The Truth

AN: Hi everybody! Yes as the title says this is the sequel to 'They Don't Make Desks Like They Used To' and I still havn't got a title for it yet, (saying that though I never usually think of a title that fits until I've finished and I'm still working on this so...).

Anyway, something will come to me, in the meantime, enjoy!

I will probably change the warnings around a bit but most don't apply to this chapter. I'm going to do at least 3 chapters overall!

As before I'm using single speech marks for 'thought' and double speech marks for "talk".

(Please review as well it helps to speed up the creative process!)

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Harry wasn't concentrating.

Not unusual in itself seen as it wasn't as if he ever did, plus it was Divination and that didn't really constitute for attention anyway. No, the unusual thing was that Harry was so out of it that if Voldemort stormed in now, he would have thought Harry had done his job for him. Now that's what I call dead to the world.

Harry was thinking about the detention he had shared four days previously with Malfoy and it hadn't ended well.

**FLASHBACK**

"Ow, damn desk, they need to do something about these bloody termites!"

Obviously Draco thought it was the termites' fault that the desk had collapsed, not the fact that they had snapped all the wooden pegs that held it together with their wild monkey sex.

"Urgh, get off me Potter!"

Draco threw the Gryffindor from where he had fallen on him when the desk had relinquished its hold on the upright world and conjured the clothes that had been vanished and hurriedly dressed. No wonder really, the cold in the dungeons could have frozen a phoenix, mid flame.

"See you round, not that I'd want to Potter."

Draco sneered and sauntered out leaving a shocked and upset Harry, naked, sore and shivering amongst the remains of the smashed desk.

**END FLASHBACK**

"Ouch..."

Harry rubbed his forehead where it had connected with the crystal ball he was staring into, his head slipping from his hand due to no-one-home mode.

'I have to do something. I need answers! One does not have the best sex with one's enemy without a fucking good reason to!'

Harry stood up abrubtly a look of conclusion in his eyes.

"What is it my dear? Have you seen something within the mysterious depths of the orb? A vision, a ..."

"No, Professor"

Harry cut off Professor Trelawny before she got into her I'm-the-almighty-seer-bow-down-to-me routine, looking even more like an over-sized bug due to the rather large turban like bandage she sported around her head, which was clearly her own handy-work and not that of the resident matrons.

"Just that I'm not feeling well, I'm going to the hospital wing."

The Gryffindor swept from the room and through the trapdoor before Trelawny could even ask why he didn't want to share his vision, as one did not simply get ill of ones own accourd without SOME divine intervention. But I suppose the whole class would have left in that large space of time anyway, if they could, not that she would notice or call them back if they did. Hermione's departure is a good example.

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Harry sank into the welcome, warmth and quiet of the Gryffindor common room and also one of the best armchairs available.

'I need to see him, need to find out the truth. What is with this stupid change over me! I don't like him, I don't and I'll kill any brain-cells that say I do!'

Needless to say Harry fell asleep at that moment.

How else would he had survived when every cell in his body at that moment was screaming

'Yes, you do!'

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Harry felt something long and thin jab him hard in the ribs. He rolled over, only to recieve the same sharp jab in his other side.

"Go away..."

Harry mumbled, not bothering to open his eyes.

"Dobby must poke Harry Potter. Harry Potter must wake up."

"Nuh urh, good dream. Bad reality, go away."

Harry flapped his hand in the general direction of the exit for effect, which was actually the fireplace but he didn't know that.

"No, Harry Potter must wake up. Harry Potter has missed all of his classes and his friends are getting worried."

Harry thought the person so rude as to wake him up sounded very squeaky.

"Naughty dolphin, Harry sleep now."

Harry waggled his finger at the dolphin, still not opening his eyes, which caused him to almost gouge out Dobby's.

"Dobby must wake Harry Potter, but Dobby must get back to the kitchens now, the last class has almost finished and we must finish dinner. Goodbye Harry Potter."

The following resounding crack finally woke Harry properly.

"Wha ... Dobby?"

There was no answering crack so Harry stretched and then he saw the time.

'Oh great. Nearly dinner, but I have to talk to Malfoy. I know ...'

A plan was forming.

