed they did look quite similar.

"Oh no, what?" Draco asked, his expression becoming suspicious.

Harry sighed. "Hermione and Blaise are working together. They must know all this already. No wonder they think we'd be perfect together."

"Why's that?" Draco asked, his voice still cold.

"I guess our lives seem similar."

At that, Draco scoffed. "Yeah, right, 'similar'. How much could we possibly have in common? Where do they get these ludicrous ideas? I'm going to have to have a word with Blaise about meddling."

"I doubt that will help," Harry muttered. Knowing his friends, they could be very determined when it came to his happiness.

"Yeah, well, do it anyway," Draco snapped.

Harry's expression darkened and he rolled his eyes. "Malfoy, don't you see that we are similar?"

Draco turned to him, glaring at him. "No," he said stubbornly. "And even if we were, I don't need sympathy from you."

"Malfoy, do you think you're the only one who suffered in the war?" Harry asked, growing angry at his stubborn refusal to accept even the tiniest possibility that maybe he wasn't alone and that Harry could understand.

"Potter, I'm not that self-centered," Draco replied scathingly, his voice dripping with malice. "I know no ones life is perfect now, but that doesn't mean I'm going to tell everyone what happened or let you feel sorry for me."

"Don't you understand that you can't keep this in forever? It's going to eat you alive," Harry told him.

"What I do with myself is my own business, Potter," Draco growled warningly.

"Then why'd you just tell me?"

"Because you're an interfering prat and don't know when to leave well enough alone."

"But you still told me."

"And now you're going to forget it," Draco said, quite seriously.

Harry's eyebrows rose significantly. "You want me to forget that?!"

Draco's eyes hardened to an ice blue. "I never should have told you; you forced me to. And now you are going to forget this conversation ever happened unless you'd like your last week at school to be spent in the Hospital Wing." Draco pushed himself off the couch, smoothing down his shirt and turning around to look down at Harry, his silver-blue eyes cold. "And that's something I won't keep in."

He left before Harry had a chance to say anything and was gone before Harry had even turned around. The door swung open as Harry stared at it. He couldn't believe what he'd just learned and how stubborn Draco was being.

Hermione had possibly been right. Their lives certainly did seem more similar than Harry had thought before. But that didn't mean that he was going to do what she wanted and sleep with him. He still couldn't fathom where that idea had come from.

They had always hated each other during school. During the war, Harry had never really noticed his conspicuous absence and had been incredibly surprised to see him at the Death Eater trials.

When Harry had seen him, he hadn't looked any different than the present day Draco. There were no scars, no signs of any of the things he had just mentioned. He had looked proud and haughty as always while the chained chair had bound his arms.

Harry remembered looking down at him and wondering what he had done. Up until that point he hadn't been aware of Draco's involvement. He had never been at any of the battles during the war. Harry had only ever seen Lucius.

But sitting down in courtroom ten, Harry had seen Draco awaiting trial. Ron had hissed when Draco had been brought in and Hermione hadn't said a word. Harry had been unable to stay for most of the trial though as he'd been called away in the middle to tend to some other business.

He had often wondered how he had been acquitted but neither Ron nor Hermione ever had anything to say on the subject. It was almost as if it hadn't happened. They had all come back to Hogwarts to finish their seventh year and Draco had been there as well, seemingly the same as always. He had, Harry now knew, been much quieter, keeping to himself rather than fighting with the trio.

Instead, it seemed he built up his reputation in Hogwarts to sleep with anyone and everyone. He was known widely as the Slytherin Sex God. At times, Harry wondered if it was true. He never heard much of it besides the whispers in the corridor that followed Draco as he swaggered proudly down them.

Well, this was my chance to find out, Harry thought dully. He supposed he should have just taken Hermione's advice just to get it out of the way. The way things were looking now, it was unlikely Draco would ever want to do that, Harry not much more.

Harry gave an audible sigh and stood up from the couch, staring morosely out the window. He didn't understand a thing about Malfoy. He could understand why he didn't want people to know about what had happened to him; it was much like Harry's life with the Dursley's. He hardly ever told anyone about his life with them.

He couldn't believe that he just expected him to forget everything that had been said. Why had he told him, then? Of course, Harry didn't suppose he had meant to tell him; it had just kind of slipped out after so many months.

Harry stared unseeingly out the window at the bright blue sky. Below him, on the lawns, students were sprawled out under the large trees by the lake, studying feverishly for the end-of-year tests. Harry sighed again and turned to leave the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

He trudged down the dungeon corridors, past where he knew the Slytherin dormitory to be and up to the stone steps leading up into the Entrance Hall. He emerged into the brightly lit hallway and turned to go up the marble staircase leading to the upper floors when he heard a small noise off to his right.

He looked around carefully, wondering what it could be. His gaze fell on a large vase, taller than a person, standing in a far corner. He moved swiftly over to it, careful to be quiet. He sneaked around the edge of the vase to look into the small crevice between it and the wall.

What he saw was something he had never imagined possible. He stared in shock at what he was seeing for a moment then spoke in the soft voice. "Malfoy, are you crying?"


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A/N: Yeah, I'm slow, I'm sorry. But we're getting through :) This fic isn't too terribly long so we should be getting womewhere soon ;) Please review!