Phases of Change

Phases of Change

Chapter 1 - Shock

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It was beautiful weather that day, made even more beautiful by the fact that Harry was returning to his home, Hogwarts.

He met up with Ron at 10:45, and walked with his friend through the barrier. He hadn’t stayed with the Weasleys that summer; Dumbledore thought it was best for him to be alone. After the War, Harry hadn’t been feeling whole. Probably because the other half of him, Voldemort, was dead. It had taken a lot of time, and a lot of lives, but now he was dead; thanks mostly in part to the Order, and especially to Harry, who had cast the final spell.

In any case, Harry wasn’t well enough to be partying. He needed time on his own to think. Not that there was much to think about. He had won. It was over. But there was something else bothering him greatly.

*** Flashback ***

The Death Eaters were circling him ominously, their glazes behind the masks never wavering. One of them kicked the wand out of his hand, and he scrambled forward, only to be kicked hard in the ribs. He doubled over, and the sound of laughter arose. The laughter that had haunted his dreams for the past sixteen years. The laughter of Lord Voldemort.

He lifted his bleeding face towards the sound, and the taunting began. Jeering, screaming. The Death Eaters screamed of his death. They spat in his face and, kicked him forwards to the feet of the Dark Lord.

“Crucio,” came the words, sharp and evil.

Sharp pain hit Harry between the eyes, and he twitched violently on the ground. The laughter became louder until lazily, Voldemort brushed Harry off to the side with his wand.

“Face me, stupid boy,” he said cruelly, hate emitting from every word.

Harry looked up, his eyes burning with loathing, into the face of his parents' murderer. Although it wasn’t the first time, Harry felt the same pain, the same longing for the parents that he never knew.

“You do not deserve life any more than I do,” Voldmort said drawlingly, twirling his wand between his fingers.

Harry snarled, and clenched his fists.

“No one here to save you now, is there?” he asked mockingly. His eyes blazed, and he pointed his wand at Harry from a distance.

“Avada Ke-” he began, but was cut off.

A black-hooded figure tossed Harry’s wand to him, and Disapparated. Harry looked around, to the place where his saviour had just disappeared from. Voldemort hissed, and smirked.

“So be it... It will be a fair du-”

“Avada Kedavra!” Harry shouted, all his fury being put into the two small words.

Voldemort’s eyes went wide, as the emerald curse shot at him. And that was it. It was over. Scared, the Death Eaters had fled, knowing that now their leader was gone, they were useless.

*** End Flashback***

He shook himself out of his reverie, and rubbed his eyes. He still had no idea who had given him his wand. In fact, he had made a list of possible people. So far it was... well, it was any Death Eater he could think of. His first thought had immediately been Snape, but the professor had told him otherwise.

So he was at a complete loss, racking his brain every minute for the name of his hero. Just then, Ron waved his arm in front of Harry’s face.

“Buddy, you there?” he asked, looking at Harry worridly.

“Sorry, I was off in another world,” the black-haired boy answered, boarding the train with Ron.

They found Hermione in a back compartment talking with Ginny, and when they walked in, the two girls leapt forward to hug Harry. Ron stepped aside tutting, and sat in an unoccupied seat, putting Pigwidgeon down beside him. Harry soon sat down on the other side, and began to tell the story of his summer, which was far from eventful, except when he had absentmindedly soaked his cousin while watering the plants outside the window.

Hours later, they heard footsteps outside the compartment, and they searched their pockets for money for the trolley. Only it wasn’t the trolley-lady that opened the door; it was Malfoy. Harry drew in a breath at the sight of him.

Draco had certainly grown over the summer. He was about four inches taller than he was last term, and his face was less pale, and a more natural color now. His silver-blonde hair had also grown, and it now hung loosely in his face. He had apparently stopped trying to slick it back, and it suited him. He pushed it from his forehead with a thin finger, and looked at the four.

“The driver wanted me to tell you that we’ll be there soon, and to put on your robes,” he informed them.

Harry just nodded.

“Oi, what time is it?” Ron asked, looking out the window.

Draco smirked.

“That’s just like a Weasley, not having a watch,” he said, pushing the robes away form his wrist.

Harry’s jaw dropped, and he had to fight not to gasp. Partially covered by a silver watch, was what was most definetely the Dark Mark, branded onto Draco’s arm. No one else seemed to notice.

“Twelve past six,” he answered shortly. Harry noticed that Draco’s eyes hadn’t left his own the whole time.