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After splashing some cold water on his face, Harry made his way down to the Great Hall. Ron and Hermione were already there. Hermione was talking very loudly about a certain someone to Ginny and Ron was looking bored, if not a bit jealous.

"Hi."

"Oh, Harry! Where have you been? We've been so worried! Haven't we Ron?"

"Whu? ... oh yeah ... worried ... very ..."

Ron and Harry's friendship had taken a slight turn for the worst. They never talked about what happened and they spoke perfectly normally to one another, but Ron always made sure he wasn't alone with him any more. An awkwardness seemed to linger in the silences beween them too, but however infrequent, were still indescribably uncomfortable. Harry assumed that it haunted Ron's dreams sometimes too, judging by the moans that seemed to come from his curtained form, almost on a regular basis, ever since that night.

Harry gave Ron a reassuring smile and piled his own plate high with anything he could reach and had begun to eat, when a certain blonde aristocrat wandered in and sat at the Slytherin table, between Crabbe and Goyle, Malfoy looking for all the world like a prince and his security, which wasn't far from the mark to anyone who knew them.

He smirked when he locked eyes with Harry, noting the colour drain from his face and a red-ish tint fill it.

Harry lowered his knife and fork and Draco's attention was drawn towards his friends as he spoke in, what Harry assumed would be, his usual arrogant drawl, though of course he couldn't hear it through the noise everyone was making. If only Fred and George would invent a super long extendable ear, that also functioned as a speaker and microphone combo.

"Harry, are you alright? You don't look well."

'Ten points to Hermione for pointing out the obvious ... '

"I've lost my appitite, I'm going to go back to the common room. I'll see you guys there."

Hermione and Ron nodded and went back to their soup.

However Harry did not take the direct route from the Great Hall and made a very quick detour to the Slytherin table. Well, not really a detour, more like a less direct route around an annoying pot-hole.

"Malfoy."

Draco jumped as he hadn't seen Harry approch.

"What do you want Potter?"

Draco wore, what Harry hoped was a mask, of complete loathing and disgust. Harry brandished a folded piece of parchment under Draco's nose, which he took.

"What's this about Potter?" He held up the parchment.

Harry threw him a look of hate over his shoulder as he turned to leave and shaking his head, departed, leaving Draco staring at the piece of parchment as though it had just coughed purple smoke in his face. Which it obviously hadn't.

It was green smoke.

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Harry paced the length of the astronomy tower wringing his hands and listening for anyone that may be approaching. The full moon was high in the sky casting a dim pale light into the room.

He hoped to high hippogriffs that Draco would turn up, even though his whispering note had coughed at him.

It was an invention of the Weasley twins. You put your thumb or finger on the wax seal until it began to glow, then you whisper your message to your thumb them take it off. The recipient of the message need only to press their finger on the seal then put it to their ear to hear it. You could even erase previous messages and re-use it. Harry's was getting a little hoarse from excessive re-use.

He had to vent this anger and the intense feeling of rejection that was welling up inside of him. Plus the little diamond of hope that the Slytherin was an actor to rival Shakespeare. He had to know the truth.

It was five minutes past midnight already and it was not like Draco to be late.

Harry sighed and threw his invisiblity cloak on and was about to leave when the door swung open and a gasping Draco fell into the room, sweating and panting.

At once the anger and bitter loathing at the Slytherin at being used and tossed aside like so much exploding snap card ash burst its banks. Harry drew back his fist and launched it at Draco. As Harry was invisible Draco didn't even flinch until one hundred and twenty pounds of Gryffindor pride pounced on him.

Harry's punch landed squarely on Draco's jaw and the Slytherin prince was sent spinning onto his precious arse.

Holding the place where he had been hit Draco sat stunned, he could hear heavy breathing but could see nothing.

"Potter? What do you want? I know you're there!"

At the sound of his voice, Harry redoubled his assault. He flew at Draco, puching him and kicking until he was curled up in a ball, quite frustrated by the fact that he was unable to see his attacker. He began to lash out where ever a kick or a punch landed but Harry was already moving to a different place to bruise or break.

"What? What do you want?"

