Love, Hatred and Apathy

Draco couldn't figure out when Potter had stopped hating him.

Surely it wasn't during the summer break between their fourth and fifth years. After all, Potter was only with the Muggles. What could they have done to change his mind?

Surely it wasn't during the long dragging months of their fifth year. There was definitely a spark of hatred in Potter's eyes as he punched Draco during that Quidditch match.

Surely it wasn't when Potter got Draco's father incarcerated in Azkaban. That was -

Draco felt a surge of white-hot anger.

That was obviously a petty, malicious strike at Draco himself, just like Potter's precious DA was a strike at the clean-functioning efficiency of Umbridge.

How dare Potter do that?

How dare he try to undermine the wizarding world?

How dare he do that to the Malfoy family?

It seemed to Draco at that instant, when he opened the letter from his mother, that Potter definitely hated him. He must have hated him.

Yet Draco was surprised when he confronted Potter in the Entrance Hall before the holidays began. There was a brief flare of hatred in the other boy's eyes before a dead, haunted, empty expression appeared. It was as if Potter had briefly considered hating him and then thought it not worth the effort. At that moment, Potter looked like he had just had his soul sucked out by a Dementor.

Of course, Draco thought maliciously, he deserves it for what he did.

And it was that thought that sustained Draco over the summer holidays as he practised cursing the house elves. It was a slow and arduous process learning how to master the Unforgivables, but worth it. His mother hadn't been pleased at the wasted house elves, but she could see that it was for a good cause.

First, he magically grafted each of them with Potter's face so that when he had finished, it looked like he had a circle of dead Potters with small, twisted house elf bodies.

"Crucio!" Draco hissed again, his breath coming quickly in excitement. He smiled to see Potter's face contorted in a rictus of agony.

The house elves didn't scream and the Potter in Draco's mind didn't scream either, so it was perfect. Draco loved seeing the tortured pain in those green eyes. The why?

Soon he would be able to do this to the real Potter.

Draco relished the thought.

-

Soon, Draco realised as the Auror slipped a pair of magical handcuffs on him, was an entirely relative and tenuous idea. It had been three years and Draco had still not had his chance to do to Potter what Potter had done to his father. And now it looked as if he would never get the chance.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy, you are hereby under arrest under order from the Minister of Magic for suspected Death Eater activity. This means you automatically waive the right to remain silent."

"I am no Death Eater." Draco struggled to keep his voice even. He didn't recognise this Auror and this alarmed him. The Dark Lord had shown him photographs of all known Aurors, but now it seemed that the Dark Lord's information was somewhat faulty. Draco felt his heart sink.

The Auror did not reply but merely reached into his pocket and came up with a glasses case. Calmly, he placed both his hands and Draco's onto the case. A few seconds later, Draco felt the familiar tug of the Portkey.

They reappeared in a small, brightly lit room.

"This isn't the Ministry," Draco said slowly. The Auror had released his hold on Draco's hands, so Draco turned around. "Where am I? Who are you?"

As Draco watched, the Auror's face shifted and melted until it became a very familiar face.

"Potter," Draco hissed, feeling the familiar surge of hatred through him.

"I apologise for the deception," Potter said politely, "but I didn't think you would agree to come with me otherwise."

Draco was left speechless with shock and anger. He would have preferred it more if Potter had punched him or if he had screamed and accused Draco of killing the Weasley family. It was true, but Draco would have denied it anyway, just to see loathing appear on Potter's face.

But right now, Potter was simply standing there, looking at him with the same blank, impassive expression that Draco had seen on his face for the past three years, ever since the end of their fifth year. Nobody else seemed to see it, or perhaps they just ignored it. To Draco, the expression never seemed entirely apathetic. There was always a tinge of bitterness around the edges. Draco looked at Potter's face carefully. It appeared that the other man had grown a lot colder and harder since they had left Hogwarts.

"There is somebody I would like you to meet." Potter waved his wand at the wall and a doorway appeared. The door opened.

Draco felt his mouth drop open.

The man who walked out of the door gave a brief nod at Draco.

"F-father," Draco managed to stammer before he got a hold on himself. Turning to Potter, he sneered. "A nice likeness, Potter, but I know that my father is dead. He died in Azkaban a year ago."

