Fighting Normality

Fighting Normality.

Harry was lost in thought. So much had changed; nothing could ever be the same. Ever since Voldemort had come back, everyone Harry knew was different. They had all altered, whether it was in an obvious way, like Cornelius Fudge, or discreetly, like Dumbledore, who appeared old and more worn, somehow, they'd changed.

He'd spent the summer at the Dursleys, not even going down to Diagon Alley; his supplies were sent directly to him from Hogwarts. Harry had known that is was for his own good, that there were charms and spells all around him in Privet Drive and he was lots safer than if he was wondering around a wizard community, but he had still gotten annoyed, still felt excluded.

On the train to Hogwarts, Harry had sat in a corner, not talking to anyone, not because he was angry with them, but because there were no words that could express what he felt. Every time Hermione looked at him when she thought Harry's gaze was elsewhere, with concern and anxiety in her eyes, he hated it. No one understood him, no one had seen Voldemort restored, or seen Cedric Diggory fall to the ground, dead.

His quiet behaviour carried on, Harry rarely spoke unless he'd been asked a question, and however much Ron and Hermione tried to coax him to play a game of chess, or to participate more in their conversations, he wouldn't. As a result of this, all his homework was done on the day it was given, and Harry had lots more spare time. He had taken up walking, and today he was sat in one of the many flower gardens Hogwarts had, on the grass.

It was Friday afternoon, so Harry knew he was supposed to feel happy, but when weekends rolled around, he really felt worse. There had been numerous assaults on muggles already, and one wizard, reported the Daily Prophet, had allegedly been advanced on in "a threatening manner". It was only a matter of time before it would be exactly like the old days, where wizards and witches who had once been good friends looked at each other warily, where you could trust no one, and where families were attacked regularly, and the sight of owls in the Great Hall were almost unwelcome, in case they brought bad news.

And so Harry sat, absently plucking a flower and fiddling with it, deep within his own mind, when he heard someone behind him. He turned around, expecting to see a lost looking first-year, but instead, he saw Draco Malfoy. Malfoy had evidently noticed Harry, who was sitting in a corner under a tree, because he looked at him, but carried on walking, and sat down quite close to the Gryffindor, manoeuvred into a comfortable position, and did what Harry had been doing - staring into space, apparently thinking.

They both sat there for a while, Harry's mind on Cedric, as it often was, until the blonde boy dragged him out of his thoughts once more.

"Do you come here often?" he asked, looking right at Harry, and brushing a strand of silvery-blonde hair out of his beautiful indigo eyes.

"What's it to you?" replied Harry roughly; ripping a petal off the flower he had been absentmindedly fingering.

"Nothing, really, " came the answer, and Malfoy twisted back to where he had previously been. Harry, however, did not think the conversation was over.

"Planning attacks on muggles are you, Malfoy?" he said, feeling aggravated that Malfoy had invaded his space.

"No, mostly plotting ways to attack YOU, Potter," the Slytherin said, with the slightest trace of a grin on his face. "When you're in your bed, all cosy, I'll come and molest you."

This, although clearly not a threat, made Harry even more irritated. "Yes, that would please your Master greatly, wouldn't it?" Malfoy whipped around, glaring at Harry.

"I have no Master, Potter. Maybe if you weren't so bloody stupid you'd realise that I'm not on the Dark Side, I'm just trying to piss you off!" And with this last statement, Malfoy got up, glowering at Harry, and stalked off. Harry sat there, staring at the place where Malfoy had been sitting. He was very confused.

He got up, and jogged back to the castle and up to the common room. Ron and Hermione were sitting near the far end, and Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to join them, they always seemed to think there was something wrong with him, but it was too late, Ron had already waved and motioned for Harry to come over.

"Where've you been Harry?" asked Hermione, looking worried. She and Ron were doing their Charms homework, an essay on vanishing spells Harry had already completed.

"I just went for a walk, that's all," responded Harry, somewhat evasively. He sat in silence, watching Ron try to copy Hermione's work when he thought she wasn't looking, until it was time to go down to dinner.

As he sat down at the Gryffindor table, Harry felt he was being watched. He looked around, and spotted Malfoy staring at him. When he caught Harry's eye, he didn't turn away, just kept on gazing, until Harry looked away, unnerved. He ate silently, thinking about something new - Malfoy. What was wrong with him? Did he really mean that he had only ever pretended to be with Voldemort, whilst secretly detesting Lucius and his faith? No, he told himself inwardly, that was just plain stupid. Malfoy was trying to wind him up again... wasn't he?