Draco tried in vain to hit back but instead of catching flesh he caught the invisibility cloak, which slipped from Harry and he was suddenly revealed to the quivering, bruised and bleeding bundle of Slytherin Ice Prince.

Harry stood stock still and suddenly became aware of what he had done. As much as he hated the arrogant bastard, he didn't want to hurt him that much and Harry shook the last vestiges of violence from his system, but the anger, hurt, hate and humiliation remained.

"W-why?"

Was all Harry could say. He could feel his eyes burning with repressed tears and his limbs shaking through so much action and so little food.

Draco groaned as he sat up and Harry looked down at an angry confused Draco, a bruise blossoming below his right eye and blood flowing freely from a split lip and eyebrow.

"You bastard, why did you do it? Why did you say those things and do that, at Snapes detention? Why?"

Harry stood over the murderous looking Slytherin, the sobs wracking his body and he allowed the tears to flow, the first of which fell onto Draco's upturned face, until he hissed at the salt water in his wounds and slid backwards until his back was against the wall, Harry silently following.

"Why, what, Potter? Why did I humiliate you? Take advantage of you? Fuck you so hard that you winced everytime you sat down?"

"NO, YOU FUCKING BASTARD! WHY DID YOU PRETEND TO CARE!?!"

Harry slapped Draco across the face, effectively wiping that damn smirk from his face.

Draco laughed long and cold.

"You want to know, Potter? Your an easy target!"

Harry slapped Draco again, the sound echoing through the room, though no other noise could be heard. Draco staggered to his feet, his scowl slashed across his features, unable to take the submissive position he had found himself in any longer. The proud, insensitive bastard.

"I want the truth!"

Harry was still crying, that he didn't even try to stem but just let the pain flow.

"Oh please, Potter. The truth? It's not like it meant anything to me, you're just another notch on my headboard to me now Potter!"

Harry made to punch Draco but he was ready and caught his wrist before the punch landed.

"It meant something to me!"

Harry shrieked, getting more and more hysterical with every poisonous word sprouting from Draco's mouth. So many of his tears had fallen, he wouldn't have been surprised if there was a puddle on the floor if he bothered to look down.

Draco's eye's widened marginally at what Harry had said until they narrowed to slits again in disbelief, he spoke in his usual drawl. The sarcasm so thick on his words, if they were written down they would slide off the page, with a loud splat, onto the floor.

"Really, Potter? I didn't know you cared."

Harry tugged at the hand holding his wrist until it came free then began to beat upon Draco's chest without any real enthusiasm. He had come here to see if he could find closure maybe some confirmation of what he had seen in Draco's eyes, but all he had gained was emotional wounds to become psychological scars that would never properly heal.

"I thought you did! I saw it flash in your eyes!"

Draco recoiled at the powerful emotions radiating from Harry's wet, emerald orbs, as the windows began to rattle though the sky was clear.

"Oh, please Potter. I'm a Malfoy. I can show no emotion at all and fake any emotion to get my own way. You didn't actually think it was real did you?"

Harry was still feebly punching at Draco's chest.

If a body language analyst had taken a look at the pair now, they would have seen Harry being brutally honest and truthful, almost to the point of self destruction and subtle signs of deceit on Draco's part. Draco was lying and had been since the beginning of the conversation, though almost perfectly hidden, which only the most skillful would have found.

"Of course I thought it was real! I thought you cared about me! ... I care about you!"

Draco stood stunned, his mercury eyes wide his features rearranged to look as though he had just been slapped in the face with a wet flobber worm. Harry ceased his flattening of Draco's already toned chest and stood in shock, inches apart. His shock was so complete for a couple of seconds he even forgot to breathe, when he did remember however he took the huge gulps of those either in labour or in intense pain, obviously Harry was in neither, but for comparative purposes, that's what he was doing.

Draco replaced his wide-eyed look with a slit eyed scowl for fear of his eyes falling out of his head. Harry closed the slight gap between them and pressed his lips gently to Draco's, waited for a heartbeat, maybe two, then pulled away. The Gryffindor then hurriedly threw on his invisibility cloak before the Slytherin could recover from another revolution. Draco just registered the door opening of it's own accord and three whispered words.

"I mean it."