Potter didn't look alarmed at all that his trick had failed. In fact, he looked faintly amused. "Are you sure?"

"Of course," Draco began to say, but stopped. He wasn't sure at all. In fact, Draco had had suspicions for a while that his father wasn't dead after all. They had never released his body from Azkaban, citing 'security' reasons. Draco suddenly realised that he had been silent for quite a while. "Proof," he said evenly. "Give me proof that truly is my father."

A look of surprise flitted over Potter's face. "Not going to ask why I would be keeping your father here, away from Azkaban?"

"I have no proof that is my father," Draco said. He was wondering just that, but he was not going to give Potter the satisfaction of asking. Besides, it might not be his father.

"I will leave you here with him for two hours. I am sure that will give you sufficient time to assure yourself he is your father." Potter spun around and walked out of the room.

Draco stood there, hands chafing in his magical handcuffs, looking at the man who Potter said was Lucius Malfoy. He didn't know what to say.

"Supposing that you are my father," Draco finally said, "what is Potter doing with you here?"

"You might find that Potter isn't as much of a saint as you think he is," the man said in a non-committal tone.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Draco demanded.

"Ask him yourself." The sentence was terse. It was apparent that the man didn't want to talk and didn't particularly care about proving that he was Lucius Malfoy.

Draco fell silent. He looked at his watch every few minutes and waited as the minutes ticked by slowly. About one hour after Potter left, he stared intently at the other man, almost willing him to change, to shift into another form. This couldn't be his father hiding out with Potter! It simply couldn't. If his father was alive, then why didn't he contact the Dark Lord?

The man didn't change.

"If you are really my father, then why weren't you affected by Azkaban?" Draco asked.

"What makes you think that?" Lucius said cryptically.

Draco couldn't think of a response to that. It sounded like Potter had helped his father or something.

Exactly two hours after Potter left, the door appeared in the wall again. "Convinced?" Potter sounded amused as he opened the door.

"Why do you have my father here?" Draco snapped.

"Obviously convinced then." Potter sounded more amused than ever. "Let us just say that I have a certain amount of revenge to exact and you are perfect to help me achieve it. Your father is incidental to the whole idea, but I assumed that you would be happy to have him back and thus would be more receptive to my plan."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "You want me to help you?" he sneered.

"Actually," Lucius said mildly, "as I see it, Potter's plan helps us more than it helps him. Not that I'm complaining."

Potter looked at him. "You wouldn't," he said, and Draco was horrified to detect a slight note of fondness. "I was planning on letting you capture me and take me to the next Death Eater meeting."

Draco blinked. "Why?"

"A private audience with the Dark Lord is so difficult to get these days," Potter said absent-mindedly.

-

"My Lord," Draco said as he bowed deeply. "I have a gift for you."

"Indeed." Voldemort looked at the figure at Draco's feet, loosely covered with a cloak. "And who might this be?"

Draco bent over, and with a flourish, revealed Harry Potter's face. Strangely, despite the fact he knew that this was a set up, it was still satisfying to have Potter helpless at his feet. "Harry Potter, my Lord."

He heard a quick intake of breath and looked up to see Voldemort's eyes gleaming. "Well done, young Malfoy."

"Thank you, my Lord."

"Now let us see what Harry Potter has to say for himself. Enervate!"

Draco watched as Potter opened his eyes and slowly got to his feet, wobbling slightly. He felt a brief flare of sympathy at the bruise that Potter insisted that he inflict. It was slowly turning purple and took up a quarter of Potter's face.

"So," Voldemort said with a sneer, "the famous Harry Potter finally captured. What do you have to say for yourself before you die?"

Although Draco had a vague idea what Potter was about to do, he was still surprised when Potter, hesitantly, knelt before the Dark Lord.

"What is the meaning of this?" Voldemort demanded.

"My Lord," Harry said as he stood up, still keeping his head bowed respectfully. "Kill me if you must, but before you do," he lifted his gaze and Draco was terrified at the amount of undiluted hatred in it, "allow me to reveal a traitor in your midst."

A calculating expression appeared on Voldemort's face. "Do say more, young Potter."

"Severus Snape," Potter spat the words out. "He works for Dumbledore."