Malfoy gave a mock bow, and re-opened the door to the corridor.

“Potter,” he said, a smirk playing on his beautiful face. Harry gaped. What the hell was Malfoy playing at?

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At the castle, Draco was making his way to the door to the Great Hall when a familiar voice called him from behind.

“Wait up, Malfoy,” Harry said, ignoring the stares from Ron and Hermione.

“You guys go ahead, I’ll be there soon,” he said. They looked at Draco mistrustfully, and joined Ginny and her friend, walking into the Great Hall.

“Yes, Potter?” Draco questioned impatiently. Harry lost everything that he was going to say.

He was going to question about the Dark Mark. Ask him who had been the one to give him his wand. Ask him why he had joined the Dark Lord. But of course, all that came out was a stutter.

“U-uh.... n-never mind,” he said stupidly, going to join his friends. Draco’s arm shot out infront of him.

“You obviously have something to say, so say it!” he snapped.

Harry was taken aback. Draco’s gaze faltered for a second. He looked worn out, tired, sad. Now that his father had been arrested, he wasn’t as intimidating as before, and he knew it.

“Why did you become a Death Eater, Malfoy?” Harry asked finally, and not as confidently as he would have liked.

Draco laughed. He shook his head, and smirked in Harry’s direction.

“You really don’t know?”

Harry’s face was blank.

“To save you. And it worked, I guess,” he smiled, the first real smile Harry had seen from him, and left to the Great Hall.

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WHAT? Harry’s mind was yelling that at him. It had been all the way to his seat at the table. All the way through Dumbledore’s speech, and the Sorting. What? What? What?!

Harry re-evaluated things. Draco had always hated him, so why now was he trying to help him? He must have gotten that Mark just before the summer, because he had never seen it before then. Could Draco have been spying for the Order? No way, Dumbledore would have told him about it... unless he didn’t want Harry to become attached to Draco. Not that he would be, of course....

Actually, now that he thought about it... it couldn’t have been Draco. No one in 6th year knew how to apparate. They were only learning it this year, the seventh. Then again, the Malfoy’s weren’t exactly known for their law-abiding ways.

He would simply talk to Draco later. But, he thought, it might not be that simple. Why did he have to stutter everytime the other boy was near? Damn him, and his good looks.

He ate dinner silently, and as he saw Draco leaving, he stood up.

“Uhm, I’m going to go get... unpacked,” he explained, blushing a bit. Lying wasn’t very easy for him.

Ron and Hermione looked at him curiously, but nodded, and he headed out in the direction Draco had left in.

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“Potter,” Draco said, taking Harry by surprise. He had been waiting for Harry outside the doors.

“How did you know I was following you?” Harry asked, taking a seat on the stairs.

Draco shook his head.

“You’re not the stealthiest person in the world, Potter, plus I saw you get up as I left,” he explained.

Harry felt instantly stupid. He was surprised by the fact that he was even talking, but he wasn’t looking to be made fun of. He took in a breath.

“Were you the person who threw me my wand in the war?” he asked suddenly, taking Draco by surprise.

Draco’s eyes sparkled, and he took Harry by the shoulder, pushing him into a classroom.

“You might not want to talk so freely of things in the hallways,” he said, closing the door behind him.

“Sorry,” Harry muttered, trying not to notice Draco getting closer.

The silver-haired boy circled around him and back to the front. He brushed a strand of jet-black hair from Harry’s face. Harry bit his lip, and Draco smiled.

“Was I the one who threw you your wand in the war?” Draco repeated, and looked Harry in the eyes.

Harry felt the grey eyes' stare penetrate his soul, and he looked away.

“You look beautiful when you blush,” Draco said. It was moments before Harry heard him.

When he did, he was shocked. Draco was acting too weird. It couldn’t be his old enemy saying something like that. Giving him a slight ray of hope.

“Don’t say something you don’t mean,” he retorted. Draco smiled.

“Okay, I won’t,” he said, bringing his face close to Harry’s.

Harry’s heart was thumping fast. Could Draco know how he felt for him? Was he trying to play some sick joke?

“Who are you?” he asked, searching for something in those unusually warm, grey eyes.

“Your worst enemy.” Draco stepped closer, their noses almost touching.

Harry bit his lip harder. Why did he have to do that? The way he was staring made Harry feel uncomfortable. Damn, he knew he would regret this later.