Harry finished his dinner, made excuses, and went straight back to his dormitory. There he lay, not tired, but not wanting to face the common room, and when he finally fell asleep, he dreamed of a great prophet, which he couldn't see, telling him that he must work it out. The next morning, he woke early, and reflected on his dream. He got a lot of those dreams - about prophets telling him what he should do, but usually he got straight up for a jog, and they had been forgotten by class-time. Today, though, he lay, not wanting to get up and out of bed, and have to face the world. Eventually, he rose when he heard someone cough - he hated having to talk to people, they were always concerned.

At breakfast, Harry was one of the only students there. He was used to that; no one was ever there at six in the morning. It was Saturday, so Harry had plenty of time to himself till the other students even thought of getting out of bed. He walked leisurely up to the Common Room, and sat reading a book of Transfiguration. To everyone's surprise, Harry had become very much like Hermione, and had done extra reading and work for his studies. Most people thought this was because Harry wanted to do well in his OWL's, but it wasn't. It was to take Harry's mind of Voldemort, and the battle that would sooner or later come. Everybody would expect Harry to be the hero, to be the one who'd kill Voldemort, but Harry was seriously doubtful about this. So far, he'd been incredibly lucky, how could he ever take on one of the greatest wizards ever? Feeling miserable, Harry decided to grab his broom and try out some new Quidditch moves on the pitch.

Later that day, after he'd tried out various blocks and dives, the common room was too noisy and high-spirited for Harry, so he took a walk, this time around the lake. He was watching the Giant Squid, when he saw Hagrid waving at him from his hut. Harry walked over, feeling a little guilty; he hadn't gone to see Hagrid since the first weekend of the new term. Hagrid smiled at Harry, and motioned for him to go inside.

"So how are yeh, Harry?" Hagrid asked, looking at him in the same manner as Hermione did.

"I'm... okay" replied Harry, not really wanting to start a conversation about himself, but something about Hagrid's expression made him ask the question that had been bugging him every since that afternoon.

"Is Draco Malfoy with Voldemort?"

Hagrid's face creased slightly. "Why d'yeh ask, Harry?" he answered, gesturing for Harry to sit down.

"Um... it was just something he said," Harry replied, now thinking it really hadn't been a good idea to ask him.

"Well, Draco turned spy, just like Snape did in the summer." Harry was shocked. Firstly, Hagrid had called Draco by his first name, and secondly... Draco wasn't with Voldemort?

"Oh," said Harry.

Hagrid looked at Harry hard, and then said something that was almost as shocking as the last piece of information had been.

"Yeh know, Harry, Draco won't have many friends now. I never thought I'd say it, but yeh might want ter be friendly to him, eh?"

After the conversation with Hagrid, Harry was continuing his walk around the lake, reflecting on what the groundskeeper had said. Be friendly to Draco? He didn't know if he could. For heaven's sake, he couldn't even talk to Ron and Hermione about what troubled him, how could he talk to Malfoy? He headed off to dinner, and sat beside his two supposed best friends. He glanced over at the Slytherin table, and Draco caught his eye. He was sitting in silence, eating. The rest of the Slytherins were ignoring him, but occasionally throwing disdainful looks in his direction. Maybe it was time to swallow his pride and talk to him...

When Malfoy got up, Harry shovelled the rest of his dinner into his mouth and rose, too.

Following Malfoy was no easy job. In the few seconds it had taken Harry to finish his meal, Draco had managed to get outside. Sprinting, Harry caught up to the pale boy.

"Wait!" he cried, a stitch in his side. Maybe this was all a bad idea?

Draco stopped, looking puzzled. Was Harry going to punch him? As much as he hated Draco, he thought even Harry wouldn't go to this effort, just to start an argument.

God, he looks so sexy, thought Harry, as Draco started at Harry quizzically.

"Well, um..." began Harry, feeling like an idiot.

"I heard you weren't with Voldemort and I was just wondering if you'd like to be friends with me?" he said, hurriedly, regretting he'd ever looked at the Slytherin table.

"Okay..." replied Draco, slowly. Harry smiled, both looking and feeling extremely relieved.

"So, uh, want to go for a walk?" asked Draco, appearing (if this was possible) nervous.

Half an hour later, it was nearly pitch-black. Harry sand Draco were sitting comfortably in the same garden as they last time they'd spoken, or rather, argued. Harry found Draco understood what it was like to see someone die, and what the hollowness inside you felt. The conversation had lapsed into a pleasant silence, which Draco broke.

"Did anyone ever tell you you have the most amazing eyes in the universe?" he said breathlessly.

"No," replied Harry, hardly daring to believe that Draco found him attractive.

"Well, you do..." trailed off Draco, leaning closer to Harry.

Before either of them knew what was happening, their lips had made contact. Hungrily, passionately they kissed, neither one wishing to suppress the desire they each felt. Suddenly, and far too soon for Harry, Draco pulled away.

"I'm sorry," he started, but Harry placed a finger on the Slytherin's mouth.

"I'm not," replied Harry. Draco smiled in the darkness, and found Harry's lips once again.