"And do you not also work for that old fool?"

"Not any more," Potter said, a smirk playing on his lips. "Although, no doubt, they still believe I do." His eyes blazed with some indefinable emotion before they became expressionless again. "I have not worked for him entirely ever since the end of my fifth year."

Draco was surprised when he felt a flood of bitterness settle in his stomach. So that's who I was replaced by, he thought. That's why Potter stopped hating me. I was simply not worth his hatred.

"Well, well," Voldemort said slowly, "this is a new development, but I believe that we can come up with a solution that will please us all." His thin lips curled up in a smile.

-

Draco stood back in the crowd as the Death Eater meeting began.

"My loyal Death Eaters," Voldemort said slowly, enunciating every syllable, "I am pleased today to announce that I have found the traitor in our midst."

There was a visible shuffling in the crowd.

"Crucio!" Voldemort spat out and a Death Eater fell down, pain obvious on his face. The other Death Eaters around him edged away. Lifting the curse, Voldemort looked at the man lying on the ground. "Severus Snape. Our traitor."

"M-my Lord," Snape said through gritted teeth, "I am no traitor."

"No?" Voldemort sounded almost pleasant. Draco shivered. "Young Potter, would you like to come forward?"

Somebody gasped, but Draco couldn't tell who it was. Beside him, Potter gave him an enigmatic smile and lowered his cloak before coming forward. Draco edged forward and saw Snape give Potter a look of absolute hatred and betrayal.

"You, Severus Snape," Potter began, his voice light, "work for Albus Dumbledore at Hogwarts as the Potions Master. You are also a member of the Order of the Phoenix and as the only spy in that Order, you routinely betray our Lord. Would that not classify you as a traitor?"

"I am no traitor," Snape ground out.

"Yes, you are." Potter seemed to be taking perverse delight in being childish. "You are a traitor."

"Young Potter," Voldemort said, sounding amused, "would you like to help punish the traitor?"

Potter didn't reply, but simply took out his wand. "Avada Kedavra," he said quietly.

Draco was surprised. He would have thought that Potter would have tried to draw out Snape's death more and make it more painful. Voldemort was obviously disappointed.

Potter looked up at Voldemort and shrugged. "If I had drawn it out then I would have never been able to stop." His green eyes flicked over the crowd of Death Eaters. "I'm supposing I will be able to leave today without being killed?"

Voldemort gave an abrupt nod and the Death Eaters parted to let Potter through. "Consider it," he told Potter before Potter walked away.

"I will."

-

They had ended up winning the war with Potter's help. There were minimal casualties on both sides and peace came quickly. Muggle-borns were displeased, but nobody really cared what they thought. Most of them elected to work and live back in the Muggle world and everybody was satisfied with that outcome.

Potter had, much to Draco's surprise, taken the Dark Mark and was now Voldemort's second in command. He had been given Hogwarts and was now doing a pretty good job as Headmaster. Draco was given the Potions position and was enjoying it.

Potter had been acting quite strangely around Draco for the past few months. Draco found that sometimes Potter seemed very flustered and thought that it was quite amusing. Several times, Potter would abruptly leave the High Table during dinner, usually while they were having an interesting discussion.

Still, despite all this, Draco was surprised when Potter asked him out to dinner. They were having one of their weekly chess matches in Potter's quarters and Potter was being trounced as usual.

"In Hogsmeade," Potter added quietly.

"Why?" he said, his voice just the slightest bit breathless.

Potter put a hand on his shoulder and leaned in to give him a soft kiss. "You know, Draco," he said. "Perhaps I stopped hating you because I couldn't." His eyes were bright.

Draco found he couldn't breathe as Potter kissed him again, slowly and deeply this time, his tongue brushing against Draco's. He found himself responding to the kiss, growing hard. "P-Harry," he managed to gasp out as Harry began to nibble on his neck. "Are you sure about this?"

"Positive," Harry breathed against Draco's skin making him shiver.

Draco was positive he heard several of the chess pieces giggle and make wolf whistles, but he ignored them as Harry dragged him into his bedroom.

-

Draco still couldn't figure out when Potter had stopped hating him, but he was sure he knew when Harry had started loving him.