He closed the distance between them, and brought their lips together. The room and everything around them seemed to disappear. Harry noticed that Draco hadn’t closed his eyes. He couldn’t continue staring into them, so he closed his own. Draco pushed him to a desk, and he felt himself be forced back, until the other boy was practically lying on him. Draco deepened the kiss, and felt the bruised lips part open beneath him. He slipped his tongue in, and met Harry’s own, battling fiercely. Harry moaned and it was muffled by Draco’s mouth. He felt Draco’s hand slip down along his stomach and he pulled back, astonished.

“Draco...” he trailed off. He went to leave.

“I didn’t answer your question. Don’t you want to know?”

It was true, he did want to know, more than anything. But not now, not after that.

“I’m sorry,” he said, for the second time that night. And he left.

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It was the first day back and he had already screwed something up. Harry was sitting around in the common room when Ron and Hermione joined them. They took a seat on the sofa beside him, and greeted him.

“Hey, Harry,” Hermione said, and she looked closer. Ron did too. Was he that guilty looking?

“Your lip is cut... how did that happen?” Ron asked, leaning back. Harry felt it. How did he not notice the cut there?

He formulated a small story. Sure, they wouldn’t believe him, and they would probably watch him more closely, but what heck, he’d have a go anyways.

“I was walking up here, and I wasn’t looking, and then I tripped over my shoelace, and ran into a wall,” he rushed, looking away to hide his blatantly blushing cheeks. Ron and Hermione’s eyebrows raised in unison.

“Uh... okay.. Well I hope it gets better...” Hermione said uncomfortably.

He nodded slowly, just as the portrait door swung slowly open. A couple curious eyes flittered over to the newcomer, who peaked around the corner apprehensively. Their mouths dropped open.

The girl whose head looked around at them was possibly the sexiest person Harry had ever seen, spare Malfoy of course. She was Asian, like Cho, who he had gotten over last year. Her waist-length black braid fell over her shoulder, and ended in a small silver ornament. Harry could tell she wasn’t wearing make-up, but her skin was flawless, and slightly pale. But what stood out about her the most was her piercing blue eyes. He had ever seen an Asian with blue eyes.

She looked around at the three of them, and raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. They all closed their mouths simultaneously. Hermione was the first to speak.

“H-hi,” she stuttered, as the girl walked out of the doorway.

She was tall, about 5'8, and was very slim. She was dressed in a long black skirt, and a blue sweater that matched her eyes perfectly. She stepped towards them, and eyed Hermione.

“Hi,” she said back, in a slight accent. Hermione’s eyes flickered.

“Y-you can have a seat here, if you want,” she said, pointing to the seat across from her.

The girl smiled, and sat down. She looked around the common room, and then straight at Hermione. She stretched out her hand in a gesture of friendship. Hermione shook it nervously.

“I’m Ame Akai,” she introduced. “I’m a transfer student from Japan. If you talk to me at all, you can call me Akai... because Ame is my last name. It’s only first because I’m from Japan...” she trailed off.

“I’m Hermione Granger,” said Hermione, and she pointed to Harry.

“That’s Harry, and that’s Ron,” she said, in turn pointing to Ron.

Akai smiled once more, showing perfect white teeth. The three fidgeted in their seats.

“What’s the point of coming here for one year?” Ron asked, laughing at Hermione, who was still staring slightly.

“My father wants me to graduate here. He said Hogwarts is the best school there is,” she said, an she looked at Hermione.

“Are you in seventh year?” she asked, rifling through her bag.

Hermione nodded, she didn’t trust herself to speak.

“Oh good! Can you show me where the dorms are?” she asked pleadingly.

Hermione nodded, and stood up. Akai stood up as well, and followed Hermione up the stairs. She waved good-bye to Harry and Ron who were still sitting on the couch. They waved back. Once out of earshot they launched into a discussion.

“Did you see the way that girl was staring at Hermione?” Ron joked.

Harry nodded and laughed.

“And did you see the way Hermione was staring back?”

A lot of things were starting out different this year. Harry still couldn’t get Draco from his mind. Why did he have to kiss him? Now he would be the laughing stock of the school. Draco would make fun of him mercilessly. But that’s not what he was really concerned about... He could have sworn that Draco had kissed back. Well, it was obvious... his tongue had been in Harry’s mouth. He could still taste it... like cinnamon... and something sweet. Almost like pumpkin juice. He sighed involuntarily; it had definitely been the shock of his life.